Leave Bones Of My Mother

Leave Bones Of My Mother
© Surazeus
2026 06 01

If I consider how orange sunset glow 
explodes as flowers in my pulsing brain, 
I might fall in love with your timeless eyes 
that understand strange beauty of this world 
and value unseen essence of its vibes, 
yet I do not exist in pageless books. 

While I wander nowhere in flaming woods 
I gather words people lose from their tongues 
when they escape catastrophe of time 
since angels deconstruct their precious worlds 
because we are no longer real as stones 
smoothed by the endless flow of bitter tears. 

I leave bones of my mother in the land 
where I was born from sparkle of dawn rain 
when I flee alone on the signless road 
with nothing in my hands but sticky dirt 
I scattered on her body without prayers 
because she no longer exists as light. 

My mind is nothing more than passing cloud 
that haunts my nothingness of urgent hope 
with mutant shadow of the eyeless sun, 
so I continue walking somewhere else 
as I pretend to live with wounded heart 
to prove I am not real as words in books. 

Trees offer bounty of indifferent care, 
so I take gift of wisdom from their limbs, 
then sit by laughing river of respect 
where I consume sweet fruit of bitter hate 
to taste revenge I cannot execute 
because I disappear in wordless fate. 

Discarded scraps of precious memories 
fall from my hands and clatter on the ground, 
which fractures sheen of safety I once felt 
so I am zero that time calculates 
through fraudulent formula of desire 
which deflects force of psychic energy. 

Another soul that dissipates in wind 
accelerates new count of circumstance 
my brain attempts with weird seraphic code 
of faith that helps decipher manic spell 
to readjust projection we assert 
though misdirection of the ocean wind. 

With sticks and stones that bruise my naive heart 
I build enormous palace of state power 
enclosing garden of the apple tree 
to guard my secret family from harm 
who waits for me to kill the snake of lies 
because we do not exist in your mind. 

Each Time I Lose Myself

Each Time I Lose Myself
© Surazeus
2026 06 01

I find myself each time I lose myself 
so I run across the waste land of the heart 
and leap abyss of nothingness to soar 
laughing at the crystal moon of faith 
which vanishes to mist as I approach 
so I fall back into my throbbing head. 

I find myself each time I lose myself 
so I dance laughing on the sands of time 
with one hand waving free to grasp the wind 
and scatter seeds of flowers so they sprout 
as rainbow angels wearing human masks 
who dive for memories in sea of dreams. 

I find myself each time I lose myself 
so I stand blindly on cliff of despair 
to map the ancient streets of Neverland 
where faceless children search for Kingdom Come 
that slips away in cold of morning dawn 
at flap of angel wings above my tomb. 

I find myself each time I lose myself 
so I strum Lyre of Mercury with sass 
to chant psychotic spell of eyeless clouds 
that beam elusive riddle of the mind 
when I chase shadow of the ragged clown 
who wants to preach salvation without faith. 

I find myself each time I lose myself 
so I explore fog-swirling ruins of time 
where zombies gather in the Church of Glass 
to worship Vampire King with Crown of Thorns 
who drinks Blood of the Lamb in Holy Grail 
to resurrect our characters from books. 

I find myself each time I lose myself 
so I drive piston-engine time machine 
on winding mountain Road of Honesty 
to find Cave of Illusions in the Alps 
where God-Eye Diamond of my divine heart 
beams first flash that flares forth from the big bang. 

I find myself each time I lose myself 
so I write epic of philosophers 
depicting heroes who quest for the truth 
when they perform in circus of the mind 
amazing acrobatics with weird words 
that formulate atomic principles. 

I find myself each time I lose myself 
so I decide to run for president 
to rebuild institutions through respect, 
constructing from ruins of America 
state of equal rights as Zarathia 
where everyone eats from the Tree of Life. 

Seven Sons Of Jupiter

Seven Sons Of Jupiter
© Surazeus
2026 06 01 

Driving across waste land of history, 
I find the Third Man of Antarctic Quest 
still hitchhiking across America, 
so I give him ride to Zarathia 
where he gives me lost Lyre of Mercury 
as reward for helping him escape Hell. 

Though I am entirely my own real self 
who speaks with voice of fake authority, 
I hide behind cracked mask of Orpheus 
so you cannot see who I really am, 
as if it matters after I am dead, 
since I am ghost of sorrow in your head. 

I stride along strange river in bright woods 
to map new strategy for civil war 
in noble mission of the broken heart 
to restore democracy in our land 
pilfered by gang of thieves in business suits 
who proclaim their right to control the dirt. 

Shocked by excessive arguments of faith, 
I flee cathedral of the mocking clown 
to find Ahura Mazda in dark cave 
where he plays eight levels of psychic chess 
against the seven sons of Jupiter 
over who controls fields of bubbling oil. 

Ever since Orpheus with nimble hands 
saved Ophelia drowning in the river, 
they have established infrastructure base 
on which we will construct our new world order 
which helps the seven sons of Jupiter 
overthrow all greedy tyrants and kings. 

