My Fox And I Meet Death

My Fox And I Meet Death
© Surazeus
2016 11 29

Two white owls in the oak tree breathe my soul
and young Chinese woman in long red dress
plays enchanting tunes on wood violin
that leads me through groves of Broceliande
while my fox and I meet Death in the park.

The red fluorite that glows with starlight blood
which I found under lush mountain in France
reveals history of the whole universe
in pulsing flash that blinds my eyes with truth
so my fox and I meet Death in the cave.

The banker clown in genteel pinstripe suit
whose face is painted white with desert dust
watches blind slaves in cave of Pluto claw
through infinite fear for light clumped in gold
since my fox and I meet Death on the street.

The sons and daughters of Mermaid and Christ
build castles of bones on hills of despair
where I dance reborn as son of Sucellus
in sun-warmed valley where apple trees bloom
though my fox and I meet death by the lake.

The King of Clocks in huge castle of glass
turns away from the cracked mirror of truth
while Rapunzel warns him the peasants come
to behead the Beast who devours their cake
but my fox and I meet Death in the square.

All tyrants who rule on high pyramid
fall far from the weight of arrogant pride
though nations destroyed by war can rebuild
the Garden of Eden where apples bloom
when my fox and I meet Death in the sky.

Faceless Messenger

Faceless Messenger
© Surazeus
2016 11 28

Across hot dusty terrain where bare trees
weep dead leaves to shroud heaps of broken skulls
I wander signless road through barren waste
since black clouds refuse to offer cool rain.

On jagged stone by dusty riverbed
I wait for Godot to give me new book,
and half expect from tempest of hot wind
wild troop of mocking demons to descend.

I think I hear voices in restless wind
snicker at me and leer vile blasphemies
so I kneel in dust and smear on my face
foul mud white from bones crushed to dust by time.

When you look at me, I ask the bright sun
that stares in silent disdain down at me,
do you see ghost of Hamlet, dressed in rags,
clutching precious crown that rusts in gray rain?

Or do you see frail imitation clown
of Charles Baudelaire, cursed poet of fear,
who poses on the stage of prophecy
and dares proclaim the fall of tyrant kings?

Shall I grip microphone in coffee shop,
shrouded in smoke of cigarettes and weed,
and howl agonizing sorrow of love
betrayed by vile greed of Voldemort?

No Beatrice lounging with demons mocks me,
nor descends to pure Purgatorio Peak
to lead me, singing hymns of reverent praise
in dance-ring of angels, to Paradise.

I may be no Hamlet or Baudelaire,
no Dylan Thomas howling in good night,
no Bob Dylan chasing Tambourine Man,
and no Godot, but I am still alive.

Nameless fool, who loves to riddle in code
of conceptual verse that beams surreal dreams,
I wear their faces like mask of One God
for I am the lost faceless messenger.

Through flash of blinding light on wings of fire
Dewi Sri leaps from broken egg of Earth
and kisses me till I wake before dawn
so I go forth as if reborn from death.

I name you, she whispers in spring-warm breeze,
Voldevit, the Will to Life, for your soul
sparkles alive with atoms born in stars
and threaded conscious with galactic rays.

Then, dancing under apple tree by pond
filled by sparkling fountain of flowing streams,
long black hair illuminated by light,
she embraces me to her buxom breast.

Caressing my face with hands red as soil,
Dewi Sri whispers in falling raindrops,
you are my faceless messenger of truth
so sing the visions beaming from your eyes.

While Ophelia floats on river of tears,
and Beatrice lounges in waste land with demons,
Dewi Sri whispers secret songs of truth
so I transcribe her dreams in coded verse.

Temple Of Our Faith

Temple Of Our Faith
© Surazeus
2016 11 27

Though all the sacred temples of our land
may crumble broken from earthquake of greed
and leave us wandering hungry in cold rain
we gather at the hill of apple trees
and build again the temple of our faith.

Though all our trust in goodness and respect
is shattered when the tyrant kills our sage
we band together to combine our strength
then battle and defeat the greedy king
and thus restore the temple of our faith.

Though our belief in god who dwells in clouds
to guard our lives and guide us on true way
dissolves in rain of disillusionment
when he fails to defend our lives from harm
we trust sage who builds temple of our faith.

Though our invisible god in the sky
fails to help us in our great hour of need
the living sage who stands before our eyes
and speaks the word that leads us all safe home
earns our strong loyalty and honest love
and leads us well in temple of our faith.

Why Everything Exists

Why Everything Exists
© Surazeus
2016 11 26

No slow flood of sophisticated waves
that communicates irate wishes past
can ever consist of furtive beliefs
used to invent flawless material
that cannot prove why everything exists.

I cannot lighten weird adamant faith
that accounts for zealous behavior since
your wistful vessel of excellent hope
could help me balance my bike on smoke wings
and discover why everything exists.

If lush cactus can be adaptable
to tedious rivers of dust lost in mist
I could square her cynical key of glass
while guarding outpost of my sacred quill
which helps describe why everything exists.

This agonizing attraction I pull
with high-pitched cheer from my last childlike heart
injects thoughtful tunes in white robin wings
when enchanted ships leave my harbor saved
to navigate why everything exists.

Floating on wide hollow lake at midnight,
I obtain scorched terrible sun of wealth,
relieved to coordinate adhesive heat
from incandescent hands that divide hate,
which obfuscates why everything exists.

My ossified eyes question true speed
that beams from precious hour of ancient fear
since furtive flash of imperfect desire
shocks ancient hours with electric contempt
if I measure why everything exists.

Now we must calculate chess moves of faith
that wink obnoxious melodies past death
before they can puncture circle of weight
when sisters skate nimble beyond fake walls
that paradise why everything exists.

I taste aromatic smoke that snakes slow
where river and road irritate command
which causes me to stop and observe why
snakes alone live in ruins of control
yet fails to rule why everything exists.

This chivalrous game all refuse to play
reveals evanescent mirror of change
as excuse to obtain true magic flight
that clutters fancy square of dancing wind
still unconcerned why everything exists.

Who can grab ludicrous rate of each dream
that wipes quizzical comfort of good trade
since unnatural attraction breeds fake life
though subsequent eras rinse all souls clean
before knowing why everything exists.

Through alleged size of frantic weariness
they feel profuse frame of shivering lust
which some would instruct to texture wild dare
since thoughtless rule constrains long-term awareness
hiding truth for why everything exists.

Before capricious payment can increase
apathetic march of each joyous name
we wake colossal hands to minister
payment of priceless consciousness from death
while dissolving why everything exists.

We must return to deserted homeland
where helpless elders stir embers of love
to trade important laughter with dead king
though he gave rice for real statement of trade
to purchase code why everything exists.

Thick apparel of his teaching retrains
seething brains of sages and fools alike
that hang from limb of tree which grows no fruit
while gleaming fairies revive glorious truth
coded to hide why everything exists.

