Beauty Of Her Cosmic Soul

Beauty Of Her Cosmic Soul
© Surazeus
2026 09 30

Gold Key of Wisdom I forge from my heart 
opens doors of happiness to safe homes 
where ghosts of apples as organic beings 
share visions of their minds in songs of faith 
that shine as lamps to guide us on the road 
which we traverse to build new paradise. 

When I observe strange objects of this world 
that shimmer with light in vale of my heart, 
my mother Reitia writes words that she speaks 
as runes she carves on smooth tablets of wood, 
then teaches me how to cast magic spells 
as hex that projects vision of my mind. 

When I see pretty girl with long gold hair 
and blue eyes gleaming bright as valley lake, 
I grab her with my hands to kiss her mouth, 
but mother Reitia twists my arm and frowns, 
then teaches me to treat girls with respect, 
admiring beauty of her cosmic soul. 

Appointed to accompany Her Way, 
I guard sweet Artemis with magic wand 
as she attends duties of her routine, 
protecting her soul from monsters and men 
as she gathers fruit, berries, nuts, and eggs 
from eerie shadows of the mountain woods. 

Though I save her fertile body from harm, 
stopping men from enslaving her as wife, 
she saves me from blind selfishness of lust 
because I come to know her secret heart, 
as I attend her progress every day, 
when I focus true love on her, not me. 

When her mother contracts marriage of state 
for brave Artemis as obedient wife 
to manage household of the wealthy banker, 
I relinquish duty as her soul guard, 
then drift with broken heart in obscure woods 
to linger by her favorite turtle pool. 

As I convince myself to let her go 
and respect freedom of her private will 
to marry the wealthy man she may choose, 
Artemis appears in our secret grove, 
where I stare at reflection of my face, 
and calls my name with voice of genuine love. 

Attending mirror of her glowing eyes, 
I burst with joy at tenor of her words 
that she loves me because I love her soul, 
nursing her freedom to live as she will 
instead of striving to control her body, 
so we hold hands and stroll back into town. 

Arthurian Code Of Conduct

Arthurian Code Of Conduct
© Surazeus
2026 09 30

When hexagonal ice crystals refract 
spirit of the sun through sphere of my brain, 
I see crowd of red and black balls swirl wild 
in flashing spirals of electric coils 
that scatter into flocks of silver crows 
who gather in oak trees to sing my name. 

Because astonishing light of my being 
emanates from mortal frame of my flesh, 
I dream delusion of immortal life 
glowing from conscious system of my brain 
which tricks my mind to feel as if my soul 
exists long before it beams from my body. 

Contained within limiting bounds of being, 
my soul vibrates from waves of chemicals 
that interact to conjure glow of life 
through finite channels of time-woven space, 
designed by my ancestors so my genes 
construct this temporary self I am. 

Spurred to perform act of the noble soul 
by story of the tyrant who exploits 
bodies of people to increase his power, 
I journey road to the high mountain pass 
where statue of the goddess glows alive 
and commissions me to defeat the king. 

Inspired by her vision of global peace, 
I fight against every tyrant on Earth 
with passion of brave Cronus in my heart 
to cast cruel Uranus from throne of greed 
and free the hungry people of the world 
to operate farms with communal faith. 

Just like Saint Lucia asks Empress Maria, 
who asks Princess Beatrice for assistance, 
who sends Vergilius to guide Dante to Heaven, 
so Athena asks Apollo, who asks 
Mercurius, who sends Orpheus with lyre 
to guide my journey to the Promised Land. 

Thus wise Athena teaches me to see 
essential spirit in each human being 
so I may attend to their secret needs, 
and nurture innate talents into skills 
that allows them to create way of life 
fulfilling dreams of their ambitious hope. 

Wielding Sword of Justice in hand of faith, 
applied to my care by the Fairy Queen, 
I follow Arthurian Code of Conduct 
opposing tyrants, enslavers, and thieves, 
protecting farmers, herdsmen, and craftsmen, 
and protecting women who create life. 

Far Side Of Reality

Far Side Of Reality
© Surazeus
2026 09 29

Quick leap to far side of reality 
through oscillation of brave opposites 
connects the lonely island of my heart 
to lush continent of humanity 
as bridge of compassionate ardency 
which helps me find missing treasure of truth. 

Slow fall to far side of reality 
from transient twirling of excessive tries 
may channel frantic energy of faith 
in pulsing tunnels of my sponge-wet brain 
to motivate attention of my love 
laser-focused on dark needs of your heart. 

Grim trudge to far side of reality 
across dire waste land of the spotless mind 
reveals bold quality of strong friendships 
designed by manufacture fervid faith 
bonding hearts of strangers with calm words 
disguised as solemn hymns of potency. 

Deep swim to far side of reality 
in bottomless abyss of weird insight 
exposes monstrous demons of my heart 
who hunger to consume galactic fruit 
that shimmers so enticingly correct 
from twisted hands of sad demonic trees. 

