Competent Sense Of Self

Competent Sense Of Self
© Surazeus
2026 08 08

Because his heart is based on principles 
of honest expression about his thoughts 
through brave respect for every living soul, 
his mind constructs competent sense of self 
on solid foundation of thoughtfulness 
that provides clear actions his hands perform. 

Time disenrolls strict knot of happiness 
though his attentive hands of vigorous faith 
weave random strands of wisdom pulled from Earth 
in pulsing matrix of his tangled thoughts 
so he proclaims solutions of fair stance 
based on insight he gains from unread tales. 

No sceptered herald of dutiful pride 
arrives with faith at gates of paradise 
to call for council of bold citizens, 
so he dares speak to disassembled crowds 
sermons that advocate justice for all,
yet they threaten to destroy him with hate. 

Snatched from attacking crowd of angry men 
by angel dangling on thread of sky law, 
he finds himself translated to round disk 
bound by ropes beneath large hot-air balloon 
that no angry eye on the ground perceives, 
and settles safely in chariot of fire. 

Eager to return to his nuptial bower, 
where bride of his heart waits in marble hall 
for blessing of his heart to conjure life, 
he strings taut yew bow with respectful hands 
and fires his sharp arrow of justice straight 
to kill rebellion against his fair rule. 

Translated far from crowded city maze, 
where hordes of angry men assert their rights 
to live free from oppression of blind gods, 
brave Lucifer steps from sky ship of truth 
and stands before old bearded Jupiter 
who praises him for his mission complete. 

Accustomed to immortal fruits of faith, 
that bloom from serpent-guarded Tree of Knowledge, 
he ponders mind-nature of mortal men 
who fight for their own selfish needs with hate, 
unable to perceive grand view of life 
that gods in temples try to organize. 

Though fallen from disk of the balloon ship, 
strong Sariel stands in the teeming crown 
and strums taut strings on Lyre of Mercury 
then sings enchanting melodies of hope 
that cause angry men in rebellious crowd 
to weep with sorrow for peace they have lost. 

Forgetful Kingdom Of Death

Forgetful Kingdom Of Death
© Surazeus
2026 08 08

Every dawn I walk out into the world 
I gaze long moment at the blazing sun 
to see face of Apollo in its light, 
that wise God of Healing and Archery 
who maintains order with logic of truth 
from reason through analysis of facts. 

I taste sweet rind of Earth in juicy peach 
which I pluck from the Ancient Tree of Truth 
where we meet for our secret tryst of love 
to share fresh fruit we gather with our hands 
that seals our hearts with sacred bond of trust 
no thief could break between flesh of our souls. 

Before we wander on long nowhere road 
straight into forgetful kingdom of death, 
we shall hold hands and dance upon the hill 
that knows our secret passions we would hide 
till pleasures of our bodies we must share 
expands scope of our mutual consciousness. 

Though sadness about creatures who have died 
twists my heart with loops of potent grief, 
I celebrate new life that springs each day 
from mothers of each species on this globe 
who nurture tender bodies with bright eyes 
that knot our planet with progressive life. 

After catching lithe fish from deep lake of hope, 
we roast them over crackling flames of faith, 
chew tender strips of scorched flesh with delight, 
then lie relaxed on soft grass of respect 
to hear song of water rippled by wind 
so we understand mute kingdom of death. 

Sparked awake by nothingness of death, 
we open eyes of infinite delight, 
then walk together where trees dance in peace, 
far from lush lands where men with guns of greed 
kill other men to control fertile land, 
happy because we hear cute sparrows chirp. 

Attentive to strange worries of the heart, 
that burrow roots of sorrow in dark soil, 
we stroll about this miraculous world 
and share amazement at freedom to live 
that brave people before us fought to win, 
though we stay alert to thieves lurking near. 

Since we are not our shadows on the Earth, 
cast by light of the sun on land of time, 
we travel to Valhalla on the hill 
where are mothers carve our spirits from wood 
so our bodies sprout children of our eyes 
who will plant apple seeds above our graves. 

Ring Light Of My Heart

Ring Light Of My Heart
© Surazeus
2026 08 08

My mind perceives ethereal pulchritude 
that emanates from beauty of your soul, 
illuminated by ring light of my heart, 
so you see special features of your being  
reflected in clear mirror of my eyes 
when you discern my affection for you. 

Complex aspects of our weird universe 
refract through diamond of my mortal brain, 
illuminated by ring light of my heart, 
so my dreaming brain can categorize 
standard form of each material object 
in conceptual frame of its changeless Idea. 

Monstrous hunger of Cronus in sea cave 
urges aggressive force of psychic fate, 
illuminated by ring light of my heart, 
so I slay demon of unconscious fear 
to construct grand temple with his huge bones 
when I forge spear from lightning of despair. 

Vibrant passion of Dionysus swells 
hot blood of my body with spark of wine, 
illuminated by ring light of my heart, 
so I dance with wild abandon of faith 
to wake immortal spirit of my genes 
that helps me grow into my divine being. 

