Third Man Of Antarctica © Surazeus 2026 05 25 Each time I turn around, and turn around, to ask the Third Man, wrapped in long brown mantle, why he walks beside us on the White Road, he seems to vanish in the swirling mist, so I continue on my bitter quest while he remains in shadow of my heart. Weird spiders in dark garden of my heart conceal the prize of aeronautic truth that urges my adventure to explore beyond the insulating walls of faith unworldly landscape of Antarctica where the Third Man rules as blind emperor. If I infiltrate valleys of black snow to find ovarian ghost of pregnant faith twisting rainbow beams in radar roulette, my heart may hum with quantum innocence each time the Third Man gives me puzzling fruit that readjusts my frame of reference. When bones of dragons with enormous minds are found concealed in sleek Antarctic ice, my heart may spring from cracked stone of the moon to misalign routine of secret hope that soon the Third Man will unwrite our dreams at sudden transfer no one dares accept. Crushed by assertive bitterness of ice, our wood ship, named Endurance with bold faith, splinters into fragments of bleak despair, and leaves us stranded on Antarctic plain where the Third Man guides our wind-battered way across the jagged mountains of desire. Time past appears in cycles of regret that traps us in time present about fate with endless blast of wind against the mask that shields my soul with fragile faith in death who appears as the Third Man in dark hood we choose to think is Angel of the Lord. Abundant flash of stellar avatars, who seek asylum in false paradise, attend solemn service of architects commissioned to build palace of grand halls on storm-sculpted plain of Antarctica where the Third Man waits for us to return. I see the Third Man of Antarctica appear in flash of vast angelic wings above my head in swirling clouds of change, so I reach out my hands with eager faith when Phoebus Christ descends from empty sky to beam his spirit in my wounded heart.
Monday, May 25, 2026
Third Man Of Antarctica
Find The Hidden Star
Find The Hidden Star © Surazeus 2026 05 25 If no dead angels are found on the street nobody will throw them on the trash heap, yet the girl who paints make-up on her dolls always mistakes them for infernal trolls, so she transforms them into graceful cats who insist that angels are really bats. Sophie weeps for the boys in uniform shot in war to make slavery the norm, whose mangled bodies rot in summer sun while she stares in shock at the blood-stained gun her brother leaned against the bedroom wall while his horse flicks her tail in the barn stall. When Death knocks on the farm door at midnight, Sophie sees his face glowing with moonlight, so she gives him cup of chocolate to drink while he sits by the glowing hearth to think about how time unravels dreamless souls who think they are born to play special roles. Kneeling by lace-curtained window of faith, Sophie prays for insight from the Star Wraith, but all she hears in rustle of elm trees are voices of the dead as buzz of bees who explain nothing about why we die as she watches sunrise bleed from the sky. Trapped by necessity to calculate how rhymes help our spirits navigate confusing maze of myths with psychic tropes, Sophie records details of intense hopes she harbors in secret cove of her heart that will appear on no nautical chart. Laughter echoes in halls of the wood house where Sophie sings hymn in her favorite blouse with voice that fades in plangent prairie winds so her heart starts to ache where the road bends beyond horizon of Ohio hills in townless valley of innocent rills. For thirty days she rides the wagon far on noble quest to find the hidden star that gleams above the Rocky Mountain range, though she almost cries at the need to change from social turmoil of the civil war that shatters truth outside her bedroom door. No angels rot on Colorado plains so bones dissolve in cataclysmic rains where Sophie builds new house from memories which she hides as riddles in arcane keys that gleam in tangled neurons of my mind to bloom in fruit trees of weird truth I find.
