Lost

Lost
© Surazeus
2012 11 14

My plane crashed on the island of the dead,
now I chase weird dreams in my broken head.
I run through labyrinth of my memories
and stare in mirrors clutching rusted keys.
I am alive because I am a ghost.
Change the channel in my head, I am lost.

I walk empty highway in sighing trees,
listening to ghosts sing in cool evening breeze.
I look at my love wearing cute blue dress,
skeleton bride who smiles at me from death.
I breathe despair because I am a ghost.
Change the channel in my head, I am lost.

Existence is fragile in this hostile world
so I toil in field where serpent lies curled.
I maintain my farm with genius and art
until turmoil of war tears it apart.
I raise flowers because I am a ghost.
Change the channel in my head, I am lost.

Let My People Vote

Let My People Vote
© Surazeus 2012 09 21

When Americans tried to vote,
Let my people vote!
Old regressives snarled and said no,
Let my people vote!
Stand in line on election day,
Let my people vote!
Touch the glass screen to mark your say,
Let my people vote!

Go down, Obama, way down in America,
Tell old regressives to let my people vote!

We want to choose our President,
Let my people vote!
We bow to no requirement,
Let my people vote!
No more shall they demand name cards,
Let my people vote!
Nor require birth certificates,
Let my people vote!

Go down, Obama, way down in America,
Tell old regressives to let my people vote!

Whether our skin is black or white,
Let my people vote!
We are brothers and sisters in right,
Let my people vote!
Whether our skin is yellow or red,
Let my people vote!
We share the feast and break fresh bread,
Let my people vote!

Go down, Obama, way down in America,
Tell old regressives to let my people vote!

You need not always weep and mourn,
Let my people vote!
And wear these chains of debt forlorn,
Let my people vote!
Let us march for our right to choose,
Let my people vote!
Bodies of women are their own,
Let my people vote!

Go down, Obama, way down in America,
Tell old regressives to let my people vote!

No more shall they toil without rights,
Let my people vote!
They form unions for a decent wage,
Let my people vote!
When my people suffer disease,
Let my people vote!
They deserve affordable health care,
Let my people vote!

Go down, Obama, way down in America,
Tell old regressives to let my people vote!

When my people fall on hard times,
Let my people vote!
Catch them with a social safety net,
Let my people vote!
Your foes shall not before you stand,
Let my people vote!
We all share great America,
Let my people vote!

Go down, Obama, way down in America,
Tell old regressives to let my people vote!

New Atheist Bible

After a year of writing, I have completed a first complete draft of the first part of my epic about evolution and scientists.

I am working on writing an epic in blank verse I call Hermead about evolution and scientists, to describe the origin of life, and the lives of scientists, as accurately as possible. So far over the past year I have written 34,000 lines of blank verse about the lives of 15 Greek Philosophers.

Religion is essentially a set of beliefs based on a body of text that present a description of how the universe works. Preferably we improve our text as we improve our knowledge over the centuries. The best text describes reality as close as possible, nature and society.

Sometimes I jokingly refer to my epic about evolution and scientists as a new atheist bible, but I don't intend it to be that serious. My epic is more of a literary and artistic presentation of scientific ideas and biographies of scientists who developed modern civilization and knowledge. 

Three short excerpts from my epic poem the Hermead.

Epicurus
http://open.salon.com/blog/surazeus/2012/06/02/principle_doctrines_from_garden_of_epikouros

Aristotle http://open.salon.com/blog/surazeus/2012/03/03/categories_and_motions

Plato
http://open.salon.com/blog/surazeus/2012/01/24/allegory_of_the_cave

God

God

By the definition of God as omniscient and omnipresent, beyond the bounds of time and space, God cannot exist. The term exist means in Latin to stand out, ex-stare. So anything that exists stands out in time and space, limited within the bounds of its being, an object of material substance subject to the chemical processes of change in the flow of time.

God could be said to subsist, from the Latin to stand under, sub-stare. God could be defined as the substance of existence.