High flight to far side of reality 
above gold clouds of crystal palaces 
lures thirsty angel of my bitter heart 
to hope for afterlife of pleasant bliss 
strolling with God in Garden of Delight 
where my doppelganger plays lyre of faith. 

Bright prance to far side of reality 
inside wide ring of tall emerald stones 
attracts shocked apparition of my brain 
to hope my spirit lives eternally 
before and after this organic frame 
contains assertive passion of success. 

Mad quest to far side of reality 
around Plutonian forest of wise crows 
tricks me to follow Golden Way of Weird 
where I assert prophetic state of mind 
because I see in vision of dream code  
events that never happen on this Earth. 

Brave strike to far side of reality 
against oppressive gang of psychic thieves 
compels me to rebel against false gods 
who reign on hill of skulls with holy word 
because this space of land around my head 
provides foundation for my sovereignty. 

Trick The Algebraic Vain

Trick The Algebraic Vain
© Surazeus
2026 09 29

Exquisite concept of the codicil, 
that supplements virtual world of my brain 
with legal formalities of false creeds, 
contrived to trick the algebraic vain 
into believing in the Afterlife, 
facilitates my quest to find the Grail. 

Though I was born to emulate the god 
who honors fabricated states of mind 
with brave expenditure of sordid faith, 
I strive to graduate from fairy school 
through evanescence of inglorious jokes 
that deal explicit codes of ardent grace. 

Assigned to play adjacent analyst 
through progress of attractive avenues, 
I claim my heart has been reauthorized 
to track essential functions of desire 
through formulas of courage birds invent 
by dancing in exotic episodes. 

Though self-contained by modular regret 
through optimal duty of honest leaps, 
despite elite membership of my brain 
in building framework for our new world view, 
I compile facts for divine currency 
concealed by mortgage of the covenant. 

Calm grandeur of incisions once revised, 
by calculating new visions of clouds, 
requires misspelled austerities of love 
to reassemble cracked puzzle of pride 
that glorifies deep beauty of true hearts, 
expunging envy through obsessive joy. 

Through fractal letter of soul maintenance, 
reversed by secret techniques of concern, 
we shop for shocking gossip at the church 
where angels store grain in bags of despair, 
till wooden robot of ethereal fear 
provides welfare for winners who still fail. 

Awake at aperture of dreamless domes, 
where haughty angels boast of bankruptcies, 
I balance catalogs of proofless facts 
with mental functions of the carnival 
because we must express impassioned creeds 
which polishes expanding scope of truth. 

Thus I will broadcast biblical welfare 
through wireless workshops of witless thieves 
who rank themselves pleasant entrepreneurs 
whose hearts are bound by rainbow allergies, 
or else we all will die from laughing bombs 
that disassemble our religious faith. 

Lurid Hills Of Ithaka

Lurid Hills Of Ithaka
© Surazeus
2026 09 29

Since Ithaka is always on my mind, 
forever just ahead in swirling mist 
toward which I journey by the starry map, 
I gather riches of sorrowful truth 
in my constructing hands so I can build 
safe haven for my children to grow wise. 

Through curtains of uncertainty I leap 
into frame of the sudden photograph 
where I hang frozen without angel wings 
till paper crinkles and dissolves to dust, 
then I fall into well of gravity 
to hold my loving spouse in gentle arms. 

Though brave heretics against holy thoughts 
emerge in flames from tomb of confidence, 
they cast all superstitions to the ground 
in challenge to the Gorgon of the church 
that lurks as faceless ghost of arrogance 
in twisted shadows of the broken house. 

Since travelers still ride their placid ways 
in cool shade of the nuclear missile bomb, 
we give each other tickets for the train 
that never takes to Heaven nameless soul 
who flocks around my passion-wired mind 
as loyal bride in tattered wedding dress. 

Because the yellow sea ghost of desire 
derides our plan derived from mordent leaves 
to follow blood-thick river of respect, 
I leap the lunar silences of fate 
while I record sweet music of the sand 
to prove that Heaven is our fantasy. 

If snow disfigures idols of our gods 
that stand by frozen brooks of travesty, 
I may decide to run with gentle wolves 
through evergreen forest of lonely vales 
far from the illness of my fractured mind 
so I become light of the afternoon. 

Now that my deconstructed soul of masks 
has been regenerated by the egg, 
my mother asks the spirit of her god 
to beam from stars and animate my mind 
with solemn honor of the upright creed, 
but I would somersault the laughing beach. 

With unconstraining voice of solitude 
I dare rejoice at rapture of my heart 
when I guard healing fountain with sharp eye 
that waters lurid hills of Ithaka 
with ghosts of heroes who give away names 
of their brave spirits to the world today. 

Crippled Wing Of Fire

Crippled Wing Of Fire
© Surazeus
2026 09 29

Forbidden sorrow of the cherry tree 
reveals sweet nothingness of urgency 
that spurs my climb in tangled certainty 
from dissolution of the river flow 
that casts me paralyzed in comfort snow 
since love diminishes my anguished pain. 

