Other World Of Truth

Other World Of Truth
© Surazeus
2019 01 31

In treeless land ruled by the poltergeist
who spies on us from Glow Cloud in the sky
I strum lyre strings in endless fields of wheat
where blind princess appears from swirling mist
and gives me amethyst of holy light
so I fall into Other World of truth.

I never will return to childhood home
where notes of eventide still call my name
though tree limbs swing in tandem with despair
to wake seed angel from my broken mind
who gives me amethyst of jagged faith
that leads me straight to Other World of love.

The childless mother in bright maze of eyes
finds old binoculars in oak tree roots
that lets her see with helpless unconcern
every evil deed happening in the world
so she rides forth on prancing unicorn
to wander lost in Other World of fear.

If safe warm church where you pay tithes each week
refuses to open its clean glass doors
to shelter homeless people every night
from freezing temperatures of brutal cold
then you should find another church to pray
which guards lost souls in Other World of hope.

While climbing mountain of the singing fire
I find ripe apple that controls the stars
which helps kill demons that do not exist
except in ticking of the crystal watch
so through the beehive ruled by three-eyed cat
I enter secret Other World of ghosts.

Since I discuss with cobras reason why
black oak trees spiral from topaz of desire
the blind princess comes to me before dawn
and shows me roller coaster in the sapphire
where we make love with flashing rays of light
to enter hidden Other World of trust.

Red moonlit salamander with bat wings
gives me glass sphere that flashes rainbow eyes
to show me every alligator king
who eats the crown of gold since dawn of time
till I invite the homeless to my church
who fail to escape Other World of ice.

Each time I swim in slipstream of lost time
my child falls in love with infinity
so we construct vast temple of glass masks
to worship Unfaced God of vanity
when Sun Spider Goddess weaves brains from rain
to regenerate Other World of dreams.

How My Brain Contemplates Words

How My Brain Contemplates Words
© Surazeus
2019 01 31

Breathing in and out air of sizzling brains,
to hear immortal spirits underground
crawling through thick doom of forgotten truth,
I touch trunks of trees that curl tangled roots
around my rotting heart, then wear clean mask
carved from wood of the last faith-eating tree.

Deeper inward to where lost memories rot
in rancid logic of teachable action,
we study themes of music compositions
to understand each pause of naked silence
that sparks our leaps up levels of desire
so my belief reprises in your eyes.

Brittle words frozen on tip of my tongue
ignore frugal stairway of somewhere else
when ghosts mutter secrets bought from blind sage
sideways through pretend melody of love
linked to out-spiraling spindles of genes
which design how my brain contemplates words.

New chords of angst twanging lyre of my heart
explain long division of endless quest
to count every tree that sprouts from mute hills
unfolding stairs in case of falling tower
where revolving princess of unfree passion
connects distant worlds with ladder of faith.

These alternate lives we play on glass stage
of myriad genders with paper snow flakes
key tones so our minds drift backward to island
of laughing walls where centennial rings
glimpse twilight in my eyes of rare obsession
to sail quick slipstream of time past fake Heaven.

Depthless across fathoms of rented truth
disastrous streams of light on feather wings
descend from Realm of Ideas on beams
that window clear through core of my sponge brain
to drip blood squeezed from orange of my Pole Star
so we can sail straight home to paradise.

From stars on flashing wings Polaris flies
to stand before wood mask of my new face
and rotates immortal soul of my brain
on clanging axis of cracked mental heart
which mirrors conscious deity of light
who dreams me alive from galactic core.

I dream empty rooms where we can dream rooms
of ancient lives our ancestors expressed
in shadow puppets of strange memories
we know are not ours but are ours for real
from signs woven by winds that rustle books
on cluttered desk in ruined tower of truth.

Birds in writhing trees who disguise my soul
sing in chorus of memories that curl tight
shadows of people I love on lush bank
of naked river where vanishing walls
converge through untouchable door of water
till I cradle snake eggs on garden path.

Intention to rise outward from cracked skull
urges my attempt to become sea wind
satisfied at rebirth of nameless souls
born on silent mountain of jolting change
who proclaim emptiness of sorrow king
of present intimacy hidden by shadows.

Secret codes hidden in fur of deaf fox
reveal struck passion of lightning star
through my night messenger who designs words
depicting shape of hills to indicate
why shadow of my soul encloses light
from countless stars trapped inside molecules.

Cylinders of rockets glow cold lamp light
crackling on long lines of telephone wires
to collect progressive proverbs we paint
on every door locked in labyrinth of hope
which reveals intense scale of prophecy
bound in essence of this imagined house.

Strange Mystery Of My Soul

Strange Mystery Of My Soul
© Surazeus
2019 01 31

Nowhere in all this world of broken dreams
can I discover fountain of pure light
from which all essence of organic beings
emerges from weird language of whole things.

Except that we are formed from molecules
composed of atoms pulsing with soul light
which spiral wild from infinite abyss
that beams in hologram from our White Whole.

My body pulses with electric sparks
that jolt fierce currents through mental desire
to contemplate strange mystery of my soul
why I am me and no one else who lived.

Through teeming crowds of people on the street
I walk invisible path of my fate
which I create from effect of my cause
with each new conscious decision I make.

Yet I am not some freak anomaly
appearing suddenly in stream of time
for I exist in this body of flesh
which my parents generated from genes.

Four hundred million years of spinning Earth
I reincarnate genes again in flesh
since carbon atoms linked in flashing rings
and formed First Mother Eye of Consciousness.

Though I now feel isolated and lost,
frail and alone in vast labyrinth of lust,
I am reincarnation again on flesh
from billions of creatures born in the sea.

I am embodiment in dreaming brain
of atoms forged in furnace of the sun
then beamed in flashing web of molecules
to weave organic life on teeming Earth.

I am our Sun and Earth in mortal mind
awake in consciousness of ancient self
perceiving planet of immortal genes
who knows itself in weird dreams of my brain.

Once people thought some supernatural God
created bodies for immortal souls
but now we know genes generate these bodies
which conjure fragile consciousness of love.

We are that God we imagine is real
because we project our own consciousness
to beam from vast indifferent universe
who wakes for this brief hour inside our minds.

Whether or not children continue me,
I record my conscious visions in verse
so these spells may conjure in yet-born minds
perception of our souls as the White Whole.

Before Mountain Of God

Before Mountain Of God
© Surazeus
2019 01 30

Before Mountain of God I am frail mind
perceiving structure of its silent truth,
and wonder at nature of formal beings
in search for eternal Ideas of Things
that provide patterns for matter to form
physical objects I nominate in song.

When Moses stood before crackling Mount Sinai
the Glow Cloud spoke to him of mysteries
with thundering voice of divine prophecy
about weird nature of our universe
so he carved ten commandments on stone tablet
to paint vision of good moral behavior.

When Shelley stood before remote Mount Blanc
the Glow Cloud whispered legion of wild thoughts
with serene voice of human prophecy
how humans searching for the truth embroider
silent surface of material universe
with hieroglyphs of myth to praise dead gods.

The towering mountain that supports blank sky
beneath crystal shell of unchanging Heaven
stands firm as no throne to some supreme power
who gazes from Glow Cloud of divine truth
at teeming wilderness of life and death
where humans struggle to survive through faith.

What inscrutable cipher of plain truth
this montane heap of stones frosted by snow
looms high as tabula rasa from faith
where frail humans project tentative theorems
of immortal consciousness we name God
for one-eyed father of our wandering tribe.

I am no angry Prometheus bound
by fascist chains of tyranny to peak
of granite promontory jutting sharp
against adamantine walls of paradise
to contemplate nature of my research
stealing fire of change for mankind to wield.

When I stand before slumbering Mount Takoma
the Glow Cloud shimmers mute above her peak
in timeless floating stillness of desire,
illuminating boundless space of silence
so I see structure of atoms congealed
from vibrant pulsing straight through web of light.

The whole universe is structure of atoms,
so construction is atoms forming things
and destruction is atoms breaking apart,
therefore our actions of adjusting force
cause effects of change as forms grow and die
in ceaseless seething sea of pulsing light.

As mortal human with organic brain
that beams virtual model of the real world
I stand before high mountain and perceive
I am that dreaming mind of divine god
who embodies atoms in conscious form
so I sing to give names to everything.

Before Mountain of God I am Surazeus,
gazing with awe at Glow Cloud that floats bright
in shining atmosphere of empty blue sky
where no Heaven as Realm of Ideas stands
unchanging and perfect above our world
where we humans share stories of our lives.

Glow Cloud Of My Faith

Glow Cloud Of My Faith
© Surazeus
2019 01 30

While wandering in Library of Lost Souls
I find the book that details my whole life
so, as wild ocean waves obliterate
transcendent beauty of our fantasies,
I watch my sorrows bleed in flashing rain
that washes all my memories to the sea.

I see myself performing in those scenes
I choose to remember because the light
of faithful truth, that beams from deep abyss
of hunger, reveals effect of each cause
that ripples from each word my tongue projects
to beam my face on the divine Glow Cloud.