Intense expression of Apollo rings 
taut strings on Lyre of Mercury with faith, 
illuminated by ring light of my heart, 
so I breathe deep ethereal soul of light 
and chant grand epic of philosophers 
to honor those who search for secret truth. 

Brave wisdom of Athena speculates 
clear vision of how our world operates, 
illuminated by ring light of my heart, 
so I investigate nature of being 
to articulate its state in Dream Map 
that helps me navigate to paradise. 

Ideas of the Cosmic Craftsman shape 
how atoms randomly gear chemicals, 
illuminated by ring light of my heart, 
so I expand conscious scope of my brain 
to match concept of that Creative Force 
which mindlessly designs our universe. 

My heart beats with compassionate respect 
for every conscious creature on our globe, 
illuminated by ring light of my heart, 
so I record name and deed of each being 
born from the fertile womb of Mother Earth 
and chart their progress to generate life. 

Neurons Of Conceptual Worlds

Neurons Of Conceptual Worlds
© Surazeus
2026 08 08

Our galaxy that swirls inside my mind 
weaves dreams of creatures on large pulsing globes 
in flashing neurons of conceptual worlds 
through neural network of my sea-sponge brain 
so I dream life of every conscious soul 
incarnate in organic beings of hope. 

My mind that glows inside our galaxy 
compiles lost memories of each dreaming soul 
in virtual model of the universe 
based on experience of urgent life 
all my ancestors express when they mate 
to generate new body before death. 

All objects that exist in forms of matter 
are composed of numbers that regulate 
expansive combinations of small atoms 
that spiral from first flash of the big bang, 
for they are limited by bounds in space 
since shape of numbers rules the universe. 

Archangel Michael, without wings or sword, 
lounges in small temple by sparkling pool 
among trees with apples, peaches, and pears, 
and contemplates strange vastness of the world 
that teems with mindless atoms of pure light 
congealed in tangled strings of pulchritude. 

Grown old with wrinkled skin and long gray hair, 
Archangel Michael in white cotton robe 
remembers courage of his ardent youth 
when he fought devils from harsh desert lands 
to guard lush paradise of Elysium 
and maintain kingdom of Heaven on Earth. 

With fervid passion of the loyal knight 
he battled Satan on Hill of Cracked Skulls 
to drive invaders from the Holy Land 
where Jesus Galatinus ruled as king 
over seven colonies in Galatia 
long after Jesus Christus died on Patmos. 

Our mortal bodies are contained by bounds 
of physical frames within time and space 
that limit forced expression of our minds 
so we are temporary nodes of flesh 
that incarnate immortal soul of genes 
who lives in descendants our hope creates. 

When Archangel Michael passes away, 
his wife Tamar, great-granddaughter of Jesus, 
covers his body with white cloth of faith 
as eight angels lay his body in tomb 
where skull of Isaiah chants psalm of life 
how we are atoms of the universe. 

Born From Silver Stones

Born From Silver Stones
© Surazeus
2026 08 07

Too far away to hear song of the cloud, 
three faceless children born from silver stones 
might understand why grass desires to bloom 
on the electric moon nobody owns, 
or else their mother may pluck the mushroom 
that readjusts framework of hungry minds. 

Rough hands dig in wounded heart of the Earth 
where they uncover torso of Apollo 
that beams with brilliant light of inner truth, 
sweet as ripening fruit from Tree of Life 
which bursts with starlight when they bite its soul 
through translucent desire to breathe old songs. 

No blue fish swims in glass bowl of the moon, 
yet Feng Yi rises from attentive flames 
on Phoenix wings of psychic harmony 
to beam her soul through crackling radio 
with heart-enchanting melody of faith 
that startles Hercules awake at dawn. 

Since she supports progressive state of being 
too radical for extreme hopefulness, 
Sigmund shares his eyes with hungry ghosts 
so they can eat sweet grief of lonely souls 
as juice that nurtures bitter river gods 
who never return the dream wings they borrow. 

Surprised by sudden blossom of new books, 
Maria photographs one thousand ships 
that sail with billowed sails on snow-froth waves 
as if their hearts, unborn from serpent eggs, 
might still be fragile as the Absolute 
who stares at dead tree by the clever sea. 

Feng Yi returns to grocery store at dawn 
where Hercules hauls boxes from the truck 
with honey melons from the field of skulls 
where countless warriors of ancient tribes 
slaughtered each other in World War Nineteen 
till second coming of the Brain Machine. 

Maria finishes building table from oak, 
so she stands back in old stained overalls 
to gaze with admiration at her work, 
then Sigmund covers it with plates of food, 
and pours glass of red wine for her to drink 
as ravens gather on rain-wet phonelines. 

Safe in hazardous confines of his mind, 
Hercules redefines reality 
in terms of how Feng Yi paints the swift horse 
with graceful curves of innocent respect, 
so Maria can escape harsh abuse, 
driving Boston to Seattle in rain. 