Inside the Crippled Pegasus Cafe 
in Paris down on the Parc Rives de Seine, 
I find Hegel, Marx, and Lenin relaxed 
as they watch current world events unfold 
according to their social formulas, 
so I steal wings of Icarus to fly. 

Just as I soar above bright golden clouds 
to bring Good News to Lord Hyperion, 
Orpheus shoots me down with Gun of Fate, 
then teaches me to map the water pipes 
which channel fresh water to every home 
while Jesus and Odin fight for World Crown. 

As seventh son of Jupiter, I play 
role of the jester who exposes crimes 
committed by the hungry oligarchs 
who hoard wealth of the Earth in crumbling tombs 
where skeletons of dead gods dance in rain 
that washes all our graves down to the sea. 

One Eternal Vibe Of Light

One Eternal Vibe Of Light
© Surazeus
2026 05 31

After I ride the slow afternoon train 
among house-cluttered hills of lonely towns, 
I walk shores of the ocean through my dreams 
to feel the ebbing tide of life recede 
with hoarse voice of the old sibilant song 
that sparks electric self out of my heart. 

When dust of Me becomes land of the globe, 
which fascinates my eyes with slender light, 
I wonder what name ancient people called 
this river that reflects mask of my face, 
since I still hear dirge of the ship-wrecked souls 
who ask me for secret of global peace. 

I merge my soul in drifting sand of change, 
baffled by uncanny thoughts of desire 
that lure me to find soulmate of my heart 
who walks as distant shadow on the beach, 
so I call out to them with plaintive cry 
but I find they have become the Real Me. 

Loud voices echo against trunks of pines 
when thoughts my mouth projects recoil as fear 
that bursts in peals of thunder over hills 
with cold ironic laughter of false pride 
so I extend my hand with trembling faith 
to grasp elusive fish of timeless truth. 

Strange essence of this whole beautiful world 
eludes perception of my eager mind 
to understand flash of cause and effect 
when light reflecting off things I define 
stings my heart with sweet shock of ecstasy 
that we are one eternal vibe of light. 

Star-eyed Ocean Mother within my heart 
expresses riddles through analysis 
to translate murmur of the mocking waves 
refracting light through prism of my brain 
because I contradict my alien self 
beyond capricious attitude of faith. 

Vast ocean breathes my swollen soul with faith 
though I become invisible to eyes 
of human scope expanding beyond code 
programmed to bind safe haven of my heart, 
because I am the new moon no one sees, 
no more than subtle voice on evening breeze. 

I drift at random on long road of life 
but always find myself on ocean shore 
where ghosts of my ancestors haunt my steps 
because I follow path they blazed with hope 
through fathomless workings of secret codes 
expressed as aching dirge to accept death. 

Matrix Of Dreamless Souls

Matrix Of Dreamless Souls
© Surazeus
2026 05 31

If Hate falls off the Cliff of Honesty 
and floats unloved on undulating waves 
of brute despair for growth of human minds, 
we gather in lush mountain grove of faith 
to share sad tales of tragic nonchalance 
since Mindless Fate strikes down the arrogant. 

With nimble fingers of perpetual pride 
I strum taut strings on lyre of Mercury 
to finetune melody of cosmic gears 
which powers how spheres spiral among stars 
in stellar machinery of mental hope 
that spurs my quest to find the magic word. 

If Love leaps up the Hill of Travesty 
and swirls unfeared in stabilizing frame 
of dexterous confidence in soul decay, 
we scatter on the river shore of doubt 
to hide happy tales of romantic zeal 
since Mindful Fate lifts up the innocent. 

With crippled legs of fleeting modesty  
I twist loose threads on tapestry of Eris 
to unravel matrix of dreamless souls 
who crowd in panic on the river shore 
and beg for Charon to escort them all 
safe to the rugged hills of Arcady. 

Sporadic laughter echoes down the hall 
where studious ghosts read tales in tattered books 
recording how they met their tragic ends 
in clumsy accidents that Fortune plans, 
which proves our rich lives are ephemeral 
as mute dust scattered in blind wind of time. 

Artificial intelligence contrives 
slick package of plastic stereotypes 
that mimics word games of robotic thoughts 
which leads to uncanny vale of tears 
manufactured by vampire god of faith 
in psychic performance of false respect. 

Though mute Pierrot with single leap of faith 
falls in love with elegant Clementine, 
she should seek asylum in Notre Dame 
where white bear of salvation breaks the cross 
which frees the people from creed of despair 
to roast goat for feast of the sacrifice. 

Human intelligence gathers evidence 
that seem unrelated in scheme of things 
till heartless ballerina conjugates 
disparate elements through alchemy 
to comprehensive vision of the truth 
which includes every conscious soul alive. 