Reflecting features of my general face
to cast focused authority of truth
that illuminates timeless flash of atoms,
the Glow Cloud shining over your strange land
perceives unspoken secrets of your soul
that grow from seeds you bury in your heart.

I open fingers and chant spell of truth
to beam time-animated globe of Earth
presenting path of their aggressive quest
each person navigates through maze of fears
and note how my own path weaves cosmic soul
in matrix of our vibrant mortal souls.

What type of character in classic myth
glows bright through mask of my generic face,
expressed by moral quality of love
that flows from fountain of my aching heart
so I know if my existence is good
when my acts create rather than destroy?

I sit at round table in house I built
and touch ripe apple in the wooden bowl,
remembering how we first found tree of life
glowing green by river of hungry hope,
then walked ten thousand miles west to explore
how sunlight causes trees to sprout from gloom.

While I gaze at spinning globe of our world
I watch paths of organic creatures flow
in rivers of desire along swift streams,
and wonder how we spread across the land
like tree roots that convert foul muck of death
to dew-bright apples hanging from the sky.

I walk outside my ruined house of stone
and stand on river shore in timeless sun
to stare at frail skeleton of my horse
I met when we were both still young and spry,
and smile at memory of her glowing eyes
when she first let me slide up on her back.

How fast she galloped on wide windy plain
on sweet compassion of her beating heart,
leaping forward to cross the deep abyss,
and carried me far outside my small world
so I could see how endless roll green hills
as flow of flashing motion unfolds time.

How long I lived inside one grassy vale,
eating apples as I lounged among flowers,
till swift exploring horse on wings of wind
bore me outside strict bounds of my small world
so I can see this world of bulging hills
expands ten thousand times beyond my eyes.

When I first started from quaint vale of trees
I thought this world was small as hill and lake
where I long wandered, singing in the wind,
but now I feel its vast expansive swirl
still spirals far beyond skull of my mind,
reflected by the Glow Cloud of my faith.

So hold my hand, wise child born from my heart,
and let me show you contours of this world,
exploring complex beauty of its forms,
so when I die and disappear from time
you may continue on your path of life
and share sweet apples from our Tree of Truth.

I Am The Hungry Hunter

I Am The Hungry Hunter
© Surazeus
2019 01 29

While sitting on ledge of the mountain slope,
gazing through mist at the vast sunlit world,
I feel tense energy inside my body
vibrate with desire to progress forward
through scattered flash of expression to fly
all over the landscape of grass-cracked rocks.

Yet I retain perception of desire
beaming outward from pulsing of my head,
contained inside tense stillness of strict goal
to wait with bated breath, invisible
through wind of hope, that binds my energy
for when the deer emerges from dark woods.

I discipline my soul to shimmer tight
inside taut skin of purpose to maintain
still silence of strict patient steadiness
so when the deer appears I can raise bow
and shoot sharp arrow straight into its heart,
then I will roast its flesh sizzling on flames.

Alone on mountain slope of flowing wind,
I hang in stillness of swift-swirling time
to gaze entranced at beauty of the world,
so perfect in vast bulkiness of soil
that points sharp peaks at unreachable sky
where glowing clouds watch me with silent eyes.

Except for hunger gnawing at my heart,
which separates my body from wet slope,
I feel my spirit linked through harmony
of strict conceptual passion to this world
of gusting winds and beams of light on rocks,
till even my name vanishes in mist.

So when plump spotted deer from dark woods treads,
and wanders near enough for me to shoot,
I wait long timeless moment of sharp peace
to admire its elegant grace of motion,
forgetting that I am the hungry hunter,
but then I shoot, and claim nutritious prize.

Beside its panting form I kneel in mist,
two creatures on vast mountain bulk of time,
and touch its head with gentle hand of hope
to gaze forever in its flashing eyes
till animating spirit of its mind
vanishes in light, like I will someday.

Bearing plump deer to my home garden hearth,
I smile with joy when my family appears,
watch while they roast it well over hot flames,
and savor pleasure of people I love
when we feast in moonlight on roasted meat,
then I wear its skin and become the deer.

While my son beats drum made of taut deer skin,
and my wife chants heart-haunting melodies,
I wear the head of the deer on my head
and dance around hot fire under bright stars
to become the deer who leaps in the sky,
and give my soul to feed the hungry hunter.

I gallop far across the star-lit world
and race into vast labyrinth of lost souls
where spirits of the dead who still have names
swirl around my body in flowing wind,
then I sing, we are all formed from sunlight
for we are children of one dreaming Earth.

Strange Tension In Electric Air

Strange Tension In Electric Air
© Surazeus
2019 01 29

Brown hazelnut that encloses my heart
will never be cracked by diamond of words,
expressed by strike of thought from flowing stream
where all my memories vanish before dawn.

Coherent thought assembled from cracked truth
fills glossy magazines with polished bromides
detailing how to save relationships
with curve through rancid singularity.

Before Death can discover secret name
I gave my soul, chiseled by winter winds
blasting mirrors clear, this aching despair
must explode fruit seed into new house key.

Therefore, trust my judgment when I explain
in language of the alligator why
we must walk together on country road,
holding hands to become red sunset flames.

If I spend ten years building this one bridge
to connect alien hearts across abyss
of strange opposing faiths, then you will know
I count your love more valuable than gems.

I can feel strange tension in electric air
arching vibrant across our crowded land
that spirals from three hundred million brains
in tangled web of terrible despair.

This fierce anxiety of hope extends
sharp pulse of energy to fuel our hearts
so we dance whirling in our frightened rain
to drink compassion from sweet rainbow love.

So now here together on this wild spot
of blasting wind we must face that strange face
of horrible hunger with gaping mouths
that open from our hearts to eat huge stars.

With tools of science I will measure truth
to map pure meaning of our universe
and play new role of weird messiah sleuth
who spells vast matrix of our webbed White Whole.

I am the Glow Cloud of divine mind eye
who perceives every event that occurs
when atoms interact chemical change
which calculates constant process of time.

Heaven is unchanging Realm of Ideas
where patterns of objects persist forever
to provide structures for atoms to link
when they connect to form existing things.

This function of consciousness that I am
will operate as long as my body glows
with chemical flash, but when my flame poofs
my sense of self will vanish in vast sea.

I see her dancing in grove of fruit trees,
the woman who claims seed-spark of my soul,
so she reincarnates again in flesh
coiled genes of us into children we love.

I call with voice in wind of flashing rain
clever riddle of her name that describes
elegant grace of her eyes when she looks
laughing into hollow truth of my heart.

She touches my wet face with two warm hands,
then holds my hand and leads me to run swift
laughing through rain to her house by dark lake
where we sit together by glowing hearth.

Whatever else may happen in this world,
men fighting over who will lead the nation,
she and I lounge together by bright hearth,
kissing as we plan how we will survive.

Rebirth Of Father Helius

Rebirth Of Father Helius
© Surazeus
2019 01 29

On southern shore of the Caspian Sea,
lush fertile plains enclosed by mountain peaks,
our ancestor, who invented the wheel
and harnessed the horse to pull wagon trains,
began our program to conquer the world,
expanding from the garden of our hearth.

Wise Helius lead us over mountain range
to colonize ten thousand river plains
and build our empire of the Silver Eye,
assimilating every local tribe
to generate more children of our seed
born from the womb of our First Mother Scythia.

When Argotta, Queen over tribes of Frankus,
married Pharamundus, grandson of Christus,
they merged the bloodlines of Mithras and Jesus
to breed dynasty of the Holy Grail
founded by Meroveus in mountain fortress
whose children now rule all Gothinian lands.

The lands of Gothinia now crown the Earth
where the Elite children of Helius dwell
from Siberia west around the spinning globe
over Atlantic Sea to mountains of Alaska,
populating lands around the North Pole
where Ice Queen Gotha rules from Greenland Tower.

Our people rule the northern hemisphere,
bodies forged by the harsh environment
of snow swirling in the Caucasus Mountains,
spirits tempered by windy Russian steppes
where we tamed the wild swift-galloping horse
and harvested apples from the Tree of Life.

We present names of our Father and Mother
as spirits of both sky and spinning globe,
Godin All-Father of the stormy mountains
as God, the sun who creates the universe,
and Gearthe All-Mother of the fruit groves
as Earth, the planet that nurtures our lives.

We stack stones into strong surrounding walls
and tend food plants in garden paradise
while God rules as guard in ware-house of food,
the loaf-ward of wealth as Lord of the Castle,
then colonize the globe with garden havens
based on the ideal citadel of Heaven.

The wheeled wagon, the castle hall of stone,
the galloping horse, and the tree of fruit,
these four aspects of our culture present
sacred pillars of our civilization
that form foundation of this global empire
of nation-states that blooms from our lost dream.

This aggressive force of nationalist fervor
fuels expansion of our dominant state
these past ten thousand years of evolution
since Helius lead us from strong garden walls
to explore the world lit by the bright sun
so we can survive against hostile death.

Expanding outward from our Lake of Dreams,
that Caspian Sea where our First Mother Scythia
taught us how to sing visions of our eyes,
we populate lands around the North Pole
and decorate pine trees with fruit and gifts
to celebrate rebirth of Father Helius.