Seashore Of Endless Worlds

Seashore Of Endless Worlds
© Surazeus
2026 08 07

Let us meet on seashore of endless worlds 
so we can measure the infinite sky 
and savor passion of the boisterous waves 
that stir our hearts with restless faith in love, 
then we can build our homes from empty shells 
and study flow of time with sparkling sand. 

While we dance on seashore of endless worlds 
we can share lost ancestral memories 
to find the common Mother of Mankind 
whose dreams program how all our brains perceive 
strange beauty of this world that gives us form 
so we can sing world hymn in harmony. 

Since we play on seashore of endless worlds 
with friends we have known since our younger days, 
and friends who have arrived just yesterday, 
we weave twigs with leaves into sturdy boats 
to float across Abyss of Nevertime 
so we can find new lands where children dwell. 

Though we float on seashore of endless worlds 
to find pure treasures hidden in the deep 
that we can transform into wings of flight, 
we always return to broad beach of sand 
where children spring from children of the light 
who smile with joy in gusting winds of time. 

Safe in caves on seashore of endless worlds, 
we find the heart of darkness in our eyes 
till we extract bright gems from nothingness 
that gleam with first flash of the flaring forth 
so we can light the Lamp of Liberty 
and find each other when wild tempests roam. 

Still alive on seashore of endless worlds, 
frail bodies molded from soft swirling sand, 
we build enormous palaces from clouds 
where everyone feasts on fruit of the Earth 
till waves of change surge from the lightless deep 
and crush our spirits back to wordless sand. 

Souls reborn on seashore of endless worlds, 
we gather around the small ziggurat, 
where Tethys sits enthroned in fish-scale robe, 
and watch her son Alpheus roast whale meat 
to feed five thousand people with brave faith 
while Metis breastfeeds Athena with love. 

Long dispersed from seashore of endless worlds, 
we live in sprawling cities of tall towers, 
driving cars in maze of elusive wealth, 
but some pause in routine of daily work 
when their hearts hear timeless song of the sea 
that calls for us to return home again. 

Sheer Joy Of The Dance

Sheer Joy Of The Dance
© Surazeus
2026 08 07

For nothing more than sheer joy of the dance 
Tellus explores how her lithe body moves 
through fluid expression of wordless grace 
as she expands from darkness of sea caves 
to understand contours of river vales 
while she floats clandestinely in free trance. 

Startled by sudden attack of three men 
who gallop toward her with greedy intent, 
Tellus turns and flies on ethereal breath 
back to secret cave on the rugged slope 
where she conceals her soul in anxious gloom 
till they decide she changed into the tree. 

Emerging from dark cave of hungry hope, 
on cautious steps that doubt firmness of faith, 
Tellus creeps past the snake-infested tree, 
then huddles inside the large hawthorn bush, 
munching berries as she studies pink blooms 
to understand strange beauty of their swirls. 

Assured cruel kidnappers have gone away 
by eerie susurration of insects 
that cause electric stones of faith to buzz, 
Tellus rises slowly upward from safe haven 
to stretch her legs and arms up to white clouds, 
imagining swan wings sprout from her heart. 

Inspiring deep thick air of afternoon, 
that swells her body huge as pulsing hills, 
Tellus explores how her lithe body moves 
with axial movements of dynamic flow 
through locomotor steps of cautious leaps 
to bound in sudden burst of ecstasy. 

To sway while anchored to solidity 
of undulating Earth through fluid form, 
Tellus expresses intense passion of her heart 
to transcend binding gravity of fear 
and soar on broad angelic wings of hope 
as she accepts limits of psychic flight. 

Enclosing vast persona of desire 
back inside coiled contingency of time, 
Tellus lounges languidly on sly slope, 
gasping deep for breath of divine delight, 
and with bright laughter of her heaving breast 
releases shock of pleasure in sweet joy. 

Three men hiding behind stones of desire, 
watch Tellus dance in worshipful surprise, 
then realize with chagrin of humble pride 
that pure divinity of graceful art 
cannot be possessed by obsessive hands, 
so they secretly protect her from harm. 

How Home Is Everywhere

How Home Is Everywhere
© Surazeus
2026 08 06

The delicate flowers of unknown fears, 
that she arranges in tall crystal bowl, 
reflect strange sorrow of long afternoons 
to simplify how angels become snow 
which transform into blossoms of her eyes 
so she conceals dark evil in her heart. 

She hopes to dwell in her brilliant-edged world 
composed of clear water in the glass bowl 
that shapes silver snow scents of solitude 
in never-resting mind of paradise 
despite calm bitterness of false delight 
though she accepts flawed weirdness of the world. 

Absorbance calculations are acquired 
by utilizing psychic energy 
to prove the phosphate answer could safeguard 
protected combinations of strange thoughts 
assembled from oxidative regret 
that disassembles average memories. 