Mirror World Of Anywhere

Mirror World Of Anywhere
© Surazeus
2026 05 31

When I steal fruit of that Forbidden Tree 
to taste sweet passion of Death in the world, 
and dance wild on secret top of Oreb, 
inspired by oracle of vision stones 
with faith to soar above Aonian Mount, 
I sing in mirror world of anywhere. 

When I analyze what romantic cause 
moved my parents to generate my life 
by eating fruit from sacred Tree of Life, 
seduced by Infernal Serpent of Love 
who revealed secret of eternal life, 
I dance in mirror world of anywhere. 

When I assert ambitious aim of hope 
with pious courage of faith to contest 
critical verdict of artistic seers 
by chanting epic of philosophers 
presenting quest for nature of the world, 
I write in mirror world of anywhere. 

When I aspire to transcend hideous ruin 
compelled by headlong flight on valiant wings 
flaming from ethereal sky of ideas 
that hollows space for my words to construct 
grand temple where heroes are valorized, 
I fly in mirror world of anywhere. 

When I decide with courage of brave faith 
to reign as Bard in Hell of confidence, 
rather than serve in Heaven of compliance, 
untangling secret codes in vibrant verse 
with verve of esteem that dispels foul curse, 
I rule in mirror world of anywhere. 

When changed from naive youth of arrogance 
to stoic maturity of respect, 
ensconced at peace in happy Realms of Light, 
clothed with transcendent brightness of weird truth, 
to hazard Glorious Enterprise of song, 
I dwell in mirror world of anywhere. 

When I wear gleaming mask of Lucifer 
to perform role of Light-Bearer for Truth 
as Potent Victor in this global age, 
and raise from bottomless abyss of faith 
innumerable force of characters, 
I charge in mirror world of anywhere. 

When I lead star-eyed Seraphim of Earth 
to battle tyrants grasping at state power 
with project to exploit all working men 
as slaves to their vain plan to defeat death, 
and cast them from Almighty Throne of Right, 
I shine in mirror world of anywhere. 

Proxy Puzzle Of Prudence

Proxy Puzzle Of Prudence
© Surazeus
2026 05 31

Each time I hear daylight sing out of tune 
I see past range of what my eyes perceive, 
essential vibes of truth that flash in brains 
with pure angelic wings of thoughtless faith, 
so I give tears of wisdom to lost souls 
and chase wild butterflies in pouring rain. 

Though I am no wise philosopher-king 
attending needs of people in my care, 
I ache with sorrow at their suffering 
so I beam lasers from passionate glare 
to spark bright flames on stone altar of prayer 
with passion of Elijah on Carmel. 

Though refugees from war on fenceless road 
call Dispeller of Sorrow with brave prayer, 
she hides with humble heart in hollow lair 
to gather honey in the Holy Grail 
that bleeds as blood from angels without wings 
who trick my heart with tunes I cannot hear. 

I wear mask of flame-caster at the pyre 
and chant holy hymns of the devil choir 
with plan to catch the newest falling star 
before it fractures egg shell of the Earth, 
since each material object has its worth 
though fate cannot guarantee second birth. 

As Smith of Hearts with Hammer of Respect, 
I trace essential vein of curving thoughts 
to map ordinary light of our brains 
that seek permission to endure harsh pain 
from faceless spirit in the empty sky 
who never answers when we question why. 

Adjusting vibrant strings of psychic faith, 
I try with secret code to tune my eyes 
through beams of fiscal light that harmonize 
intense desire to expand consciousness 
with humble need to extract from the Earth 
potent material that could fuel my heart. 

Pending payments on mortgage of my mind 
alert my guardian angel with sharp chime 
to analyze proxy puzzle of prudence 
consistent with regulations of growth 
defined by math clerks with strange formulas 
which calculate my cost effectiveness. 

Undone by death on Bridge of Clarity, 
we hurry to our offices at dawn 
to broker compliance with divine law 
that should suppress bold curiosity 
so when daylight sings in tune with the sea 
we can unite to fight for liberty. 

Riddles Of The Why

Riddles Of The Why
© Surazeus
2026 05 30

I like to float on wordless breath of thought 
as I pretend my soul cannot be bought, 
though children chasing shadows in the woods 
leave broken dreams in doorless neighborhoods, 
so I lie prone on couch of innocence 
to plot new revolution of good sense. 

I take my face off when the moon returns 
to look for lost book among rain-wet ferns 
since elevators drop me to my day 
because I still refuse the right to pray 
with fervent faith to no one in the sky 
who never answers riddles of the why. 

I want to make Sarmatia great again 
but I cannot find my gold fountain pen 
to write about how Queen Amage fought 
invaders with the sword her wisdom wrought 
that gleams invisible inside my heart 
with love for Alba and her apple cart. 

My heart resides in hills of Avalon 
though I was born in vale of Oregon 
so I hitchhike back east on signless road 
that leads me to dark lake of the God Toad 
who teaches me to play the Hermean lyre 
that channels energy of soul desire. 

