Hunger Of The World

Hunger Of The World
© Surazeus
2022 01 31

Too slow for wingless angels to perceive 
the indifferent rain that falls from blank sky 
cares nothing for the anguish in my heart 
so though I lie decrepit on the Earth 
abused by mindless hunger of the world 
I rise again to walk the road past death. 

Reluctant sorrow of the burning tree 
leads me to valley of the singing skull 
where the Great Mother on the throne of gold 
laughs with delight for pain we must endure 
strengthens our hearts with arrogant disdain 
against indifferent hunger of the world. 

The mountain mother in dark cave of dreams 
calls me to climb winding trail to the stars 
so I stretch out my hand to take the prize 
that shimmers just beyond reach of my mind 
till I fall wingless to the rocky shore 
where I fight against hunger of the world. 

The shining armor of ambitious pride 
I wear to fight against monster of hate 
conceals fragile body of my fierce soul 
while I search vast mountain for cave of dreams 
but I wander with hunger of the world 
on the signless road that leads me nowhere. 

Inspired by disdain of the faceless god 
embodied by the idol no one sees 
I organize lost people in communes 
who help each other grow food to survive 
against indifferent hunger of the world 
that fuels my mind to design new machines. 

After gathering seeds from apples I eat 
I plant trees in rows on the river shore 
that flourish from brain of the demon corpse 
to bloom with apples more red than the moon 
which gives me strength of angel wings to fight 
futile war against hunger of the world. 

We clutch dollar bills that fall from blank sky 
in desperate bid to become billionaires 
imprisoned in safe walls of paradise 
while we play game of chess against blind death 
who laughs with old rhythm of ocean waves 
in harmony with hunger of the world. 

Constrained by twisted syntax of blind faith 
to believe humans can transcend desire 
and focus energy on building hope 
I leap the bridgeless abyss of my heart 
to comprehend fierce hunger of the world 
that inspires me to recreate myself. 

Illusions Of The Faith

Illusions Of The Faith
© Surazeus
2022 01 31

The timeless mode of being we contemplate 
while sitting by stream that forever flows 
provides strict guidance for evading death 
so long as we dance in cool sparkling rain 
for every child born when the moonlight wanes 
can see beyond illusions of the faith. 

The stringent sadness of strategic love 
precise as madness of exacting hope 
exposes truth about desires we hide 
too strange for blind seers by the fire to speak 
though every angel falling from glow cloud 
tries to see through illusions of the faith. 

The ardent ecstasy of joyous fear 
that energizes our demented dance 
ignites conceptual wisdom of my mind 
to mirror mask of mirth my mother makes 
so I wear face of god no eye can see 
reflecting false illusions of the faith. 

The pungent passion of the armored man 
who fights demonic monster of his lust 
erupts from words of blood in ancient books 
embodied as Medusa with star eyes 
whose gaze excites desire to rule the world 
exploiting bold illusions of the faith. 

The psychic code of arrogant androids 
we weave in programs guiding how we act 
conceals strict social rules in twisting nerves 
so we assert dictation of our will 
forcing vision of peaceful paradise 
that surpasses illusions of the faith. 

The changing pattern of the ideal form 
designed by architect of mental states 
defines new paradigm for our world view 
presenting seeker as the noble soul 
who dares defy blind monster of the cave 
enchanting weird illusions of the faith. 

The proud prestige of privilege we wield 
as sword of authority through debates 
supports systemic power of legal rights 
employed by vampires to enslave meek souls 
who pray for salvation to empty skies 
which vaporize illusions of the faith. 

The divine mode of being we demonstrate 
while walking signless road to paradise 
promotes performance of the prophet bard 
who stabs out his eyes with the raven quill 
so he can see nameless ghosts of lost lovers 
still projecting illusions of the faith. 

Mirror Of Discarded Myths

Mirror Of Discarded Myths
© Surazeus
2022 01 30

I walk dark labyrinth of your broken idols 
to stare in mirror of discarded myths 
at faces of heroes dead gods once wore 
so through the swirling mist of cultural lies 
I might see true face of my mortal soul 
designed by passion of immortal genes. 

I see face of Amun in mirror eye 
so I mold chthonian swirl of river muck 
in bricks I bake to build high pyramid 
where Amen gives bread of life to each soul 
then sings creation of the universe 
to generate new body from soul seed. 

I see face of Adam in mirror eye 
so I organize apple trees in rows 
after killing serpents in garden walls 
where Eve brews mushroom cider in a cauldron 
then tempts me with pleasure of sensual love 
to generate new body from soul seed. 

I see face of Shamash in mirror eye 
so I carve visions with letters on tablets 
recording how light dispels fear of death 
where Ishtar teaches me how to name truth 
then gives me trident for roasting sea monsters 
to generate new body from soul seed. 

I see face of Shiva in mirror eye 
so I meditate on swirl-spark of atoms 
while floating over Sagarmatha peak 
where Parvati tames lion of my lust 
then gives me Diamond of Eternity 
to generate new body from soul seed. 

I see face of Pangu in mirror eye 
so I chisel Earth from atomic rocks 
while holding Egg of Immortality 
where Nuwa molds my brain from pulsing sponge 
then smelts jewels constructing hall of time 
to generate new body from soul seed. 

I see face of Mithra in mirror eye 
so I wrestle bull of power with horns 
while soaring on silk cape around the globe 
where Anahita rules Cave of Illusions 
then regulates flow of Flying Horse Fountain 
to generate new body from soul seed. 

I see face of Helius in mirror eye 
so I tend flocks of sheep on flower meadows 
while strumming lyre to praise Elysium 
where Gaia tends apples in Tree of Life 
then loads baskets in wagon of four wheels 
to generate new body from soul seed. 

I see face of Odin in mirror eye 
so I wrestle serpent in Tree of Dreams 
while carving runes of thoughts on dragon skull 
where Freya pours mead at Valhalla feast 
then gives me sword so I guard Family Tree 
to generate new body from soul seed. 

I walk dark labyrinth full of broken skulls 
where my dead ancestors sing through my brain 
so I compose epic poem with my blood 
that shimmers in verse on cathedral walls 
where Deathless Mother with ten thousand eyes 
generates new body from my soul seed. 

World Of Upside Down

World Of Upside Down
© Surazeus
2022 01 29

This is the day to remain silent for 
since children remember the ones who die 
though nameless ghosts linger on the sea shore 
talking to the angry face in the sky 
who drenches us in sorrow of cold rain 
so we shiver in agony from pain. 

No one but wind in trees remembers why 
the faceless woman weeping in the door 
would never disenchant the hope to try 
if love wanders helpless to search for more 
since only ghost in the pool could atone 
for shattering illusion of the shocked stone. 

The boy in the windowless room explains 
how to arrange puzzle of thoughts we share 
long after the contemptuous moon wanes 
at smearing of paint on the broken stair 
to prove nothing which is hidden in books 
can heal the heart destroyed by silent looks. 

The girl in the shadowless grove of fear 
refuses to interpret blood-stained runes 
carved on glass wall of the time-twisting sphere 
so she erases truth with strange cartoons 
that narrate weird life of the trickster fox 
who redefines nature with melting clocks. 

The old man who falls asleep at his desk 
considers the laughter of children in parks 
who rejoice in humor of quaint burlesque 
performed on stage of undulating quarks 
to imitate style of the faceless clown 
who plays God in the world of upside down. 

The old woman whose brain sparks soul fireworks 
appears on pyramid with goddess mask 
to chant prophecies recorded by clerks 
who party all night at the raucous masque 
since only fools resist the urge to howl 
at second coming of the star-eyed owl. 

Sweet bitter lust of pungent cigar smoke 
replaces angst of desire blind gods express 
when brave messiah of the newly woke 
pressures powerful people to confess 
that eyes of the camera strip naked souls 
to mock assumed privilege of royal roles. 

This is the day to attend cosmic shows 
that unravel state of power by the lake 
from which first mother of mankind once rose 
to prepare with sorrow the chocolate cake 
since great empires collapse with ringing bells 
when murdered girls crawl from demonic wells. 

Though Weeping Seraphim

Though Weeping Seraphim
© Surazeus
2022 01 28

Reluctant wisdom of the laughing tree 
enlightens pompous minds of clever fools 
who claim the principle of living free 
is based on building engines with glass tools 
though weeping Seraphim with flaming swords 
worship blind actress on highway billboards. 

Orpheus stands on busy street at night 
to play grunge folk songs on rusty guitar 
while lost girl in halo of the street light 
dances awake as spirit of Ishtar 
though weeping Seraphim with broken clocks 
release crippled demons from river rocks. 