Soft pink of dawn reveals my long-lost home 
en route to unconsoling ocean shore 
where I am shadow of my mute desire, 
face glowing rose from crippled wing of fire 
that concentrates my numbing loneliness 
as swan that glides on mirror of my mind. 

Unburdened kindness of the leafless tree 
that resurrects brave dinosaurs of love 
inspires strange wonder of my swollen mind 
to ponder shrieks of gulls in frantic breeze 
that flicker in wide circles of concern 
though children invent new systems of state. 

Red rabbit of my half-excited heart 
darts swift through endless maze of wordless prayers 
that young girls whisper in the doorless church 
while washing speckled hands in bowls of oil 
which they smear in black words on courtroom walls 
to indicate precisely what they mean. 

She hides her stories in the broken box 
beneath worn dresses on the attic shelf 
which then transform to zombies of desire 
that wander buzzing streets of afternoon 
where carpenters repair our broken homes 
while devils fix electric wires of faith. 

Through open window of her wounded heart 
she hears sad crickets of apocalypse 
sing all night long about the formula 
defining process of soul gravity 
that drives celestial bodies to transcend 
market stalls where angels sell lemonade. 

Through gaps of naked trees on hill of skulls 
the full moon shimmers with ten billion eyes 
because we see ourselves in how it smiles, 
distorting concept of the human soul 
that dissipates to nothing when we die 
because our atoms form bodies again. 

Alert to shocking insult of the stone, 
she stares at ocean waves of restless rage 
that sloshes inside porcelain teacup 
as she floats up in white-lace wedding dress 
and hovers with enormous angel wings 
above the world that feels her suffering. 

Beauty Of My Changing Face

Beauty Of My Changing Face
© Surazeus
2026 09 28

Remote as starlight in eyes of the dead, 
I gather yellow apples of the sun 
to sell for copper pennies of regret 
to lonely housewives in suburban zones 
whose children reincarnate ancient gods 
while angels paint roses on temple walls. 

To dwell in pale mirage of fractured homes, 
where healthy demons wear cute human masks, 
we blink as slow as stars in river waves 
and cast strange treasures on soft satin mud, 
though death projects our spirits at black clouds 
so words we speak could conjure cosmic minds. 

Since we are atoms flashing in the void, 
we are the cosmic mind of nothingness 
that beams from countless stars of swirling gas 
till we evolve from sloshing waves of hope 
and crawl with agony of gasping breath 
on muddy shore beneath the tree of fruit. 

Thus I rise up from gravity of fate 
to stand half-steady on this wobbling world, 
and reach with dizzy confidence of lust 
to grasp sweet fruit of frantic innocence, 
then eat with laughter of the falling leaf 
that fools us with the cycle of rebirth. 

Since I am gray with sleepiness of time 
while nodding by the fireless hearth of faith, 
I watch forgotten tales in ancient books 
transform to shadows of the nameless dead 
who weep for beauty of my changing face 
though I sell sorrows to the smirking toad. 

If love has fled across the mountain range 
with urgent mission of the messenger 
who scatters letters on numberless graves, 
I wake the pilgrim soul of ardent faith 
to travel nowhere on the signless road 
till I become the house where no one dwells. 

When I was new-born child of the dead king, 
old bearded wizard of the jagged cave 
received my body from wild ocean waves, 
and taught me how to improvise bold tales 
while strumming sacred lyre of Mercury, 
but I run bank to finance struggling farms. 

Gold rays of sunlight beam through stalks of wheat 
with timeless shimmer of transcendent truth 
that fills my heart with scope-expanding awe 
so wingless angels of this wicked world 
perceive weird beauty of my changing face 
in masks of god that pulse on temple walls. 

War-Machine Of Fear

War-Machine Of Fear
© Surazeus
2026 09 28

Our bodies, ground in war-machine of fear, 
transform from angels to demonic gods 
who fight for plot of land to plant fruit trees 
when greedy tyrant on the ziggurat 
demands obedience to him as sun lord 
so we pay taxes for his lazy guards. 

Hoping to escape war-machine of fear, 
we run across the swirling waves of fate 
to leap on angel wings into bright clouds, 
but plummet to grave Earth of broken hearts 
in crash that clears space in the Holy Land 
for us to build new empire of dead gods. 

Transformed to ghouls by war-machine of fear, 
we mortal bell-brains clanged by shouts of hate 
howl wild in chorus with electric wolves 
that prance through arch of triumph to pretend 
our savage slaughter of our enemies 
grants us rewards of noble gratitude. 

Confused by code in war-machine of fear, 
I walk through abacus of glowing trees 
to translate pungent scent of after-rain 
from shock of surging blood in twisted veins 
to hunger magic through imperatives 
that we exchange gifts with oppressive goons. 

Sun-dazzled fierce by war-machine of fear, 
I stumble lost in labyrinth of ghosts 
who fail to possess idols of dead kings 
based on transcendent nature of god eggs 
to dwell in yet-unrealized dreams of peace 
contingent on obedience to the king. 