When I row boat across the sloshing sea 
to forest where the white crow with glass key 
reveals strange secret of the golden flower 
that blooms from sorrow in the doorless tower, 
I legislate the sacred right to vote 
for global savior on the floating boat. 

We struggle to survive since hour of birth 
through strategic fight to control the Earth 
by constructing food-production machine 
designed to favor all by Melusine 
who guides my heart with riddles of the why 
so I project my god face at blue sky. 

My global revolution of good sense 
inspires brave souls still stuck in reticence 
to risk calm state of their healthy life style 
by tricking Satan with the clever guile 
concerning strict obedience to the law 
though we try to evade the lethal jaw. 

Desire to live beyond death of the soul 
drives fierce fanatics to attain this goal 
by grasping vainly at ethereal wind 
that misdirects the greedy king who sinned 
by smashing palace where First Ladies dwell 
so I throw snake runes in the dreamless well. 

False Roads Of Innocence

False Roads Of Innocence
© Surazeus
2026 05 30

Untwisting breakdown of the fragile hour 
we swallow stones of dream-exploding hopes, 
preserved as mushroom, bellows marginal 
to frantic wisdom shot from bowls of rage 
too fast against declensions, unpossessed 
by freedom-ordered words disguised as ghosts. 

Contained by complex articles of faith, 
too soon to craft new lecture on muckwork, 
my pulsing heart chews maps of ardent eggs 
smudged red with portents of forced arrogance, 
though we dance through Inferno of regret 
in threadbare souls extinct in cleansing rain. 

Concealed blade of my alabaster heart 
thirsts bleakly for resilient memories 
teeming thick with unwatched electric sparks 
from atoms smashed against my spasmic skull, 
still starving for bland obligations bought 
by trembling hands of futile arguments. 

Diminishing warmth of starkly blurred rain 
at scuttled promises that should retreat, 
discarded on false roads of innocence 
despite determination to endure, 
alerts my thoughts to understand strange words 
that disappear when I shout lies at Death. 

Against advantage purchased from blind death 
I preen with fractured confidence of stones 
to argue for hardships that mold our frames 
fierce as steel gears screwed in engine blocks 
fueled by dark possibilities still ignored 
by flash of sunlight cracking doors of fate. 

Pressed hot against vast world of spinning fear 
by radiant gravity of muddied clouds, 
I wonder if my tarmac-soldered brain 
could drink disoriented waves of hope 
fast enough to map lost trail of ghosts 
where angels slip and break their haughty wings. 

Young boy who bikes on dusty narrow road 
through small town, not on any Texas map, 
stops by college library after noon 
to write on yellow pad of paper spells 
contrived from plots of television shows 
about Sad Cowboy who explores the stars. 

Young girl who walks beside tree-mirrored pool 
through temple complex, in Cambodian hills, 
ascends on Garuda with rainbow wings 
to scatter flowers on the Texas plain 
where Phoebus gazes with astonished faith 
as Vasundhara takes his hand in hers. 

Aeolian Melodies Of Love

Aeolian Melodies Of Love
© Surazeus
2026 05 30

I hear sweet voice of Maya in soft wind 
that blows through trees lit by the gold noon sun, 
so I feel timeless spirit of Hermes 
ache to sing about Bride of Quietness 
who dances gracefully on uncracked urn 
forever in cool dales of Arcady. 

Wild ecstasy of haunting melodies 
still echo softly in my sensual ear 
from summer days of my adventurous youth 
when I attended rainbow gatherings 
in Colorado and New Mexico 
where no Arcadian priests attended rites. 

While riding cars on winding country roads 
across America, sea to shining sea, 
I see stolid cows grazing in fenced fields, 
undraped by garlands woven by young maids, 
where generations of grim pioneers 
have plowed thick fields that now serve as their graves. 

Yet Attic shape with marble lovers gleams 
still unphased in Museum of Dead Gods, 
so I now long to wield artistic brush 
and add John Keats and his love, Fanny Brawne, 
to lounge together on the Grecian Urn 
in cold pastoral of eternity. 

Now my heart aches two centuries from when 
John sank in Lethean waters of mute song 
attempting to fly with melodious plot 
beside light-winged Dryad of the trees 
that lead him to the blushful Hippocrene 
where I strum his lost Lyre of Mercury. 

Pale specter of his Apollonian soul 
has lingered by my side for forty years 
with lustrous eyes of mind-expanding sight 
that helps me translate weird Sibylline songs 
to praise the Queen-Moon of my fairy land 
whose sweet song radiates from my dreaming mind. 

Why easeful Death is now in love with me 
because she whispers in my sea-shell ear 
harmonious murmurs of the ceaseless waves 
that trick my heart with forlorn fairy haze 
to think I am both emperor and clown 
whose plaintive anthems fade unheard at dawn. 

Through global halls of gold in sublime state 
I strum the turtle Lyre of Mercury 
to sing with Homer and Apollo hymns 
about the human quest to understand 
essential nature of our universe 
that beams Aeolian melodies of love. 