To follow my shadow in maze of dreams 
and find the fountain of the lemon tree 
I leap cryptic abyss of puzzling streams 
so I can steal the invisible key 
though weeping Seraphim with pulsing brains 
compose concertos from cereal grains. 

When I gaze in mirror of my blank face 
I see complete face of the universe 
who appears as woman of modest grace 
dressed in skirt and blouse with demonic purse 
though weeping Seraphim with ringing phones 
erect rainbow bridge between cosmic zones. 

While lovers in fruit grove on Grecian urn 
will almost kiss for all eternity 
they never reach the point of no return 
in flashing black hole of fertility 
though weeping Seraphim with melting snow 
search for lush meadow where apple trees grow. 

Sweet melodies of sensual arrogance 
ring soft unheard in forest of mute trees 
for beauty translates fear to elegance 
in stern traditions of sad honeybees 
though weeping Seraphim with spinning globes 
wear bones and jewels on long black silk robes. 

Strange faces seen in windows of bookstores 
glow bright as arcane names of serious ghosts 
who cannot understand secret of doors 
that stand alone on distant rocky coasts 
though weeping Seraphim with soaring boats 
analyze how the common person votes. 

New puzzle of the Attic attitude 
that breeds wild children from the marble god 
programs weird code for active rectitude 
when we choose to join the pastoral squad 
though weeping Seraphim with teeming horns 
connect sad hearts of girls with unicorns. 

Away From Myself

Away From Myself
© Surazeus
2022 01 27

Away from everything, into blind light, 
without memories that cause me the most pain, 
somewhere I can avoid the constant fight, 
nameless and faceless in perpetual rain, 
hidden from anger, and concealed from greed, 
focused on nothing but planting the seed. 

Away from dark shadow in the bright door, 
staring forever at the photograph, 
eager to escape the past, no more 
to share the innocent and cheerful laugh, 
always alone with mute wind in the field, 
because only silence could be my shield. 

Away from anguish of the mocking sneer, 
to run forever toward the shining lake, 
or play piano and forget the fear, 
yet wipe away tears as I eat the cake, 
though when I ponder silver of the sky 
I cannot understand my reason why. 

Away from myself, lost in moonless night, 
clutching sad memories that bleed from my heart, 
or maybe I can never do it right, 
hesitant to choose, it all falls apart, 
since I never know any other way, 
because nothing happens after I pray. 

Away from you, the person I love most, 
numb from ache to hold you, I run back home, 
paralyzed in room of the mouthless ghost, 
dizzy from striking of the metronome, 
however deep I may drown in your eyes 
because I vanish in shock of blank skies. 

Away from broken sorrow, dreamless, mute, 
unable to collect shards of my soul, 
shattered into fragments, what eerie flute 
shreds fragile veil of happiness I stole 
from someone who forgot me long ago, 
yet still I stand wordless in swirling snow. 

Away from illusion of the once real, 
trapped in forever loop of fruitless hope, 
ground down by wheel of fate I cannot feel, 
battered by indifferent wind, this harsh joke 
that always knocks me down with careless glee, 
yet wander nowhere by the singing sea. 

Away from stark epiphany of truth, 
too lost in doorless maze of paradise 
to rest in safety, twisted by the ruth 
that rips me open with harsh griefless price, 
yet every time I run away from you 
you catch me in your arms, if love be true. 

Marry Lady Luck

Marry Lady Luck
© Surazeus
2022 01 26

When I return to Seriphus at dawn 
to crown Medusa Queen of Neverland 
I carve face of my father from white stone 
based on vague memory fading from my mind 
because my mother molds my soul from muck 
though I forge ring to marry Lady Luck. 

Admiring idols that present dead gods, 
I stroll through mirror maze of Babylon 
where Mithra mediates partisan feuds 
till war refugees journey in wagon train 
because Hercules drives delivery truck 
when I steal books to marry Lady Luck. 

When I feel tug of umbilical cord 
that binds serpentine spirit of my breast 
to pulsing solar heart of Mother Bird 
I host the grand Saturnalian feast 
since our ancestral angel is moonstruck 
if I ring bells to marry Lady Luck. 

Gathered around Umbilicus of Rome 
to share ripe fruit with everyone we love, 
we participate in the empire game 
that originates in the word-dream cave 
where Medusa finds roses to pluck 
while I brew juice to marry Lady Luck. 

When Minerva finds harp of Arion 
broken on shore of bright Verkana Sea 
she keeps my singing skull on Helicon 
to prophesy progression of the key 
concealed by riddle of the Laughing Snake 
though I code spells to marry Lady Luck. 

Escaping Parnassus to find the Grail, 
I wander west over mountains and seas 
to visit churches where I play weird role 
as daughter of Orpheus in disguise 
which proves our messiah sleuth is not fake 
when I sell myths to marry Lady Luck. 

Awake on Takoma, Mountain of Truth, 
I listen to my Muse sing in snow wind 
till I transcend myself as glowing wraith 
which emanates new me from ancient mind 
programmed by First Mother in Eye-Star Lake 
if I weave wings to marry Lady Luck. 

When I explore Seriphus with my bride, 
Medusa who preserves my spirit name, 
I translate song of rain to secret code 
so we dwell safe forever in our home, 
reading stories and eating nectar cake 
while I write poems to marry Lady Luck. 

Weird Winter Noons

Weird Winter Noons
© Surazeus
2022 01 25

Against sweet wickedness of silent hope 
we drink electric rain of nothing real 
to taste beloved ruins no one builds 
concealed in bland dominion we avoid 
because we always know pathetic wish 
erases meaning we gamble to lose. 

Far less that we intend to wake from dream 
we still must diagnose how sounds escape 
fake colors our hands smear across steel sky 
through godlike consciousness we choose to sell 
for neural flashes washed by shocking truth 
that alters love we never could recall. 

Each sea that disappears in tears of gods 
hauls naked monster my mute soul rebirths 
from seething mystery rhymed by hungry waves 
past fraught impediments from marriage torn 
since I want now and always to share feast 
with nameless ghost of you who haunts my now. 

Rosebud mouth of hunger I must become 
at feral roar too sweet to qualify 
lights bilious surfeit more wretched than lust 
when I drink milk that flows from pungent Earth 
at surging tide of dream from rancid pool 
deep as abyss that seethes my hollow heart. 

Beneath insomniac glare of city towers 
with wretched hope of screaming siren spells 
we share mute glances blinded by house dust 
of stern possession docile as fierce owl 
who understands my heart-contorting awe 
that I transcend familiar foreign me. 

Despite this gentle anguish we still smell 
long scented sour as rotting plums of faith 
we follow taut tomato vines beyond 
abyss of loneness through weird winter noons 
too scared to name indifferent beast we love 
when cows inside school classrooms laugh at death. 

We walk barefoot on signless road of coals 
halfway through waste land vast as nothingness 
with eyeless wind that lingers in tall grass 
though we know why the caged bird never sings 
narrower than oceans inside my heart 
where wingless angels drown in glowing words. 

Glamour of thoughts concealed by shell of words 
reveals where Remus waits for his first love 
though she creates my body from soft clay 
to prove sea slime still animates my brain 
that spirals ten thousand possible clouds 
which might reflect the face I give to you. 

Outwit The Blind Clown

Outwit The Blind Clown
© Surazeus
2022 01 25

Soft whisper of flowers in evening breeze 
clangs loud against my skull with dissonance 
of honest words that no fool wants to hear, 
yet I still try to open every door 
in the world with the one key of star light, 
too late to measure the vanishing waves. 

Backward flowing of chairs too stiff to bend 
with supple wind of words we never speak 
roils between flash of thought and silent hope, 
yet I still try to climb every fruit tree 
to steal the apple from serpent of death 
that would reprogram how I wish to think. 

Alone on park bench by polluted stream, 
with only nameless ghosts for company, 
I listen to music on the eye-phone 
that translates horror of Paradise Lost 
to heart-breaking ballads about first love 
that cannot be washed away in spring rain. 

Too stupid to calculate the chess move 
I could have made to outwit the blind clown, 
I wait outside the library in red rain 
for Cinderella wearing yellow dress 
though she was murdered seven years ago 
while walking home from college late at night. 

Since we can feast on every holiday 
with friends and family in the cozy home, 
I prefer to count snowflakes in moonlight 
to remember why every soul must die, 
though I would imagine eternity 
before and after brief flame of my life. 