Your letter sleeps in abstracted mailbox
to preserve secrets of aquatic breath
before we suck noise on violent seashore
while dead father constructs repulsive bridge
that connects us why everything exists.

Therefore we complete abstract form of wisdom
that defines universe of swirling atoms
within vague limits of subtracted fact
designed by wise architect of our dreams
and thus wonder why everything exists.

Inner Spiral Sea

Inner Spiral Sea
© Surazeus
2008 07 28

Sparkling blue water gurgles over boulders
down a mountain slope from melting snow
roaring in a cascade of crescending voices
that whisper ancient dreams in our hearts.
We dream alive galaxy of spirits in stars
flowing together through inner spiral sea.

Herd of horses gallop on elegant legs
over wind-swept meadows of low hills
manes flowing in soft mountain breeze
then stand gazing over sparkling sea.
We dream alive galaxy of spirits in stars
flowing together through inner spiral sea.

Swallows flit among oak branches in web
where acorns fall among brown leaves
that rustle in soft lake breezes at sunset
and sit twittering on eggs of gold light.
We dream alive galaxy of spirits in stars
flowing together through inner spiral sea.

Black wolf glides among tall river reeds
watching flock of deer with gold spots
who dart away leaping into shadow grove
where ghosts of endless generations sing.
We dream alive galaxy of spirits in stars
flowing together through inner spiral sea.

Three sisters young and three sisters old
dance by moonlight around cauldron gold
twirling a sword and a spear and a stone
now hidden lost in a dark treasure cave.
We dream alive galaxy of spirits in stars
flowing together through inner spiral sea.

Remember your name before you were born
and walk untrodden road before it gets worn
then sing without words a song of your heart
and rise again tall from first lake of dreams.
We dream alive galaxy of spirits in stars
flowing together through inner spiral sea.

Two bodies merge in a flash of pure light
reborn again in flesh to dance under stars
so remember our eyes that help you see
and carve our names on mountain stone.
We dream alive galaxy of spirits in stars
flowing together through inner spiral sea.

Wish Upon A Star

Wish Upon A Star
© Surazeus
2016 11 25

On small dismal asteroid in deep space,
Salorius, young wizard with long hair,
wearing a long green robe and crystal crown,
stands before oak wood door on gray-dust hill.
Licking the sharp knife, he carves on dark wood.
"I wish for a swan on a lake of fire."

Closing his eyes as he takes a deep breath,
Salorius opens the door and steps forward
into infinite darkness of black flames,
and appears by the well of sparkling eyes
in the courtyard crowded with busy people
at Oberon Wizard Academy
where he was a young student years before.

His friends Gothinius and Mercurius
look up from their chess game and call his name.

Salorius slouches by the courtyard well
and drinks Dragon Brain Wine from crystal cup.
"I knew that magic mirror was a hoax."

Gothinius claps his shoulder, and laughs.
"I thought you were going on a long quest.
You said you would be gone for many years."

Salorius grins as they stare at his face.
"I was gone for twelve years on my grand quest,
traveling across Waste Land of empty homes,
climbing jagged mountain of desperate hope,
leaping across nine frozen asteroids,
flying in the endless hurricanes of Saturn,
and have at last returned by random chance."

Mercurius shakes his head and gives him apple.
"You only left us ten minutes ago."

Salorius nods and watches young women
weaving cloth from clouds and rays of sunlight.
"I heard about Magic Mirror of Marta
so I journeyed to planet of Saturnus
by leaping across frozen asteroids.
Last time I traveled on quest with Pomona
she left acorns behind, frozen in ice,
which sprouted into forest of oak trees.
Alithea appeared from mist and explained
that one can fabricate time-portal doors
from special wood of oak trees that grow tall
on asteroids molded from tears of sorrow
that fall from the eyes of young jilted brides.
When you are done you carve what you desire
on the door, and when you open it wide
you will be somewhere else entirely.
So the trick to go where you want to go
is to carve something random on the door
you do not wish, that means nothing to you,
and you might get where you want to go.
The magic of time-portal doors is tricky."

Young girl without eyes rows rotting sailboat
over sand dunes that blow across the courtyard,
then she steps on shimmering thread of light
and holds up her dead raven by its wings.
"You said you wanted a pure snow-white swan
so I brought you this black raven as gift
from island of mist, so you must give me
your eyes to help me dream how atoms glow."

Salorius sees that his friends turned to stone,
silent statues playing chess to build empires,
so he places rusting crowns on their heads
and walks backward around the courtyard well.
Red blood bubbles from the bottomless well
when the eyeless girl follows him past rain,
falling backward slowly onto soft flowers.
"I spell your name backwards to calculate
the number of tangled threads that compose
your throbbing brain where all dead gods survive."

Eyeless girl sews wings to his crippled arms.
"My name is Hekate, so call me Kate,
because you must teach me how to ice skate."

Salorius runs down road of sticky mud
toward the glass tower that shimmers far off,
but stops at the crossroads between four worlds
where the eyeless girl gives him crystal sphere.
"Look into my eye and you will dream
the entire history of our universe
and see how it flowered as light from gloom
to transform spirits into conscious minds.
You will find your heart in this leather purse
for she sings to you from high tower room,
source of every valley-watering stream."

Hekate leads him by hand to the pond
where her face appears smiling in the trunk
of the last oak tree in the universe.
Salorius carves a new door from the tree,
then takes off the mask that defines his face
and gives it to the tree who opens eyes
of endless history where secret name
of every person who lived sparkles clear.
"Truth will conquer all tyrants if we fight,
because our world is always upside down."

Salorius, wizard with colorless eyes,
stands before oak wood door on bare white hill.
Licking the sharp knife, he carves on dark wood.
"I wish for a boat that will sail on air."

Closing his eyes as he takes a deep breath,
Salorius opens the door and steps forward
into infinite darkness of black flames,
and appears in the secret tower room
where the eyeless girl cradles in her hands
his empty skull that smiles and calls his name.
"Salorius, son of Sabazeus, you
must marry me to gain eternal life.
Wish upon a star, and I will be yours."

Pouring apple juice in two silver cups,
Salorius sits beside her at the window
and they drink while galaxies spin their eyes
that causes seeds to sprout from tears of love.

Faceless Girl

Faceless Girl
© Surazeus
2016 11 24

Gray leaves swirl around the young faceless girl
who walks nowhere along straight signless streets
past ten thousand numberless homes with doors
locked tight against the darkness of despair.

Pausing where dead tree breaks her cement heart,
young girl looks at window glowing warm gold
that cuts pure square out of darkness and gloom
to watch her family eat a holiday meal.

Stepping close through swirls of sparkling snow flakes,
she touches cold glass that mirrors her face,
blank oval of white in infinite black,
and sees nothing behind the pleasant scene.

Opening the locked door of the white house,
young faceless girl steps in the empty room
where mannequins sit at table of dust
as colorless eyes stare at plates of shadow.