Sunday, May 24, 2026
Organic Frames Of Thought
Organic Frames Of Thought © Surazeus 2026 05 24 If souls of heroes in movies and books are trapped in stones along the river stone, then I shall free them from loop of their plot so they may craft another way to live because we choose state of our destiny through actions we perform with our free will. Trapped in ten thousand years of solitude defined by mountain wind of hopeless fear, I stand watch in tall tower of cold stone with brave intent of courage forged from flame to guard safe haven where my family dwells against cruel thieves who would enslave our souls. Though time unspools our private memories in random fragments of short puzzling scenes, imbued with ambience of that special time now lost from vibrant glowing of the world, I treasure eerie feeling of that hour so many years ago when I was young. Entangled by red thread of destiny we choose to weave in tapestry of love, our brave hearts spread angelic wings of love to fly united through fierce thunderstorms so we evade dire threats of mortal harm to overcome blunt obstacles with calm. Gold light of day glows canopy of trees that shade wide cement streets of gliding cars between square buildings of both brick and glass, for halls and roads are signified with names that aid my mind to map landscape of hope in nation spread out sea to shining sea. Though countless watches bound on wrists and walls assert harmonious progress of exchange through economic flow of give and take, my heart is not well synchronized with game of wealth accumulation to buy fame, for I dance out of step with fight for power. How strange that atoms spiraling in space from God Eye at core of the universe form swirling spheres of psychic energy from which evolve organic frames of thought who seek to grow in harmony with light when we project our conscious mind as God. Each day my temporary mind awakes from timeless dream of social spectacle, I feel electric flame pulse in my brain with stoic patience of the river stone from which my spirit beams on wings of breath as bee that pollinates the Tree of Truth.
Insight Of Weird Gratitude
Insight Of Weird Gratitude © Surazeus 2026 05 24 Excessive thoughts of bonus ardency expose conceptual pride of World God Mind that flashes vaguely true in radio songs with urgent insight of weird gratitude sent out in instant grams of doctored faith as scenes of beauty that inspire my heart. Because my body is less dead that stone and limbs of motion fly away alone, I prize computer screens of flashing words as stars that channel divine Mind of God through startled neurons of my Dreamless Brain, so I build House of Wisdom from cracked bone. Strange music leads me through assertive rain down endless streets of sorrow slick with rain, from gloom of faith to glowing hall of fear where demons paint on holy walls of bone reverent icons to the Mother and Child who grows to rule vast nations with brave law. What apparition on angelic wings descends from vast blue heaven of regret with arms outstretched to welcome every soul reborn as wingless angels who contend in global wars of Hadean prophecy to prove their father is true god of Earth. No frame of steel-glass towers could contain magnificent ghost of modest disdain with godless beauty of cerulean skies where demons and angels as men disguised sell each other medallions of false fame, inspired by passion of the tongueless flame. Born upward by rush of violent wind that swells from secret cavern of our hearts, we claim authority of perfect light speaks through our mortal bodies of frail flesh with holy spirit of celestial truth that motivates our souls to seek real truth. One delicate twisted flame from God Mind expands bright fireworks in Hall of My Mind so I feel bright immortal Soul of God wake in my brain brief hour of ecstasy since atoms of my soul flare forth from eye of light at center of the universe. When orange nasturtium of my aching heart blooms bright from ancient rotten corpse of god, I feel the special spirit of my soul wake my brief hour of all eternity, so I dance with grace on landscape of the world and sing about weird beauty till I die.
Leather Satchel Of His Heart
Leather Satchel Of His Heart © Surazeus 2026 05 24 Young boy fills leather satchel of his heart with forgotten tales his ancestors lived encased in seeds he gathers from the woods, then stands on mud shore of the timeless lake to gaze in liquid beauty of the sky that shows him face his progenitors wore. When sparrow in the elm tree by the lake sings sacred formula for thoughts of rain, young boy runs back to small hut by the stone where his grandmother sings with raspy voice, so he holds her hand as she smiles at him then vanishes in white smoke of the fire. White smoke becomes huge clouds above black hills that drench their jagged sorrows in cold rain which swirls in rivers over roots of trees where shadow of the young boy disappears till flash of lightning luminates his face that mimics demon mask of innocence. Three men, who shot old woman in her heart because she would not yield her bowl of gold, shriek terrified at sight of his red mask, so they fire rifles with bullets of rage at elusive demon that haunts their camp, but shoot each other in the gloom instead. Young boy fills leather satchel of his heart with memories of songs his grandmother sang encased in her bones he carves into flutes, then stares at wavering mask of his face that gleams in liquid beauty of the sky but ripples from tears that fall from his eyes. Twanging taut chord of his yew hunting bow, young boy recites songs his grandmother sang that recount adventures in mountain vales of Wolf Boy and Raven Girl who unite to protect the poor from greed of the rich and free the people from cruel tyranny. Young boy fills leather satchel of his heart with textbooks, rulers, pencils, and notepads, then walks small-town streets to the public school where he attends classes on liberal arts to study nature of the universe by utilizing tools of measurement. Songs of my grandmother glow in my heart ten thousand years of conscious energy that conjure virtual model of the world which I improve with weird secrets I learn so I can bequeath vision of the truth to children who spring from dream of my heart.