To reinvent the war-machine of fear 
as faith-expansive gyroscope of love, 
I build wood bridge across abyss of death 
so angels may cross from their world to ours 
and give us treasures on the moon-gold night 
where laughing waterfalls preserve our thoughts. 

Paralyzed by the war-machine of fear 
that churns out greed-blind devils of the church, 
I wash my face in pool of Hippocrene 
which causes wings to sprout from my sponge brain 
so we pick vegetables in falling snow 
and eat hot soup around fire of despair. 

Concerned about the war-machine of fear 
by mining silver from deep Laurion caves, 
we build huge fleet of ships with billowed sails 
to fight great empire of the tyrant king 
and save our nation from enslaving chains 
so we may live and die with liberty. 

Alive With Pleasant Pain

Alive With Pleasant Pain
© Surazeus
2026 09 28

The dry sand of the desert teaches me 
the preciousness of water from the sky, 
so I pray thanks through humble orisons 
to the faceless Cloud Ghost who cannot hear, 
yet drenches me with cold indifferent rain 
that shivers me alive with pleasant pain. 

Soft purple shimmer of the morning sky, 
that shines with holy glimmers in our eyes, 
wakes tender bodies on soft flower beds 
so we rise up from graves of frantic dreams 
to sit in circle by the sparkling stream 
and eat sweet apples as we sing strange hymns. 

Though haughty angels of sharp mountain peaks 
mock frail flames of our conscious ardency, 
we stride against doomed sorrow of our fate 
that we all die from monsters or old age, 
for faceless Cloud Ghost haunts our sentient steps 
as blind death that swallows all life in gloom. 

Together working with our crafting hands 
we build long sturdy bridge of fallen trees 
to cross the gushing river of despair, 
so Death rewards our cleverness with gifts 
that trick the foolish with an early death 
yet reward the wise with creative life. 

The wet mud of the river teaches me 
the preciousness of warm light from the sun, 
so I carve wand of wisdom from tree branch, 
and sharpen stone I bind with vine of faith 
in spear I thrust to kill demonic hate, 
then fashion cloak that conceals me from Death. 

With diamond sphere refracting light of truth 
I lead my curious tribe on holy quest 
to map strange landscape of this spinning world 
through journey to explore the Promised Land 
where we build empire of the Watching Eye 
that rules our lives on ziggurat of faith. 

Once bravely young with passion to explore, 
I now stand aged with knowledge of the world, 
old as the twisted oak on hill of skulls 
where I hang, one-eyed, forty thousand years 
above the well of words where serpent runes 
morph me to wingless angel with star eyes. 

Strange beauty of this world inspires my heart 
with love for every living soul on Earth 
to see in constellations of bright stars 
clear chart that maps the fortune we create 
as destiny we choose with our free will 
to generate new life before we die. 

Ring Of Humming Stones

Ring Of Humming Stones
© Surazeus
2026 09 27

While dancing inside ring of humming stones 
that refract sunlight into rainbow beams, 
Shimut transforms to eagle with broad wings 
when he twirls wand with sharpened diamond tip 
to drive fierce wolves into the wilderness 
as guard protecting souls in space of hope. 

Crowned with gold halo ring of jeweled light, 
Shimut stands guard on ten-foot ziggurat, 
protecting people in space of his strength 
who dwell safe inside ring of humming stones, 
eyes watching how they act through self-control 
to maintain rich commerce of give and take. 

When Manzat, Lady of the City Doors, 
who makes our city flourish with strict rules, 
assumes seat of judgment on ziggurat 
of far-watch, Shimut guards her soul from harm, 
enforcing verdicts of her sentences 
when she decrees how people should behave. 

Though star-eyed daughter of their fertile love, 
Tiranna, born from lightning flash of faith, 
feels overwhelmed by duties of her state 
as daughter of the Rainbow Queen of Truth, 
she dances laughing in the sudden rain, 
so she lights up the ring of humming stones. 

Descended from star goddess of the hills, 
I wake from dream of her attentive life 
eight thousand years since she gave birth to me, 
and taught me how to read future events 
in flashing constellations of the sky 
where Shimut guards Manzat with loyal love. 

While bright spirits of Shimut and Manzat 
vibrate in visions of my flashing brain, 
I ponder how to manage flow of love 
that surges through my body every hour 
with ache of wisdom to translate weird song 
of ocean waves to words humans can hear. 

Their spirits animate my body now 
with tense concern of voiceless prophecy 
to preach salvation with attentive zeal, 
achieved through dance in ring of humming stones, 
to billion souls of hungry urgency 
who gather to worship in halls of faith. 

Attentive focus of Shimut, to guard 
good citizens of Earth with ardent faith, 
still motivates my quest to organize 
chaotic passions of the human tribe 
encamped in nations fighting to survive 
as ghosts who dance in ring of humming stones. 