She tries to tell her mother that she hates
this world of illusions, but cannot speak
because her mouth is sewed shut by thin wires
stripped from telephone lines that never sing.

Threads of gray wind streaming from lightless cave
weave two wings that flutter in rotten tree
so she tugs them down and they grasp her shoulders
and she flaps them slow as she rises high.

Young faceless girl wearing torn white lace gown
glides over vast metropolitan maze
and drops apple seeds on roofs of dead homes
where they sprout into vast forest of trees.

Each tree that sprouts from broken skull of hope
bulges egg that reveals round ticking clock
with constellations in circle of eyes
who whisper tales of every soul who lived.

When she appears before me after dawn
I think I see my face reflected clear
in her face, but when I look past her mask
I see her real face and dream her true name.

The young girl with silver eyes and black hair
molds her spirit breath into snow-white raven
who threads our hearts together with her wings
so we dance as one soul by tree of fruit.

Fall Of Big Brother

Fall Of Big Brother
© Surazeus
2016 11 23

The young boy sitting on cathedral steps
holds silence in his hand like butterfly
that tasted rotten fruit of paradise
while angels lock the Gates of Eden fast
and parties battle for the broken crown
that fell from head of his father at dawn.

Though she was stabbed seven times in the back
the honest queen who filled all cups with wine
falls weeping at the tree of fruitful life
and clutches broken dragon egg till rain
washes tears from eyes of mothers who sing
while bearing dead angel with broken wing.

Retrieving broken egg from withered hand,
young boy who never speaks walks slow alone
through winding labyrinth of burning town
and gives each weeping girl new apple seed
so they parade to bright river of tears
and plant each seed to bury blinding fears.

Where tree leaves whisper secret names in song
of every soul who ever walked this world
the young boy holding broken crown of truth
stares past the polished mask of painful death
at skulls of kings that smile in shimmering pool
who once raised scepter of justice to rule.

Bound to the electric throne of lost dreams,
the young boy guides gold flying saucer swift
above vast globe where billions live and die
to watch mankind sprout from valley of hope
and follow streaming rivers among flowers
where they build great empires in divine towers.

In ruins now lies every tower of might,
and young boy, trained by his mother to speak
with tongue of prophets, wanders busy streets
where people wound by clocks chase rainbow wealth,
and thieves in fancy suits forge their own crowns
while girl he loves lies dead in satin gown.

Though every seed they planted in despair
sprouts tall in fragile grove of apple trees
ten million girls are killed by men they love
and all their skulls in cathedral of lies
sing secret prophecies that none can hear
while mute boy stares at lost crown in the mere.

Since face of Big Brother on glowing screen
glares down from the ancient cathedral wall
three hundred million people without tongues,
who follow Plato from dark cave of lies,
climb the high prison wall to escape hell
and follow blind queen to the water well.

Digging for roots beneath the Tree of Life,
the young boy whose father once ruled as king
snatches the tongue of the serpent who sings
and slips it in his mouth as his own tongue,
then stands before the tyrant on his throne
and bids him peer into the dreaming stone.

The girl whose third eye births each butterfly
appears from Waste Land with the egg of life
to replace his right eye with diamond lens,
then young boy raises flag of liberty
and leads lost souls to gates of paradise
where they crown our first mother Queen of Truth.

Though our nation is torn apart by war
we must exercise our right to free choice
for when our queen steps through the White House door
at the fall of Big Brother we rejoice.

Infinite Sky Of Hope

Infinite Sky Of Hope
© Surazeus
2016 11 22

Wind rises from valley of flowing stream,
springing from cracked bones of people long dead,
and dances on blind mountain of lost rainbow
then whispers her soul on apple tree leaves.

She crawls under thick bushes of taut fear,
pausing in shadow of suspended hope,
and nibbles berries hidden in sun beams
while wind chases silence in fluttering leaves.

Cold shadow of death swallows silver sky
when he pauses by apple tree at sound
of whispering leaves, but cannot see her face,
so he walks toward cave where she hides from rain.

Watching him climb toward her haven from death,
she runs on hands and knees to sunlit grove
but pauses in beam of sunlight through trees
and stares at water bubbling from dark soil.

Cupping hands in bubbling water, she drinks
cold spirit that slithers throughout her flesh,
and feels her eyes sparkle wider awake
as she splashes water to clean her face.

Gripping long crooked stick in her left hand
and clutching jagged stone in her right hand,
she walks toward secret cave of dancing dreams
while clumping hard stones inside her frail bones.

She pauses in shade while creeping toward cave
and remembers when her mother revealed
how to spark sun flame by striking two stones,
then peers inside cave where her frail skull still smiles.

She sees him sitting still inside her cave
and holding ripe apple in curious hands
then leaps forward and throws rock at his head
as she thrusts crooked stick to pierce his chest.

He ducks sharp rock and snaps stick with his hand,
then wraps both arms around her agile waist
and pulls her gasping close to his broad chest
while pressing his mouth tight against her mouth.

Pulling her head back, she wiggles and squirms,
but his arms embrace her to his warm chest,
and she gazes startled in large blue eyes
that shimmer bright as bubbling fountain pool.

He sings like swift horse that neighs when it runs,
expressing noises from his moving mouth,
but she slips free of his embrace and runs,
leaping down hillside like high-bounding deer.

He runs beside her across wind-swept plain,
two bodies leaping lithe among tall stalks
of wheat that shimmer gold in sharp sunlight,
side by side on shore of loud gushing stream.

He runs faster, but she frowns and runs faster
toward towering tree where apples bloom red,
and sunlight gleams in blaze of swirling flames
as she runs faster, leaving him behind.

Running close behind, he slaps her thigh,
and she glares as she leaps into tree branch,
and climbs toward blue sky while he pants for breath,
then he follows swiftly to climb tall tree.

Perched together on high branches, they smile
and gaze over vast meadow where winds play,
while silver clouds tumble across blue sky
and swift river sparkles in sunset glow.

Cradled between two thick branches, he smiles,
and holds her trembling in chill on his lap,
then she gasps when beaming rays of red sun
penetrate her heart with hot pulsing light.

Crescent moon descends from infinite sky
to shimmer silver in dark purple night,
and shooting star gushes fountain of light
that flushes her breast with warm glow of love.

She closes her eyes, embraced by his arms,
and feels him swim deep toward her dreaming eye
where pulsing apple of his soul transforms
into little boy who squirms in her mind.

Her belly bulges nine full flashing moons,
then she grips branch, while he kneels at her feet,
and pushes till baby falls in his arms,
and she lies in grass while he bathes it clean.

Cradling their child in her arms while he sucks
milk from her breast, she stares surprised to see
he was born with no tail and his big eyes
shine blue as the infinite sky of hope.

Liberty Or Tyranny

Liberty Or Tyranny
© Surazeus
2016 11 21

Three times we, the people of America,
have challenged and defeated tyranny,
and fought to establish strong liberty
for every person who lives in this land.