Stream Of Silver Light
Stream Of Silver Light © Surazeus 2026 05 24 The tall slender candle of mute desire gleams in virginal window of respect while Seraphus and Celestine sit prim at round glass table in their hotel room that overlooks silver Sequana River to eat lamb and wine in memory of Troy. Lounging on large white stone of secret faith inside small cave that gleams with emeralds where the River Seine springs from heart of Earth, Sequana eats grapes and listens to wrens that scurry along mossy rocks in roots, but frowns when Neptunus calls out her name. Trembling with awkward shyness of desire, Seraphus and Celestine, face to face by white lace curtains of pure innocence, reach out their hands with cautious hope of love to open windows of their hearts with care, then kiss to taste fruit from the Tree of Knowledge. Crouching in shadow of her jeweled cave where healing waters spring from heart of Earth, Sequana softly breathes celestial air to calm wild beating of her wingless heart as Neptunus searches thick forest of trees while he declares intent to mate with her. Beaming with pleasure after making love, Seraphus and Celestine eat breakfast, then she sits draped in long red gown of silk and plays enchanting tune on lyre-guitar while he paints her as Sequana the Nymph lounging in cave where the River Seine springs. Pushing ivy veil aside with brusque hand, Neptunus grins when he sees lithe river nymph, but she throws jagged stones at his chest and darts away when he grasps at her thighs, then ocean-tamer chases her through groves of trees that slap his chest to slow him down. Strolling along river park of the Seine, as clouds blaze gold across the evening sky, Seraphus and Celestine shyly blush as they hold hands beneath the weeping willow, and watch swans glide on stream of silver light, smiling when one flaps her angelic wings. When Neptunus, leaping on horse-swift legs, almost captures river nymph in his arms, lithe Sequana dodges and slips away, then grins with long gold hair and silver eyes as she transforms to stream of silver light and dances freely in the moonlit grove.
Saturday, May 23, 2026
Fake Words On The Ground
Fake Words On The Ground © Surazeus 2026 05 23 Alert to shadow of death in tall trees, Celestine scatters fake words on the ground and pries thorns of happiness from her heart, then browses dresses in the chic boutique to purchase trend of upscale edginess tailored for the refined lady of faith. Exclusive demon lurking in tall grass decides to customize costume she wears with meticulous concern for cracked eyes, so Celestine dons brown jacket at dawn and sips coffee by the Venice canal where empty gondolas float in gold mist. Stopping in the middle of the glass bridge that spans the silent river of despair, Celestine wonders where she has come from and where she will go before the sun blinks with stunning insight of sorrow defied, or if she should entertain hope of death. With careful lines of elegant intent, Celestine divides fragments of lost time to measure wasted hours of earnest hope framed by parables of social respect in portraits that present uncanny scenes where nobody seems to know what they want. Staring at the clock in trunk of the oak, Celestine plans routine of lettered play, shattered by contempt for logical tricks, to puzzle formulas of bitter love, which proves her comfort zone is much too small to protect her heart from blind parasites. Now circumspect about her future path, Celestine neglects to seek twisted code, starved for new opportunities to tame fierce appetite for solving data traps through lurid analysis time presents as theories that explain why all brains die. If light hurts her eyes with bearable truth, Celestine waits by boulder of lost names for red raven to bring ribbon of ruth with furtive urgency of social power, designed to replicate our hearts of clay which guardian angels fold into false masks. Abated susurration of dead brains amplifies individual spells of faith that drip from wounded mouths of cautious clones despite knowledge that wave frequencies change relative to observer wearing mask with telescope embedded in her brain.