Axiom Of Free Will

Axiom Of Free Will
© Surazeus
2026 09 27

Driven to live by axiom of free will, 
we humans clash in wars to control air 
by twisting light of quick atomic lust 
into swift piston-powered time-machines 
so we race through expanding maze of dreams 
to catch ghost of wealth before we all die. 

I dare not pay this time its needful woe 
since grief, at thought that millions of sweet souls 
suffer and die in shocking agony 
through countless centuries of clockless change, 
twists my heart with helplessness of desire 
to protect the living from pain of fear. 

Our fragile bodies of bones bound with nerves, 
and muscles tense with terror of attack, 
vibrate with passion of powerful faith 
to fight against oppression of the strong 
as we secure safe haven from their greed 
in loyal union of communal creed. 

Through better act of purposes we play 
direct attention to commissioned faith 
that blinds our eyes to perceive what is real, 
since faith presents what we most hope is real, 
yet veils the real that pains our hearts to see, 
which leaves us stumbling against obstacles.

We overcome through axiom of free will 
illusions of hard obstacles that block 
assertive progress of our psychic growth 
as we reprogram how our minds perceive 
complex process of social games we play 
through fraught interactions of give and take. 

I cry woe for brave people of this land 
who once thrived well to work daily routines 
constructing goods from raw material forms 
to produce wealth of our national pride, 
but now our free minds are enslaved by greed 
through sweet enchantments of commercial thieves. 

Deceived by outward show of businessmen, 
whose flashy wealth convinced our eager hearts 
that hard work will earn rich rewards of wealth, 
we clutch at tattered rainbow fantasy 
that money trickles down to callused hands, 
which we stretch empty to the godless sky. 

Inspired to work by axiom of free will, 
we sort through trash of treasures we obtain 
by plundering bounty of this generous globe, 
yet find no more than baubles of regret 
that clutter quaint suburban homes with junk 
which gleamed so bright in church of holy lies. 

Bridge Of Broken Minds

Bridge Of Broken Minds
© Surazeus
2026 09 27

I feel in my heart strange desire to sing 
but lie mute under shadow of the wing 
that presses me to center of the globe 
so I transform to nothing but blind lobe 
that pulses with compassion for the lost 
whose fate reveals what greedy hope has cost. 

While dream-biking on bridge of broken minds 
I stop to call the demon whose heart binds 
billions of human souls in web of pain 
though we assemble to laugh in cold rain 
that drenches waste land in our angel tears 
which cannot cleanse our bodies of harsh fears. 

That moment when you wake up from blind dread 
and see ghost of my name outside your head 
remember all the moments of our love 
we spent together in the starlit cave 
because the hot pulse of those memories 
will vanish bright as rain in thirsty seas. 

Look closely at wavering ghost of my soul 
and you will see the fragment of the whole 
as contradiction twisting what you feel, 
then you will know that I am always real 
while fears that haunt your wounded heart are fake 
as weird illusion your fraught desires make. 

Though wind blows weeds beside the country road 
I ride my bike past pond where moon-eyed toad 
reveals in wordless vision of my heart 
weird beauty of false faith in starless chart 
that glows as constellation of god stars 
which shimmers at the passing of glass cars. 

Your words of faith I hear on phone of trust 
dispel demonic anger of the ghost 
that follows me on endless road of fate 
so love for life blossoms from rotten hate 
as lotus bloom that weaves my tangled soul 
in psychic matrix of the cosmic whole. 

My bloody feet leave prints on signless road 
where I run from exploding bombs of God 
dropped by his angels from swift silver jets 
that transform into thirsty vampire bats, 
so I hold emptiness in mangled hands 
while I wander homeless on kingless lands. 

Ghost of my childhood flees from flashing bombs 
to hide from devils in abandoned tombs 
while planes of tyrants scream across the sky 
in howl of vain victory that drowns the cry 
of orphaned children who attempt to pray, 
then build new world order on the True Way. 

Visible Wings Of Silence

Visible Wings Of Silence
© Surazeus
2026 09 27

On visible wings of silence I dance 
outside enclosing walls of paradise 
so beaming scope of consciousness expands 
huge enough for my small mind to perceive 
vastness of this world on which we thrive, 
itself so small in whole expanse of stars. 

On visible wings of silence I leap 
beyond small valley where my soul was born 
to push through tangled veil of fencing vines 
in bold quest to explore the strange new world 
which I glimpse in dim dreams of eager hope 
where nameless people know not I exist. 

On visible wings of silence I soar 
far high above huge swirling clouds of hope 
to find the crystal halls of gleaming truth 
that form bright Heaven of my fantasies 
through longing ache to escape hard toil in fields 
of sour exhaustion under whips of greed. 

On visible wings of silence I glide 
with sly clandestine plan of calm respect 
to slip past guards with sharp spears of contempt 
and flee in shadowed woods of innocence 
far from the bitter whips of slavery 
since I got trapped in paradise of greed. 

On visible wings of silence I twirl 
high on broad stone of defiant disgust 
to fight slave-hunters rattling chains of fear 
in quick avoidance of their grasping hands 
intent on binding my free heart with greed 
that motivates my desperate fight to live. 