We fought to survive in this hostile world,
crossing abyss of hate on bridge of love
to evolve from ape to the Superman
by overcoming lust and fear of death
so we become strong warriors for peace
as we guard children in garden of fruit.

Yet in our aggressive fight to survive,
protecting our children in haven walls,
against hostile nations in distant lands
who would destroy our sacred way of life
and enslave our children to their desires,
we are blinded by our fierce will to power.

As I stand on steep slope of Mount Takoma,
gazing back east across ten thousand years
to see how my people expanded far
from Caspian Sea to colonize the Earth,
I feel remorse for all the souls we killed
on our quest to survive and live in peace.

To keep children of our nation alive
we invaded whole northern hemisphere
and killed the natives living in those lands
by reasoning that we must kill to live,
but I prefer our children intermarry
to merge our tribes into one global nation.

I deconstruct the reason for our mission
and question why we must kill to survive,
while gazing at their blood that stains my hands,
then weep for all those countless human beings
whose names are lost in the mute winds of time,
while I sing the ache of my living heart.

Driven by our nationalist war of conquest
to live in peace on this spinning world,
I stop and vow to reevaluate our mission
and change its focus to preserve all life
so strong United Nations of Earth share
these lands as one human family of souls.

Rebirth of Father Helius in my heart
now revives original flame of love
that urged our mission to dominate Earth
so I transform first purpose of our goal
from domination to cooperation
to live in harmony of generous faith.

Though nations of the world compete for space
to raise our children in garden of fruit,
we share this globe with everyone who lives
for we are children of First Mother Amen,
wise mother of all nations of the Earth
who taught us how to sing in harmony.

I value every race who lives on Earth,
and honor good God who founded their nation,
for we all share this globe of fertile fields
that spins alone in vast abyss of space,
thus I revise agenda of our hope
to live in harmony of human love.

My mother Scythia places in my hand
ripe apple that blooms sweet from Tree of Life
and sends me on good mission of her love
to plant its seeds on every river shore
so all United Nations of Earth gather
to feast together in One Hall of Truth.

I want to replace overarching flow
of historical narrative for success
of racial domination as nationalism
with racial integration as globalism
by deconstructing my white privilege
to reconstruct human equality.

While I love Scythia daughter of Helius
as First Mother of my Gothican nation,
I love Amen daughter of Amun-Ra
as First Mother of all our Human nations,
so I will climb high Pyramid of Sophos
to celebrate Philosophy of Love.

Free Will Of Their Own Mind

Free Will Of Their Own Mind
© Surazeus
2019 01 29

The difference between the core principles
held by progressives and conservatives
depends on how they view the human body
and freedom of the will to live by choice,
where the conservative thinks he retains
right to exploit people for his own gain
while the progressive thinks that every mind
possesses right to control their own body.

The values of conservatives equate
to making laws that allow businessmen
to control the bodies of working men
so they can exploit their labor for profit,
and making laws that allow married men
to control the bodies of fertile women
so they can exploit their children for work,
and thus keep people as slaves to their greed.

But the values of progressives equate
to making laws that protect rights of workers
for good pay, safe conditions, and benefits
so they can profit from work of their hands,
and making laws that support loving mothers
to control their own reproductive choices
so they can educate their children well,
and thus free people from slavery of greed.

While the conservative believes that freedom
is controlling people to exploit bodies,
the progressive believes freedom is the right
of each individual to choose the way
they live each day for their own private gain,
so progress is designing social system
that empowers every person to live well
according to free will of their own mind.

My Death Erases All

My Death Erases All
© Surazeus
2019 01 28

Though my death erases all I create
I will continue to mold with my hands
monuments to celebrate conscious joy.

I spring from vast Cave of Shadows at birth
and flow on winding Stream of Consciousness
then sink mute in bottomless Sea of Dreams.

Congealed from atoms in womb of my mother,
I am light and rain embodied as god
who dreams, then I vanish in cloud of dust.

I am the universe of the White Whole
aware of itself in my dreaming brain
that rots to muck to nurture roots of trees.

Fragile assembly of bright molecules,
I name myself Surazeus Astarius,
coiled genes that spiral into nothingness.

Alone in garden of fruit trees, I sing
vision of our universe in weird spells
muted by wind blowing through mountain peaks.

I record in epic verse names and deeds
of every conscious soul who ever lives,
for we are tears of rain in nameless sea.

I spring from fertile womb of Mother Earth,
write poems in sand on vast shore of the sea,
then become sunlit waves that erase truth.

Sing With Chimes Of Freedom

Sing With Chimes Of Freedom
© Surazeus
2019 01 28

I wish I could protect lost refugees
who flee violent gangsters in their homeland
and welcome them to our community
where everyone follows strict rule of law
so we live together in harmony,
and take as much as we give with our hands.

We cannot create perfect paradise
on this ever-changing world of frail forms
but we can adjust process of reactions
to maintain balance of growth and decay
through constant ritual of our crafting choices
to model Heaven as close as we can.

So many tribes from all over the world
that developed their own traditional ways
compete for resources of fertile Earth
in constant conflict to dominate land
till we all commerge into global empire
where everyone lives equal in one law.

They wander weeping in waste land of fear
while I live with comfort in my safe home
because I play by strict rules of my land
that ensures no one is above the law
and everyone works to maintain their lifestyle
which nurtures education of our children.

I hear the chimes of freedom ringing clear
through flashing thunderstorm of social conflict
where Liberty lifts torch of freedom high
to guide wandering refugees from cruel war
so they can find our haven of just laws
and join our democracy free for all.

We join as one in land of liberty
to fight against cruel tyranny of greed
where the rich oppress the poor to exploit
labor of their hands to obtain more wealth,
for every person, united for justice,
supports each other for freedom to work.

This fight for justice and equality
we must ever wage for freedom of truth,
for greedy tyrants always rise from lust
and attempt to control water and land,
unless we fight for land of liberty
so we live as we will if we harm none.

They can never crush our will to live free
for we sprout from the Earth as seeds of love
then work together in communities
where everyone employs just rule of law
to treat each other with honest respect
and sing with chimes of freedom ringing clear.

Judge Of Life And Death

Judge Of Life And Death
© Surazeus
2019 01 28

Though I trust what my eyes perceive is real
I cannot always see the larger context
that frames single scenes of action with meaning,
so I accept concept defining truth
as real but partial till I see more scenes
to better know flow of cause and effect.

When I see one person hurting another
I want to stop their actions causing harm,
but what if that person deserves the pain
because they had hurt someone else before,
so observance of the isolated scene
may not reveal enough for me to judge.

We established our system of law courts
with objective judge we trust to rule well
by hearing testimony of their cause
from every person involved in the conflict,
and thus we develop the social state
organized around supreme right of law.

Since we rule against people killing people,
we must kill them to stop them killing others,
assigning official role to the person
we trust to play god and rule from tradition
as judge of life and death when they decide
who gets to live and breed, and who must die.

We humans practice constant genocide,
favoring members of our extensive tribes
by killing hostile men of other tribes
and breeding with their women to gestate
new generation of our stronger tribe
so we can dominate lands of the world.

Each nation worships founder of their tribe
as noble God with divine right to rule
and assimilate other human tribes
to adopt their superior way of life
with equality for all under law
till one United Nations rules the Earth,

I see no good or evil in this world,
for all religions favor rich success
of those descendants from their mortal god
who expand to convert all other tribes
to fulfill their mission of domination,
till one faceless god rules our entire globe.

That faceless God that all theists now worship
presents Idea of the Objective Judge
whom people trust to rule in court of law
based on the actions of our character
instead of membership in tribal race
to favor those who create, not destroy.

Angry White Males

Angry White Males
© Surazeus
2019 01 28

You tell us we must build this giant wall
to block hordes of people with brown-red skin,
preventing them from invading this land
where their ancestors lived before ours came,
by claiming they are raping our good women,
terrorists who threaten our way of life.

The only threat to people of our land
that I can see from stories in the news
are white males like me filled with blinding rage
that their desires to control force of life
and dominate fertile bodies of women
are thwarted by free will women express.

The only people killing other people
are angry white males feeling impotent,
rejected by women who exercise
free will of their hearts to live as they choose,
so they grab guns and shoot those women down,
killing innocent people in blind rage.

Though I am a white male with silver eyes
tense with anger to change ways of the world
for the good of everyone who shares Earth,
I never grab some gun, weapon of death,
to shoot people who disagree with me
nor kill people who ignore my desires.

Terrorists who threaten our way of life
are those white males who kill innocent people
because they are feeling weak and afraid,
so they are the real problem we must solve,
preventing them from getting guns of death,
and teaching them to treat people with respect.

You expose yourself as weak and afraid
by demanding we build this giant wall,
but instead of building huge walls of fear
we must build bridges to our fellow humans
and work with them together on this land
to grow more food so everyone can eat.

We will tear down any hard wall you build,
then live according to good principle
that every human being who breathes the spirit
deserves equal rights to live on this world
with liberty and justice for all souls,
one tribe in United Nations of Earth.