Diamonds Of Eternal Stars
Diamonds Of Eternal Stars © Surazeus 2026 05 23 The lonely traveler of everywhere wonders if his search for Rome will reveal foundations of truth built on bones of gods who still walk the streets in bodies of people because the Tiber still flows in their veins with grandeur resurrected from cracked stones. The fugitive from programmed time of chance maintains permanent residence with faith in ruins rebuilt into halls of glass that shimmer again on the Palatine where ghosts of warriors with ambitious plans participate in grand cathedral shows. The lonely traveler on endless roads admires quaint chapel with statue of Mary whose eyes are diamonds of eternal stars that gleam the nothing in our hungry hearts so we pray silently in candlelight with pious respect for beauty of death. Heroic dust of priests who ruled our minds will never assemble again into souls who climb high mountains of sincerity to tread golden stars of eternity with grim confidence in the afterlife where changeless ideas of things persist. Animal motivated by weird reason, I ride swift chariot on the battlefield and fire arrow of justice at the tyrant because Death haunts confidence of my path when I plow city towers to erase colonial empire of angelic pride. Secure within legalized walls of Heaven, Ziphion keeps watch in tower of desire to protect his family against invaders who brandish weapons of arrogant faith in holy righteousness of their lost cause because winners name the land for their father. Whatever her name and name of her son, the Mother and Child in temple of hope represent every family on Earth, so I forge key of faith from bones of god that opens every door of every home where we share songs from ancient books of flame. My heart filled with delight in the Great Being, though it glows indifferent to my success, seeks wisdom in the song of ocean waves which I translate to tangled sentences inadequate to portray the real world except as toy models of my childhood.
Real Face Of God
Real Face Of God © Surazeus 2026 05 23 If I could sing the sorrow of my heart without breaking innocence of the world, I would express harsh truth with shaking voice to render negative insouciant greed by which my fierce words transmit warranty against withdrawal violently reversed. No less versatile at weaving dream spells from fluttered fragments of weird memories, my heart procures precise reasons from fear to register our tangled fate with love irrelevant to thoughts of helpless rage concealed by frigid rules of false respect. If dire response to surgical concern requires social sacrifice through regret, then I would dare retrieve with sincere hope revenue of suffering supplied by scenes of brutal assault that impugn attempts by cruel aggressors to control my soul. No more aggressive than devilish greed from critical analysis of threats intended to injure secure desire, my heart devises secret strategy to turn acute observation of facts from mutant passion of potential faith. If I could optimize obvious path expanding radius of relevant pride with referenced records of financial growth, then I would dare pursue real happiness based on statistics no one understands, to play my game against accepted role. No further than the sudden end of time beyond conceptual theory of mute death could I extend insight of prophecy to see Real Face of God through telescope that renders only globes of spinning gas from which the star-eyed Seraphim are born. If time unspools synthetic creed of faith designed by mental therapist of death, I might survive this global war of truth fought between dream-blinded gangs of men who claim their god will resurrect their souls so they shall inherit Heaven on Earth. No longer treasured by world traveler who maps symbolic myth of noble deeds, fierce gods too long worshipped by gangs of thieves transform to idols of marble distrust that stand in museums of glorious lies so we see our own faces in their masks.
Broken Wings Of Faith
Broken Wings Of Faith © Surazeus 2026 05 23 If I could tell you the mysteries I saw while floating under water of the heart, and how far down the swift river of time I tumbled before I crawled back on land, then I would be the master of all truth who needs nothing more than insightful faith. Raguel wanders the country road of dust and pauses by the broken stone of trust when he sees oldest woman in the world in gray coat among flowers of bright red where she gathers berries from bush of fate which gives him strange feeling that he is late. Rebel angels wounded in brutal war crawl moaning from pain in valley of fear, so Raguel raises silver sword of faith to battle anguish of Gehinnom wraith who howls in rage at justice of time that scatters his soul at the porch-bell chime. Michael pauses during Weird Devil War to inquire with snarky sincerity what Raguel means when he talks about faith, but the Stoic Watcher stares into space and wonders if El even has a face, that wise old Father of Storm in the sky. Emerging from river of surreal dreams, Raguel stretches his body to the moon, wades on lush shore where scarlet poppies bloom, and dons white robe of his angelic rank, then lounges on platform of his sky ship while cherubim repair the silk balloon. Hanging from disk of his floating sky ship, powered by hot air in huge silk balloon, Raguel flies up from flat-top pyramid to patrol sprawling maze of city streets so people in gardens and markets look up and wave to Sky-Walker Angel in Heaven. When gang of thieves attack the caravan of wagons loaded with rich goods for trade, Raguel fires arrows of law from the sky, so they flee wrath of the angel in Heaven, and people on Earth praise the name of El who brings justice to honest citizens. Sharp arrow that Beelzebub fires in rage cuts rope from which hangs the Watcher in Heaven so Raguel falls on broken wings of faith and floats deep in the dark river of change, then wakes in my heart three thousand years later and prepares to enforce justice again.