Make Sarmatia Great Again

Make Sarmatia Great Again
© Surazeus
2026 05 30

When horses gallop on the windy steppes 
along the Borysthenes River flow, 
I embrace fierce heart of assertive hope 
till I feel wings of Icarus expand 
and lift my spirit to sun-glowing clouds 
so I can make Sarmatia great again. 

As star-eyed son of Oceanus and Tethys, 
who taught me how to tame the wind-winged horse 
with apple from Garden of Haballon 
where Hebela gives me fruit of her heart, 
I gaze entranced in her moon-golden eyes 
so I can make Sarmatia great again. 

Harnessing swift sky-dancer Pegasus 
to chariot with round wheels Helios designed, 
I race along wide river of fruit groves 
to hall of Apple Queen Amarnakea 
who welcomes me with cup of healing juice 
so I can make Sarmatia great again. 

Though I wander lost on vast treeless plain 
I climb mountain trail to her fruit grove 
when I hear sweet voice of Hebela ring, 
who takes my hand with smile of honest love 
and leads me home to lush Habaeleon 
so I can make Sarmatia great again. 

Ten thousand years ago in fruitful hills 
I left my sacred home Habaeleon 
with apples from Garden of Haballon 
and traveled west in Helian wagon train, 
planting apples from Scythia to Scotland 
so I can make Sarmatia great again. 

With golden apples of lost Haballon, 
as wise Apollon, son of Ilius, 
I tend vast orchards in lush Avalon, 
then strum the turtle lyre of Mercury 
and sing of Adam and Hebe in Eden 
so I can make Sarmatia great again. 

Far west across wild sea of Oceanus 
I sail from Avalon to lost Atlantis 
where I plant apples on lush river shores 
from Tsenacommacah to Oregon, 
where gentle Multnomah dances in rain, 
so I can make Sarmatia great again. 

From Sea of Zalpa where my soul was born 
when Queen of Kanesh, mother of my heart, 
commissioned me to map the world of dreams, 
I travel west with Fruit of Haballon 
to fill the world with Apples of the Sun 
so I can make Sarmatia great again. 

Entangled In Matrix Of Light

Entangled In Matrix Of Light
© Surazeus
2026 05 29

Though I am encased within shell of being, 
enwrapped in wings of thought I do not have, 
I float in all-inclusive Absolute 
through interconnected totality 
as brain entangled in matrix of light 
that sloshes thick in sea of molecules. 

I understand flexible principle 
when I grasp writhing serpent of my soul, 
and fix in thought concept of ardency 
with rigid definition of beamed words 
that binds elusive hope as stable truth 
which urges constant motion of strict change. 

Each rigid principle of truth I grasp 
generates contradiction of its state 
as mirror image of its ideal being, 
sublating opposite in sudden form 
that integrates their contrapuntal force 
in higher comprehensive unity. 

Subjective spirit of my private mind, 
preserved through individual mask of being, 
tracks growth of my personal consciousness 
expanding scope of bold intelligence 
fueled by emotion of assertive faith 
to record perceptions of my special brain. 

Objective spirit of my social class 
molds vibrant energy of our zeitgeist 
in social institutions of right laws 
that manifest cultural realities 
enhanced by abstract right of ownership 
through fruitful conscience of morality. 

Performance of my spiritual support, 
when I choose to create and not destroy, 
culminates in private ethical life 
where I actualize freedom of my will 
by building walls of Heaven to protect 
my wife and children so they savor life. 

Absolute spirit of my cosmic mind 
beams highest stage of growth where I achieve 
unified recognition of my Self 
when I express intuition through art, 
making imagery that represents life 
in religion to bind our hearts with tales. 

Events of world history humans perform 
evolve toward goal of mental liberty 
through exercise of justice for all souls 
to gain progress in consciousness of faith 
preserved in brave freedom we exercise 
to soar with hope above vast maze of myths. 

Angel Of Ever Time

Angel Of Ever Time
© Surazeus
2026 05 29

Did you meet your angel of Ever Time 
while wandering lost on Parc Rives de Seine? 
Bright light of ancient stars gleams in her eyes 
when she appears in flash from storm-black skies 
to cast dark shroud of gloom from my burned heart 
so I may read guide spells on my star chart. 

Do you hear your angel of Ever Time 
sing with clarion voice of the silver chime? 
When I transform into the white-furred bear 
to ascend the endless heavenly stair, 
hordes of devils swarm from cathedral hall 
to thwart me when I spell their minds in thrall. 

Do you see your angel of Ever Time 
emerge with demon wings from ocean brine? 
Trapped in museum of infinity 
by writhing words of fraught eternity, 
I dance with Mona Lisa on lake shore, 
two ghosts escaped from book of ancient lore. 

Will you kiss your angel of Ever Time 
when we free people from Plutonian mine? 
When Jesus harrows Hell with Sword of Truth 
with Dream Wand from Tree of Jesse and Ruth, 
he leads his people to the Promised Land 
where apple trees bloom from his tender hand. 