Aanaxagoras is thought to be the first to formulate the concept of the Creator Mind, which Aristoteles called the Demiurgos, the craftsman. They argued that the mass of substance was without form, and the Mind, the unmoved Mover, sparked the mass to start processing so that all things emerged from the chaos and took on temporal processes of change as living things.

I am agnostic in that I do not know if that Mind is at all conscious of my existence, except perhaps through my own self-awareness. So as I get to know myself, God gets to know itself. So I could be said to be gnostic.

God being my friend and guiding my way through life is more of a socio-political concept, the "leader" of a group, the chief of a tribe, the pastor of a congregation, the boss of a company, the mayor of a town, the king of a nation, a living man who follows the example of Jesus as the anointed leader who takes care of his people, and is willing to die to protect them.

Our Star-Spangled Banner

Our Star-Spangled Banner
© Surazeus
2012 07 04

Oh, say did you hear that slick lawyer Key,
who wrote a great song about fighting for freedom,
then argued white men could own people as slaves,
over the years though we fought for freedom and justice?
So stand up strong and fight against slavery of people,
and give proof to the world that our liberty still lives.
Oh, say does our star-spangled banner yet wave
over the land of the free and the home of the brave?

When two towers were struck by terrorists in planes
we united to fight for our freedom and justice,
but our cowboy president lied about weapons of death
then we fought a bank war to steal the oil wells of Eden.
Now we rise in protest against bankers gambling stock
so they send the police to stomp our faces in cement.
Oh, say does our star-spangled banner yet wave
over the land of the free and the home of the brave?

Many people have arrived from every nation on Earth,
all religions and races share this bountiful land.
But who dares to destroy human rights we uphold
trampling down sacred laws to exploit men for labor?
Come and march by our side to occupy our own land
and defend liberty for every human alive.
Oh, say does our star-spangled banner yet wave
over the land of the free and the home of the brave?

This is my update to the national anthem. In 1861, my distant cousin, Oliver Wendell Holmes, wrote the following verse as his update to the national anthem just before the Civil War.

When our land is illumined with liberty's smile,
If a foe from within strikes a blow at her glory,
Down, down with the traitor that tries to defile
The flag of the stars, and the page of her story!
By the millions unchained, who their birthright have gained
We will keep her bright blazon forever unstained;
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave,
While the land of the free is the home of the brave.

Like me, Oliver Wendell Holmes, through his mother, was descended from Massachusetts Governor Simon Bradstreet and his wife, Anne Bradstreet, the first published European poet in America, and daughter of Thomas Dudley. I figured I should carry on a family tradition of updating the national anthem to reflect the times.

Orphean Spirit Reborn

Orphean Spirit Reborn
© Surazeus 
2012 01 24

I saw the best actors of our generation 
imitating Allen Ginsberg, James Franco 
and Daniel Radcliffe, bearded and wild, 
prancing Satyrian before cameras 
of our watching eyes, angel-headed hipsters 
channeling his ancient Orphean spirit 
on heavenly stage of Dionysian worship 
of manly warriors against ignorance and fear 
who plunged howling into eyeless abyss 
to swim in swirling visions of holy breath, 
to proclaim magnificent prophecies 
of self-actualization outside borders 
of the huge silver screen on crowded streets 
dodging cars of power and glory, fame and greed, 
where aching towers of Money Moloch burn 
over shimmering asphalt cathedrals of glass 
though ten thousand living nameless poets 
crucified on world web of telephone poles 
sea to polluted sea on every mountain top 
babble meaningless spells of confessional despair 
to high priests of advertising and mass media 
and pharmaceuticals and global policies, 
then gather with saints at the river that flows 
by the steel superbowl dome of Hercules 
where blue-jean angels in mascara-red tears 
sing star-tangled honor, and Buddha floats 
laughing over broken television tubes, 
chanting spells, so why do you think I am 
the most recent incarnation of Orpheus.