My Mother Is The Strongest Soul

My Mother Is The Strongest Soul
© Surazeus
2019 01 28

I hate putting her in this nursing home,
my mother who was strong and independent
all her life, whose husband walked out the door
and left her to raise three children alone
when she was twenty six in Sixty Nine,
and worked for forty four years in the bank.

She started working as the secretary
to the bank manager, then worked her way
up the ladder of responsibility
till she retired as the bank manager,
keeping it in business through every crisis
and recession of the national economy.

The humble honest women of America
like my mother, who always do their duty,
and will work every day without complaint,
maintain the money machine of our nation
while raising new generations of children,
yet we take their contributions for granted.

My mother is the strongest soul I know,
raising three children while working all day
to pay the bills and prepare food for meals,
and making sure I do my homework well,
so it breaks my heart to see her so weak,
helpless and dependent on me for care.

Following her example, I work hard
as an insurance analyst every day
while raising two children now starting school,
but even with you, my husband, to help
with cooking meals and doing household chores,
I cannot take care of my mother too.

I hate putting her in the nursing home,
my mother who was strong and independent,
but I need help with my daily routine
to give her the quality care she needs,
so I must leave her in this small sad room
to live out the rest of her days alone.

Her memories of the phases of her life,
her childhood playing with friends by the river,
her school years studying business finance,
her career managing savings and loans,
her free time raising us and reading novels,
are scrambled out of order that makes sense.

We all write straight narrative of our lives
to imbue meaning on random events
so we star in Our Movie we direct,
but the story in our minds falls apart
as we deteriorate when our bodies decay,
so we do some things, then we die forgotten.

She lived her life while I was growing up
and savored all the pleasures she could find,
but now I must live while she fades away
and savor all my pleasures while I can,
for one day soon I will also grow old,
and lie forgotten in sad nursing home.

I hate to leave you in this living death,
but you deserve relaxation you earned,
so gaze out that window glowing with light
and drift in sunlit memories of your childhood,
then dream of living in Heaven with God,
though I am no longer sure that is real.

Secret Of Eternal Youth

Secret Of Eternal Youth
© Surazeus
2019 01 27

This question I had meant to ask the dead
who walk around the shadows of my head
dissolves in slant of light that wakes my heart
when they reveal my life on magic chart
so we hold hands and walk the country road
then kiss and make love on the river shore
though I continue bearing heavy load
and sit with you inside our timeless door.

This room where we exchange our secret thoughts
contains soft sound of singing astronauts
while aching sound of voices we discern
contains this room where broken clocks still turn
weird wheel of fortune crushing skulls of gods
so thousand torches flaming bright with truth
may resurrect our souls from wretched clods
of misty moors explored by curious sleuth.

I soar to heaven high on silver wings
where my dead lover plays gold harp and sings,
expecting to find temple of old gods
where eager angels form world-guardian squads,
but nothing more than dreadful dark of gloom
from Cave of Shadows now reverberates
when I must prophesy our global doom
achieved by misdirecting greedy fates.

I open eyes and rise from sea of dreams
and follow sparkling flash of flowing streams
to comprehend true nature of my soul
beaming from diamond core of the White Whole
so I transcend taut shell of mortal flesh
and reincarnate coil of spiral genes
in child connected to spiritual mesh
that binds our minds with life and death routine.

Clear beams of light on water of deep lake
reveal what character is real or fake
so while I hang forever in oak limbs
I dream runes glittering in adoring hymns
then lead lost souls to mythic promised land
in waste land of our fractured world-view truth
while measuring Earth with scepter in my hand
to riddle secret of eternal youth.

Involute Core Of Truth

Involute Core Of Truth
© Surazeus
2019 01 27

Taut tendrils of family relationships
bind strangers together as blood-line friends
who weave genetic web of life success
to tangle separate bodies in vast herd
of replicants who compete to play god
through clash of mirrored minds to dominate.

Through measureless caverns of throbbing rocks
I crawl from shadows of essential being
to calculate passion of broad beating wings
fake angels employ to soar above cities
and preach good news on coming of their king
who claims he will restore our paradise.

Heart twisted by anguish of aching sorrow
at meaningless loss when everyone died,
I sit beneath vast canopy of leaves
to gaze forever at the blooming rose
in hope that I will soon become one soul
with its spiraling perfection of truth.

My conscious perception of our vast world
curls from tight locus of unmoving point
as taut string unwound from involute core
that spirals intricate web of thought sparks
enlightening timeless matrix of forms
who blossom out from white whole hologram.

I see in spiral of delicate petals,
unfolding from involute core of truth,
quick replication of conceptual facts
connecting molecules through helix chains
which flow through tubes of flashing follicles
to beam bright rays slanting through clouds of rain.

Heart sunken deep into this solid world,
I breathe deep spirit of dissolving faith,
but flush when you appear on sun-bright hill
and sit beside me in weird silver mist
to touch my cheek and taste my salty tears,
then give me apple, so we eat and laugh.

Nourished By Sweet Ideas

Nourished By Sweet Ideas
© Surazeus
2019 01 27

The sweet idea that ripens in my mind
from bloom of thoughts gestating many years
I must express in matrix of rich concepts
before it festers from entangled truths
and rots unspoken from repressed despair.

How many time-ripe fruits of secret thoughts
congealing complicated concepts clear
burst bright from tangled branches of my brain
to plummet unconsumed on rotting soil
then fertilize new thoughts yet unexpressed?

I gather fallen fruit from time-moist soil
then bake sweet pie to present strange events
of human action which might illustrate
through cause and effect strange dramatic truths
that mold features of social characters.

My mind is but one dream-tree blooming songs
in flourishing forest of fruit-bearing souls
whose visions litter Earth with unheard tales,
yet voices of ten thousand singing trees
harmonize all experience in one tune.

Open wide your mind to spirit of love
that blows as wind from sparkles of the sea
so you express your most beautiful song
in harmony with countless other singers
when all our voices blend in choir of truth.

We walk together in grove of fruit trees,
sharing visions of our future together,
united to raise children of our love,
so let us sing our love in harmony
nourished by sweet ideas our minds create.

Ghost Your Words Leave Behind

Ghost Your Words Leave Behind
© Surazeus
2019 01 26

Look deep beyond veiling shadow of night
and you will see ghost your words leave behind
revealed by day that will never exist
to wind our hearts in wings of ceaseless flight.

Sad bells of fleeting hours toll over town
where fluttering leaves of fruitless trees explain
why evening twilight bleeds away vain joy
to fracture mirror frail of mirthless mask.

Time lost beyond far hills of sunless wind
packs pulsing beat of quaint melodious spell
which animates my aching heart with hope
so see again her face I long forgot.

Still riding in swift car on black highway,
I see high mountain over misty hills
while people gather in round church at noon
to sing about the coming of the king.

I write short letter on the pure white sheet,
explaining how my love is deep sea fish
that flashes light bulb dangling from its head
so I can blaze my way through sunless gloom.

I, a leaf falls, in loneliness of one,
eternal oneliness of countless trees
sprouting from thick rancid soil of my heart
to keep me company with our new moon.

I carry your heart with me in my heart
to fate whatever moon is meant to flash
through deepest secret of our singing sun
in mute wonder that keeps all stars apart.

When if becomes is at magical hour
the three-eyed girl in gown of clouds gives me
flower of mystery plucked from heart of death
I calculate one snow-white afternoon.

All whiteness spirals so our planet blooms
when timeless light breathes primal dream of bells
from afterglow of gold upfloating moon
beyond immeasurable death reborn soon.

We soulless wraiths proclaim substance of love
to kiss sunlight of living death reformed
where weight of freedom equals flight of faith
so we live twice our time forever now.

Since timeless ache of numerated swirls
releases puzzle proving how waves beam
on spiral wings from White Whole of my soul
I count each leaf that falls from Tree of Words.

Now clever voice of death hides fragile flower
that blooms from fractured corpse of my one soul
so strange spontaneous Earth conceals my mind
nowhere to record tale of each dead soul.

Index Of Iconic Scenes

Index Of Iconic Scenes
© Surazeus
2019 01 26

No matter what experiences I have had,
while pushing through tangled thickets of hopes
in disorganized maze of unmapped plays,
these riddling tales I weave in prancing verse
just barely reflect those convoluted depths
of heart-rending intensity I feel
while chasing rainbows in wild laughing rain.

These soul-vibrating songs might seem to show
refracting matrix of emotional plates
that could extend my suffering, diffidence,
or joy through index of iconic scenes,
but all you see are words arranged in lines
of defined concepts that reflect your thoughts
which duplicate double image of mine.

I disappear in taut text I compose
so my real flesh and blood complexity
will vanish into shadow-flashing mist
of metaphorical dreams which contain
boiling blood of my emotions distilled
to sweet wine you can drink to savor taste
of my wild passion transformed to song.

Thus you can dream my real experience
of wandering lost in maze of twirling eyes
so when you see those signs I indicate
you can avoid slough of despond that caught
my swift aggressive footsteps in thick sludge
of heart-numbing despair to leap beyond
wall of my failure and find your true way.