On visible wings of silence I turn 
back toward safe valley of my spirit birth, 
where my old mother must still cook for me, 
with swift assertion of my liberty 
through endless maze of sunlit mountain glades 
till I stumble in safe grove of my home. 

On visible wings of silence I flip 
over safe haven walls of paradise 
where I hide soul of frantic energy, 
then with assembled warriors of my tribe 
we ambush cruel slave-traders by the lake 
and kill them all to maintain liberty. 

On visible wings of silence I fall 
from clouds of Heaven on frail tattered wings 
so fantasies of utopian paradise 
dissipate in heat of long afternoons 
when I toil in fruit orchard of my heart 
that tastes sweet as my life in liberty. 

Fractured Sense Of Self

Fractured Sense Of Self
© Surazeus
2026 09 26

If our remembered time of happiness 
lurks eyelessly about half-broken doors 
with dauntless urgency of naked thoughts, 
who would dare require cruel fate to relent 
his harsh decree that frail innocent souls 
should suffer turmoil of national change. 

No graceful spell of unspoken support, 
developed by assertive breath of fear, 
could reassemble fractured sense of self 
dispersed by mocking laughter of concern 
to scatter randomly in empty room 
where gentle sorrow understands the why. 

So we drive cars on endless road of hope 
with urgent message from the fruitless tree 
which curls roots under asphalt parking lots 
with dire compassion for the homeless souls 
who clamor to perform Shakespearean roles 
through pride in Theater of the Absurd. 

As ceaseless lackey to eternity, 
entranced by ghastly shadows of my soul, 
I should devise strange plots of social games 
to outwit mockery of the jester-king 
whose disrespect for values of the just 
shocks honest folk with paralyzed contempt. 

With easy steps of faithless honesty 
I wander landscape of state memories 
now cluttered with false idols of brave fools 
whose hateful missions of aggressive rage 
against lost homeless refugees from wars 
should smirch his soul with curse of bitter fear. 

Long did my fearful forefathers request 
miraculous aid from Heaven above clouds 
of glowing beauty with fervent faithfulness, 
but no voice spoke except in wordless cracks 
of horrifying thunder to provide 
divine guidance to their misguided quest. 

Undisciplined by nobleness of mind, 
their urgent mission to create on Earth 
utopian commune of the Promised Land 
failed to expand our conscious scope of faith 
beyond intense routine of crafting work 
transforming raw materials to machines. 

Now global revolution is at hand 
through jolting buzz of passionate desire, 
which deconstructs world view that furnished frame 
for noble actions of heroic souls, 
so we must spark as flame in fear-numb hearts 
brave resolution to rebuild our state. 

Laughing Thief Of Grace

Laughing Thief Of Grace
© Surazeus
2026 09 26

I wonder at life of absurdity 
where weak men crippled by arrogant faith 
gain power over honest carpenters 
by twisting moral numbers of concern 
to propagate false vision of their right 
contrived by Cloud Ghost to be sacred law. 

As honest fugitive from words of pride, 
that twist our language into holy prayer, 
I grin at keening sun of solitude 
to polish secrets of my brittle bones 
repaired by shocking miracle of lies 
that cannot soothe the sword blade in my heart. 

If I can stop the laughing thief of grace 
from chopping down the ancient Tree of Life 
that blooms in garden of the weeping bride, 
I might play role as Emperor of Earth 
too well for happy people to obey 
commands that we take care of this weird world. 

My crippled hand of brave euphoria 
may listen to harsh darkness in your heart 
to bless our tables with plates of fresh fruit 
that scents our doorless home of frantic wings 
with pungent memories of eventide 
on river shores where unnamed bodies float. 

She asks if I remember why she cries, 
but laughs at all my answers as cruel lies, 
so I reflect on each mistake I make 
while eating sorrow of her chocolate cake 
that teaches me to grieve all suffering 
too many people bear while angels sing. 

We treasure secret visions of ourselves 
that we preserve in books no one can read 
while tending wounds that only devils see 
though jewels, dusted with pollen of flowers, 
refract conceptual spirit of Star God 
through pulsing passion of our sponge-soft brains. 

Crippled by impotent hatreds from fear, 
which motivates our journey for the Book, 
we search for crystal halls where blind gods feast 
while they ignore the suffering of humans 
who kneel and pray in churches built from bones 
for salvation from laughing thief of grace. 

Thus when I deconstruct religious creeds 
I find they elevate dead mortal king 
as powerful god who creates all things, 
so I leave maze of money to ascend 
misty vales of Mount Takoma to merge 
my mortal soul with timeless light of truth. 

Holy Word Of Arrogance

Holy Word Of Arrogance
© Surazeus
2026 09 26

Surprised by holy word of arrogance 
that teaches him to understand the trees, 
Iapetus laughs while heaving stone of faith 
at gusts of storm winds blasting his frail hut 
where wife and children huddle in stark fear, 
so he builds fane to shield them with his heart. 