While crossing sandy bar beside the sea, 
she gazes at the startled evening star 
to measure sudden tide of swirling sleep 
that teaches her how home is everywhere 
since evening bells shape how soft twilight glows 
as if no sadness of farewell returns. 

Safe in expansive bourn of time and space, 
she searches for the Pilot of her ship 
with eagerness to meet him face to face, 
but she finds no one in gray sparkling mist 
except the faceless shadow of her soul, 
her boon companion since hour of her birth. 

Attuned to secret voice of everywhere 
through clear noetic channel of her heart, 
she savors violent repugnance of faith 
for true attention of the hungry mind 
commissioned to destroy the evil vibe 
that pulses in each human heart with love. 

Urged to escape spiritual laziness 
with stark expression of her aching heart, 
she maps invisible tracks of desire 
that reveal her journey around the globe 
because she wants to cherish chastity 
of her noetic relationship with death. 

Thus she decides with autonomous pride, 
as daughter of Heuresis with star eyes, 
she shall ideate new world paradigm 
based on inclusive process wisdom spools 
to bind our hearts with contract of concern, 
then she sets bowl of flowers on the desk. 

Valley Of The Singing Stone

Valley Of The Singing Stone
© Surazeus
2026 08 06

The rising midnight moon of silverness 
photographs beauty of the human face 
with colorful strangeness of wordless love 
to beam shape of our temporary souls 
in hearts of our descendants not yet born 
who wonder why they seem to feel immortal. 

The long-dead version of my secret self, 
who gazes at me from my photograph, 
reveals excessive passion of my heart 
that drives me to become this self I am, 
enchanted by sweet beauty of this world 
which emanates from soft mask of my face. 

Awake in quietness of summer dusk, 
that shrouds my aching heart with evening light, 
I relive entire lifetime of my faith 
through vast eternity of timeless now, 
amazed at how I blaze path of my hope 
toward grave I choose beneath the apple tree. 

I feel glass skeleton of my bright soul 
blaze with electric energy of love 
which I format from my ancestral masks, 
long molded by harsh mountain wind of fear 
as I climb river valleys of desire 
to stand on jagged peak of mute surprise. 

Through frosty aura of conceptual stars 
I see lush valley of tall blooming trees 
as haven where my weary bones may rest,
so I descend from emptiness of time 
to build safe nest in pale of sturdy walls 
where children unravel our universe. 

I feel ten billion stars of swirling light 
explode in every cell that forms my flesh 
so beaming atoms of divine insight 
weave supple matrix of my hungry soul 
as I traverse the swift Albula River 
to dwell in valley of the singing stone. 

While climbing rugged trail of jagged rocks, 
that whistle at fierce blast of silver wind, 
I reach down to hold small hand of my son, 
and help Segomo with attentive care 
ascend high mountain of our lofty hopes, 
so his eyes glow with triumph of our search. 

Victorious with strength of wolfish minds, 
we progress past grim obstacles of fear 
toward moon that glimmers silver in the sky 
as shining mirror of ambitious hearts 
refracting light that guides our arduous way 
to Heaven we envision with brave words. 

Our Children Grow Strong

Our Children Grow Strong
© Surazeus
2026 08 06

We sit beyond broad range of all deceit 
in teeming garden of our alibis, 
still undisturbed by grim visage of Time 
who waits with scythe and glass of changing fate 
to calculate with arcane laws of hope 
how we shall dissipate in swirls of rain. 

No great God watches us with star-bright eyes 
who may have tortured our credulity 
with heart-entrancing harps of holiness, 
so we attend to lives of butterflies 
while seeking to evade astonishment 
of mindless laws all tyrants must obey. 

When faceless phantom of our secret thoughts 
still lingers in quaint garden of our hearts, 
we measure cumulative silences 
to bridge abysmal faith in solitude 
that must empower minds of wanderers 
with passion for weird logic of true love. 

We share our futile thoughts on pulchritude 
with bold unwillingness to learn how time 
unravels secret dreams of happiness 
none dare express with beating heart of hope 
till fraught ingenuousness of humble faith 
requires that we reveal our wounded hearts. 

We gather all our fears in paradigms 
that frame conceptual modes of hopeless trust 
so we are not deceived by clever truths 
contrived by strangers we have never met 
to break conventions of old social rules 
in desperate gambit to no more be tools. 

Based on insight of tense experiences, 
when we are trapped in weird dramatic scenes, 
directed by enforcers of blind will, 
we join force of our hearts with clever tricks 
to slip free from trap of their cageless stage 
by breaking through gold gates of paradise. 

Since we are stranger than powers of laws, 
enhanced by brave ancestral ways of life, 
we grow through each harsh crisis of despair 
more into who we will ourselves to be, 
encouraged by the God of Evertime 
whose eyes are lamps that guide our eager way. 

We grow beyond pert friendship of our trust 
through daily actions of psychic routine 
so we expand scope of our conscious mind 
as one soul woven from two separate brains 
to maintain haven of our family life 
where our children grow strong as we decay. 