We fought well the war of independence
to secure our right to self-government.
We fought the civil war to free from chains
every man who works to earn a living wage.
We fought the second world war to defy
the hateful creed of nationalist power
that declares one race superior to others,
and ensure equal rights for every person
who shares global community of nations.

Once again cruel forces of tyranny
threaten to chain billions of human souls
in thrall to huge corporate gangs of thieves,
and subject vast populations to greed
of rich men who would profit from our work.

Every eighty years dark forces of greed
possess the hearts of men denied their rights
who attempt to subject all to their will,
but we must unite against tyranny
of the few and rich to control our lives,
and exercise self-control within law
to ensure equal rights for every person
to achieve their dreams of productive life
by sparking light of love for fellow souls.

Each morning we wake on our spinning world
we must choose light of love and liberty
to defeat dark of hate and tyranny
by treating all souls with equal respect
who share United Nations of Earth.

Eye Of Knowing Flame

Eye Of Knowing Flame
© Surazeus
2016 11 20

Sick with fever from a festering sore throat,
I float in pool of hot water to soak
in death for an hour which kills nasty germs.

When I close my eyes I see in dark gloom
eye of knowing flame gazing down at me,
then tremble in fearful hope that some god
beyond the glowing sphere of cycling stars
watches me with great eye of wrathful love.

I wonder if this conscious deity,
which my father described in vivid words,
created my body from river mud
by breathing gusty wind of hills in my breast
and sparked my heart to beat with sunlight flames,
which causes me to wake each glowing dawn
and search for food to satisfy my need.

Do you organize drama of my life,
I ask the silent watching eye of fire,
and guide my pointless wandering in this world
on signless roads for purpose to exist,
and manage opportunities to work
so I may care for my children and wife?

Then glowing eye of fire fades in dim gloom
and I float nameless in vast empty void
of selfless peace, bodiless soul of light
who feels all stars of burning atoms flash
in spiral web of song, that forms huge egg
of spinning galaxies which bulge one space,
pulse through channels of my frail throbbing flesh.

Waking inside heavy body of flesh,
I open my eyes and see clear blue sky
surrounding globe of hills where rivers flow,
and then I realize that eye of flame
was nothing more than my own watching eye
reflected on the mirror of blank death.

No conscious god outside vast shell of stars
created me, nor plots course of my life,
for consciousness that wakes from lightless gloom,
fueled aware by seething rays of sunlight,
shines nowhere else but inside my own brain.

I stand reborn in cool refreshing rain
and walk through wet grass and dew-sparkling trees
along the gushing river of my veins,
and feel high hills pulse as I breathe wild wind.

Philosophers once described universe
as globe composed of swirling elements
surrounded by huge crystal shells of stars,
but now with telescopes we can perceive
our universe is one enormous bubble
of shining light, like single drop of rain
that contains billions of huge galaxies.

Each drop of rain reflects our universe
as each brain reflects consciousness of god.

I laugh to know that I am god alive,
for my eye is that eye of knowing flame
who sees myself exploring this strange world
while I blaze new trail of purpose for life
through dreaming wilderness of ripe fruit trees.

Now I stand face to face with you in joy
and see eye of knowing flame in your eye.

Chaos Butterfly

Chaos Butterfly
© Surazeus
2016 11 19

Parvaneh steps from bus and walks to work
at flower shop in little town in Maine,
then stops to buy mocha at coffee shop
while followed by the chaos butterfly.

Patricia steps from car and walks to work
at city bank in little town in Maine,
then sees Parvaneh wearing green hijab
while followed by the chaos butterfly.

Parvaneh sips her hot coffee and smiles
and thinks about the small town in Iran
where her young mother lived on river shore,
chasing after the chaos butterfly.

Patricia stops her with an angry glare
and shouts, "You cannot wear that headscarf now
that we elected our new president
who will deport you back where you came from."

Parvaneh stops to stare bold in her eyes,
and grins, "I was born in this little town
and I attended all the local schools,
so I am right at home where I came from."

Patricia fumes while Parvaneh slips past
and declares, "He will make you register
your name in our national database
so we can keep our eye on terrorists."

Parvaneh ignores woman at her side,
and frowns, "Just like the Germans registered
innocent Jews they gassed in prison camps,
so now you Christians are the terrorists."

Patricia snarls, then reaches out her hand
to snatch embroidered hijab off her head,
and sputters, "We will lock you all in jail,"
urged to act by the chaos butterfly.

Parvaneh ducks and swats her hand away,
then steps backs, frightened by her angry face,
and looks around for help from passing strangers,
but all trudge, charmed by chaos butterfly.

Patricia follows her to flower shop
where she paints white swastika on blue glass
then stomps away enraged to city bank,
willing agent of chaos butterfly.

Parvaneh paints box over swastika
with four letters of Love inside each square,
then covers her face and weeps from sharp fear
that fuels havoc of chaos butterfly.

Lion Queen Of Avalon

Lion Queen Of Avalon
© Surazeus
2016 11 18

When the Leopard King is counting his coins,
that he stole from carpenters and electricians,
Zeus will strike Tower of Gold with righteous wrath
and his false crown will shatter into leaves.

Since the Lion Queen wanders in exile,
and gathers fresh flowers in Broceliande,
the lost Well of Tears in the Grove of Nymphs
reflects the eyes of the true Queen of Hearts.

While the blind swordless knight plays chess with Death
by Scamander River, that shines with blood
of bold warriors who died defending Justice,
the White Priest comes to stab him in the back.

Since Hamlet on the Pyramid of Power
talks with the Orphean skull of King Lear,
Galadriel gives the secret Ring of Wisdom
to the nameless boy of hope with three eyes.

The Hero that Hera trained to guard women
journeys through the Waste Land of broken laws
to find the Emerald Tablet in the cave
where Pluto weeps for dead Persephone.

The White Raven with three eyes will return
to lead Robin Hood from Castle of Lies
but not before the White Priest will attack
and overthrow the Leopard King in a coup.

Though Mad King Lear howls on highway of wind
to prophesy the fall of the Republic,
the Children of Angela cover their ears
and run together off the cliff of pride.

When the Bear and the Eagle unite armies
to battle the Dragon on desert dunes
the Lion of Judah will rise again
to bear the scepter of wisdom and truth.

After Mithras rides the Bull of Wall Street,
that Neptune roasts on Pyramid of Eyes,
Athena will return from the Waste Land,
bearing water jar that fills every glass.

When the White Priest betrays the Leopard King
the scapegoat will be lead to the new temple
and sacrificed on the altar of peace
though he tries to steal the Fasces of Caesar.

Though Orpheus descends to Cave of Wealth
to rescue the lost Lion Queen from Death
the Leopard King will try to chain her neck
and keep her locked in the dark Zoo of Lies.

But Hamlet and Robin Hood will unite
to lead the army of hippies and clowns
who will battle bankers for Key of Truth
and free Eurydice from Cave of Fear.