Through quick expression of melodious spells
I rip expanding shadows of my soul
in rippling patterns of active reform
to weave confusing desires into wings
which I can spread to soar on breath of hope
and fly above weird labyrinths of vast cities,
then navigate to paradise I build.

Like visionary Doctor Frankenstein,
I assemble body parts of dead gods,
sewing them into body of the poem
with conceptual threads of beaming ideas,
then spark its heartbeat to pulse with hot strike
of angry despair that flashes awake
monster of my experiences with life.

Though they try to lock me in cage of duty
to neutralize flare of my prophecies
they cannot mute pulsing song of my heart
nor silence agony of hope we share
for I will sing all darkness into light
and water seeds of dreams with tears of love
to harvest apples from our Tree of Truth.

With words I organize chaos of life,
arranging wild emotions of desire
in neatly patterned gardens of wise proverbs,
then construct moral values in high walls
to enclose confusion of angry lust
in careful dramas of law-composed poems
that give meaning to weird experiences.

Now wearing mask of dead god, I revived
to conceal emotions behind blank face
of socially acceptable expressions,
I prance on stage of global theater
to portray weird archetype of messiah
who journeys to underworld of despair
and returns with sacred fruit of delight.

I follow footsteps of ten thousand prophets
who attended rituals in Cave of Shadows
and dream ideas of eternal forms
composed of atoms on our twirling world
to perceive matter in patterns of types
which spiral in hologram of our dreams
embodied in words beamed from the White Whole.

I sing the body of the world in poems
so we perceive its chaos organized
in whole ontology of being the Mind
who wakes from flashing of bright neuron cells
woven into humorous organic brain
who sees its face in mirror of the world
polished by words that beam from songs of truth.

Idea Of The Running Horse

Idea Of The Running Horse
© Surazeus
2019 01 25

I see the running horse on treeless field,
mane flowing in the wind of liberty.

On sheet of paper I write the two words
running horse, then stick the paper with tape
to the side of the running horse, on skin
soft with sweat as it slides over taut muscles.

While jumping jacks on the wet field of grass,
Jacques Derrida chants, "There is no out-text."

Looking back at the swiftly running horse,
I shout in wind that blows over wet grass,
"There is no running horse outside the text
that describes idea of the running horse."

The running horse vanishes in the wind,
then the piece of paper floats in my hand.

Sitting in the Cave of Shadows with Plato,
Jacques gestures hands so shadow-puppets play,
then laughs while he consumes pages from books,
"Out of his texts, there is no more Derrida."

I run to the horse that stands by the lake
and give her apple so we eat together.

Though all real horses vanish from the world,
eternal Idea of the Running Horse
persists in Realm of Possibility,
forever running in Heaven of Dreams.

Daughter Of Victoria

Daughter Of Victoria
© Surazeus
2019 01 25

The morning of the disaster, before
the blazing meteor appeared in the heavens,
we gathered at the water well to talk
about strange omens we saw in the night,
the white horse shining white as the full moon
galloping along the river, the black tree
blooming rotten apples full of green worms,
and the demon baby born with two heads.

The horsemen galloped from the swirling mist
and set our wooden cottages on fire
so we fled terrified into dark woods
to hide in caves where our grandmothers lived,
hoping they would not find us in the shadows
of despair, then we gazed at shining stars
to calculate the fortune of our fate,
wishing we could vanish in the dawn light.

So we walked seven days along the river
and arrived in London with bleeding feet,
and that is how I came to be employed
baking bread at the factory for the stores
where rich people shop in their fine silk clothes,
and the boy who delivers fresh-baked loaves
fancies the way my eyes sparkle, he says,
and wants to step out with me on Sundays.

I live in the dorm with seventeen girls
so I hope John asks me to marry him,
then we will live in our own private room
where I can cook stew of rabbits and herbs
while he delivers bread to distant shops,
and his first son is baking in my oven
since he kissed me under the apple trees
like Adam and Eve kissing in the garden.

I want to return to our village farm
but the duke what claimed he owned all the land
fenced in the fields where I was born and raised
so now we are stuck in the London maze,
but, since I have not seen John several weeks
since I told him I am bearing his baby,
you can take me from behind for one pound,
so lift up my skirt and be quick about it.

What a cute lad you are, with your black suit,
and your little goatee tickling my neck,
so I think I saw you working as a clerk
at that fancy department store where ladies
buy silk gowns and hats with lace ornaments,
so if you bring me one of those red gowns
you can do it with me ten times for free,
now kiss me and let me get back to work.

Rise From Hearts Of Dead Men

Rise From Hearts Of Dead Men
© Surazeus
2019 01 24

After the horseman shoots arrows of hate
to kill my father and my seven brothers,
piercing their hearts that bleed on the dry land,
I run and hide in shadows of despair.

The sun gleams blood-red in the flashing sky
as I hold my breath in the tangled bush
by the burbling creek, where I often played
laughing with joy as we ran with the wind.

So many bright afternoons we explored
enchanting glitter of the winding stream,
but now strange terror flashes in my heart
as I hear my brothers screaming in pain.

Quiet evening of twilight darkens fields
as crickets sing in waves of ecstasy
that rend my heart like iron plow digs soil,
while I make myself disappear from light.

After sitting for hours in twilight glow,
till screams of my brothers fade in the wind,
the horseman gripping taut bow in his hand
clicks his tongue so his horse trots from the field.

The world shines indifferent to my despair,
I whisper as I huddle by the stream
and watch the moon rise from hearts of dead men
and drip blood of rain on the thirsty world.

Yanking sharp arrow from heart of my father,
I creep through song of crickets by the stream
to find the horseman sitting in our house
and drinking fresh wine from grapes of our field.

The horseman pushes me against the wall
to fill my fertile womb with his quick sperm,
but as he thrusts in urgency of passion
I thrust the arrow into his soft heart.

Standing silent in the dark empty house,
I watch the horseman writhe in agony,
thrilling to his screams of heart-rending pain
as he dies the same way my family died.

Staring at my face in the glittering stream,
heart aching from loneliness of my loss,
I see face of young man looking at me,
the son of the horseman seeking his father.

I killed your father, I explain to him,
because your father killed my father first,
so we kneel together by our dead fathers
and kiss as we weep from our agony.

Face to face under the indifferent sun,
we kiss and make love among the grape vines,
then walk together by the glittering stream,
and teach our children the secret of love.

Flash Of Golden Sunlight

Flash Of Golden Sunlight
© Surazeus
2019 01 24

Kneeling on grease-smeared cement in the alley
cluttered with dumpsters full of stinking garbage,
I remember lush meadow of red flowers
and flash of golden sunlight on the river
where I would run and play chase with my friends
when I was growing up in Colorado,
and wait for the goon to blow out my brains.

Feeling pressure of his gun on my skull,
silver pistol that gleams from the street lamp,
I breathe deep to relax my beating heart,
and manage to stop my trembling in terror
long enough to recall name of the girl
with long hair and clear eyes who let me kiss her
at flash of golden sunlight on the river.

The Russian gangster pressing silver gun
at my head snarls, "We gave you that cocaine
three weeks ago, but you never returned
with the hundred thousand dollars you owe,
so it looks like you tried to rip us off,
so you had better give us money now
or I will blow your brains against the wall."

Heart beating fast as the elegant horse
the girl and I watched gallop on the plain,
I attempt to laugh with careless disdain,
"Three rich boys held a party in the mansion
of their father, the state attorney general,
but after they and their guests used it all,
snorting it all up in a three-day orgy,
they refused to pay the money they owed,
and threatened to call the police on me,
so I had to escape, but if you wait
to kill me later I can take you there
to the mansion so we can make them pay."

Struggling to get away from silver gun
pointed at my head, I stand on my feet,
but the Russian gangster grips my hair tight
and growls, "Rich white boys always get away
with committing crimes because they have lawyers
who can protect them from having to pay
the price, so I have to kiss all that money
goodbye because we cannot make them pay
the money they owe, so you have to die."

Dreaming flash of golden sunlight on water
of the small stream that flows over black rocks,
I sigh and wish I had never left the farm,
then vow to return if I can escape
alive, so I explain, "I think we can
convince them to pay if you use your gun
to show them all the error of their ways,
so let me take you there and we can try."

The Russian gangster laughs and hits my head,
then shoots hard bullet into my soft brain
as I remember how Carolyn smiled
at flash of golden sunlight in her hair.

I Worship Atoms

I Worship Atoms
© Surazeus
2019 01 24

Strange laughter of the broken heart is light
as water trickling over river stones.
I want to run with the horse of my heart
to explore the curving world of wild light
that wakes shadows in grove of singing trees.
We pretend to be what we want to be,
different from what we are by random fate.
I linger day-dreaming at garden gate.

I peer close at bright jewel of second sight.
I cannot resurrect from fractured bones
immortal soul of Earth on half-drawn chart.
I watch birds prophesy through swirling flight
secret of nectar designed by swift bees
who teach slaves how to fight for liberty.
After I climb over the locked gold gate
I assemble the puzzle of my fate.