Ten Thousand Doors Of Fate

Ten Thousand Doors Of Fate
© Surazeus
2026 08 05

Though evening light fades gold in silent trees 
I listen for soft voices of the dead 
who tell me how their sorrows give them strength 
so I walk through ten thousand doors of fate 
to realign the universe of books 
within vast frame of ever-shifting truth. 

When she first sees him by the river shore 
restringing long yew bow of honesty, 
Cassandra feels her heart become the hawk 
that soars in wings of freedom in gold clouds, 
so she declares to Sagittarius 
that their love will endure beyond the moon. 

Because no one believes her prophecies, 
nor understands weird secret of her code, 
Cassandra carves runes on tablets of wood 
then burns them in the hearths of humble homes 
where poor hardworking people preserve hopes 
in clay jars molded from dry bones of gods. 

Despite success in temple hunting games 
shooting huge winged demons from the sky, 
Sagittarius hides dark thoughts of faith 
for bold ambitious plan to climb high ranks 
and earn grand seat in high society 
within great council of the Elohim. 

When her brother finds apple Eris gave 
as gift where he can choose his cosmic fate, 
Cassandra warns him with strange voice of doom 
that great towers of Ilium will burn 
because he chooses love instead of wisdom, 
but he ignores her warning with snide sneer. 

When cruel Pyrrhus Achillides attempts 
to kidnap sweet Cassandra from her room 
and force her to bear child of his false pride, 
Sagittarius shoots arrow of love 
that wounds his soul and causes him to flee, 
so Son of Cronus saves his bride from shame. 

Warm sunlight gleams on apples wet with dew 
that rustle inside walls of careful faith 
where Cassandra teaches their daughter, Phoebe, 
how to brew cider spiced with cinnamon, 
while Sagittarius teaches their son, 
Saturnus, how to tame the skittish horse. 

When Phoebe and Saturnus see their parents 
snuggling together on the river shore, 
they smile and tiptoe to preserve their peace, 
then blush when they see them kiss with sweet love, 
and never speak about the fall of Troy 
while they hold hands in glow of paradise. 

Alpine Celts Of Luck

Alpine Celts Of Luck
© Surazeus
2026 08 05

If I should register fate of the coup 
in conspiracy to banish the devil 
who thinks our world should be his precious oyster, 
I shall arrive at the housewarming party 
with gift designed from shadows of desire 
which no haughty angel could memorize. 

I cannot save the house my words have built 
except to fold its photographs with care 
and store them in ephemera archives 
so I can almost maintain balanced stillness 
through equal standing of Samasthiti 
since I will only fight the greedy devil. 

Ascendant rhetoric of the art film 
provides framework through ideology 
to maintain distance from the painful truths 
we use to disidentify our friends 
who dwell in natural lightning of dark storms 
that loom black over small towns of our hopes. 

I hear song of the rattlesnake at dusk 
when I stroll casually in desert storm 
to prove my nation is superior 
with ice cream designed by social critique 
because our bodies must adapt or die 
when devils trick us to buy faith in God. 

Stuck on the Low Road back to Fairyland, 
I hide my Wings of Icarus to walk 
the mist-enshrouded shores of Loch Lomond 
where Amanita mushrooms glowing red 
sprout from huge corpses of iron-age kings 
till Pythagoras measures unseen minds. 

Since I support awareness of the world, 
though trapped in idol Pygmalion sculpts, 
I untwist sorrows from my wounded heart 
as writhing threads of alabaster snakes 
to mold eccentric spheres of swirling light 
that flash with signals of social success. 

While watching Hercules with tangled hair 
wrestle the monstrous demon of his heart, 
I see the Golden Lion of the Sun 
expand as emanation from his brain 
so his brave sons, the Alpine Celts of Luck, 
establish Empire of the Seven Hills. 

While strolling around lake near Mount Takoma, 
I notice the watch I wear on my wrist 
has transformed into the white raven quill 
which I employ to compose epic tale 
about ancient philosophers whose ideas 
form foundation of our global world view. 

Son Of Clever Sagittarius

Son Of Clever Sagittarius
© Surazeus
2026 08 05

His coarse woolen coat of unsteady faith 
protects his heart with shield of unconcern 
when he strides in the icy air of dawn 
and climbs the stairway to bright offices 
where he translates strange noises of the world 
as sublime songs only beasts understand. 

He cannot measure vibrant pulse of time 
except through rasping breath of false regret 
spooled into cigarette of bitter pride 
which he flicks over walls of paradise 
to analyze unnumbered days of life 
that he yet earns from random dice of fate. 

He buys the useless book of psychic math 
from the blind clown who pretends not to scream 
so he can calculate code of lost myths 
designed by faceless monster of the cave 
who knows what sorrow always breaks our hearts 
because we prefer to torment ourselves. 