After Beatrice leads Poet of Lost Souls
to the secret temple on lush Mount Zion,
the true Children of Israel will hold hands
and sing new psalms around the Lake of Dreams.

Before Richard the Lion-Heart returns
to misty Avalon covered in snow
Melusine will reveal the devious plot
to steal Diamond of Truth from Crown of Faith.

Though the Sons of Richard Plantagenet
sit on the Throne of Swords in the White House,
the Wizard of Mount Mazama will lead
the Empress of Stars to the House of Wisdom.

When the Gold Tower falls from Lightning of Greed
the Lion Queen, riding Beast of Liberty,
will return from the Waste Land of despair
to wield the Scepter of Justice and Truth.

Bloody Door

Bloody Door
© Surazeus
2016 11 17

"My darling husband, who won me with love,
after charming me with your love for Christ,
then bought me nice home with lush garden of herbs,
took me to Hawaii on our honeymoon,
and gave me a huge sparkling diamond ring,
why did you slam my face in the door?"

"My precious wife, with long curls of blond hair,
whose sparkling blue eyes enchanted my heart,
so buxom and lithe in my eager arms
when we danced in warm moonlight on the beach,
always obedient to my good commands,
I will tell why I slammed you in the door."

"My gentle husband, my God-sanctioned love,
you always tended all my needs with care,
sang hymns to Jesus in church by my side,
provided for our children to grow well,
and bought me everything nice I asked for,
so why slam my face in the bedroom door?"

"My obedient wife, companion in Christ,
who raised our three children with doting love,
hosted parties for my company colleagues,
ran our busy home with efficient duty,
and never argued back against my word,
you voted for Hillary, that vile whore!"

"My protective husband, guarding my life
with devoted love, my mind is my own,
and I have the right to vote as I choose
since we live in this great democracy,
equal companions in church of our Lord,
and yet you slammed my soft face in the door!"

"My subservient wife, given me by Christ,
God says the man must always rule the home,
and the wife who is good obeys her man,
so you must always do as I command,
and I told you the man you should vote for,
but you voted for Hillary, that whore!"

"My childish husband, who betrayed my love,
though you promised to honor and protect me,
you hurt me from your angry jealousy,
and broke law of God to cherish your wife,
suppressing my right to choose as I will,
so I am leaving by your bloody door."

"My docile wife, my eternal soul mate,
bound to obey me by old law of God,
the Bible says you are to serve my needs,
for you are the helpmate of home I rule,
so you must do your duty as my wife
and stay within the confines of my door."

"My treacherous husband, weak with male pride,
I voted for Hillary as President
because my mind and body are my own,
and I should have freedom to live my way
and receive your loving support for my choice,
but you slammed my face in your prideful door."

"My loving wife, long gone from my bleak home,
you left my heart empty of love I broke,
and never return when I call your name,
and though I know I should never hit you
you made me angry and made me hit you
because you voted for that haughty whore."

Kings Rise And Fall

Kings Rise And Fall
© Surazeus
2016 11 16

Kings rise and fall on waves of haughty greed,
and strive to rule lives of men by command,
threatening death if we refuse to obey,
till death strikes them down from high pyramid
and they fall nine days and nights into dirt
where flowers transform their ambitious hate
into pollen for bees to brew sweet honey.

Kings rise and fall on pyramid of power
while farmers till fields of barley and wheat,
and shepherds tend flocks of plump wooly sheep,
and craftsmen construct wood wagons and ships,
and witches brew healing potions from herbs,
and mothers teach their children how to sing,
so we live while they fight for rings of gold.

Kings rise and fall in conniving chess games
of political intrigue in shining courts
where hunger hides behind sweet mask of smiles,
and glorious gods robed in divine rights
parade in pageant of superior power,
but truth will conquer all tyrants and kings,
grinding them down in the dust of death.

Kings rise and fall in vicious game of thrones
that swirl in wild revolutions of power
since Sargon built first empire of Akkad
four thousand years ago to honor Ishtar,
but now we control that process of change
by electing one to rule over all
every four years in dance of life and death.

Black Kitten

Black Kitten
19 August 1989
Last Exit on Brooklyn
Seattle, Washington

On piano her fingers are weaving
a fragile tune for purple butterfly
but outside stain glass window
car of a man in a clean grey suit
nearly runs over a trotting kitten.

Without missing a beat girl shrieks
when small and frightened cat
leaps into people-crowded window.
Coffee drinkers pour from doors
of Last Exit coffee house on Brooklyn
and gather chattering on hot sidewalk
to examine wounded creature of night.

Human fingers and tongues of flies
caress blood of its broken neck.

An old Jewish man with a beard
flowing at his chest bows his head
and weeps when he sees its blank eyes.
They remind him of his little sister
who was raped and shot by Germans
when they invaded Russia one afternoon
forty years before. Sorrows of life
he wails never cease to plague our hearts.

His granddaughter, slim piano girl,
bangs on discordant keys a few times
that batter soft walls of their ears
with storms of a cool summer night.
Her boyfriend Brent, a loud painter
at espresso counter, paints a series
in purple, red, orange, green, and blue
of furry frightened cats with wings
and giant steel blocks of cars.
Brent sells each fire-furious painting
for two hundred dollars. Next year
she bears her Brent a pretty daughter
and buys her a black cuddly kitten.

Lost in black storm cloud, she prays
for ministry of refreshing rain.
When storm has spent its frustration
sky will be clear and golden blue,
and air sweet with scent of pines,
she hopes, folding her hands with faith.

Was that name of her secret lover
carved by rays of perfect sunlight
on side of a flat granite mountain?
Or was that just flash of a wing
on a cold sparrow hawk against blue sky?

Whether flame of a sharp wing
or purity of white transcendence,
she feels her heart to be fulfilled,
even in this moment of consumption.
Kitten combs her hair with gentleness
of sad fairies, and washes her face
to hide tears of crystal blood,
then she clothes her slim nude body
in a torn dress. This is her readiment
for long eager arms of cold death.

As her eyes dim in mist of death,
dark sky clears and red blazing sun
sparkles in dew on fresh spring grass.
Small black kitten relaxes on tomb
of her sleep, licking its pink paws.

Play My New Game

Play My New Game
© Surazeus
2010 01 06

I saw Paris Hilton at a wild party last night
when she was trying to break up a partisan fight,
until someone shouted, Casey Johnson is dead,
so Deepak Chopra screwed a camera in my head.
I know your secret name so play my new game.

Before Sting became king on a castle throne
everyone thought Oprah Winfrey was a drone
but she was crowned queen of talk-buzzing hive,
now Jesse Jackson weeps to reveal devil jive.
I know your secret name so play my new game.

Wake up at midnight and wear glasses of rose
to watch Barack Obama ride a horse that glows
so he meets with Jesus and Mohammad at dawn
to shake hands for peace on White House lawn.
I know your secret name so play my new game.

Next year we plan to elect Madonna as pope
after cute Katie Piper will learn how to cope
when she appears in a robe and a golden mask
and assigns each citizen our rebuilding task.
I know your secret name so play my new game.