The sun always watches me every day,
observing my routine with silent smile.
I wonder if the sun that glows so warm
is one giant eye that creates the world
by weaving our memories from mute desire.
I sit under the fruit tree of safe trust
and scratch my skin that tingles from sun rays.
I chase your laughter through our flower maze.

We worship eternal power of warm light
in jewels shimmering with ten thousand eyes.
We worship elegant grace of swift wind
in horses galloping among fruit trees.
We worship tribal elders who have died,
telling again the stories they told us.
We worship the son of the emperor
who sits on the mountain to watch the world.

I stop worshipping the gems of the land,
the animals we hunted to consume,
the ancestral founders of our great tribe,
the emperor who ruled the world empire,
the son of dead kings who died for our sins,
and the priests who speak for the son of god.
I worship atoms that compose all things,
beamed by the sun to animate our souls.

I organize all knowledge of the world
in simple world view where all changing forms
are structures of atoms that interact
according to laws of thermodynamics
which activate myth-visions of our brains.
I wonder why apples fall to the ground?
Horses graze on lush grass in swirling breeze
as I sit silent under apple trees.

The hills where trees rustle in cool lake breeze
and the valleys where sparkling rivers flow
vanish from vision of my eyes when I
become incandescent shimmer of truth
that spirals vibrating from the White Whole.
I float invisible in vast abyss
that twirls around and around in my brain
so I become the song of silver rain.

These verbal formulas of singing light
program your brains to envision the world
spiraling forever around the sun
that weaves our planet from atomic souls.
Your laughter ringing through grove of fruit trees
draws me to sit at your side by the river.
We dream each other with eyes of the soul,
and make love to recreate the White Whole.

New Homes In The Promised Land

New Homes In The Promised Land
© Surazeus
2019 01 24

The horse that gallops on the windy plain
is my heart beating at sight of your eyes.
Holding hands, we walk on the signless road
that defines the destiny we must choose.
Beyond the billowing trees of our fears,
office towers of brick and glass glow with hope.
Though all the people of the world are sad,
our love will guide us to the Promised Land.

I build new house for the man with moon eyes
who once ruled the land as chief on swift horse.
My grandmother lived in cottage of stone
in Scotland on misty shore of the lake.
I live with piano in the white house
in Idaho beside the sparkling river.
Though all the people of the world are sad,
I build small tree house in the Promised Land.

Kings of Europe who live in castle towers
fall from booms of cannons that smash their power.
No kings are left in palaces of stone
where dictators fly airplanes in the sky.
No angels play harps on clouds anymore
where airplanes drop bombs on Garden of Eden.
Though all the people of the world are sad,
I construct new homes in the Promised Land.

Now all the kingdoms of lost fairy lands
vanish in smoke of two brutal world wars.
My son joins the choir of four singing angels
who herald the coming of the world king.
I want to live in Heaven when I die,
bit by the spider from the Underworld.
Though all the people of the world are sad,
my bones rot buried in the Promised Land.

Celebrate Conception Day

Celebrate Conception Day
© Surazeus
2019 01 24

On one bright day, many Earth-spins ago,
my spirit was conceived in Sea of Dreams,
sperm sparking egg to generate my soul
that spirals outward from taut coil of genes
to assemble quick atoms into my body
which transforms One Eye into dreaming brain.

My spirit embodies water and light
so atoms that beam from the great White Whole
awake to consciousness inside my brain,
able to perceive pulse of energy
that quickens vital progress of desire
to transcend nothingness and become God.

God the Father is atom-beaming sun
while Earth the Mother is revolving world
which transforms atoms into coils of genes
spiraling in One Eye of consciousness
to generate my body in sea womb
so I rise from lake of dreams at bright dawn.

The hot sparkling light of the blazing sun
beams onto the dark matrix of thick matter
to generate organic life on sphere
of whirling evolution to become
plants and animals that teem from the sea
to dream together on our spinning world.

My body keeps transforming through new forms
life after life over ten million years,
compacted in nine months of my gestation
in womb of my mother who creates life,
then pushes me out into hostile world
where I fight to consume or be consumed.

How many thunderstorms of crackling light
congeal in my body of aching flesh,
and how many rivers sparkling in sunrays
compose tight neurons of my flashing brain,
since I bloomed from humid soil of the Earth,
serpent slithering from egg of ambition?

I pluck ripe apple from broad Tree of Life
and lean on neck of my nickering horse
to consume sweet juice of sunlight and rain,
then offer apple to the pretty girl
who eats while we make love among soft flowers
so she transforms my sperm into our child.

I teach our child how to tame the wild horse
by offering apples and caressing skin,
then we slip on its back with gentle murmur,
and spread our arms wide to expansive sky
while the horse gallops faster than the wind,
as we sing to celebrate conception day.

Passion Of Our Mind Orgasm

Passion Of Our Mind Orgasm
© Surazeus
2019 01 23

Pure perception of the wind-spirit mind
penetrates veil of rain that both reveals
and conceals true element of surprise
curving vibrant in rainbow beam of faith
to bridge our hearts when we exchange bright smiles
while passing on active road of desire.

Could we stop and share stories of our lives
to see what random chance of fate fortuned
our meeting on this nowhere road of time
so we can tangle threads of aching hope
to weave new tapestry of passion bound
by caressing souls at flash of our first kiss?

Though I will create what my hands are skilled
to craft from inert matter of this world,
sharp interest of your love urges my heart
to transcend projects my mind can design
so I ascend high mountain of achievement,
inspired by desire to awe you with truth.

Though we just met on landscape of lost myths
I reach out my hand to caress your heart,
and hold your hand so we connect our souls
with pulsing wings of hope to rise above
confusing maze of beliefs and desires
through pure dedication to join our paths.

The road of hope I followed to this point
wound my progress through labyrinth of false signs
so we stand now here on core of our faith
at still point of ceaselessly turning world
that enlightens way to blaze our new road
through tangled wilderness of hopeless fear.

Would wild spark of our desires flash too hot
for forging new connection between minds
designed to match compatible programs,
or will we moderate with balanced force
quick binding of two hearts in unity
of loyal commitment to construct love?

I want to hold you in my loyal arms
and kiss your soft lips to taste your sweet heart
which beats in harmony with my wild heart
so we together sing swirled tune of pleasure
when we connect our bodies to flash souls
through pure ecstatic vision beyond death.

I gaze so deep in your sky-rounding eyes
I perceive infinite flash of creation
spiraling outward from our shared White Whole
in jolting passion of our mind orgasm
pulsing straight around orbit of our hearts
so we generate new spirit of truth.

Winds Of Change

Winds Of Change
© Surazeus
2019 01 23

Strange cold wind blows in from the restless sea
to swirl wispy hair around my clear eyes
so I feel spirit of the wild Earth swell
aching sorrow into hope through my heart
to lift my mind above these troubling times
when opposing forces compete for power.

Through rickety skeleton of vast empire
restless winds of change blast against old pillars
of ancient institutions that long propped
roof of noble laws to protect our state
now trembling from weakness of mute respect
so truth we honored collapses from hate.

What blind Samson, chained with restraining laws
of time-honored ways for performing role
of state chief executive officer,
howls with helpless rage from heart-blinding greed,
and shakes fragile pillars with thieving hands
that cracks foundation of collapsing power?

Once sacred institutions of our state,
based on Constitution and Bill of Rights,
collapses weak from his aggressive greed,
we will all stand alone in smoking ruins
still holding principle we value most,
that each person lives straight on their free will.

Then holding hands in ring of sacred stones,
that protects our commune in garden walls,
we chant the golden rule which guides our way,
that every person living in this land
lives equal through justice and liberty
to perform what they will, if they harm none.

Blow, you winds of change, through temple of laws,
long established to favor the rich male
by giving him power through law to oppress
all other people to fulfill his wish,
and smash his hard institutions of power
to free people to live through their free will.

Swirl swift from sea of liberty, you winds
of justice, to smash unjust institutions,
clearing ground of action so we may build
new noble institutions that support
equal rights for every person to live
according to dictates of their own conscience.

We will construct new temple of just laws
that might empower each individual soul
to develop crafting skill with strong hands
so they can work to create better things
that benefit community of minds
who work together for the good of all.

Strange winds of change now blow across our land,
shaking old institutions of state power
propped up by privilege of the ruling class
who strive to break our education system
so they can exploit the poor working folk
who must build temple of equality.

I breathe deep these refreshing winds of change
that scatter oppressors from halls of power
so new generation of honest people,
who exercise consistent self-control
through liberty in law, may enforce rules
that support individual liberty for all.

My Island Dream

My Island Dream
© Surazeus
2019 01 23

This misty island, where my soul was born,
molded from humid soil of its desire
bodies of my ancestors flush with light,
which animated their quest for weird truth
while they expressed through actions of their hands
adoring spirit of its dreaming hills.

Once they generated children from flesh
their bodies dissolved back to rancid soil
which forms new fertile hills where flowers bloom
so when I walk on winding trails of hope
I hear their voices whispering in the wind
to flash their memories in my dreaming mind.

We rise up from moist soil of island hills
then dissolve back into its curving forms
through endless waves of transforming desire
to wake with conscious perception of light
through several dozen spins of dreaming Earth,
glowing with life till time snuffs out our flame.