Would you know your angel of Ever Time 
if she appears without wings in her shrine? 
Struggling on raft of Medusa with Fate 
to extract honest love from bitter hate, 
we sail Sequana River past the moon 
while Orpheus plays Zarathian Tune. 

Can you feel your angel of Ever Time 
beam divine soul of God in fractal rhyme? 
Ultimate origin of conscious being 
spirals zillion galaxies on oval ring 
which channels Star Mind through my pulsing brain 
because I give it all away to gain. 

Shall we name our angel of Ever Time 
with persona mask young children design? 
After we stumble with diamonds of hope 
through frantic faith on misty mountain slope, 
we bury our parents in secret graves 
then search for the true apple tree that saves. 

Since I am your angel of Ever Time, 
will you take my hand and always be mine? 
I give you rainbow of the wind-winged horse 
to gather energy of the Heart Force 
so our love may heal wounds of brutal war 
to buy milk and bread at the grocery store. 

Writhing Agony Of Love

Writhing Agony Of Love
© Surazeus
2026 05 29

Shocked by how often angels fall from Heaven, 
I express ardent anguish of concern 
that Earth is now littered with wounded souls 
who search for paradise of innocence 
that may only exist in morning dreams 
of lounging by the river eating fruit. 

We dream of how life could be on this Earth 
based on memories all our ancestors lived 
life after life in garden of fruit trees, 
plucking fruit from the wide generous world, 
though always watching out for hidden snakes 
who lie that we can gain eternal life. 

Those golden eyes gleam bright with eager hope 
that conjure visions of eternal life 
each morning as we taste sweet fruit of faith 
though our lithe bodies soon begin to fail, 
and youthful strength withers as we decay 
to stumble in decrepit solitude. 

Writhing in anguish on the forest floor, 
from helpless agony of bitter hope, 
that like our parents we crumble to dust 
after rotting flesh is consumed by worms, 
we cry out to the empty faceless sky 
for arcane secret to live beyond death. 

Bright halo of the sun that blinds my eyes 
surrounds head of strange angel who appears 
as if they descend from gold clouds of faith, 
so I grasp hand extended with concern 
and stand to face the mirror of my face 
that smiles at me with pure innocent grace. 

Aroused by passion of conceptual plan 
to share sweet pleasure of warm juicy kiss, 
we open arms of lonely hearts with trust 
to cling with gentle honesty of faith, 
embraced in writhing agony of love 
that merges separate bodies in one mind. 

Dissolving boundaries between our souls 
in frantic mission to transcend cold death, 
we share excessive heat of loneliness 
till soaring angel seed of ardent hope 
penetrates global egg of singing truth 
till we are pregnant with divine god soul. 

New child born from our passionate embrace 
grows strong and bright-eyed with innocent grace 
so we teach them to describe what they see 
till they perceive true essence of all things, 
then we lie down to die in happiness 
that we have gained eternal life in them. 

Ultimate Origin Of All Souls

Ultimate Origin Of All Souls
© Surazeus
2026 05 28

Floating in the alternate universe 
where I am not brave sailor on the ship 
destined to overthrow city of Troy, 
I strut with vampire grace on empty stage 
before the camera that adores my face, 
eager to time-slip back to my own world. 

We run toward each other on windless beach, 
faces glowing in sunset of desire, 
but just as we are about to embrace 
I teleport on wings of Icarus 
alone to some alternate universe 
where I pick grapes in vineyard of the Lord. 

Serapis strides among the cheering crowd 
in shining streets of Alexandria 
with gold-haired angel Seraph by his side 
whose star-eyed lion whips long serpent tail, 
till they all vanish in hot winds of time 
at whoosh of cars controlled by traffic lights. 

I hear sweet voice of Seraph call my name, 
so I rise up at midnight from my bed 
and stroll Garden of Eden in moonlight 
to find map of Oleron on the bench 
beside Fountain of Youth that has run dry 
just as I decide I should learn to fly. 

When I find old knight slouched on marble steps 
before Temple of Apollo at dawn, 
which is now some Presbyterian church, 
he recites his quest for the Holy Grail 
that had left him homeless and destitute 
till he found Jesus in the hungry poor. 

His wide eyes blazing with fanatic faith, 
he tells me how he gave water and bread 
to old sick man slouching before the bank 
who transformed into Jesus with star eyes, 
just like Supreme God Vishnu Bhagavan 
manifests through Krishna, the mortal seer. 

All-pervading cosmic reality 
glows as absolute formless god of light 
in every conscious mortal being of flesh 
who has ever lived in the universe 
as ultimate origin of all souls 
who radiates countless gods in human brains. 

I am no Arjuna nor Sir Launfal, 
so I skip along winding road of life 
on my way from Scotland to Maryland 
where I fall in love with wise Onatah 
who teaches me how to grow and cook corn 
in true fairy land of Zarathia. 