I returned from Sahara after visions of truth
and preached new morals to wandering youth
so sweet Angelina Jolie gave milk of her heart
and Britney Spears saved us when we fell apart.
I know your secret name so play my new game.

Though children of bankers watch a puppet show
sweet Brittany Murphy in wings white as snow
transforms to an angel of soft shimmering light
and gives me Excalibur to continue our fight.
I know your secret name so play my new game.

Go forth unto people of America and preach,
shouts Jeremiah as Kwan Yin gives me a peach,
so I stand before you all on a pyramid of glass,
wishing for cars fueled by laughter not gas.
I know your secret name so play my new game.

Kick up your heels and dance in Kentucky yard
and act tragic tales undreamed by Oregon Bard
when Albert Einstein plays violin with death,
changing name of Atomic God to a shibboleth.
I know your secret name so play my new game.

Though American Empire rises on rocket fuel
I rule Anglonesia with a crystal eye jewel
that reveals history of our world in a sphere
and sing hymns sharing love to replace fear.
I know your secret name so play my new game.

No Divine Angel

No Divine Angel
© Surazeus
2016 11 14

The half open door that will never shut
hides the face of the girl with seven eyes
though she gives me the secret coconut
that was retrieved from Hell by three blind spies.

Great empires rise and fall in flashing waves
which nourish minds of dreamers who create
intricate puzzles that translate airwaves
of wordless thoughts to calculate true fate.

Though I play chess on beach of time with Death
by chanting spells to misdirect contempt,
I polish mask I wear through shibboleth
that hides success with each new failed attempt.

High in the tower of vision, past midnight,
Michel the Dragon Slayer of Nostredame
weaves formulas that ring atomic light
to hide our dreams in spell of rhyming rhomb.

When sweet Ophelia, wearing tattered gown,
gathers flowers of evil on river shore,
I wait like Charon disguised as the clown
who forges key that will open her door.

When Dionysius wears the crown again,
and hangs the Sword of Damocles from bridge
of trudging slaves, I must unbraid the bane
that leads me to keep watch from mountain ridge.

I open door of temple where all books
ever written by the hand of dreaming fool
are tossed in the cauldron by snarling cooks
who command that I write new Golden Rule.

I flee the walls of Babylon to blaze
new secret trails through Waste Land of desire
but wander laughing in the social maze
while greedy sons of crownless kings conspire.

I follow Ophelia while she chants spells
through roadless mystery of Broceliande
and find her secret grove with bubbling wells
where she teaches me how to make new wand.

I stand bold on Pyramid of One Eye
and wave new wand that fails to transform things
though I will never cease to question why
I am no divine angel with pure wings.

Laughing Witch Of Wonderland

Laughing Witch Of Wonderland
© Surazeus
2016 11 13

When Rip Van Winkle wakes from hazy dream,
two hundred years after he forged the key,
he follows Alice back from Wonderland
to find Picasso gored by Wall Street Bull.

While searching for the secret Holy Grail,
Alice finds Robin Hood drunk in dark church
then scatters fake coins to the chanting crowd
who march in protest against genocide.

Just when the White Queen in a white pant suit
moves to checkmate and defeat Genghis Khan,
since Batman in the museum is drunk,
the Joker springs laughing from glowing screen.

Running blind through the labyrinth of lies,
Alice leaps through the looping door of time
to evade the Joker who tries to steal
the key that she received from Joan of Arc.

Rip writes his vote for president in sand
that blows away in restless wind of power
since Robin Hood and Batman still play chess
instead of freeing slaves from unseen chains.

When Alice wakes from eating mushroom cake
she sees the Joker, riding Jabberwock
above the flat-top pyramid of eyes,
elected President of Wonderland.

Ten thousand women, locked behind blind doors,
weep for White Queen, whose heart is frozen ice,
till Frida Kahlo enters on swift deer
and shoots ten arrows at the howling clown.

On pyramid of eyes, when midnight tolls,
the Joker tries to bind in chains of law
the hands of women who break free from fear,
but Alice zaps his eyes with words of truth.

When Alice unlocks door to Wonderland
she finds broken apple seed in her hand
so by the river of light where souls wail
she buries the key in my sleeping heart.

Though the Joker tries to crown himself king
Alice leaps from the apple tree at dawn,
riding the flaming unicorn from Hell,
and strikes the pyramid of power to dust.

The laughing Witch of Wonderland, who sings
my first forgotten name in secret code,
touches my head when I rise from Star Lake
and shows me everything that might occur.

The name and power of the nation I love
is nothing more than fragile shell of dreams
that vanishes in wind of spoken words
and reveals land where many people live.

Tyrant Clown With Tiny Hands

Tyrant Clown With Tiny Hands
© Surazeus
2016 11 11

I see red lightning flash across the sky
and split the dome of illusions in shards
of gleaming mirror eyes that glitter cold
as rain that tears my heart in bleeding shreds.

I run through endless maze of city streets
between tall gold towers of computer banks
with teeming crowds of people shouting words
of protest that vanish in blasting wind.

I watch the giant monster with sharp teeth
rise roaring from dark surging sea of hate
and tromp on feet of greed to smash our world
while clutching crown of power with tiny hands.

I point my hand at shadow of despair
and howl new magic spell of honest love
that rips away steel mask of chomping teeth
exposing angry clown of fragile faith.

I rip away the mask Godzilla wears,
and reveal to all eyes how the weak soul
of Gozer the Destructor manifests
as the Marshmallow Monster of blind greed.

I join hands with my fellow travelers
and form one band from sea to shining sea
which links our hearts in ring of honesty
to fight the tyrant clown with tiny hands.

All Mortal Kings And Queens

All Mortal Kings And Queens
© Surazeus
2016 11 09

While standing dizzy on the mountain top
I lower gaze from blazing sphere of light
and peer through mist at city maze of streets
where people run in circles to survive.

All mortal kings and queens in flow of time
who play grand role to rule on chair of power
appear and disappear in waves of change
that swirl around unmoving rock of truth.

When rival gangs of nations clash in swirl
of fierce contentious game for who will rule,
I exit clanging gates from crowded streets
and climb the mountain high to peaceful grove.

Each man who claims to play as social god
is no more divine soul than you and me,
but every tribe must choose one man to play
grand role of god who judges right from wrong.

Though bards of every nation over time
recount the names and deeds of long-dead kings,
we shake our heads amused to realize
their bodies vanish lost in swirling dust.

I sit with Epicurus in calm peace,
in lush garden beneath the apple tree,
and dream about the lives of mortal kings
while children play on shore of sparkling stream.