This misty island, now so far away
around the spinning world from where I live,
still maps contours of my mythical mind
since every land that I explore extends
curving landscapes of my ancient homeland
so all the world becomes my island dream.

White Space Of Fractured Words

White Space Of Fractured Words
© Surazeus
2019 01 23

Between white space of fractured words we find
wordless concepts of profound truth that bind
disparate souls with hope to exchange love
that will connect hungry hearts through desire
to give as much as we accept from friends
who share our journey in curves of the world.

Tense passion vibrates from electric sparks
arching between spoken words that reframe
complex patterns composing forms of matter
to leap across abyss of silence swift
as soaring hawk whose existential shriek
wakes me from dream of desire to hear you.

I calm restless waves of thought with soft breath
of wind over waters to hear your words
themselves conjure vision of your strange thoughts
shimmering before my eyes so I can hear
concepts you are attempting to express
and understand how you feel in your heart.

How strange this magic formula of words
we juxtapose in flowing train of sounds
by speaking to weave separate concepts tight
in tapestry of thoughts pregnant with meaning
to convey vision of tangled world matrix
through linear expression of verbal spells.

What complex vision of material world
I can compress through singing flow of words
that bind in visual concepts our minds dream
atomic particles of sounds which weave
vortex of perceptions through flashing verse
illuminating stark contrast of real truth.

The phrase I love you means I focus eyes
to comprehend material needs of flesh
when your body hungers for refreshing food
then I give loaf of bread and jar of wine
so we commune together in song hall
to eat and share tales of our experience.

Escape From The Monastery

Escape From The Monastery
© Surazeus
2019 01 22

Straight past the edge of infinite abyss
I fly on quest to find the holy grail
that shimmers somewhere in my naked heart,
waiting to be reborn from silver rain
that splatters endlessly on flashing path
where I go walking every afternoon.

Somewhere beyond tall monastery walls
the girl who grabbed my hand with aching eyes
still walks down to the river every dawn
to call my name in silent swirling mist
but I am trapped by service to the God
who demands I copy old books of tales.

Each curve of letters on smooth parchment page
that I inscribe with feather quill in ink
reflects soft shape of breasts and hips she sways
in vision beaming from my longing eyes
to leap over high wall of silent rules
and run into warm embrace of her arms.

I climb the ancient tangled tree to reach
trembling hand just far enough to grasp tight
jagged wall of the monastery prison,
then fall heart pounding against the stone wall
and dangle helpless over vast abyss
of longing to kiss her apple-red lips.

Pulling my heavy body to the top
of the jagged wall, I perch on high edge
of terror to escape back-aching duty,
then leap into shadows to roll on grass,
and lie gasping under the empty sky
as my hands bleed tears from my wounded heart.

Running through orchard of old apple trees,
I stagger into grove where my love lives,
and find her suckling baby at her breast
as her husband stalks toward me with sharp hoe,
and she kisses my mouth as the sharp arrow
from monastery guard pierces my heart.

Shore Of The River

Shore Of The River
© Surazeus
2019 01 22

No matter where I go in the wide world
of rugged mountains and desolate plains,
I always return to shore of the river
that flows from empty sky to the full sea.

The sky sends water in the silver rain
to sing in splashes of delightful hope
which fill the mirrors of my dreaming eyes
with visions of transformative desire.

Aching from stringent horror of the desert,
where I crawl in glare of the mocking sun
till all illusions of my grand importance
are stripped away, I find the singing stream.

What is sweet essence of this sparkling water
that collects from fragments of the silver sky
which revives animation of my soul
when I consume flashing light with my flesh?

Without water my body will dissolve
to flickering fragments of dust particles
that constitute completeness of my soul
when liquid molds them into my strange form.

I cup my hands and dip them in the stream
while kneeling on muddy shore of the river
to peer close at transparent fluid flash
which beams sharp rays of light into my eyes.

What is this fluidity of desire
which animates quick motions of my body
so I run quicker on wings of the wind
to hunt the animal I need to eat?

No matter where I go in world of forms,
exploring secret corners of its curves,
I always return to shore of the river
to drink the sunlight in the flashing water.

After The Fall Of The Gods

After The Fall Of The Gods
© Surazeus
2019 01 22

"What meaning is there to this wretched life
that could motivate me to soldier on
against strain of debilitating pain
that cripples my aggression to succeed?"

Trembling stiff from excruciating pain,
young sergeant of the army lies alone
in dim shadowy room of empty home,
staring at glow of sunlight on the wall.

"Before I joined the army after high school,
I wanted to study art and architecture
of Germany after second world war,
abstract nihilism of their bleak despair."

Strange angles of glowing light stretch sharp horror
cutting through formless shadows of desire
to illustrate nothingness of flesh hearts
that beat quickly for the taste of soft warmth.

"Jagged essence of idealistic forms
portray their dislocated sense of being
fractured by contraction of arrogance
when they were absorbed by the godless empire."

Groaning as he leans over on his side,
the young soldier, wounded in desert war
by buried bomb blasting his jeep to shreds,
tenderly grips glass of water to drink.

"Fragmented by horrors of two world wars,
German artists embraced absurdity
of haughty arrogance to erase details
of excessive decoration for straightness."

His green eyes watch through thin transparent glass
birds fluttering wings in trees billowing wide
in empty sky where airplanes fly on wings
found flapping after the fall of the gods.

Silver Music Of My Rain

Silver Music Of My Rain
© Surazeus
2019 01 22

The shadow on the kitchen table smiles
fractured elements of happiness smeared
colorful across the desolate mind
when my children disappear in the world.

I wish I could say your love anchors me
to stay connected to the flow of time
but I anchor myself through the wild sea
progressing through the spiral of each day.

I walked away from home so long ago,
never knowing if my mother cried or not,
that I now dwell far beyond vale of tears
where I played joyfully along the river.

The apple on the kitchen table hums
weird melody of carefree nonchalance
while shadowy faces dance through sunlight
to jolt my body with pleasure of death.

We always know unspoken reason why
strangers pretending to be friends take back
gifts of their hearts with gesture of contempt
when we march to protect our right to water.

From puzzle of memories I gather quickly,
I might assemble world view where I play
important role in drama of the crown
that glitters unworn in castle of ravens.

Inside crowded cities on the east coast
generous bullies in elegant suits rule
schools where new generations learn the game
of racial domination to build empire.

Away from cities controlled by bank bullies,
we ride wagons to nameless wilderness
where nothing but blue sky and rugged hills
wait to reveal wealth hidden in our shadows.

I leave behind the intense competition
for wealth and fame in vast cities of stone
to stand mute on shore of the shining lake
and taste sweet silver music of my rain.

Enormous mountain of sharp rock and ice
reflects immortal spirit of my heart
when I meditate on meaning of life
I invent to narrate my wanderings.

Moving forward through vast maze of desire
I stumble nowhere in random progression
to climb over high walls of paradise
where I now reign by accident of fate.

The sunlight on the kitchen table sings
timeless riddles that reveal how hot air
expands to fill my heart balloon with love
so I can fly to find your paradise.

Heroic Exploits Defeating Death

Heroic Exploits Defeating Death
© Surazeus
2019 01 22

The snow that never falls on southern hills
conceals strange interactions that occur
between strangers and lovers every day
in plays never recorded by machines.

Dramatic moments in history of man
flash sparks from conflict of opposing wills
when different groups fight with weapons and words
to control narrative of their success.

Before the temple of the stone-faced god
who gazes blindly at human events
people gather to proclaim their desires
and protest injustice against their cause.

The statue of the man who freed the slaves
towers above mortal humans who chant
assertion to perform their roles in life
pursuing happiness through liberty.

The sun that never shines on northern hills
reveals weird interactions that connect
strangers as lovers in game of desire
to replicate immortal soul of genes.

If we are pawns in vast chess game of power
we wonder who plays king and queen of truth
manipulating how we act each day
to maintain ritual of producing food.

I kneel in soil to tend fruit trees and herbs
that flourish in sparkles of sun and rain
which shimmer silver song in maze of homes
where children play in quiet river towns.

Empires of institutions run by gods
are built on strong backs of farmers and craftsmen
who generate goods from soil of the Earth
while greedy men fight to control that soil.

The rain that never falls on western hills
exposes lost ruins of religious cults
so seekers dig up statues of dead gods
who once enslaved our people to their will.

I stand on mountain of the laughing god
who shows me constant warfare to control
narrative for who has the right to rule,
as skulls of kings crumble in cave of shadows.

Walking everywhere across curving land,
I measure distances with marking rule
then map the contours of our seething minds
to navigate maze of opposing ideas.

The winners of endless contests for power
outwit each other in landscape maneuvers
to win the hearts of people with grand tales
of their heroic exploits defeating death.

The wind that never blows on eastern hills
buries computer towers of steel and glass
as spinning Earth consumes cities of men
to erase our grand monuments from time.

The endless winds of change sweeping the globe
will erase even the huge pyramids
by eroding atoms of sturdy hope
till all palaces of power disappear.