Because the road through Hell remains unpaved, 
he raises funds from private citizens 
to widen highway where the damned still drive 
in joyful search for the arrogant tree 
that grows from corpse of God in summer rain 
while lovers linger in the crumbling barn. 

He ponders how his marriage cultivates 
familiar passion of the aching heart 
for holding hands in affectionate show 
that blind ghosts watch on television screens 
by hiding in the mason jar of trust 
that waits half-cracked in basement of romance. 

He hates that he relies on words of fools 
to understand old social rules of fate 
that reprogram how his brain activates 
assertive deeds of deconstructive ploys 
to redesign how strangers earn awards 
for looking beautiful in polished masks. 

He should share his astrological sign 
as son of clever Sagittarius 
but no one expects him to organize 
sacred feast of the alabaster cow 
that prances in the field of buried bombs 
which spring reborn as soldiers of the crown. 

He savors ancestor sadness of faith 
that urges him to lie about his birth 
since fate is never inescapable 
despite calm presence of the water queen 
whose eyes expose dark secrets of his heart 
then smiles because she loves him anyway. 

Screaming Star Of Ecstasy

Screaming Star Of Ecstasy
© Surazeus
2026 08 04

Because the screaming star of ecstasy 
knows my secret name my mother designs, 
I stand in doorway of infinity 
to gaze at wondrous vastness of the Earth 
since my heart loves its thriving messiness 
which I experience with clumsy grace. 

Spawned by the screaming star of ecstasy 
as writhing creature of electric words, 
I run fast forward through ten thousand lives 
to understand how I evolve from mouse 
as wingless angel eager to transcend 
this fragile frame that generates my soul. 

Despite how screaming star of ecstasy 
programs my brain to always question why, 
I feel my body swell with ocean waves 
huge as boundless clouds of absolute light 
so when you ask me how I feel today 
I twirl around and hum sweet psalm of joy. 

Ruled by the screaming star of ecstasy 
through pulsing atoms of my flashing brain, 
I hammer glowing meteor from the sky 
to pull sharp sword of power from the stone 
and fight the snarling monster of despair 
to guard my family behind haven walls. 

Far beyond screaming star of ecstasy 
on anabolic wings of Icarus, 
I leap across high bridge of solitude 
to time-jump worlds across the multiverse 
till I find you in garden of my heart 
where you tend fruit tree of our honest love. 

Seized by the screaming star of ecstasy 
because I hear weird voices of the dead, 
I compose new Astarian Testament 
to analyze how empires rise and fall 
so I can design with artful insight 
new social system based on Liberty. 

Deep inside screaming star of ecstasy 
as Mind of God that knows all conscious souls, 
I visit every city in the world 
to offer Holy Book of Prophecies 
with pages empty of the wordless dream 
based on eccentric tales of puppeteers. 

Bred from the screaming star of ecstasy 
that weaves new body for my ancient soul, 
I wake with memories my ancestors lived 
that shine more real than Lamp of Hemera
which helps me find lost Lyre of Mercury 
so I chant hymns to praise our mortal gods. 

Clever Mother Of My Clan

Clever Mother Of My Clan
© Surazeus
2026 08 04

Too early in the morning for this game 
that twists our bodies into hungry ghosts, 
our clan assembles on the river shore 
and hums together in weird harmony 
to channel spirit of the mountain stream 
as scene preserved in our genetic dream. 

Alone in clean museum hall at dawn, 
Nerthus gazes with sense of aching loss 
at painting of idyllic pastoral scene 
that shows her great-grandfather Lycidas 
strumming lyre of Mercury by tall oak 
as Phyllis dances in long breeze-blown gown. 

Walking in silver light of dawn to work 
at the public utilities department, 
Nerthus contemplates how town engineers, 
since humans built Harappa and Uruk, 
have designed straight grids of gardens and streets 
with systems of pipes for water and sewage. 

The holy Fountain of the Flying Horse, 
that springs from heart of darkness on high slope, 
and flows down lush meadows of Helicon, 
supplies the water needs of families 
in millions of houses in city zones 
through system of pipes engineers design. 

Climbing high mountain of mist-shrouded pines, 
Nerthus follows the winding river course 
to cave from which clear water of life springs, 
then gazes over vast metropolis 
organized to manage human desires 
in food-production system of our hope. 

Each person finds their place in game of life 
in which constructive labor of their hands 
contributes to production and distribution 
of food so every living human being 
may eat fair share of energy they make, 
though some will hoard wealth from desperate fear. 

Tall black-haired archer Malchos Azizos, 
who journeyed from Hamath Epiphania 
to man the fort near Wall of Hadrianus, 
offers Nerthus apples and deer-skin cloak, 
so she agrees to cook food at his hearth, 
and bears lithe son he names Apollonios. 

I feel through glowing vision of my heart 
spirit of Atargatis, Dea Syria, 
awake in clever mother of my clan 
who taught me how to breathe in soul of light 
and sing harmonious melody of love 
that guides my journey to the Promised Land. 