Dynamic Democracy

Dynamic Democracy
© Surazeus
2016 11 08

When I walk up to the small voting booth
and slip my card into the bright machine,
I pause and contemplate our history
of struggle to survive ten thousand years,
how wily men organized angry men
into armies who forged weapons of death,
stormed high pyramids, palaces, and castles
where they crowned themselves to play god on Earth
through subjugating everyone alive
to play submissive roles of daily tasks
in ruling empires that produce more food,
then exercise my sacred right to vote
for honest person with vision of truth,
this right we won through centuries of war
against greedy kings and violent tyrants,
by touching the name of the soul I trust
to guide our nation on right path of love,
and with that gesture, when I touch the screen
to choose who will play god over our nation,
I support dynamic Democracy
by choosing Hillary as President
of our United States of America,
for she leads angels of honest compassion
in grand army of justice to protect
our individual rights and liberty
to live free as we will, if we harm none,
then all together sea to shining sea
we hold hands and celebrate victory
of honest freedom over tyranny
in endless struggle of life against death.

Atomic Weaving Eye

Atomic Weaving Eye
© Surazeus
2016 11 07

When I investigate the maze of life
I see my face mirrored in every eye
so I surf emotions to evade strife
and soar on angel wings through boundless sky.
We continue to grow when we ask why,
and calculate atomic weaving eye.

Each person I perceive on winding road
appears complete in flash of dreaming light
so I pause to analyze their real mode
and comprehend energy of their sprite.
We evolve beyond lies when we ask why,
and nominate atomic weaving eye.

I photograph their souls with beaming words
that map the contours of their flashing brains
so I blaze trail of truth through tangled yards
to play roles in dramas on psychic plains.
We sail changing sea waves when we ask why,
and navigate atomic weaving eye.

My eyes explore the secrets of that mask
time molds from taut emotions in each face
that carves character with lust of the task
each soul expresses to paradise space.
We transform into god when we ask why,
and dominate atomic weaving eye.

Two Souls In One Rhyme

Two Souls In One Rhyme
© Surazeus
2016 11 06

Sunlight beams gold on contours of her face
which mirrors nations from every world land
all mixed together from each fertile space
where humans caress Earth with loving hands.

Perched high on rock above the verdant vale,
I watch blue river sparkle in sun beams
while girl I love climbs flower-bordered trail
to sit with me and share our secret dreams.

My love has long black hair and moon-black eyes
and lives with her tribe tending apple trees,
while I have gold hair and eyes blue as skies
and live with my tribe herding swift horse herds.

We pledge our hearts to love with binding kiss
then build new home on high dividing ridge
so we raise children in united bliss
to link our nations with connecting bridge.

Together we ride horses on broad plain
to scatter apple seeds in pungent soil
then sing together sheltered from cool rain
while sharing feast as rich fruit of our toil.

Though we will die in ceaseless change of time
and rival clans kill each other in war
our children blend two souls in one rhyme
and offer food to all with open door.

Ghosts In Raindrops

Ghosts In Raindrops
© Surazeus
2016 11 05

The address numbers that shine on the door
of every house in the world transform shape
into algebra code that calculates
the complex arcane flight of butterflies.

After the young garage mechanic eats
green apples during lunch three flowers bloom
from the top of his head, transforming skull
into the striped egg of a dinosaur.

The college librarian rides her bike slow
back home every evening after work,
and stops to write some long-forgotten poem
on the door of each house where no one lives.

Sitting on the bus, the mechanic smiles
at blank faces replaced by mirror glass,
then invents for them all faces and names
they take home and hide in the closet box.

Petting her kitten, who wraps long soft tail
around the aching sorrow of her heart,
the librarian erases every word
from every novel that no one will read.

Staring out the window at cloudy sky,
the mechanic perceives ghosts in raindrops
who blossom wings and flutter around glass
of his eyes frozen like ice of fish ponds.

Pencils grow from the dry roots of her teeth,
so the librarian draws face of the prince
she imagines will unlock ancient door
that hides the mirror her grandmother lost.

Stepping through the mirror on bedroom wall,
the mechanic walks on the river shore
where the shadow of a cat beams from light
and leads him to the lost Garden of Eden.

Stepping through the mirror on bedroom wall,
the librarian walks on the river shore
where the whisper of a car engine purrs
and leads her to the lost Garden of Eden.

Nodding to each other as they pass by,
the mechanic and the librarian pause
and look back, then give each other their false face,
white king and red queen beside fallen rook.

"I hope you do not laugh at me," he smiles,
and gives her the honey comb of desire,
while Nidhogg slithers among tangled roots
of Yggdrasil which shrouds Garden of Eden.

"I hope you do not kill me," she replies,
and gives him the ripe apple of desire,
while Vritra slithers along flowing stream
of Ganga which waters Garden of Eden.

Holding hands while they stroll in apple grove,
the mechanic and the librarian talk
about light of love which illuminates
two separate roads that converge on one path.

"The machinery of desire," he explains,
"turning wheels of fate on wagon of hope
guided my way through chaos of this world
and brought us together on path of life."

"The library of faith," she contemplates,
"turning pages of hope in book of fate
revealed your true face in mirror of rain
and nourishes trees on our path of life."

The lawyer steps from shadow of fruit trees
and points a gun so they stop in surprise,
then shoots the mechanic and buries body
in the basement of the city courthouse.

The lawyer snaps a chain around her neck
and locks the librarian in a small cage
then lounges on a throne of rusting swords
while she weaves tapestry of long lost tales.

Weaving the tragic tale of Philomela
on curtains that hang inside every home,
the librarian stares in abyss of death
and laughs when she sees her own secret face.

Transforming into a delicate bird
who cannot sing, the librarian flies
through vast mirror of our spiraling eyes
till she expands into our galaxy.

Freed from the cage of despair by police,
the librarian stands in the hall of books
and plays flute while books flap white raven wings
who give eyes to children in every land.

Fall Of Lucifer

Fall Of Lucifer
© Surazeus
2016 11 04

When I sat on shimmering throne of gold
in towering castle built of hard stone,
and issued commands with words of hot breath
that men wielding swords obeyed without question,
I reigned over people as God on Earth
because I felt invincible and secure.
But now that I wander outside high walls
alone without scepter or jeweled crown,
stripped of my robe that warmed my beating heart,
staggering on roadless field of sharp rocks
on quest for key to open castle door,
and every word I speak of sharp command
is blown away by blasting wind that howls
with bold laughter at my arrogant pride,
I see that I am no god with great power,
but frail mortal man like all other men.
How now shall I survive in hostile world
of natural forces that care not for me,
whether I live or die, suffer harsh pain
or savor subtle pleasure when I wish,
since I never learned how to obtain food
with creative gestures of my own hands,
that essential ingredient that sustains
vibrant energy of all living souls?
From feasting on roasted meat and sweet wine
at large table heaped with plates of fresh fruit,
I fall to crawl among weeds in vain search
for nuts and berries and seeds I could chew,
chomping on onions and carrots and beets,
and gulping water from pond that reflects
my glorious face that shone with divine grace
now smeared with blood-stained mud of humble fear.
Though once I ruled from lofty tower of pride,
I now rule the whole globe while sitting low
among flowers on shore of gushing stream,
commanding sun to shine, and wind to blow,
and rain to fall, and plants to sprout from soil,
and birds to sing, so I rejoice with laughter
that everything performs as I describe.
Yet these forces of nature will occur
whether I speak words of my thoughts or not.
This apple I found among rocks and weeds
contains the glorious light of the sun
and the divine water of the splashing rain
so when I eat it I consume its power
that sparkles alive in this tingling flesh
which sustains the dreaming glow of my mind.
Though I have fallen from the tower of power
I find the power of dream shines in my eyes,
I find the power of words puffs in my mouth,
and I find the power of creation flows
from the manipulation of my hands
to change the shape of the transforming world
so its patterns reflect the world I dream.
I lost the illusion of my fake self
to find the pure substance of my true self
so once I ceased to play as God on Earth
I woke reborn as Man with hungry heart.
Now I can make the light of my heart shine
to guide all lost souls back to paradise.