I would rather watch television shows 
than be involved in drama of your life, 
heart trapped in toxic codependency, 
because I am addicted to desire 
through fraught logic of sociology 
that keeps me wound in hell loop of despair. 

We walk along green river in stark light 
where invisible alligators lurk 
to leap through shadow door of courtesy, 
erased by darkness visible of faith, 
but few expect inquisition of bells 
to reshape world view of wise atheists. 

Enabled by bold self-esteem of birds, 
I walk over large white stones smoothed by flow 
of bitter tears that angels weep at dawn, 
confused by specious articles of why 
prophets analyze cause of each world war, 
yet I wait outside the library hall. 

No Shadow Remembers

No Shadow Remembers
© Surazeus
2022 01 24

No shadow remembers shape of the door 
that hides infinity of nothing new. 
We give each other what we want in turn 
however much it costs in terms of truth 
because we fear the falling of the rain. 
I wear the mask of sadness I create. 

Clara washes dishes in the back room 
while pretty girls get diamonds from rich boys. 
Clutching basket of apples to her breast, 
she rides the bus two hours to her home 
where she studies accounting till she sleeps. 
Leaves fall in the park where she never plays. 

Darrin programs computers with weird code 
that manipulates the meaning of time. 
Playing video games on the giant screen, 
he lounges on roof of apartment tower 
where eyeless angels writhe in ecstasy. 
Clouds spiral over shining city maze. 

Clara runs to library late at night 
to escape men chasing her in the wind. 
Darrin challenges the men to a fight 
then buys her supper in the quaint cafe 
so they laugh as they share stories of life. 
The handless demon plays jazz on piano. 

People attending art gallery show 
view paintings of angels bleeding in rain. 
Clara in mink fur coat and diamond tiara 
walks with Darrin among elegant guests 
who praise beautiful terror of his art. 
Wings torn from her heart flap fishly in gloom. 

Too beautiful for sorrow of this world, 
Clara wanders pregnant in misty woods. 
After giving birth to a wingless angel, 
she bleeds to death on the hill of white snow, 
surrounded by white wolves with sea-blue eyes. 
The new-born girl suckles milk from the sun. 

Darrin teaches his daughter how to sing 
hymns in harmony with the flashing rain. 
Richard grills burgers at the country bar 
while Cathy plays guitar on smoky stage 
and sings about the boy with wolfish eyes. 
The owl with golden eyes watches it all. 

Cathy and Richard hike the winding trail 
in rugged foothills around Mount Rainier. 
Sipping hot chocolate on high mountain slope, 
they watch stars twinkle in the Milky Way, 
wondering which ones burned out ages ago. 
Two frail shadows glow on the mountain top. 

Wolf Sea Scrolls

Wolf Sea Scrolls
© Surazeus
2022 01 24

Because we humans know that we will die 
and disappear through all eternity 
we mold soft clay of rivers into bowls 
so we can analyze how swift birds fly 
that might predict thought of modernity 
where free people invent their own life roles. 

Though whispers of the trees may not show how 
we choose kind words we speak most carefully 
the devil watches us from shadowed wells 
when he demands we each fulfill our vow 
to honor program we code artfully 
at melancholy ringing of church bells. 

Because I choose to map the ancient way 
my dead ancestors followed wordlessly 
I search for truth at placid waterfalls 
that flow in grottoes where blind angels pray 
to dream how atoms spiral ceaselessly 
by always swirling into gaseous balls. 

Since wingless angel tricks me with her ploy 
to teach me honest tricks of courtesy 
I sell insurance of ennui to fools 
always too eager to purchase fake joy 
invested in success of argosy 
that sails to town where weeping kings make tools. 

Because my sorrow leaves no tracks in snow 
I build Heaven with mental circuitry 
to design world empire with psychic tales 
based on prophecy of the scarlet crow 
who crowns me master of dream carpentry 
valued by gold coins that glitter in scales. 

Alone in valley of the apple tree 
where wild children eat fruit of sanity 
I discuss philosophy with moon owls 
who teach me how to forge atomic key 
that cleanses aching hearts with comedy 
so we dance by the lake where the wolf howls. 

Because messiah sleuth designs the clue 
that guides me to dark cave of honesty 
I compose new scripture of social rules 
to program story code for weird world view 
that praises search for truth with modesty 
recording evolution in brain jewels. 

Awake on signless road to Zarthamaw 
as wily wizard on my odyssey 
I dream memories of my ancestral souls 
who appear in every picture I draw 
to structure concepts through ontology 
concealed as riddles in the Wolf Sea Scrolls. 

Tragic Tale Of Life

Tragic Tale Of Life
© Surazeus
2022 01 23

Some Sunday afternoons I like to lie 
on sofa in the living room and stare 
at thin motionless trees in the backyard, 
lit scarlet by eerie winter sunlight, 
to ponder why the courage to endure 
pain of suffering is beautiful to watch. 

I rise to my feet on this spinning globe 
to breathe immortal spirit of fresh air, 
then walk the signless road to Evermore 
ten thousand miles to far end of the world, 
and visit graves where my ancestors lie 
staring forever at stars in the sky. 

The man and the woman of every clan, 
from the small tribe in the circle of stones 
to the vast empire in the palace hall, 
contest for control through struggle for power 
in romantic drama to create life 
which everyone else in the state observes. 

Some couples succeed in sweet comedy 
to marry and raise children they create, 
but some couples fail in sour tragedy 
to misunderstand and kill or be killed, 
while we watch them play their roles on the stage 
with joy or sorrow at end of their tales. 

Long after their bodies crumble to dust 
storytellers record their names and deeds 
in ballads, legends, epics, plays, and novels 
that preserve sorrow of their tragedy 
with dramatic scenes of dynamic action 
which figures nature of their character. 

The glamorous idol of their timeless soul 
attains eternal life through character 
signified by description of their name 
which emanates their spirit from the word 
that preserves complex matrix of their being 
as masked persona of the ideal trope. 

Depicting courage of the human heart, 
which motivates the average human being 
who faces trauma from destructive force 
by overcoming obstacles of fear, 
the greatest storytellers in the world 
narrate stark beauty of heart-breaking sorrow. 

I want to record tragic tale of life 
for every human being who ever lived 
so we can read the stories of their names 
and honor memory of their fleeting lives 
for tragic suffering of the human soul 
inspires us who watch to endure our grief. 

Beauty Through Tragic Suffering

Beauty Through Tragic Suffering
© Surazeus
2022 01 23

The cheerless tweeting of birds in bare trees 
removes sweet shimmer of the autumn breeze 
that swells with rich increase of fruitful faith 
though absence haunts me with your eyeless wraith 
from wanton burden of primal desire 
when we huddle around the crackling fire. 

As we lament lost pleasures of lush spring 
at anguished sorrow of the flapping wing 
Saturnus laughs and leaps in gusting wind 
to cheer our hearts that only fruit can mend, 
so for one hour the bleak sun glows blood red 
in scarlet halo around his hoar head. 

Through endless flashing of cold winter days 
I float in numbing pain of hungry haze 
as faces that glowed orange around hot blaze 
freeze into soulless masks of silver glaze 
yet still I wander weeping in mute daze 
on quest to map way free from doorless maze. 

No roses bloom on tangled thorny vines 
that veil dark entrance to rich diamond mines 
where I seek Eye of Whole Eternity 
revealing key to forge posterity 
with ringing hammer of aggressive hope 
my mind could soon transcend its global scope. 

With graceful wantonness of gentle sport 
we play chess games of power in castle court 
to prove who best can cultivate lush fields 
and who wins contest of love when she yields 
as we compete to generate more souls 
whose fierce ambition might fulfill our goals. 

When Phoebus rides from court on snow-white horse 
he finds Saturnus by frozen stream course 
cradling half-starved daughter in trembling arms 
whose ice-blue eyes gleam with innocent charms, 
so he bears Scotia to warm castle room 
where she wakes to his smile in rosy gloom. 

One thousand years later in our strange world 
their spirits generate the cosmic herald 
who drives to work as social analyst 
to study where Adam and Eve first kissed 
in Almaty Mountains of Scythia 
while he weeps in grove of forsythia. 

The cheerful howl of wolves in city streets 
who dance in shady parks to engine beats 
inspires my heart with coming of the spring 
to join world social media choir and sing 
about courage of the frail human being 
who finds beauty through tragic suffering. 