Inspired by holy word of arrogance 
that sparks strange fire of wisdom in his brain, 
Prometheus sets stones in ring of hope 
to well contain the writhing flame of light 
of flashing chaos inside frame of thought 
so he can manage power of the sky. 

Disturbed by holy word of arrogance 
that tricks him to look back down road of fate, 
Epimetheus subdues bear with sharp claws, 
then sews fur cloak for Pandora to wear 
as she holds precious box of secret truth 
when they walk in broad field of sparkling snow. 

Concerned by holy word of arrogance 
that presses stars down on our mortal heads, 
Atlas supports globe of Earth with brave trust 
when he constructs tall roof of pine-tree beams 
where his clever daughters, Hesperides, 
guard orchard of golden apples from thieves. 

Engorged by holy word of arrogance 
that drives him to oppose tyrants of greed, 
Menoetius declares with boastful voice 
that he crowns himself Emperor of Earth 
because his acts are the most beautiful, 
till Zeus strikes him down with his thunderbolt. 

Deceived by holy word of arrogance 
that highlights beauty of brave Helios, 
Clymene bears him son she names Phaethon 
who drives huge two-wheeled chariot of fire 
in noble battle against Uranus 
to free the world from tyranny of greed. 

Intrigued by holy word of arrogance 
that diverts focus of his searching eyes, 
Deucalion constructs huge ark of wood 
where he bears Pyrrha, loyal bride of trust, 
safe during flood that destroys world of men, 
to dwell on Mount Parnassus in fruit grove. 

Amazed by holy word of arrogance 
that shows indifference of Nature to Man, 
Cronus wields sharp blade of justice to fight 
violent Uranus in Temple of Truth, 
which Iapetus built to shield human souls, 
through war to cast cruel Titans into Hell. 

Eyeless Agony Of Faith

Eyeless Agony Of Faith
© Surazeus
2026 09 26

Nothing explodes from glass page of the book 
writhing with tongueless ghosts of long-dead gods, 
so Albert walks past hundred thousand doors 
to find the person who reflects his soul 
with comprehensive formulas of faith 
that weave their bodies from demonic genes. 

Bearing gold wand with curling snake of hope, 
Adonis strides on brittle bridge of blame 
while hawk of justice leaps from his bold hand 
and strikes face of the tyrant on the throne 
who screams in eyeless agony of faith 
when his son takes jeweled crown of regret. 

Concerned about electric memory 
translating all our dreams to lurid myths, 
Adonijah declares himself World King 
and strides with courage in grand temple hall 
where David clutches broken lyre of power 
while chanting psalms to praise the Shepherd God. 

Appointed Chief Happiness Officer 
by Aphrodite with long golden hair, 
Adam woos her with basket of fresh fruit 
he stole from Tree of Knowledge at midnight, 
then builds enormous palace of glass masks 
from bones of dragons killed by meteors. 

Reigning as God over River of Time, 
Achelous son of Elus stands alert 
on Bridge of Farsight as Guardian of Life, 
but when he sees gold-eyed Perimede, 
he wrestles Hercules to win her heart, 
though she hides in Cave of Castalia. 

Born from song of the Ocean before dawn, 
Abassi floats above the crowded world 
on silver wings of laughter forged from fear, 
then wakes and drives to work constructing homes, 
till immigrant agents wearing black masks 
lock him in sprawling deportation camp. 

After his analyst job at the state bank 
is replaced by robot with angel eyes 
powered by artificial intelligence, 
Ares drinks beer at the old country bar, 
then sings cowboy songs on stage every night 
and sleeps in his truck behind some garage. 

Inspired to run for President Earth 
with plan to unite all nations in one, 
Apollo campaigns sea to shining sea 
till Pluto tries to shoot him in the head, 
so Dream-Enchanter eats the nuclear bomb 
and retires to work on the Family Farm. 

Electric Curl Of Words

Electric Curl Of Words
© Surazeus
2026 09 25

Unfrightened by electric curl of words, 
Mayari glides backward up blue glass stairs 
and scatters large mango seeds on dry sand 
of endless desert where snakes slither slow, 
then waters waste land with her tears of hope 
so they sprout into lush forest of trees. 

Unbalanced by excessive thoughts of love, 
Bathala extends both hands to retrieve 
glass mask of the moon that reveals weird soul 
that shy Mayari hides behind broad leaves 
rustled by cool breeze from silver sea waves 
preserving secrets in whispers of faith. 

Gliding gracefully in long woven skirt, 
Mayari notes disk of first quarter moon 
that shimmers in early afternoon sky 
above mango trees where red-eyed pungaws 
sing koo-oo with compassion for lost souls 
who wander on Cagayan River shore. 

Driving motorbike along winding road 
of eager ambition to achieve wealth, 
Bathala stops beside young graceful girl, 
whose long black hair shimmers thick down her back, 
and offers ride to Scarecrow Festival 
to celebrate Bambati Guardianship. 