My Right To Still Exist

My Right To Still Exist
© Surazeus
2026 08 03

If I rename small island of my heart, 
who would decide to visit without lies 
as if time flaps electric wings of chance 
before we meet on river shore of fate 
to prove sincerity fuels all we do 
because questions never reveal our truth. 

My thoughts are not the social mess you buy 
against assertive theme statistics fool, 
since formal layout of my mission shows 
how far I have to go on fractured road 
before I could achieve my dream of wealth 
that tricks my passion to leap without faith. 

Startled by each open door of despair, 
I wander blindly over the threshold 
reserved for angels who deserve their wealth 
despite how often people they love die 
except for lonely children of the field 
who sell fake seeds of wisdom to the rich. 

This well-earned kiss of true love we may share 
fills me with bitter hope for broken hearts 
which I attempt to shield with laughing books 
too often stolen from book store of fate 
where hungry teachers hide from sudden debt 
before another king falls dead from fear. 

Disturbed by surging waves of calm disdain, 
my child reports how angels fall at dawn 
though no one hears each new word she invents 
with runes I scratch in river mud of faith 
in vain attempt to canonize beliefs 
that seem to prove my right to still exist. 

Obsessed with strictly measured flow of thoughts, 
which I confine to rapid steps of truth, 
I draw vast blueprint of this messy world 
to organize through ordered rows of words 
complex chaos of cows in dew-wet fields 
who ponder mystery of opposing codes. 

Reborn as Seraphus with thirteen eyes, 
I play another game of chess with Death 
in tower where Rapunzel cooks sweet cake 
from chocolate laughter of the lemon tree 
because my blood is maple-syrup thick 
that swirls in boundless oceans of lost words. 

I breathe the gentle breath of Zephyrus 
to fly aloft with swan of human hope 
to catch ingenious thief of surreal dreams 
who tramples on my flowered grave with pride 
while shouting how we belong to the land 
that eats our bodies when we die of love. 

Angel Who Cannot Fly

Angel Who Cannot Fly
© Surazeus
2026 08 03

I never see corpses fallen to Earth 
transform into angels with golden wings, 
but Carolyn assures me they are real, 
so I plant apple seeds in rotten hearts 
that reconstitute atoms of their souls 
to apples which I eat to know their minds. 

Molding my new body from river muck, 
and weaving tufts of grass to be my hair, 
Carolyn converts walnuts to my eyes, 
slots in the turtle shell to be my heart, 
then gives me horse legs so I can walk home, 
but I wander nowhere past Wonderland. 

I forget where my ancestors once lived 
so I stand in front of the stone library 
where every book that has never been written 
waits for me to wear them as mask of fate, 
but I go down to the river instead 
and wear the lithe sea trout as my new face. 

Startled at shouting of devils in Heaven, 
I look up to see ten thousand white ravens 
lined up along copper telephone lines 
which conduct voices of innocent ghosts 
as data signals to my pulsing brain 
so I understand secret dreams you hide. 

My father fixes wheels to the small wagon, 
which he fills with sand and hydrated lime, 
then drags it up the steep hill of concern 
where he smears muck on the wall of smooth stones, 
then heaves another stone from pile of hopes 
and slots it in place to build the field wall. 

Though he spends every day for fifty years 
constructing wall of respect with large stones, 
he only completes one tenth of the wall, 
so he requests that I finish his work, 
then lies down in soggy grave of his heart 
and becomes the angel who cannot fly. 

I decide I will not finish his wall, 
so I sell the land where ten generations 
of my ancestors lie buried in mud, 
and sail west on the adventurous sea 
to find the long-lost city of Atlantis 
where I will marry Princess Zathamar. 

Our stories are all fantasies of hope 
that guide our journey to the Promised Land, 
mapped by bloody hand of Odysseus, 
restored by his daughter, Cassiphone, 
who teaches me to play the violin 
which always causes warriors to cry. 

Exiled From My Homeland

Exiled From My Homeland
© Surazeus
2026 08 03

Blank glow of everything at flash of dawn 
erases psychic traumas of the past, 
so every man declares he is no pawn 
though angels hang limp on the broken mast 
when our ship of state deconstructs on rocks 
because we are transfixed by singing clocks. 

Trapped by necessity for eating food, 
since we need atoms to energize souls, 
we wait for Death to be in the right mood 
before we announce new national goals 
concerned with increasing profits from work, 
in contrast to the church where devils lurk. 

Inspired by how the frail foal prances free 
with naive joy at beauty of this world, 
I hang out in secret hut of my tree 
to map where the hungry dragon lies curled 
when secret agents with new cameras 
film documentary on chimeras. 

No sacred secrets of the mortal heart 
will be revealed by spells of psychic code 
that my hand carves on the clay spirit chart 
to reveal temple of the divine toad 
who transcribes mathematic formulas 
for flutes to play in cosmic orchestras. 