Summer Trip To Terzell

Summer Trip To Terzell
© Surazeus
2022 01 22

After we buy mochas and coffee cake 
at the Blind Elf Cafe on Rilke Lane, 
we stroll quaint medieval streets of Terzell, 
nestled in lush Sarmatian Mountain dale, 
then sit on sidewalk by Verkana Hall 
where Shostakovich plays Strawberry Fields. 

So we walk down to the Styx River shore, 
where Lucifer sits in the oak-wood boat 
with the diamond-tipped scepter in his hand, 
to buy Rosemaries, Pansies, and Violets 
from Ophelia who dances in white gown 
while tripping on liberty cap mushrooms. 

Twirling around the breeze-blown willow tree, 
Ophelia recites arcane poetry 
with ghost voice of Emily Dickinson 
that transforms guns in hands of warriors 
into typewriters singing in the choir 
of alligators who wear jeweled crowns. 

When Dracula returns from Wonderland 
to marry Cinderella in Versailles, 
we join the party in Neuschwanstein Castle 
where Mozart with wings of the Cockatrice 
plays requiem on the dragon-bone flute 
while Idunn gives apples to every guest. 

Because Orpheus tries to kiss Idunn 
after she hides behind the Laurel tree, 
Bragi threatens to punch him in the face, 
but Eurydice walks through the time zone 
to assassinate the blue Lizard King 
before he can exterminate the Elves. 

Sipping Dragon Brain Wine from Holy Grail, 
Ophelia dances in Fountain of Youth 
while ghosts of kings and queens applaud her style 
rejecting profit of social restraint 
to replace privilege of monarchy 
with Dionysian rites of democracy. 

While eerie red glow of the sunset burns 
above the gabled rooftops of Terzell, 
we finish eating our delicious cake, 
then linger before Cathedral of Ishtar 
and pledge to meet again in fifty years 
by the apple tree where Pan plays sad pipes. 

Yet after all our fun in Faerie Land, 
dancing by moonlight in Strawberry Fields, 
we return to daylight of Rilke Lane, 
where people drive to office towers in cars, 
to sort through photos of our summer trip 
that show us posing with Angel of Death. 

Idea Of Me

Idea Of Me
© Surazeus
2022 01 21

When a tree falls in the forest of dreams 
its motion causes vibrations of waves 
to ripple the air with anguish of hope 
which organic creatures with hungry brains 
will perceive as song of angels in wind 
who translate despair of my cry to joy. 

When eyeless angel falls from the Glow Cloud 
I run ten thousand miles of treeless hills 
across bleak waste land of the naked truth 
to catch her fragile spirit in my arms, 
then wrap her safe in haven of my heart 
so I can heal her sorrow with my love. 

When blind spirit of my body divides 
from idol of my original mind 
to replicate its form ten thousand times 
in doppelgangers who mirror my face 
I journey far from cave where I was born 
to live in every valley of the Earth. 

When children born from seed of my desire 
emerge from muddy lake of liquid chaos 
they follow footsteps of my ancient quest 
to find deep abyss where the glorious sun 
is born from fluid concept of pure light 
till we arrive at far edge of the world. 

When each new generation of my soul 
transforms from egg-mind into child of faith, 
sparked by immortal seed of eager hope, 
I walk forward another thousand miles 
till signless road of my quest for the truth 
is littered with skulls of all my past lives. 

When you hear me call you across vast time 
on thought-crackling wires of the telephone, 
that weaves our aching hearts with lonely love, 
not even deep abyss of the Grand Canyon 
could keep us from embracing by the tree 
where we eat apples we steal from the snake. 

When I step into the swift river flow 
to stand in silver shimmer of pure joy 
I perceive perpetual progress of change 
that realigns force of the universe 
in seething structure of atomic waves 
which surge in swirling tides of cosmic lust. 

When I dive into soulful Sea of Dreams 
and swim deep in fertile womb of the Earth 
I search for Holy Grail of soul rebirth 
that shines in diamond of immortal genes 
where Idea of Me persists as God 
that pulses in galaxy of my brain. 

Born From The Wild Sea

Born From The Wild Sea
© Surazeus
2022 01 20

Gold strangeness of the rainy afternoon 
conceals pain of the woman in the dirt, 
shocked at aggressive hatred of the man 
who kicks her thighs with shiny polished shoes, 
and weeps as his reflection in the puddle 
recedes into sharp sorrow of lost love. 

Inspiring cold wind of stark solitude, 
the woman with long hair and piercing eyes 
rises up from the ground on unseen wings, 
wipes dirt from her black skirt and frilly blouse, 
then walks in timeless darkness of the night, 
black high heel shoes splashing puddles of sorrow. 

Fragile as new-born fawn on wobbly legs, 
Christina walks along hard asphalt road 
past red brick churches, factories, and banks, 
then, after pausing under street lamp beam, 
she plunges into forest of oak trees, 
pushing past shadows to the river shore. 

Skin gleaming silver in light of the moon, 
Christina stares at the quick river flow, 
then kicking off her shoes onto the beach, 
and stripping off tight skirt and frilly blouse, 
she releases fluid flesh of her body 
to stand unmasked and naked in bright gloom. 

Unbound by costume of her social role, 
the woman, who forgets her family name, 
crouches down to Earth like a supple cat 
and glides into the sparkling river flow 
to melt into cold liquid of the night, 
becoming gleam of moonlight on black water. 

Expressing anguish of her broken heart 
while she swims in the river of moonlight, 
Christina sings soul-piercing elegy 
of fierce frustration from fraught agony 
through siren song of lust to create life 
as her soul expands to become the world. 

Emerging from dark gleam of river flow, 
the woman with tangled hair and black eyes 
rises from strange liquidity of time, 
dark red skin glowing in silver moonlight, 
then ululates fierce passion of desire 
as she dresses and struts back into town. 

Sitting at round table in book cafe, 
Christina ruffles long black tangled hair, 
but stares surprised when a man with wolf eyes 
sets large white cup with coffee and mint cream, 
so she sips as he reads his poem of love 
about the woman born from the wild sea. 

Vision Of My Brain Soul

Vision Of My Brain Soul
© Surazeus
2022 01 20

Forgetful fraction of the fortitude 
we hope to employ when we face the day 
provides another puzzle piece to place 
that constitutes public persona face 
we present when we practice to portray 
this stranger who insists we play their role. 

Regretful reason of the platitude 
we display to shield our vulnerable hearts 
conceals aggressive intention to win 
competition to control how we live 
by navigating riddles of star charts 
each time we readjust our living goal. 

Powerful patience of the attitude 
we fear to speak in congress of the proud 
endangers safety of the marginal 
who refuse to accept the ordinal 
when social rules define successful crowd 
for individuals escaping the whole. 

Grateful gloominess of the certitude 
we study to comprehend complete truth 
teaches curious minds to follow the clues 
hidden as red thread in buzz of the news 
so we see life of the messiah sleuth 
recorded on the legendary scroll. 

Unlawful urgency of the fact feud 
we unravel to rewire program code 
adjusts world view we assemble from lies 
about Faceless Mind watching from blank skies 
so I walk nowhere on the signless road 
to chant spells in glow of the ozone hole. 

Dreadful dandyism of the blind clown 
we watch perform on television screen 
hypnotizes our eyes with dazzling gleam 
that we can win the American Dream 
as part of the food-production machine 
managed by cash kings in Central Control. 

Colorful candor of the Thought Police 
we resist to express taboo desires 
entraps our hearts in mistakes of the past 
as we run world maze that stretches too vast 
for us to escape from their groupthink choirs 
stuck in myths sold by the bibliopole. 

Delightful daring of the multitude 
we join to find salvation on the hill 
inspires our quest to steal the Holy Grail 
buried under the tree in misty vale 
where I first discover Word of my Will 
which animates vision of my brain soul. 

Miscarriage Of The Brain

Miscarriage Of The Brain
© Surazeus
2022 01 19

Bleak obligation of the burning book 
requires the wingless angel comprehend 
how the white whale can delicately dance 
between contradictions of social rules 
according to providence of the stance 
lost souls must make when weeping by the brook. 

Bland correlation between truth and lies 
constrained by pure ambition realized 
provides enough space for racial respect 
though terror trades our honest arrogance 
for peaceful prudence no one purchases 
except blind leader of the global spies. 

Reluctant romance between naked fools 
explodes conceptual brains of migrant souls 
who seek salvation of the pristine kind 
in television shows that reveal why 
cultural traditions blind us to the truth 
only smirking devils have learned in schools. 

Extracted names of long dead prostitutes 
label shy shamans with no characters 
with fluid stereotypes no seer accepts 
since gamers revolutionize world wars 
through purchase of fake cryptocurrency 
while eagles circle angels who play flutes. 