Transforming into pungaw with black wings, 
Mayari soars up to bright flashing clouds 
in silver airplane forged from angel wings 
to land in Idaho far across the sea 
where she falls in love with the bank accountant 
who funds her folk art painting forest scenes. 

Bearing sphere of the sunset in her heart, 
Mayari in red dress strolls in wheat field, 
then sits and dangles feet in flowing stream 
while watching white birds flock across the sky 
across the snowy Sawtooth Mountains peaks 
as ribbon in her hair flutters in wind. 

Inventing new language of innocence, 
Phoebus weaves silence between minds of strangers 
in sweet romance that blossoms from their hearts 
when they hold hands and listen to the wind 
explain how sunlight sparks life in all things 
so we become one with the universe. 

Nursing their new-born daughter at her breast, 
Mayari hums lullaby about Leron 
who climbs papaya tree with bamboo basket 
to gather fruit from sacred tree of knowledge, 
preserving treasure, though the long branch breaks, 
which he gives to wife and child of his heart. 

Crafting Hands Of Hope

Crafting Hands Of Hope
© Surazeus
2026 09 25

Through lyrical expression of my thoughts 
in undulating waves of rhythmic verse 
I feel this timeless moment crystalize 
in momentary vision of insight 
that lifts my mind on bold attentive wings 
outside conceptual frame of changing time. 

Apollo glances up from plucking strings 
at sudden pang of sorrow in his heart, 
and stares with sigh of ennui at the crowd 
of housewives browsing full vegetable stands, 
and wonders if heroic tale of courage 
he longs to express would inspire their souls. 

When Hadad threatens Dagon with sharp knife, 
demanding that he compensate his loss 
for rotten fish he sold him yesterday, 
Atargatis attempts to mediate, 
with soothing words to calm their tempers down, 
but storm-hearted man cuts her on the arm. 

Just as Apollo stands up to respond 
with attentive aid to wound on her arm, 
Mithras leaps down from ten-foot pyramid 
with sword unsheathed to guard the market queen, 
placing his body as protective shield, 
so Hadad plunges knife blade in his chest. 

As Mithras falls in arms of Atargatis, 
who tends his wound with cloth to staunch blood flow, 
Hadad attempts to flee through milling crowd, 
but Apollo leaps up small pyramid 
and shoots sharp arrow straight into his thigh 
which causes storm god to fall on his face. 

After six Seraphim arrest Hadad 
and drag him for judgement in Hall of Zeus, 
Apollo strums lyre of Mercurius 
and sings short lyric to express his thoughts 
that praise wise Atargatis with clear eyes 
for just management of the marketplace. 

"We create with our crafting hands of hope 
useful utensils from material forms 
through skill from stringent training we receive, 
so every person plays their talent role 
to maintain our food-production system, 
then gains reward from selling crafts of love." 

People who assemble to hear him sing 
toss coins stamped with face of Mercurius 
in wood bowl set before his pedestal, 
so Apollo counts profit of his art, 
then Atargatis asks if he will play 
in Temple of Zeus for the evening feast. 

Continue Our Daily Routines

Continue Our Daily Routines
© Surazeus
2026 09 25

Not sure what he may find among small stones 
smoothed by ten million years of ocean waves, 
Cronus wanders along margin of fate 
to gather clams in leather bag of hope, 
and ponders how some invisible force 
moves everything in motions of exchange. 

Through repeated patterns in swirls of time 
waves surge against broad beach of gleaming sand 
with calm aggressiveness of natural grace, 
so Cronus stops and looks back on his path 
to see imprints of his feet in long line 
that curves across landscape of glowing thoughts. 

Sharp voice that pierces silent wind of fear 
alerts his heart to vision of her face, 
so Cronus turns against obstructing wind 
to see lithe Themis by the mossy cave, 
which sparks assertive passion in his heart 
that causes him to fly on leaps of faith. 

When Cronus reaches Themis by her cave, 
gold eyes gleaming with ardent flash of dawn, 
he offers bag of clams that clank with hope, 
so she leads him in safe cave of her heart 
when he pries shells open with diamond blade 
and she roasts them over small crackling fire. 

After they feast on clams and apple sauce, 
that she crushes with stones in wooden bowl, 
Cronus and Themis embrace with desire 
to merge their bodies in warm glow of love, 
writhing with pleasure of exploding stars, 
then cuddle with soft song of ocean waves. 

This timeless memory, programmed in my brain 
by my ancestors thirty thousand years 
before hour of my birth in Oregon, 
powers progress of my daily routine 
with vision of attentive love for life 
that motivates my mission to create. 

Though Zeus in palace of Olympus struts 
with haughty pride of aggrandizing greed, 
and blusters to inflate his vanity 
with vainglorious conceit of arrogance, 
billions of people on this spinning globe 
eat with their friends at harvest festivals. 

Men who falsely amplify with big boasts 
importance of their being in game of life 
will fall from cliff of hubris when they leap 
on wings of delusion, and break on truth, 
so we continue our daily routines 
in safe homes with our precious families.