Alone Inside Our Heads

Alone Inside Our Heads
© Surazeus
2016 11 03

While Cinderella cries chained without hope
inside restaurant freezer on Maple Street,
the Jack of Hearts, dressed in slick pin-stripe suit,
gambles her soul in casino of pride,
but we are all alone inside our heads,
dancing like blind puppets from handless threads.

Who remembers the soft faces and names
of a thousand children who died in cars
while their parents chased fleeting dollar bills
like butterflies lost in labyrinth of lies,
since we are all alone inside our heads,
sliding ice mountain toward death on swift sleds.

Why the pregnant mother with three young kids
waved her fear as a gun at grim police
who shot her dead to neutralize despair
none can explain while they cheer winning team,
though we are all alone inside our heads,
celebrating the famous newlyweds.

When Robin Hood returns from failed crusade
to crown the Son of God on pyramid
of broken skulls, who will steal from the poor
and give to the rich who will steal yet more,
since we are all alone inside our heads,
defending justice against swift warheads.

Will Melusine reveal the secret code
hidden in the motions of our desire,
and lead Alice back home to Wonderland
before mist hides Avalon from our eyes,
while we are all alone inside our heads
where the glorious angel of true faith treads.

Would Hamlet, staring in blank eyes of Zeus,
write new law book in verse to explain how
we channel spirit of atomic soul
through vital energy of selfless love,
when we are all alone inside our heads,
standing in towers to protect our homesteads.

What mission of justice will be achieved
when Hiawatha leads ghost dancers to stand
defiant against the Joker and the Thief
who bury pipes where our dead fathers sleep,
if we are all alone inside our heads,
indexing natural flow of watersheds.

Melusine rescues Hamlet from his doom
while Alice leads Robin Hood to fruit grove
where Cinderella and Melusine plot
to crown Hiawatha King of Lost Souls,
yet we are all alone inside our heads,
dancing like mute puppets from handless threads.

Gates Of Athens

Gates Of Athens
© Surazeus
2016 11 02

I rise from death at blaze of dawn
and walk the signless road
through maze of face-reflecting doors
where bankers worship Toad
who taxes every breath we take
while I must sing in code
when I stand naked at the Gates of Athens.

I climb the mountain of despair
to sail the crystal boat
among the stars that spark my soul
in space where dead gods float
and then return to city towers
dressed in Apollo's coat
to sing the truth before the Gates of Athens.

I wrestle with the serpent ghost
on sacred quest to find
the holy grail in mountain cave
that beams dreams in my mind
so I carve spells on granite cliff
that might lost spirits bind
in visions written on the Gates of Athens.

I run through labyrinth of lies
to find the statue hall
where face of every mortal soul
is painted on the wall
then blended in one face of god
who wakes me with her call
and appoints me to guard the Gates of Athens.

I watch great empires rise and fall
in waves of hungry needs
while tending orchard of fruit trees
by rooting out bad weeds
then walking in Waste Land of hope
to scatter apple seeds
that sprout in groves around the Gates of Athens.

I crown myself the global king
and forge new lightning key
that spins all atoms in bright ring
which glows as honey bee
who brews the juice that gives me wing
so I may fly far free
beyond the soul-enchanting Gates of Athens.

I brew new potion of sweet life
in grove of singing trees
that may revive from dreamless death
the girl who weaves the breeze
but now my soul is mute and blind
upon the temple frieze
that glimmers outside the locked Gates of Athens.

Before I reign in paradise
I must face down the brute
who plundered Eden in the war
when treasures became loot
though I am lost with nothing more
than secret bird-bone flute
which I must play outside the Gates of Athens.

I sit forlorn in swirling dust
where I hum spells and wait
for wise star goddess to arrive
who was my loving mate
and take my hand with blessing kiss
that will not change my fate
when I rebuild the broken Gates of Athens.

We stand together in star hall
and sing the magic spell
that calls lost souls from every land
to gather by the well
and drink vital water of life
at ringing of the bell
that heralds rebirth in the Gates of Athens.

Wild Dance Of Mad Sorrow

Wild Dance Of Mad Sorrow
© Surazeus
2016 11 01

Cold wind blows down from the mountain of ice,
swirled wild by the long gray hair of Zanath
who howls at storm clouds that thunder and flash
while we hide in the cave of fear and hope.

"I created this world with my two hands,"
he laughs and strikes his fist at the vast sky,
"for I shape high mountains of jagged peaks
and I weep tears that stir deep ocean waves."

Stepping from dark cave of hot choking fear,
I stand alone under vast dizzy sky,
and approach Zanath whose long gray hair swirls
to batter my soul with wild wind of hope

His hands grip my shoulders with laughing joy
and two silver eyes enclose the whole world
when he shouts, "You are Zeus, my first-born son,
for I sparked you alive in womb of Gatha."

"The light of the sun beams down through black clouds
to penetrate the dark soil of the world,
and thus my father sprouted into life
like a fruit tree who dances in cold rain."

I beat the ground in rhythm with my feet
then clap my hands to imitate the rain
and follow his steps as he leaps and twirls,
so we howl with laughter when lightning strikes.

White flash of lightning strikes high mountain peak
and flashes bright the face of Zanath clear
each time he shouts, "I strike the world with light,"
and then we dance unseen in purple night.

I open my eyes and gaze at my son,
young boy with two eyes silver as the sky,
and whisper, "So then I knew without doubt
my wind-dancing father created life."

"Now I am old and my hair long and gray
for I have become my father Zanath
and you are my first-born son I call Zeus,
for I sparked you alive in the womb of Hera."

"One day I will become the swirling wind
as Zanath dances on the rock-strewn plain,
and you will become Zanath, father god,
and you will sire a son you will call Zeus."

Seven boys return from the forest hunt
and lay his body broken in my arms,
so I stare in the vast sky of his eyes
then clutch his frail head to my heaving chest.

Cold wind blows down from the mountain of ice,
swirled wild by my long gray hair when I dance
and howl at storm clouds that thunder and flash
while they hide in the cave of fear and hope.