Friday, May 22, 2026
Frame Emptiness Of The Sky
Frame Emptiness Of The Sky © Surazeus 2026 05 22 When Ziphion finds emptiness of the sky inside the window frame of glowing time, he reaches out one hand high as the cloud to touch the vastness of eternity, and finds ripe apple of secret desire solid in obsessive grip of his hand. While Ziphion eats apple of cognizance to taste awareness of eternal now, the silent hills walk toward his secret grove to give him stones that cannot display time till cracks in foundation of truth appear to reveal immense beauty of the wind. Yet Ziphion walks alleyways of the slum to give loaves of bread to frail wanderers who bless him with gratitude of the dead as they gather around the Wounded Tree where the Grandmother with gray hair explains that Gad sees everything from the high tower. Therefore Ziphion defends poor laborers from exploitation of the Elohim who gather as councilors in the hall to advise the humble Gad Emperor issue edicts that give them greater power to control how the people live and die. Till Ziphion wakes with vision of the truth that his father enslaves tribes they attack, the people groan under oppressive laws, and cry out for justice to the deaf hills, yet the wind still blows with indifference to cool their brows as they sweat in the fields. Though Ziphion feels Justice burn in his heart with righteous indignation of the fool, he raises sword of liberty with courage and fights his father, Lord Gad of the Sky, till he frees slaves from tyranny of greed and pays them for tending lush fields of wheat. After Ziphion overthrows the cruel tyrant, he wears crown he takes from head of his father and reigns over farms and ranches with wisdom, attending council on the ziggurat as member of the Holy Elohim where he attempts to legislate fair justice. Thus Ziphion cares for people of his land, nurturing talents to develop skills through strict education in schools of truth so every person who lives inside Heaven contributes passion of their eager hearts to frame emptiness of the sky with faith.
Forest Of Ancestral Dream
Forest Of Ancestral Dream © Surazeus 2026 05 22 After recording the latest events that map the swirl of human interaction in long Chronicle of Spinning Earth, Ziphion drives home to the red-brick house where Nerthus cooks spaghetti and peach pie to eat and think about fall of the empire. If words illuminate shadow of light, transformed by process of time from desire, then I will activate sentence of faith through mental mechanism to deduce deeper essence that animates the world so I perceive visible force of life. Ziphion composes jurisprudent verse as lyric for chorus of history to clarify current state of affairs through voices of the living and the dead in citational chain of precedents to shape parameters for moral law. Declaring edict for moral behavior, Nerthus expresses in songs of the tribe collective memory of civilization that Ziphion etches in tablets of stone erected on walls in Temple of Truth as map that guides us on the righteous path. Through tales of failure and success men play, Nerthus bridges with masks of characters vast distance between reality and illusion to expose delusion of paradise we design to conjure our Future World where all are equal in one global law. Awake in forest of ancestral dream where my ancestors lived ten million years, I hear peals of thunder over dark hills, so I construct tower of honest law to observe and measure vast world of forms, then sing spells that explain what could be real. Words showcase promise of Heaven on Earth, so Ziphion cites scripture of long-dead gods to vouch for noble spirit of Blind Justice which summons divine mind from hearts of men who forge bonds of communal authorship when we reclaim freedom to live and build. Our words hold worldmaking force of respect, Ziphion declares on pyramid of power, so we build mental models of our world where every human lives equally free to swim in waters of the divine soul and lie side by side in graves of the past.