Subject to investigation by priests 
who fear absolute agency of queens 
we decide to never talk about how 
miscarriage of the brain reveals the face 
Minerva wears to the debutante ball 
since the Minotaur presides over feasts. 

Alone in Duino Castle with the ghost 
who cries out to blind angels in storm wind, 
I drink wine from skulls of demons who think 
I am messiah sleuth the world awaits 
but I must turn off the living room light 
if I want to play the welcoming host. 

So when sweet Edna clutches my right hand 
I run with her among bare apple trees 
still wet with morning dew of silver eyes 
to kiss forever in gold sparkling mist 
because we want to marry in the fane 
that crumbles into mystery of sea sand. 

Face to face with beauty of silent dawn, 
we share immensity of silent faith 
that we cannot escape nothing of death 
so we savor timeless weird of each breath 
which animates our love with cosmic wraith 
though I long to return to Avalon. 

Boy With Green Eyes

Boy With Green Eyes
© Surazeus
2022 01 19

The pregnant girl walks across the gold plain, 
eyes searching for a fruit tree by a stream. 
Reaching her hand up with cautious intent, 
she plucks ripe apple before the snake strikes. 
Tears flow down her gaunt cheeks with every bite 
as she thinks about the boy with green eyes. 

Holding hands as they run down to the lake, 
the boy and the girl twirl around in wind. 
Leaning close to his chest with big round eyes, 
she begs him for fresh apples from the tree. 
Reaching up his hand toward the sunlit fruit, 
the boy cries out in pain when a snake bites. 

Writhing in agony from searing pain, 
the boy leans against the indifferent tree. 
The girl grasps his body in trembling arms, 
shocked at the terror that poisons his eyes. 
Wind swirls around the girl as the sun sets, 
erasing paradise from her wet eyes. 

The pregnant girl sits under the fruit tree, 
face turned away from where his body lies. 
She tries to remember how many days 
she kneeled beside his body in gold grass. 
Though the boy lies dead under the fruit tree, 
inside her belly his soul grows reborn. 

Clutching low thick branch of the apple tree, 
the girl screams in agony of childbirth. 
Lightning flashes across the windy plain, 
illuminating spirit of her eyes. 
The new-born child of the snake-bitten boy 
slides from her heart to wiggle in the grass. 

Cradling child of her lover in warm arms, 
the mother gazes in his large green eyes. 
Though your father was bitten by the snake, 
he lives again in body of your soul. 
Dawn sun glows red across the grassy plain, 
indifferent to the mother and her child. 

The mother holds the hand of her young child, 
helping him to stand and walk on his own. 
When the snake slithers around the tree trunk 
the boy grasps its neck and chokes it to death. 
Falling to her knees as fear drains away, 
the mother weeps and kisses smiling boy. 

The boy orders baskets of fruit and eggs 
which he gathered in the woods by the lake. 
When his mother never wakes from deep sleep, 
the boy covers her rotting corpse with flowers. 
Standing under the fruit tree by the lake, 
the boy gazes at her skull in his hand. 

Coming Of The Girl

Coming Of The Girl
© Surazeus
2022 01 19

The floating laughter of the absolute 
beams my name in seed of the burning tree 
so I prophesy new age of the flute 
that forges beautiful truth in the key 
we use to open door of shocking truth 
before third coming of messiah sleuth. 

The girl and boy stand face to face in mist, 
eyes weaving wings for romance of true love, 
then walk toward each other across the bridge, 
wondering what the other is thinking of, 
because their genes ache to generate life 
from bodies tangled with erotic strife. 

When Ophelia falls in the burbling stream 
and almost drowns in anguish of despair 
Orpheus rescues her from blinding dream 
so they run on wind-swept hills without care, 
then hide under Tree of Life to embrace 
and gaze with mute joy at the strange face. 

While Orpheus molds wood in wagon wheels 
Ophelia bakes bread and plays the flute, 
then lovers flirt as they share daily meals, 
while their son Orion, looking so cute, 
plays with the bow and arrow of desire, 
destined to lead the world angelic choir. 

While deadly virus kills millions of souls 
Orion plots to rule the entire world, 
but commoners refuse to play their roles 
in revolution of the cosmic herald 
who seeks to make Avalon great again 
though he plays guitar in indifferent rain. 

Though Earth is fractured in two hundred states 
that fight to control the Flying Horse Spring, 
messiah sleuth gambles with the blind fates 
to control magic power of the One Ring, 
but no one sees the coming of the Girl 
who dreams complex program of the Mind Whirl. 

Though storm winds batter pyramid of power 
Ostara climbs each step of timeless rage, 
inspired by sacred vision of the flower 
to sing weird wisdom on the global stage, 
because sweet anguish of her longing song 
calls refugees to unite in one throng. 

Surrounded by lost souls from war-torn lands, 
Ostara sings new vision of world peace, 
so refugees of war lift up their hands 
and vote for her as their global mouthpiece 
to fight against oppressive monarchy 
so every person lives through liberty. 

Religion Of Bright Sunlight

Religion Of Bright Sunlight
© Surazeus
2022 01 18

Because the shadow might not understand 
religion of bright sunlight on the lake 
I must explain how wind defines my soul 
through wicked whirling of wonderful weird 
too strange for ancient books of honesty 
that prove effective ploy of modesty. 

Whenever children find the skeleton 
of giant dragons buried in hill mud 
they carry its skull to the temple hall 
where the oldest woman in the world chants 
weird spells to conjure spirit of its flight 
so we understand mystery of the light. 

The blind woman under the apple tree, 
pregnant with spirit of the dancing wolf, 
dreams evolution of the universe 
that spirals from first flash of the big bang 
as she feels her child blooming in her heart 
who will grow up to invent the star chart. 

Gazing up at formless glow of gold thought 
that shimmers vast expanse of nothingness, 
the blind woman explains to faceless ghosts 
how raindrops spark seeds to bloom into trees 
through the days of our lives as the world turns 
while her daughter runs on the beach with terns. 

The pregnant woman sitting on the hill 
one hundred thousand years under the tree 
watches generations of human beings 
swarm around the globe in waves of desire 
that surge in tides from visions of her brain 
at flash of day and night through sun and rain. 

You break my heart in half ten thousand times, 
she whispers to the stone that never cries, 
so people sprout from sparkles of her mind 
to populate vales sea to shining sea, 
constructing temples for sacred love rites 
that generate life from the script hope writes. 

The woman sitting on the throne of swords 
bears new-born son of the crucified god 
while castle vampires pledge their fealty 
till zombies overthrow their monarchy 
and Garden of Eden is bombed by planes 
till devils fight in election campaigns. 

Because the shadow animates my heart 
to build walls of Heaven from dragon skulls 
I sing folk hymns how light defines my soul 
through wicked whirling of wonderful weird 
too true for ancient books of chivalry 
that guide civil wars of democracy. 

Join The Dance Macabre

Join The Dance Macabre
© Surazeus
2022 01 17

The only reasonable way to go mad 
is slowly over many years of joy 
while chasing devils in Islamabad 
five hundred thousand years Sian to Troy 
then sitting with Melusine on the beach 
to kiss the universe inside the peach. 

The silver eyeball of the gleaming moon 
observes my manic passion for soul flight 
so I waft over trees with breathless tune 
where Eos guards cave of the eremite 
who strums lyre of Orpheus as he weeps 
in sorrow when the wingless angel leaps. 

The people all around me on this globe 
crawl from dark shadow of despair to sing 
angelic hymns beaming from the space probe 
though refugees dance in the fairy ring 
since no one ever returns to the land 
where they were born from the electric hand. 

Reborn from wild spirit of Lucifer, 
I make light glow from lightning flash of truth 
to lead rebellion against Jupiter 
as blind agent of the messiah sleuth 
who navigates true way to Wonderland 
somewhere in rugged hills of Samarkand. 

Because Ophelia knows my secret name, 
that she found blooming on lush Avon shore, 
I learn how to play the psychotic game 
that superheroes purchase at the store 
though dragons fly along the mountain ridge 
since I keep their spotted eggs in the fridge. 

Each morning I fall into sea of time 
I grow another pair of wings from grief 
so I can return home to Vanaheim 
where I record riddles of unbelief 
that prove my brain designs concept of God 
because I want to join the Justice Squad. 

Important people hide weakness of soul 
behind pious mask of religious faith 
though every world spirals from the White Whole 
to generate our bodies from Dream Wraith 
yet our stories get lost in the Name Book 
where not even Seraphim dare to look. 

