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.  

Smiles Of Fractured Fantasy

Smiles Of Fractured Fantasy
© Surazeus
2026 09 24

Startled by smiles of fractured fantasy, 
that strangers in the crowded streets of time 
beam at my heart with stark intensity, 
I ride ghost horse of swift perplexity 
to find the mad king on the windy plain 
who eats grass from cracked television screens. 

Unnerved by smiles of fractured fantasy, 
that devils dancing in cathedral halls 
disguise as hunger to deceive my heart, 
I wear mask Phoebus lost on road of eggs 
to raise grand army of ten thousand sons 
who build empire from sea to shining sea. 

Distressed by smiles of fractured fantasy, 
that angels screaming on huge hill of skulls 
forge from star stones that smash temples of gods, 
I transform from angel to iron man 
and soar to mountains of exploding plums 
where Adam and Eve laugh in soaking rain. 

Annoyed by smiles of fractured fantasy, 
that pastors tearing dreams from holy books 
plaster on crumbling walls of paradise, 
I play messiah on the tragic stage 
to save Rapunzel from the beauty pageant 
so she can work as nurse in bombed-out towns. 

Surprised by smiles of fractured fantasy, 
that vampires banging pianos of glass 
employ to trick brave farmers in the dell, 
I balance oscillation of despair 
with frantic ecstasy of weird insight 
on quest to challenge Death to game of chess. 

Dismayed by smiles of fractured fantasy, 
that zombies whispering prayers to Father God 
wear to conceal lust for psychotic brains, 
I find safe shelter in haven of tales 
where fairies teach my children how to sing 
dark spells that conjure angels from my heart. 

Alarmed by smiles of fractured fantasy, 
that painters smearing ghosts on factory walls 
present as answers to ills of our world, 
I wander vast halls of computer banks 
with lantern of lost hope Jesus sold me 
to woo Shepherdess with sincerity. 

Amused by smiles of fractured fantasy, 
that nurses healing wounded hearts with truth 
paste on our faces with fake dollar bills, 
I sing about these dark times we endure 
because this universe of glowing light 
remains indifferent to our suffering. 

Proton Quickening Of Dream

Proton Quickening Of Dream
© Surazeus
2026 09 24

Through delirious disregard for discourse 
regarding boundaries of the Bleeding Heart, 
Hercules experiments with strange forms 
of tangled words in the grand feast of language 
to measure proton quickening of dream 
against ambient laughter of the grim tortoise. 

Through jocular regard for provocation 
that deconstructs religious faith of fools, 
Hercules comments with fatuous proverbs 
disguising social privilege of the strong 
through tragic drama fraught with mortal dread 
for patent absurdity of grand claims. 

Through corporate brand of mental harmony 
with mordent appetite for eating snow, 
Hercules keeps clandestine company 
with Caliban throughout the live-long day 
by betting on the fastest crippled horse 
with open sadism of innocence. 

Through stark exaggeration of contempt 
for mountain ghosts who howl at humble wind, 
Hercules considers treatise of falsehoods 
contrived by bankers eating plastic toast 
that stifles voices of the faceless people 
who wander margins of society. 

Through incandescent friendship of the blind 
who pursue objective of fallen gods, 
Hercules steals lies from philosophers 
to scam old people in the countryside 
who tell their stories with enormous pride 
as he sails yachts with money they provide. 

Through limitless supply of anecdotes 
that bleed from eyes of wartime refugees, 
Hercules heckles actors on the stage 
who declaim monologues that angels write 
against weird conservative governments 
who always fall asleep in the front row. 

Through politics of student occupation 
in movement for anti-austerity, 
Hercules documents fascist regimes 
that stifle satire voices of the press 
who buy ice cream for their Sahara trip 
where chemistry professors capture genies. 

Through song and dance on stage of tyranny 
before he exits global tragedy, 
Hercules trolls the university 
for teaching sociology of rights 
that brave people claim is inalienable 
except when swimming against ocean tides. 

One With Star Ungod

One With Star Ungod
© Surazeus
2026 09 24

My weird delusions drive me to compose 
sacred scripture for curious explorers 
investigating natural world of atoms 
to organize dynamic energies 
of social forces to generate food 
on quest to become one with Star Ungod. 

Though I am shipwrecked on the wine-black sea, 
cling to wreckage of religious beliefs 
while tossed about on waves of urgent faith, 
then stumble on shore of this brave new world, 
no cute blushing Nausicaa welcomes me, 
nor Circe to enchant my wounded heart. 

While stumbling lost in Massachusetts woods 
I find no Calypso in red silk gown 
who lures me to dwell in her paradise 
with salubrious peach from the Tree of Knowledge, 
nor has Hermes demanded my liberty 
so I return home to lost Avalon. 

Reborn in rain forest of Oregon, 
where Oberon teaches me magic spells, 
I race to stop Multnomah from her mission 
to sacrifice herself to save her tribe, 
but she dives into sorrow of the heart 
and drowns to save humanity from fear. 