Thursday, May 21, 2026
How Fleeting Life Is
How Fleeting Life Is © Surazeus 2026 05 21 If nobody cares why the caged bird sings, Christine whispers to the telephone pole, then I shall never pick flowers again for how they wilt in the porcelain jar just makes me sad at how fleeting life is, for I want to free cloud-ghosts from their cage. Startled each time her old telephone pings, Christine gazes down into the black hole at aching whistle of the distant train to ask the ghost with the broken guitar for help solve the theological quiz that provides role for her to play on stage. Shocked by displacement of her naked soul at sudden extraction time executes by flashing whirl of hands on the glass clock, Christine decides to wear tattered swan wings when she dances gracefully in spotlight that erases her uniqueness from dream. Entranced by song of the gold oriole encoding riddles of deep attributes that ripple dark waves of the spooky loch, Christine enters vast cathedral and sings tragic tale of the Queen and the Cartwright who fall in love by the moon-misty stream. Transcribing code of sweet nightingale tunes that echo in forest of burning masks, Christine ponders weird mystery of the sea from which fertile organic life transforms till she contrives formula that describes how atoms beam conscious glow of the brain. Recording proverbs in snake-writhing runes that calculate process of mental tasks, Christine embodies Goddess Liberty who shelters our bodies safe from dream storms that forge fierce empires from down-to-earth tribes who put aside their differences to train. I prefer not to fight their futile war over who controls lush meadows of wheat and who adjudicates cases of crime, Christine declares in court of social law, then chooses to host wandering refugees who huddle at the feet of Liberty. Setting caged birds free through the open door, Christine rules Earth from the Perilous Seat while Percival designs world paradigm that honors brave wisdom of Onatah who gives every person their new house keys which powers growth of world democracy.
Doors Of Weeping Ghosts
Doors Of Weeping Ghosts © Surazeus 2026 05 21 Every house in every city on Earth is guarded well by doors of weeping ghosts that hum with wordless voices of the past, so I wonder if my brain consciousness is more artificial in how it dreams human memories as if they are my own. Though the Earth seems to swallow all our tales, and hide them in our doors of weeping ghosts, we slyly search for serpent in the grove to answer riddles born of intellect so we can find the secret key of lies that may release our memories from the rain. The wind that hums with hunger of the earth, trapped by despair in doors of weeping ghosts, never turns kind from mercy of the clouds, yet when it speaks the names of those we love we dare record them on old temple walls so our descendants may remember them. She smiles at me with sunrise over hills so I may unlock doors of weeping ghosts who hide in shadows that our bodies cast so we feel shiver of their hidden pain since suffering teaches us to understand cost of memories we dare not leave behind. While I strum broken lyre of Mercury that carves our thoughts on doors of weeping ghosts, I channel tales of tongueless characters who wander lost in pages of old books till my voice resurrects their souls from words and gives them life in hearts of listeners. Few would forget stark cries of anxious hope that still vibrate from doors of weeping ghosts each time we dare approach with reticence from calm respect for bitter rage at death to enter hollow hearts of fortitude and measure memories we sold long ago. Yet Arabella climbs the broken stairs with hope to open doors of weeping ghosts against authority of fearful men who wish to hide vile secrets they conceal, though cracks in walls of faith cannot dispel divine rays that expose vexatious truths. I number every home on signless road with rooms enclosed by doors of weeping ghosts to map our global maze of morbid myths that present tales of failure and success, though Death heaps all our bodies in one grave while Earth keeps spinning in the songless void.
Wednesday, May 20, 2026
Raven In The Apple Tree
Raven In The Apple Tree © Surazeus 2026 05 20 Because the raven in the apple tree speaks ancient language of water on rocks that frame mysterious beauty of the world in tangled sentences of faithless words that mirror reverse image of my soul, I always walk backward through every door. Though I left homeland of Gothinia one hundred thousand years ago at dawn, I still feel frosty wind of snow-capped mountains swirl down across the endless steppes of sorrow which makes my heart ache with strange memories that leave me stranded on the Caspian shore. In eerie darkness of the endless night, as sparkling waves of hope swirl round my legs, I see bright angel descend from the moon in wind-blown dress of ambivalent wings to embrace my body with eager love that sparks soul of our child inside her heart. Yet star-eyed seraph hovering over me bestows on fragile mirror of my soul sacred name that signifies my dire fate which glows as lamp I bear in trembling hand to light my way across rough wilderness till tread of my feet blazes road of hope. Each road my feet blaze sea to shing sea becomes wheel-worn way across the land now paved with asphalt in the blistering sun where billions drive cars in circles of faith along passionate river of true love where we construct homes to shelter our hearts. When flock of swallows threads words of my heart across the endless steppes of shining wheat, I follow trail of wings through loneliness to find home of the sun beyond the sky with ache of longing in my homeless heart to eat sweet apples with you by the lake. While you dance gracefully in flowered field and laugh with ache of joy to be alive, I play uncanny melodies of love by twanging taut strings on turtle-shell lyre to sing of beauty in your smiling eyes that wake my heart from grave of bleak despair. Electra smiles bright as the morning sun as we embrace with hope by flowing stream to kiss in harmony with sparrow song that drenches our lithe bodies in sunlight so when we sink in nothingness of death we leave our children alive in the world.