What ancient monuments dinosaurs built
lie buried deep under apple-lush hills
where lovers meet to make love in warm light
and teach their children how to sing new tales?

I play my part in game of terran history,
mapping human progress across the globe,
and chanting epic tales of noble heroes,
though all will vanish with the turning world.

Trophies Of Bad Luck

Trophies Of Bad Luck
© Surazeus
2019 01 21

Unfathomable world of secret ways,
crowned by starry ice of ancient tree limbs,
I long to explore your transcendent maze,
and compose with my blood on gray stones hymns
that celebrate grand hero of the hour
who waves to cheering crowds from fragile tower.

Deep in the light of your strange mysteries
where black death records trophies of bad luck
I meet lone ghost who steals obstinate keys
the dead leave scattered under rusting truck
so messenger who flies on desperate wind
explains curving arch when tree branches bend.

I am that alchemist no one could find
who brews sweet potion of fantastic faith
revealed because I might unmask my mind
to show I am that lightning-glowing wraith
who leads lost people to eternal tomb
since all life is created in her womb.

Though wakened by flashing river of truth,
I map contours of her bright silver dream
to drink at fountain of the laughing sleuth
and wander whispering along mist-veiled stream
where children play ruins of lost empires
to hear the ghost who plays harp of desires.

Prophet Of Our Civil Rights

Prophet Of Our Civil Rights
© Surazeus
2019 01 21

Why do radicals with eloquent voice,
who rise from teeming mob of working souls
to channel their aggressive hope for wealth
in revolution against faceless men,
who occupy institutions of power,
change nothing more than who executes laws?

Individuals of flesh and blood replace
other individuals in special roles
to maintain operations of production
which commission institutions to function
in perpetual motion of endless change
beyond lives and deaths of people they serve.

The vast institutions of government
are creatures acting beyond human lives
with lumbering hunger to perpetuate
obsession with performing programmed roles
to maintain production and distribution
of food that sustains lives of human souls.

We individual fools who strive for power
are fragile puppets bound by obligations
to play our small roles in immortal empire
that nourishes environment for our labor
to activate flow of products and goods
so we generate children for the state.

The pageantry of church and theater
glorify the deeds of the social hero
who first established working operation
that fuels endless life of the institution
which traps countless souls in dutiful roles
who feed off the machine that feeds off them.

America was here long before we
came from our mothers to tend her lush farms,
and America will remain here long
after we are devoured by fertile soil,
so who plays role of the presiding king
decides who eats and generates more children.

People who extract food and minerals
from soil of the Earth are conservative
while people who process in factories
packages and machines for sale in stores
they buy and sell in cities are progressive
and thus compete for pulsing flow of wealth.

The mechanics of the money machine
adjust prices and taxes to regulate
constant flow of the goods and services
that fuel churning gears of the food machine
which turn the vast wheel of fortune and fame
where everyone is ground to death at last.

We want to work and be treated like men,
exclaims the prophet of our civil rights,
for every person born from womb of mother
should play their role in the money machine,
to live and die on the wheel of desire
as America feeds on blood of love.

We are all pawns of the money machine,
slaves to vast state institutions of power
that sustain our lives on gears of production
as herds of men follow rituals of faith
to make things and buy things and consume things,
round and round in the maelstrom of desire.

Leaving the herd of the money machine,
I step forward to edge of the abyss
and gaze so long into hunger of hope
that I become the monster I debate,
so when I walk bridge of humanity
I evolve from ape to the Overman.

Returning from the waste land of desire,
chanting spells that conjure visions of love,
I rejoin the game of our nation-state
to play my role in theater of power
where I generate children of my heart
and teach them to savor life till we die.

Religions Are Racist Political Parties

Religions Are Racist Political Parties
© Surazeus
2019 01 21

Lush mellifluous overloading thoughts
gush through gaping wounds of my pulsive heart
to reflect rays of light that fracture truth
enough for me to mold with river clay
transcendent concepts of ideal importance
to comprehend fierce political games.

Shadowy ghost of Yeats through writhing trees,
that crack naked Earth to spiral toward stars,
gestures toward glass castle on misty moors
where million fairies in long flowing gowns
dance holding hands inside tall ring of stones
behind facade of our modern world empire.

The wise messiah leader of the tribe
appears each twenty years to speak weird words
enchanting minds of nations with new truth
that splinters religions into more gangs
when political parties fight for power
to follow mortal man who reigns as king.

Jews wait for son of David to appear
while Christians claim Jesus was that messiah
then Muhammad starts desert dynasty
while Meroveus reigns over German tribes
and sons of Henry rule America,
all dynasties sprouting from first King Adam.

I reject all sons of Adam as King
and declare myself Messiah of Nowhere
so I rule scope of land where I perceive
concepts of ideas embodied in people
who walk with me beside the ancient river
to tend apples we eat at the Round Table.

Religions are racist political parties
that deify sons of Adam as gods
who alone claim divine right to rule nations
so we elect his sons every four years
who wield nuclear missiles as shining sword
of holy law forged from Excalibur.

I want to vote for the Star Queen Ishtar,
whose black eyes reflect the sacred White Whole
when she dances on rooftop of the world
and dares defy the greedy Lion King
to protect the rights of the common people
and provides universal health care for all.

Will she at last break strong monopoly
the sons of Adam and Jesus maintain
to wield bright scepter of authority
as Mother of Humanity who gives
ripe apples from the Tree of Life to all
who share love in United Nations of Earth?

So Their Faces Glow Clear

So Their Faces Glow Clear
© Surazeus
2019 01 20

Red moon of ancient secrets no one knows
reveals through aching fingers of mute trees
what anguish we conceal in wounded hearts
that cannot be healed by obsessive words.

We step outside our warm house after dark
on cool winter evening in Georgia hills
to watch the blood red moon in purple sky
illuminate truth in shadows of death.

How strange we can contain wild seething flow
of passionate desire trapped in our hearts
to swirl in maelstrom of pulsing pretense
which animates quick progress past our fate.

Without communities of faithful friends
who aid each other in times of dire need
we would wander lost in harsh wilderness,
hunted by monsters of our unleashed fears.

Though everyone I loved has disappeared
from flashing flow of dream time in blank death,
they still live preserved in old photographs
which I review so their faces glow clear.

Features of their faces, touch of their hands,
melodious timbre of their spoken words,
all fade now from bright memory of their souls
as if they never existed in form.

Now silent rays of moonlight resonate
wide spirals through thick matrix of my heart
to bind my being tighter in fragile form
of flesh-soft body which conjures my soul.

I vanished long ago from memories
of people who knew me when my real name
still bound me to home where my mother sings
because I travel far to escape them.

I miss the quiet life of our small town
when every person would perform their role
through productive interaction of hope
to keep each other alive with plain love.

Yet all the players pass from crowded stage
where strangers now play their own private games
so I dwell alone in dark silent house
where laughter of my children echoes still.

Norwegian Forest Cat with glowing eyes
bright as the moon still shining through frail trees
sits at our feet and swishes fluffy tail
while we contemplate the indifferent world.

Flashing light of our boundless universe
beams through crack of the wound in my heart,
illuminating timeless world of dreams
that arches lightning between our two minds.

Keeper Of The Sacred Pipe

Keeper Of The Sacred Pipe
© Surazeus
2019 01 20

Marching before Lincoln Memorial,
Nathan Phillips, Elder of Omaha,
inspired by spirit of his wife Shoshana,
beats drum and chants the Spell of the Crow Fair
to lead his people in song of the Earth
that vibrates clear from land of Onatah.

Chanting, "We are the Spirit of the Earth,"
the Keeper of the Sacred Pipe stands tall
before the man who broke the chains of slaves,
and calls for equal rights of every human
who shares this country sea to shining sea,
together on our land of Onatah.

Gazing beyond time at the pure White Whole,
the strong warrior who fought in Vietnam
and Water Protector at Standing Rock,
leads the people of his heart to proclaim,
"We all dance together in sacred hills,
one human tribe on land of Onatah."

Gang of young Anglo boys wearing red hats,
that read Make America Great Again,
surround the Native American Elder
and chant enraged, "Build the wall! Build the wall!"
but he faces them with calm dignity,
wise Love Wizard for land of Onatah.

Standing before people of America,
Nathan says, "I sing for freedom of all,
though they shouted in my face, Build the wall,
for my people lived here ten thousand years
on sacred land with no prisons or walls,
united tribes on land of Onatah."

Spreading both hands to Eternal Blue Sky,
the Keeper of the Sacred Pipe proclaims,
"We take care of our elders and our children,
so I wish I could see energy of boys
channeled into making our country great,
for we all share this land of Onatah."

The angry boys who try to build high wall
enclosing sacred fields of Wakanta
flee into the shadows of their dark fears
while honest people of America
hold hands and follow Nathan in new prayer
to protect our shared land of Onatah.

Marching before Lincoln Memorial,
Nathan Phillips, Elder of Omaha,
inspired by spirit of his wife Shoshana,
beats drum and chants the Spell of the Crow Fair
to lead his people in song of the Earth
that vibrates clear from land of Onatah.