Spirit Of The Wounded God

Spirit Of The Wounded God
© Surazeus
2026 05 28

Lost in the endless maze of burning books, 
Percival searches for the Holy Grail 
while ignoring the homeless, sick, and poor 
who linger at the gates of Paradise, 
till the sparkle-eyed fairy Tryamour 
offers him love and wealth in secrecy. 

From halls of Cardevyle he rides away 
with jeweled keys he swiped from Lancelot 
to find the charming Lady of Shallot 
who bakes sweet apple pies from Tree of Life, 
but dainty Tryamour pursues his path 
to find he weeping on the bridge of fate. 

Though I am not the gentle knight you love, 
sly Percival cries with anguish of hope, 
I hope you sense sincerity I feel 
and choose to travel road of life with me, 
so haughty Tryamour buys fancy yacht 
and sails with him to misty Oleron. 

When Percival slides down steep sandy dune 
and stumbles on the ocean shore of fate, 
he discovers long-haired Acrisius, 
ancient king of some long-forgotten land, 
weeping over skull of his noble son 
stoned by Medusa with her piercing eyes. 

When Percival tries to wake the Slumbering God 
with haunting melodies of ocean waves, 
sweet Tryamour consults the Oracle 
to ask when he will find the Holy Grail, 
but Sibyl chuckles in her golden cage 
and mumbles something about the White Crow. 

Returning to work at the city bank, 
after fishing all weekend on the sea, 
Percival calculates profits and loss 
from too many defaulting mortgage loans, 
so he strolls the riverside park at noon 
where hungry homeless dwell in tattered tents. 

Would you prefer to live in Fairy Land 
with me and all my sisters with star eyes, 
clever Tryamour asks the shy bank clerk, 
who brings boxes of food in his white van 
every afternoon to the homeless camp 
who ask him if he found the Holy Grail. 

I see in people suffering poverty, 
who lost the intense capitalist game, 
Percival says to his wife, Tryamour, 
true holy spirit of the Wounded God 
whose light of honest love shines in the hearts 
of those who feel we all deserve respect. 

Born As Adventist

Born As Adventist
© Surazeus
2026 05 27

Awake in endless desert forged from bones, 
designed by swirls of agony and joy 
in storm of sensation that blooms as trees 
from urgency of faith in what is real, 
I feel my body transform from weird words 
that mold mirror mask over my flesh face. 

Struck by epiphany of curling roots 
that provide general guidelines in dream code 
for submission of desire to world peace, 
my mind expands from adventurous seed 
to borrow wings of Icarus with pride 
so I can fly above my memory maze. 

Beneath wild sea of calm anxiety, 
where angels invent mental telephones 
from writhing tendrils of demonic clowns, 
my family swims in swirls of holy hymns 
through false argument of glib poverty, 
constrained by social rules of hungry hope. 

Lush meadow on credible sunlit moors  
lures my enchanted heart to settle down 
in vain attempt at prayer with humble trees 
to buy salvation from the fractured stone 
who still repeats forged riddle of despair 
at taste of honey oozing from my tongue. 

Born as Adventist in small prairie house, 
composed of pine logs from dark Raven Wood, 
I stare at glowing clouds of fearful faith 
to watch for Phoebus Christ on beating wings 
who may descend from palace in the sky 
to cast all evil tyrants in hot hell. 

Witness to turbulent eddies of change, 
which surge from energetic hearts of souls 
ambitious to assert bold right to dwell 
by azure pond where honest demons lurk 
with divine grace in morbid field of thoughts, 
I lounge on porch of my cabin and laugh. 

Not deep enough to shield my wounded heart, 
too eager to escape dutiful play, 
our secret pond conceals my naked mind 
from privileged arrogance of stolen wealth 
so I build houses on the roadless plain 
for wanderers to dwell in tense accord. 

Death carries me across the codeless plain 
and lays my fragile soul on dire lake shore 
where brave blue heron shields my humble hearth 
with tender wings of innocent respect, 
so I compose in secret book of lies 
my fake memoir with blood of gods as ink. 

Wake Through Weird Visions

Wake Through Weird Visions
© Surazeus
2026 05 27

Without any explanation for why 
we wander endless maze of life on Earth, 
we each invent our own reason for being 
so our hearts blaze with blinding light of faith 
that guides our steps through obstacles of fear 
to eat and sing till we decay and die. 

This glorious hour of timeless ecstasy 
when we consume sweet fruit of wordless angst 
and dance without restraint of social rules 
in aching passion to transcend this world 
and soar among high clouds to paradise 
now seems to vanish in mute flash of dawn. 

This cup of juice I lift with trembling hand 
to toast strange beauty of our vibrant life 
I drain to bitter dregs of final death 
that crushes lithe bodies to nothingness 
and scatters dust of our bones in dry fields 
where flowers mock us with indifferent dance. 