Bringing basket of herbs to Ashtoreth, 
who reigns on pyramid of the One Eye, 
I teach children importance of each breath 
when we inspire weird spirit of the sky 
to join the Dance Macabre on Halloween 
because I love my sweet wife Melusine. 

Soul Cry Of The Lyre

Soul Cry Of The Lyre
© Surazeus
2022 01 17

To perform my neat and orderly life 
I dance on the razors edge of desire. 
Through every open door where the ghost sings 
I hear sweet anguish of butterfly wings. 
Because no laughing devil knows my fate 
I try to conjure selfless love from hate. 

If I ever escape the dusty moon 
I will appreciate your solitude. 
Though we stand before the church in sunlight 
clarity of vision veils second sight. 
I dance around bonfire of vanities 
to reforge all social conceptual keys. 

Rejection of wisdom is to accept 
confusing passion of chemical love. 
Alone on island of terrified birds, 
I hide my emotions in frigid words. 
Before glass window of infinite faith 
I ponder rain song of the eyeless wraith. 

Gold sunlight gleams on the ocean beach sand 
where all lovers vanish in winds of time. 
Accept this golden apple in my hand 
as gift of love that will make our hearts chime. 
Bones of my ancestors construct this land 
as wingless angel evolved from sea slime. 

Strange sunlight in trees cuts my heart in words 
so I give you every secret I find. 
I hear the sea wind blow one thousand miles 
so I follow the trail of tear-stained smiles. 
You run to me with joy to be alive 
so we explore the world from our dream cave. 

One hundred thousand years later I feel 
longing to find you again by the sea. 
One thousand lives later we meet again 
and marry when we kiss in the dawn rain. 
Tomorrow I will wake up by your side 
to savor our love where sorrows abide. 

The bride with seven stars in her hair 
dances slowly in grove of mango trees. 
The groom on white horse in mist of new hope 
reveals souls of stars in the telescope. 
The couple holds hands on the spinning world 
to generate soul of the cosmic herald. 

To perform sweet drama of our romance 
we dance on the razors edge of desire. 
We help each other transcend every chance 
by singing in harmony with the choir. 
We weave wings for our hearts with loving dance 
in tune with eerie soul cry of the lyre. 

Blankness Of The World

Blankness Of The World
© Surazeus
2022 01 16

The blankness of the world fills me with hope 
that falling snow will not erase my name 
from silence of the story no one tells 
how when I fell out of the hungry sky 
the moonlight sliced my soul in eager wings 
so I will know what to say when we meet. 

The weirdness of the world fills me with dread 
that people sprouting from womb of the Earth 
will never know sweet pleasure of the truth 
that twists our hearts with agony of faith 
though we eat our breakfast of eggs and toast 
that crumble like mountains into the sea. 

The fullness of the world fills me with love 
that flowing rivers will translate my blood 
to whisper of clear ocean waves at dawn 
which might reveal the Light of Evermore 
still glowing in the book I try to read 
before the weeping of the trees in spring. 

The sadness of the world fills me with angst 
that all skeletons will crumble into dust 
after fifty million spins of the Earth 
through the measureless void of Nothing Real 
because my mind invents the world I see 
while I look for you in shadow of gloom. 

The vainness of the world fills me with pride 
that we evolve from sparkles of wet slime 
which blow from breath of hydrothermal vents 
to swim up rivers to the star-gold lake 
as we transform from fish to wingless angel 
when first mother sings our names at red dawn. 

The boldness of the world fills me with rage 
that blind indifferent nature does not care 
whether or not we fragile wingless angels 
regenerate our bodies through desire 
to overcome hostility of death 
as we embrace our lovers in the dark. 

The business of the world fills me with lust 
that urgent craftiness of my strong hands 
transforms the raw material of the Earth 
into sacred temples where women birth 
new bodies for our souls from tangled genes 
who build piston engines for time machines. 

The strangeness of the world fills me with dreams 
that Idea of God wakes up in my brain 
as vivid consciousness of timeless truth 
so I perceive this universe of atoms 
swerving in womb of the void to create 
this lush globe where we meet and grow in love. 

Secret Of Her Fertile Heart

Secret Of Her Fertile Heart
© Surazeus
2022 01 15

The hidden secret of her fertile heart 
transforms the swirling chaos of strange light 
to pulsing passion of organic forms 
contained in fluctuating walls of hope 
that give me urgent strength to penetrate 
mute darkness of the hungry underworld. 

The flashing gust of passionate desire 
that fuels aggressive race of aching legs 
inspires my quest to caress sun-warm curves 
of radiant hills that teem with flaming flowers 
when I climb high to peak of jagged rock 
while hands clutch tangled vines of victory. 

The gasping cry of my inhaling breast 
encloses vast immensity of faith 
when I embrace her trembling in my arms 
because she kisses me with tender trust 
as we become one glow of flowing streams 
illumined bright by weeping stars of pain. 

The eerie loneness of my tense project 
swells bulging outward from my throbbing heart 
through spiral tautness of expressed constraint 
to seek warm darkness of sweet eyeless gloom 
so deep within her docile mystery 
that I forget strict boundaries of my name. 

So when she floats toward me on wings of light 
through piercing beams of dawn-red subtle flash 
my heart expresses urgent faith of love 
as I accept her sweet inviting smile 
to push beyond enclosing bounds of flesh 
and strike pure wisdom of my lightning deep. 

With twisting agony of silent night 
through holy vision of creative truth 
I swarm against cold blocking tide of death 
to pierce ice shield of cavernous despair 
when I assault lone citadel of faith 
at stark observance of conceptual spells. 

At mind-expanding burst of flushing juice 
when I bite sacred fruit from Tree of Life 
my heart flares forth from blind bang of delight 
to spiral coils of genes in neural net 
through spinning galaxies of dreaming cells 
that weave my brain from ancient memories. 

Amazed at pleasure of frantic desire 
which translates trembling angst to tender vows 
we hold each other on the river shore 
to savor beauty of the flowing stream 
reflecting mirror sparks of long-dead stars 
so we name each other with kissing eyes. 

Diamond Of His Heart

Diamond Of His Heart
© Surazeus
2022 01 14

The last time they meet in grove of fruit trees, 
flashing leaves blush with gold glow of their kiss. 
Though she waits for him in the rain all night 
she never doubts honesty of his love. 
Each time she sees him walking down the road 
she beams with joy in shadow of his soul. 

While hunting in dark woods with Sirius, 
Orion sees sunlight gleam on the hill. 
Through halo of gold light in rustling leaves 
Eos reaches her arm to pluck ripe pears. 
Orion gazes at beauty of Dawn, 
entranced by vision of her golden eyes. 

Approaching Eos shining on the hill, 
Orion offers diamond of his heart. 
Holding hands as they stroll in grove of trees, 
Orion and Eos share childhood tales. 
Embracing on beach sand in soft sea breeze, 
young lovers kiss and pledge eternal love. 

Annoyed Orion loves some other girl, 
Artemis shoots arrows at the swift hart. 
While searching for Eos with beaming smile, 
Orion sees Helius kiss her pink lips. 
Walking to rocky island on deep waves, 
Orion drinks wine in lonely despair. 

Mistaking Merope for girl he loves, 
Orion kisses her with aching hope. 
Whispering name of Eos in gold moonlight, 
Orion rapes Merope by the sea. 
Caressing his cheek when he wakes at dawn, 
Merope runs when her father appears. 

While stumbling in rain storm on rugged hill, 
Orion falls to his knees by dark cave. 
Artemis leads him to warm crackling fire 
and gives him nectar to revive his soul. 
Though Artemis confesses her desire, 
Orion thinks about Eos, his love. 

Lurking in gloomy shadows of the cave, 
Scorpius fumes that Artemis loves him not. 
Shouting that Artemis belongs to him, 
Scorpius stabs Orion in the heart. 
Clutching his chest, Orion stares in shock 
while Artemis weeps and kisses his lips. 

Picking ripe pears by the sun-gleaming sea, 
Eos calls Orion in morning mist. 
Lying alone on sand in midnight breeze, 
Eos waits for Orion to return. 
Gazing in diamond of his heart, Eos sees 
Orion and Sirius hunting among stars. 

Happily In After Land

Happily In After Land
© Surazeus
2022 01 13

The bold infinity of word mirage 
reveals the strangest truth of dinosaurs 
how concepts encourage sadness of doom 
that threatens banishment of honest faith 
though we negotiate passion of love 
so we live happily in After Land. 