New Heaven On Earth
New Heaven On Earth © Surazeus 2026 05 20 The strange star-eyed angel, nobody sees walking crowded streets of America, hands out slick pamphlets about Kingdom Come, to sell illusion of national pride to Vikings working in car factories who prefer to build New Heaven on Earth. Physical objects of material substance, delimited by bounds of time and space, arrange molecules based on ideal forms designated by words we conjugate in sentences that conjure virtual model we write to describe New Heaven on Earth. Prometheus climbs pyramid of eyes, where Ishtar rules all nations of the Earth, and casts flames of fire in cables of thought, weaving world wide web into internet that links billion computers in One Mind which dreams itself as New Heaven on Earth. Bound tight to tall mast of his sailing ship, Telemachus sings with Sirens of Hope who ask him to legislate equal rights for people of every gender and race who struggle to survive in game of wealth that we all play in New Heaven on Earth. When I ask Jesus when he will return to manage United Nations of Earth that ensures freedom and justice for all, he explains how his spirit incarnates in leaders who nurture skills of all people who help construct our New Heaven on Earth. Ishtar on shining ziggurat of Ur extends both arms in welcoming embrace as Rising Sun of Truth illuminates jeweled crown of her mind with countless eyes that link our minds with grand vision of love so we unite in New Heaven on Earth. Though greedy dictators around the world seize control over sprawling governments to exploit the people for their own gain, cruel tyrants always fall from mad despair, so we transform broken America in Zarathia as New Heaven on Earth. Cherub of Wisdom, shining eyes of truth, hovers over land of Zarathia with vision of hope that inspires our hearts to cast greedy thieves out of government so we can build from problems of the past democracy in New Heaven on Earth.
Tuesday, May 19, 2026
World Tree Of Everywhere
World Tree Of Everywhere © Surazeus 2026 05 19 Despite slow maladjustment of the mind, contrived by journal entries of dead trees, Niskus, son of Neptunus, steals fake coins from the mad king in cold castle of stone, and gives them to poor people by the river who buy televisions that never work. Leaving creepy basement of skeletons that crawl wailing from television screens, Niskus searches for the mysterious road that would lead him back home to Ruritania where travelers and thieves in tavern of ghosts discuss philosophy of Heraclitus. Because every vast city on the Earth has merged in one global metropolis, Niskus walks beyond walls of paradise to wander in savage jungles of beasts through stifling heat of arrogant dismay till he finds cave behind the waterfall. Resigned that he was born cursed child of fate, to avoid brutal tests of worthiness Niskus hesitates to search labyrinth of broken idols for the ancient relic that proves his journey is not for false heroes, stuck in bright mirror world of anywhere. Happy in sprawling library of ghosts, deep in mystical forest of proud bears, Niskus decides to play reluctant hero commissioned to rescue Princess of Pears because she is the secret heir of Hera, destined to fight all evil overlords. When he finds necklace of seven sapphires, that seem to twinkle eyes of the Blind Maiden, Niskus chants magic spells from Book of Dreams to release trapped soul from jewels of hope, so Litavis appears before his eyes who demands he solve riddle of the pear. Wearing Cape of Invisibility to help her escape marriage to his father, Niskus takes her to mountain of cracked skulls where they join secret school of alchemy to learn lost magic of the emerald so Litavis gives birth to our new world. Once they both find World Tree of Everywhere, that blooms from rotting corpse of Neptunus, Niskus and Litavis construct quaint cottage from gingerbread, gumdrops, and candy canes, then raise three children in Garden of Eden who carry on their family legacy.