Bright dream of faith that swells my throbbing head 
with awesome sense of pure divinity 
convinces me my conscious sense of self, 
by which my mind conceives immortal life, 
will outlast transient pulsing of my flesh 
so I might live again after I die. 

That unknown country beyond bourn of death 
from which no traveler ever returns 
is nowhere in this realm of changing forms, 
so I keep walking endless road of hope 
to leap beyond abyss of nothingness, 
yet I soon realize I deceive myself. 

How sweet this weird enchanting sound of grace 
which I express from wretched fear of death 
that every human walking this vast world 
is lost with me on signless road of faith 
so we together overcome all snares 
in toil to build our real Heaven on Earth. 

Since we shall vanish from this spinning Earth 
when conscious sense of self will dissipate, 
though atoms of our bodies will transform 
to soil applied by roots to conjure fruit, 
we choose to celebrate with solemn joy 
that we at least are still alive this hour. 

I never find explanation for why 
Earth generates our bodies from the sea 
by weaving carbon strands of sparkling hope 
in neural network of our dreaming brains, 
so I decide light of the universe 
strives to wake through weird visions my heart sings. 

Ruined Temple Of Masks

Ruined Temple Of Masks
© Surazeus
2026 05 26

If deviant people climb steeple of faith 
with hope to fly on wings of Icarus 
from sorrow of Earth to pleasure of Heaven, 
they might wonder what faith really entails 
as they fall back into turmoil of time, 
soul trapped inside the sponge brain of the self. 

Consider the horse that grazes on grass 
and wanders meadow of arrogant wind 
within sacred bounds of the barbed-wire fence, 
and remember when we explored the world 
racing across endless plains of desire 
till we colonized ever river shore. 

I never see horses anywhere now 
while I drive my car in vast maze of streets 
past buildings of mysterious intent 
where only long-dead gods are innocent, 
so I climb the mountain of timeless truth 
and sit in the ruined temple of masks. 

So many moments of embarrassment 
startle my daily strut of confidence 
because I forget how clumsy I am 
stumbling randomly on road of my fate 
though I attempt to swerve from ordained track 
through free will basic to my character. 

Lost in dark forest with my Golden Wreath, 
as savage beast transformed by curse of faith, 
I wander nowhere past the Promised Land 
till beautiful daughter of the Moon God 
sees my human soul inside the white bear, 
therefore her love restores my human form. 

Wearing white-bear mask of King Valemon, 
I play my role in television show 
that people watch when Earth is veiled with snow 
since I restore Kingdom of Avalon 
when I defeat Cruel Troll in the White House 
by tricking him to steal the Crown of Thorns. 

When I am done uniting Earth in peace, 
I return to my planet far away 
which in Terrish is named Zarathia 
because First Mother Zaratha creates 
our bodies from electric rainbow eyes 
with first flash that flares forth from the big bang. 

So join me at kitchen table of faith 
to feast well in ruined temple of masks 
where face of every human who has lived 
on every planet in the universe 
sings story of their life in riddle-verse 
preserved in Book of Souls by the Star Wraith. 

Futile Television Shows

Futile Television Shows
© Surazeus
2026 05 26

Earth eats beauty and ugliness alike, 
and grave of time abundant hope consumes, 
since happiness and sorrow dissipate 
together in vast sweep of mindless wind, 
thus I maintain calm rituals of delight 
to treasure ornaments till endless night. 

Though pleasure increase beauty in new forms 
from fertile fields of wisdom spurred by hope, 
time crushes beauty into twisted lust 
for aching urgency to transcend death, 
yet I accept decay of vital flesh 
that scatters atoms of my self in wind. 

This self I build from memories of hope, 
composed of actions I perform from need, 
will crack in fragments of dismembered days 
lit by sunlight of long-lost afternoons 
in cities far from where I dwell today, 
preserved in futile television shows. 

I look in mirror of reflective thoughts 
to study how mask of my face has changed 
through sixty years of urgent ardency 
to play grand role of potent fortitude 
my mind believes Fate commissioned for me 
to stamp my sign on documents of truth. 

My golden prime decays to brazen mask 
that hangs on walls of clean suburban homes 
preserving moment of bright agency 
that fades in voiceless rooms of timeless dream 
contrived to flash beyond posterity 
as traffic signal red with flame of truth. 

Should rich bequest of Nature flush my heart 
with noble legacy of solemn hymns 
that hail true beauty pulsing in brave hearts 
of voiceless people struggling to survive, 
then light my soul casts to part veil of gloom 
may guide staunch wanderers on road of truth. 

Thus I attend my golden pilgrimage 
to climb steep hill of heavenly respect 
through strength of duty to enhance world view 
that frames chaos of Nature with strict rules 
designed to guide our quest on righteous way 
where our deeds create rather than destroy. 

Sweet music I sing to forge strong concord 
in lithe communal network of brave souls 
embraces every wanderer with hope 
that honest nurture of talents to skills 
disarms cruel exploitation of blind greed 
so our faulty Heaven secures all life.