The great potential we must realize 
based on summer light on the windowsill 
provides the motivation we might need 
to talk about the desert with someone 
who cannot understand our vain complaint 
so we wander sadly in After Land. 

Even as you read these false prophecies 
composed by stranger howling in my breast 
the ache of hopeless anger imitates 
progressive pursuit of fraught happiness 
which may anticipate the atmosphere 
so we weep prettily in After Land. 

My door is always open to the wind 
that never lies about mind-melting heat 
when angels pass away beyond the night 
to prove this afternoon should be the time 
we hide our memories in the river rock 
so we chuckle madly in After Land. 

The places we should visit in the world 
could never welcome to the crowded park 
the likes of us created by the flounce 
of shocking treachery painted on signs 
if we follow erratic path past death 
so we sing honestly in After Land. 

You are the best friend I could ever have 
though we have never yet met face to face 
because the humid glamor of the school 
beckons our journey past the burnt-out star 
when we decide these lessons are for real 
so we study mutely in After Land. 

This valley that leads to long-ago days 
where strangers sit on chairs in poppy fields 
refuses to accept glory of war 
each dawn lost time sweeps us into the cave 
where wordless leaves discuss fortune we share 
so we wait naively in After Land. 

My eyes see everything you never say 
better than that winter when wind blows 
since children murmur secrets to the door 
where sunlight lingers on the signless road 
till sad Orpheus returns to the cave 
so we die happily in After Land. 

Radiance Of The Wraith

Radiance Of The Wraith
© Surazeus
2022 01 12

Not ever bursts electric flower of light 
too fast for speakers puzzling honest jokes 
though white wolf lingers soft in silver mist 
to study angst of harsh industrial blight 
in field of paradise where demon soaks 
still shocked at riddle of the analyst. 

Not often crushed by sneers of rolling stones 
beyond moss-covered ruins of paradise 
we wait in wilderness of signless roads 
for even preachers who read dragon bones 
to translate prophecies of bad advice 
though factory workers worship iron toads. 

Blank masks of street magicians tricking fools 
may mirror psychic tropes of tragic stage 
where standard characters can play their roles 
constructing new world view with logic tools 
described by words of blood smeared on the page 
with formulas that predict mental wholes. 

Through static crackling on black radios 
we hear strange message from the global king 
brought by the wingless angel in mute skies 
that lists each dead god in their cameos 
on social dramas where blind demons sing 
lost epic tales on tragic fate of spies. 

Not whether chess games can be won or lost 
through bellic strategies fierce seraph ploys 
in cunning plan to rule the spinning world 
reveals arcane expression of the ghost 
who mocks confusing roles for girls and boys 
defined by script erased by cosmic herald. 

Not always ardent based on tangling spells 
disguised as vines of grapes on lattice frames 
could we confess our love to faceless sprite 
who crawls at midnight from abysmal wells 
with shining eyes of hunger to eat names 
inadequate to bind our brains with right. 

Each human face I see in shadow play 
conceals strange thoughts I cannot hear in rain 
though I reach out my hand with eager hope 
to touch elusive truth no eyes display 
because I choose to bear heart-twisting pain 
which gives me courage of your love to cope. 

So many people on harsh road of fear 
collapse from horror of the fruitful way 
at shocking shatter of world view we faith 
though I wait stuck in empty house of here 
with nothing to exhale but wordless pray 
because I am now radiance of the wraith. 

Moon Owl I Never See

Moon Owl I Never See
© Surazeus
2022 01 12

Moon Owl I never see in the oak tree 
flies free to Heaven with my mortal soul 
that profiles ghastly chime of timeless truth 
too heavy for my heart to comprehend 
because I miss strange beauty of your eyes 
that hacks secure code of my naked mind. 

No learned astronomer in crowded class, 
who displays figures in columns of proofs, 
could chart measured progress of my weird fate 
in complex diagrams of cause and effect, 
yet I account for each act I perform 
to calculate fortune of silent stars. 

So as stark sunlight streams through stormy clouds 
I meditate in Stonehenge to perceive 
unsigned message of that immortal mind 
which never speaks in words I understand 
to become imminent presence of light 
deep in unfathomed thought of my frail brain. 

Unusual contours of vast desert lands 
where my ancestors traveled signless roads 
lure me to confront my violent desires 
to replicate my soul beyond my death 
though I explore wild range of jagged hills 
where I first see the horse run fast as wind. 

Sweet cataracts of singing rivers flash 
divine aloneness through my aching heart 
though I travel to far ends of the Earth 
one hundred thousand years in many lives 
to find where the sun is born from the sea 
where waves explain how my spirit was born. 

Two thousand generations of my genes 
from spirit of Helius reborn in flesh, 
I journey west from sea to shining sea, 
chasing Goddess of Light through apple groves 
till she embraces me in loving arms 
to generate new bodies for our souls. 

Thus always I return to the oak tree 
where gold-eyed owl of her committed love 
explains her secret of immortal life 
when she breathes spirit of truth in my heart 
and bids me rise from mud womb of the Earth 
so I can steal apples from the Death Snake. 

The ecstasy of treasure on the wind 
reveals strange desolation from world war, 
so I construct Heaven in the waste land 
disguised as castles built from dragon bones 
because I miss strange beauty of your eyes 
that weaves new wings for my demonic mind. 

Library Of The Weeping Star

Library Of The Weeping Star
© Surazeus
2022 01 11

The fraudulent flute that fractures my eyes 
returns from hollow classroom of the moon 
to teach my flapping arms the raven ways 
so when I walk in shadow of the dawn 
I may find princess of the broken jar 
mute in library of the weeping star. 

When Clementine falls in love with Pierrot 
she waits by red door of the theater 
to give him ripe orange on the silver tray 
forged from our broken hearts by Lucifer, 
but he rides away in black Limousine 
for candlelight dinner with Melusine. 

Gripping old photo of them by the lake, 
with words of his love he wrote with his blood, 
Clementine runs through forest of the snake 
to find his skeleton dancing in mud, 
but none would dare unmask haughty Pierrot 
who falls in love with indifferent Sappho. 

Searching for Guide Book to Garden of Hell, 
Clementine wanders maze of doorless homes 
where children draw heroes on temple wall 
while their parents play political games, 
competing for who gets to play the role 
composed by blind agents of Interpol. 

Though Lucifer tries to overthrow God 
through coup to abolish all monarchy, 
Jupiter outwits him with royal code 
to crush republican democracy, 
so we vote for president to play king 
when Grimgerde appears on stage to sing. 

Driving to work as banking analyst, 
while dressed in black skirt and white frilly blouse, 
Clementine brings gifts to library ghost 
who leads her to castle of Wenceslaus 
where Pierrot paints portrait of Onatah, 
Corn Maid who always rules America. 

When Clementine decides to love herself, 
forgetting her timeless love for Pierrot, 
her invisible tears conjure the elf 
who mocks every fool who plays the hero 
in social revolution of the mind 
that treasures divine spirit of the land. 

When Orpheus first sees Clementine smile 
at heart-breaking song he strums on the lyre, 
he stores data about her in the file 
while Melusine directs Elysian choir 
who sing riddles about evolving state 
how atoms define our chemical fate. 

Because We Are Lights

Because We Are Lights
© Surazeus
2022 01 11

Because I am fragile leaf of desire 
I will be blown into yard of your heart 
when you speak my name with wind of your breath 
so our bodies twine in tangles of love 
when we embrace sweet ecstasy of truth 
that we generate life from sparkling eyes. 

Whether looping roads of our separate lives 
provide random chances for us to meet 
in meadows, beaches, groves, or city streets, 
I look for your face in shadows of hope 
for dazzling beauty of your glowing soul 
blinds my eyes so I can see no one else. 

My heart beats faster when I see your eyes, 
so I run quick as horse along bright streams 
or higher than eagle over slow clouds 
so I can hold you in my arms again 
and walk by your side in sync with your steps 
so where we are becomes our paradise. 

Though death stalks our souls everywhere we go, 
hungry animals or forces of nature 
as monsters lurking in cities or fields, 
we stick together on the road of life 
to keep each other safe from violent harm 
so united we thrive in paradise. 

When you disappear from scope of my eyes 
so I cannot see if you are alive, 
my heart beats wilder than wings of the crow 
when I fly through shadows of aching fear 
till I find you plucking apples from trees, 
so I embrace you and caress your face. 

Though nature is indifferent to our love, 
caring not whether we will live or die, 
we are the only ones alive with hope, 
motivated by our passionate urge 
to transcend terrible horror of death 
by generating children from our minds. 