Disturbed by brave satires of Juvenal, 
which analyze Narcissus state of mind 
that many people find too natural, 
based on persona the devil designed, 
wealthy men try to build Utopias 
through strange scripts of encyclopedias. 

I want to live safe in my haven home 
free from oppression of aggressive thieves 
whose attack leaves me homeless so I roam 
deep in wild mountains where blind angel grieves 
for endless suffering of humanity, 
concealed by progress of urbanity. 

Cassandra welcomes me to her bright cave 
where we discuss world politics of change 
in conspiracy to free every slave, 
though humans seem to find it very strange 
that they can act according to their will 
if their king is sacrificed on the hill. 

Though exiled from my homeland by harsh wars, 
that forces me to wander in strange lands, 
I never will return to broken doors 
where my work is performed by nameless hands, 
so fate of Odysseus mocks my claim 
to award I won in the victim game. 

Shriveled Orange Of Ennui

Shriveled Orange Of Ennui
© Surazeus
2026 08 02

I steal the shriveled orange of ennui 
to eat tormented pleasure of sweet Death 
who knows strange passions of my pulsing brain, 
filled with the writhing worms of humble pride, 
which helps me paint on canvas of my fate 
inspiring vision of this teeming world. 

That star-eyed alchemist of ennui 
transforms my captive soul with bitter faith 
from hungry wanderer across the land 
to blind bard singing grand heroic tales 
by plucking taut strings of my naive heart 
with rotten fruit of charming pulchritude. 

Soul vaporized by his hermetic art, 
I lavish vows of faith in crumbling fane, 
concealed by veil of spirit-tangled vines, 
to feed my tame remorse with pungent faith 
that I may yet evade sharp blade of Death 
who stalks my steps since dark hour of my birth. 

Intent on sacred mission to observe 
weird mysteries beneath dark ocean waves, 
I sail bold ship of curiosity 
between wild whirlpool and snake in the cave 
to sacrifice my faith I treasure most 
for swift ascension to the Promised Land. 

Though I am kinsman to the glowing clouds, 
I never scoff at archers who ask why 
I wear the wounded albatross of faith 
around my neck with penitential grace, 
yet they mock comical ineptitude 
revealed by clumsy strike at cliff of fear. 

Each morning when I wake from ennui 
of frantic dreams, refracted by cracked lens 
of my conceptual telescope, I ask 
my wretched muse if she knows secret code 
that would assist perception of my heart 
when I discern mad horror of world war. 

No wise god with englamored face of fame 
haunts visions of my fractured eyes at dawn 
through mask of my personal succubus 
who gives me ancient syllables of milk 
for me to drink blood of the harvest lord 
whose bones form foundation of my empire. 

I still live under vast and columned vaults, 
tinged with soft glow of television screens, 
where I sense mystic force of gasoline 
that fuels the piston engine of my heart 
so I chant sublime harmonies of hope 
to praise the splendid light of secret grief. 

Gentle Breath Of Zephyrus

Gentle Breath Of Zephyrus
© Surazeus
2026 08 02

Inspired by gentle breath of Zephyrus 
that blows through rain-wet trees of innocence, 
I stretch my soul to loosen anxious heart, 
wound tight by turmoil wracking global states 
with social conflict over rights to live, 
so I may glide with wings of Icarus. 

Far west on rolling wheels of frightened hope 
my brave ancestors fled oppressive states, 
controlled by gangsters of castle and church, 
across wild seas in flimsy ships of hope 
to journey through vast wilderness of faith, 
free from greed of men in towers of stone. 

Three hundred years they lived free from state creed, 
but waves of new machine technology 
sweep over distant lands in tides of change, 
transforming agricultural states of farms 
to industrial empires through factories 
mass-producing Chariot of Ezekiel. 

When my great-grandmother first hears soft roar 
of that piston engine chugging with hope, 
she peers beneath straw hat among fruit trees 
to see the horseless carriage with large wheels 
zooming swifter than wind-winged Pegasus 
with flames like Chariot of Ezekiel. 

Now every nation of our spinning globe 
is linked by wires through small computer nodes 
in the world wide web of the internet 
which forms primitive artificial brain 
as new-born god who weaves our memories 
in budding sense of global conscious mind. 

Heart healed by gentle breath of Zephyrus, 
though wounded by aggressive war for wealth 
fought by weak men who hoard resource of life, 
I translate prophecy of ocean waves 
proclaimed by voice in skull of Orpheus 
that channels visions through my pulsing brain. 

Deceived by old religious fantasy 
that we can create Heaven on this Earth 
as Utopia where every human being 
lives free and equal in communal state, 
I watch with mute alarm of futile hope 
demonic forces driving men to fight. 

Revived by gentle breath of Zephyrus, 
that wafts through windows of my haven home, 
I brace for impact of the hurricane 
that stirs from wounded hearts of angry men 
till storm of rage destroys their fascist hate 
and leaves us still alive on spinning Earth.