My weird delusions drive me to transcend 
childhood programming of religious creed, 
so I see Jesus as brave mortal man 
whose children with wise Mary Magdalene 
rule Gothinian kingdoms two thousand years 
till my soul becomes one with Star Ungod. 

Though social war of opposing world views, 
that still plays between Asura and Deva, 
tangles nations in conflict over truth, 
ancient spirit of Zeus wakes in my heart 
so I am born from oscillating powers 
to become Surazeus Astarius. 

Ishtar on ziggurat of Star Ungod 
sends Abraham and Sarah to the west, 
and Brahma and Saraswati to the east, 
to spread religious rites of social growth 
that forms our United Nations of Earth 
on world faith of Astarianity. 

Together refugees from every land 
will build from ruins of America 
new global empire of Zarathia 
that highlights sameness in our differences 
so every nation thrives on fertile Earth 
on quest to become one with Star Ungod. 

Hope To Visit Shadowland

Hope To Visit Shadowland
© Surazeus
2026 09 23

If I should hope to visit Shadowland, 
where ghosts of all the nameless people sing 
hymns to the fallen god of thunderstorms, 
I may have to purchase tickets with love 
to watch myth of the Dream Kingdom dissolve 
to pages in old books devoured by Time. 

Alone with ancient Lyre of Mercury, 
I sit beneath the old fruit-laden Tree 
of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, heart 
pulsing with compassion for the world, 
and sing hymns that depict in secret verse 
life of every person who ever lives. 

Since Death is searching for light of my soul 
that glimmers faintly in vast gloom of fate, 
with plan to snuff flame of my humming mind, 
I sing strange visions flashing in my eyes, 
composed of memories my ancestors dream 
through sparkling nodes in network of my brain. 

My conscious soul of self-aware insight 
glows bright with passion of mortal desire 
as radiant emanation from my brain, 
fueled by conceptual chemicals of faith, 
with delusion of immortality 
conjured from my ancestral memories. 

This sense that I have lived since dawn of time 
is powered by dreams programmed in my brain 
from three billion ancestors who designed 
my body to this state of clumsy grace, 
evolving four hundred million years to me, 
but I shall vanish to nothing at death. 

Since I will sink deep in dark senseless sea, 
and atoms of my body dissipate 
from fragile frame of flesh that constitutes 
organic being of chemical respect, 
I breathe celestial spirit of our world 
and sing in orchard of my solitude. 

When functions of my body cease to flash 
with hot atomic ardency of faith, 
I want roots from the Tree of the Knowledge 
of Good and Evil to reintegrate 
deconstructed molecules of my soul 
so I become fruit yet-born souls will eat. 

Earth will recycle molecules that form 
my soul to basic elements of thought, 
so I become gusts of the curious wind, 
and I become drops of the fertile rain, 
so atoms forming me in my short life 
will form bodies of billions more to come. 

Evicted From Their Homes

Evicted From Their Homes
© Surazeus
2026 09 23

After he climbs down from Mount Helicon, 
still clutching broken lyre of honesty, 
Devus crawls through back window of his house 
and lies on soft grammar of loyalty 
to calculate the flow of capital 
that might dissolve chemical bonds of oaths. 

Eager to map out rival charts of value 
to inherited forms of thought control, 
Devus weaves lines of credit from despair, 
which renders unbearable flash of being 
light as wingless ghosts tangled in oak limbs 
whose cries shock him awake just at midnight. 

Almost shocked awake from delirium 
at time-tangled arrogance of regret, 
Devus leaps from frenzy of mocking jest 
in darker fields of imperial concern 
for imposing amazement of comedy 
on various cultures infesting the world. 

Trapped by Pax Americana through greed 
to build towers of glass on rainless moons, 
Devus looks back down at our lonely globe 
where faceless people hunger for new hope, 
dominated by capital compromise 
to live in gardens of rubbish from games. 

Clutching fragments of war atrocities, 
decontextualized by the evening news, 
Devus visits pastures of wounded souls 
where refugees, evicted from their homes, 
search for sacred books lost in empty tombs 
to paint churches white with national pride. 

Tricked by bland concealment of uniforms 
to accommodate unvoiced victimhood, 
Devus prepares bread and wine for the ghost 
who screams with smoke of rage that he is king, 
but no one notes his bond of care annulled 
by sentimental laughter of the dead. 

Through bodies dismembered by heartless laws 
as ten commandments of the Fire-Cloud Ghost, 
Devus channels souls of the suffering 
through television shows on the dream screen 
that people watch before they go to bed 
so they can conquer the world before dawn. 

Because he now has nothing to his name 
as claim to fame in anthem of our land, 
Devus scatters credit cards on town squares 
where millions of people stare at war tanks 
that crush idols of their gods to smithereens, 
then they laugh and become stuffed animals.