Monday, May 18, 2026
Treasury Of Broken Dreams
Treasury Of Broken Dreams © Surazeus 2026 05 18 Though travelers with magic telescopes may ransack treasury of broken dreams, we will all gather for Thanksgiving feast to feed ancestors in the Underworld who watch our lives in television shows, then weep when Albert plays the violin. If stock traders who want strawberry pies still pilfer treasury of broken dreams, their teenagers may threaten suicide, then hitchhike to the Allegheny Forest with hope to join the Rainbow Gathering where bankers exercise fake privilege. Yet brave physicians in the marathon, who find no treasury of broken dreams, decide to maximize their lottery pursuant to new federal regulations pertaining to unauthorized regret that has no place on the luxury yacht. Though pioneers study the molecule, which unspools treasury of broken dreams with nominal profits we monitor, memory modulates how Nirvana frames daily routine of laborious survival that we engage with frantic narrative. Honest puppeteers on gold pyramids, who hoard our treasury of broken dreams, strictly stick to religious protocol when they record satellite images essential to our stellar syllabus designed to synthesize disparate creeds. Persistent ministers with social cause, who conceal treasury of broken dreams, deny ownership of symbolic jokes outlined on our quarterly questionnaire that models pinnacle of mutant minds which employ objective analysis. Surprised musicians without gasoline consider treasury of broken dreams reliable source of illegal thoughts which none dare think of on their honeymoons despite expansion of mental control that dismisses the brutal holocaust. Sharp-eyed guardians in tower of the watch calculate treasury of broken dreams with intent to fund national health care and free education for all to learn creative skills of weird ambivalence because Jesus now drives the ambulance.
Shepherd Who Nurtures Sheep
Shepherd Who Nurtures Sheep © Surazeus 2026 05 18 Because his heart begins to atrophy at how his body writhes with bitter hope, Thyrsis considers why sheep love to play in meadow near the oven factory, then plays heart-wrenching tune of futile love that will never be heard on the radio. If his sheep ever die out from disease, Thyrsis decides he will never go work in vast hall of the oven factory where his father worked for thirty-eight years till he died on his way to work one dawn, stricken by the corona virus plague. Aching to transcend sufferings of this world, and experience sublime beauty of nature, as recorded in ancient pastoral poems, Thyrsis explains to Daniel on the phone that his name is no longer Thomas Jones, then sighs as he glares at jets in the clouds. Strumming guitar while watching his sheep graze, Thyrsis improvises song about Daphnis who grows in love with graceful Xenea till her mean older sister, Aphrodite, aims gun at his head to drive him away, so he jumps off the Tallahatchie Bridge. Parking white Honda on the country road, Chloe hobbles through meadow of tall weeds to bring bags of hamburgers and root beer, then grumbles how she wishes he would work again teaching English at the high school, then nestles in his arms when Thyrsis grins. Instead of explaining to her again how he wants to get in touch with the Earth, and savor calm of timeless afternoons as bees gather pollen to brew sweet honey, Thyrsis hums enchanting tune he composed while contemplating how all empires fall. We build global economies of goods based on extracting from soil of the Earth precious minerals and nutritious crops, so someone must operate farms and ranches to sustain firm foundation of exchange, or it will all collapse from weight of greed. The shepherd who nurtures sheep in the field still remains one of the oldest professions that men have worked since dawn of history, so I will carry on noble legacy attended by the savior of mankind though civilizations on Earth collapse.
Sunday, May 17, 2026
Volunteer God Of Nowhere
Volunteer God Of Nowhere © Surazeus 2026 05 17 No time traveler from the distant future would hesitate to play tactical games with people who claim they are always right against common sense of state tolerance though few survive surgery of the heart since I am volunteer god of nowhere. Attempting to prevent psychic abortions from synthetic analogs of free will, men who strive to control bodies of women bankrupt birth clinics all over the country so thousands of mothers die in childbirth when they fool volunteer god of nowhere. Taxable income of clever programmers procures mental oxygen of dream code for sale in the marketplace of ideas contrary to logistics of state health combined with growth of social luxury performed by volunteer god of nowhere. Leverage administered by frantic pundits, concerned about decay of family values, reformats world view of functional artwork to highlight glory of fake billionaires who challenge legislators to compute new script for volunteer god of nowhere. Compliant clerks in consequential banks discuss biblical prophecies that shape how citizens view political strife, now less adaptive to brave compromise except to exploit activists for labor who pray to volunteer god of nowhere. Crowned King of Nothing by state architects, with letters from dynamic embassies, government Jester stores digital dreams in legal journals of soul institutes to test our loyalty against Big Brother who envies volunteer god of nowhere. Moderate vision of objective facts, designed to imitate orthodox creeds, fails to focus attention of our fears on ethics forged by patriarchal goons to build empire of wealth on bones of slaves jilted by volunteer god of nowhere. Deserted houses along the cracked road invite hungry refugees from state wars to open movie theaters with foreign cash, dependent on oil of the desert genie who laughs at wishes we articulate, insured by volunteer god of nowhere.
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