We know death will crush our bodies to dust 
but, while we wake alive with beating hearts 
together in dim shadows of the world, 
we will hold hands and walk the road of life 
to savor terrible beauty of love 
that surges through our bodies when we kiss. 

Blown by indifferent winds of careless fate, 
we hold each other in terrible storms 
and give each other fruit we find in Hell, 
for we make Heaven with each loving word 
we speak to guide each other in the dark 
because we are lights to the ones we love. 

Only Butterflies Understand

Only Butterflies Understand
© Surazeus
2022 01 10

When I pick the stones from the grains of wheat, 
awake with joy as wind in leaves of trees, 
I hear loud thoughts of piston engines purr 
though children vanish from the city streets, 
since only butterflies understand why 
I fall wingless into void of my eye. 

When Bearded Prophet from the desert cave 
wanders busy avenue between stores, 
wondering if he should marry Femme Fatale 
or Manic Pixie Dream Girl in the church, 
he pauses by the cracked telephone booth, 
still reluctant to become Superman. 

Even when Dracula shoots sad Pierrot 
with pistol of jealousy in his heart, 
the moon-faced clown with tattoo of one tear 
smiles with pure joy to see the children laugh 
as blood dribbles between his trembling lips 
in bitter loneliness of the glass moon. 

Yet Deathless Mother on the ocean beach 
conjures vicious destructive thunderstorm 
from howling abyss of her monstrous heart 
to smash giant oil rigs with haughty waves 
that send it tumbling to the sunless deep 
because I love weird beauty of her soul. 

Howling across the wild Atlantic waste, 
the cruel storm-god with lightning in his eyes 
smashes thousands of houses with fierce gales 
which crumble into smoking ruins of faith, 
and litters parking lots with mangled corpses 
of people once alive with vibrant hope. 

Among thousands of masks from lifeless souls, 
scattered on streets where cars rust in hot rain, 
I find the tragic face of Jupiter 
that fell to Earth when his soul was struck mute, 
so I wear it as my convenient face 
when I fish for dragons in Caspian Sea. 

When the crippled vampire of Gothamar 
loses the election for president, 
Lucifer leads lost refugees of war 
to live in empty stores of shopping malls 
where ghosts of preachers with blood-thirsty eyes 
sell tickets to Heaven to fearful fools. 

Though I am only eight million years old, 
I know secret names of horses they hide 
in clockwork orange of my conceptual heart, 
so I paint murals of ancestral gods 
on brick walls of abandoned factories 
for children I raise with my Femme Fatale. 

Inspired By Word Ghosts

Inspired By Word Ghosts
© Surazeus
2022 01 09

Though shy Apollo lingers in sad rain 
while carving Beauty from white marble block, 
Medusa slithers from lake of hot muck, 
pregnant with shining spirit of his brain, 
to meditate in cave of mushroom ghosts 
about mankind driven by mental lusts. 

Entranced by flashing mystery of her eyes, 
Apollo chases Daphne in dark woods, 
but when she hides in tree of naked skies 
he embraces Medusa on grass beds 
to fill her hollow heart with writhing ghosts 
who follow his command as Lord of Hosts. 

Submerged in sloshing lake of her deep womb, 
Apollo struggles to escape her arms 
though stuck in vibrant swirling of her charms, 
so he stacks dragon skulls to build her tomb 
where she suckles their child, haunted by ghosts 
who dance drunk around lithe serpentine posts. 

Stark arrogance of nature surging thick 
expresses passion to generate souls 
through bodies writhing at the psychic trick 
which rules effective cause of social roles 
we choose to perform, inspired by word ghosts 
who emanate from hearts of archivists. 

When fierce Apollo wakes from lusting trance, 
shocked by electric kiss of piercing faith, 
he weaves bold name to embody dream wraith 
in rancid body born from random chance 
that programs world view accounting for ghosts 
who return from Heaven as agonists. 

Warm arms embracing torso of taut thew 
with potent vigor of productive hope, 
Medusa holds Apollo as sweet shrew, 
eager to teach their children how to cope 
with violence of indifferent forest ghosts 
reborn to work in banks as analysts. 

While wrestling serpent of his monstrous ache 
to penetrate heart of darkness she beams, 
Apollo lays Medusa by dark streams 
till their bodies pulse with orgasmic quake 
so brain bang fills her moist void with ghosts 
who populate lush vales of rugged coasts. 

Emerging from cold waters of Star Pond, 
Apollo names objects his eyes perceive 
as clear ideas only words can bind 
their hearts at hour Medusa will conceive, 
so we live and die on Earth as light ghosts 
in world myths composed by evangelists. 

Heal The Psychic Scar

Heal The Psychic Scar
© Surazeus
2022 01 08

Reluctant sorrow of the bleeding moon 
reborn from black hole of the mortal mind 
reveals bold confidence of the blind clown 
who manipulates facts with sleight of hand 
designed to encode truth with social lies 
that radiates fractals to deceive our eyes. 

I sit with Grief in heat of weeping trees 
while books with photos of people I love 
crumble to ashes in my grasping hands 
though violet ache of transcendent seas 
showers my body with rain from clouds above 
through wracking charm of arrogant despair. 

The olive tree outside window of fear 
explodes white blossoms of selfish desire 
to prove the faceless ghost in open door 
calculates how to heal the psychic scar 
when I search for dream books in vast bazaar 
about the Lost Princess of Zathamar. 

On ruins of your empire I will build 
new nation of Zarathia who knows 
all romantic tales born in Buchenwald 
guide lovers to transcend orgasmic phase 
on quest to generate immortal soul 
in wingless angel who dreams the White Whole. 

Alone in Underworld of laughing skulls, 
Orpheus sings heart-breaking hymn of hope 
for ghost of absence haunting doorless halls 
since even wise men will believe the hype 
that civilized man, caught in stormy rains, 
can tame demonic spirit of our brains. 

The Japanese girl in short white-lace skirt, 
with face perfect as statue of Kore, 
who skates on fragile ice of global peace, 
drinks mocha with Orpheus in cafe 
to study prophecies on psychic chart 
drawn by Medea on the Golden Fleece. 

Though Jason never finds the Promised Land, 
since he abandoned on Island of Fools 
the Manic Pixie Dream Girl of the mind, 
he finds job building engines with thought tools 
to zoom around Earth in time-machine car 
in vain search for the road to Zathamar. 

Grief never sits with me by Lake of Dreams 
though I work as financial analyst 
in the bank tower, charging tax for streams 
where fairies singing in the timeless mist 
watch our tragic tales in star-gleaming jewels 
evolve in psychic waves of molecules. 

Backward On The Road Of Life

Backward On The Road Of Life
© Surazeus
2022 01 08

The dead walk backward on the road of life 
so we hide their faces in photographs 
to confuse their ghosts that haunt our routines 
with absence of their voices that explain 
what never happens in the wordless books 
which always fly away on broken wings. 

Ten thousand faces my ancestors wear 
appear as floating masks in mists of time 
when I walk through vast maze of city streets 
disguised as Cronus with raven-wing cape 
to chat with their skulls in church of dead gods 
and laugh at stark absurdity of death. 

While I play sad heart-breaking melodies 
with flute I carved from ancient dragon bone 
Lost Princess who loves everyone with joy 
joins me in grove of apple trees at dawn 
as spirit of the lake who gives me light 
with apple that awakens me from death. 

Across Zarathia, land of apple trees, 
I lead long wagon train of refugees 
who seek the Promised Land of fairy tales 
to build new paradise in the waste land 
but build another city by the lake 
where rich landowners control working poor. 

The Money Vampire in grey business suit 
traps the Lost Princess in marriage of hope 
who breeds new generation of fierce gods 
to fight crusade against the Queen of Death 
who gives me mask of Orpheus to wear 
so I stand on the street and play guitar. 

The tragic comedy of our sweet love 
still motivates our journey beyond death 
which generates life in children we love 
who bury our brains under apple trees 
so we can wake again as sparkling fruit 
that nurtures bodies of descendant souls. 

Returning from chthonian cave of dreams 
ten thousand years after my body died, 
I find the Garden of Eden now paved 
with asphalt as parking lot of the mall 
where citizens in land of liberty 
buy clothes sewn by slaves in dark factories. 

Instead of breaking chains of my free will 
through self-control of liberty in law 
I weave despair of death in angel wings 
to fly with Icarus above the world, 
hoping to transcend energy of nature, 
though I walk backward on the road of life. 

Timeless Well Of Love

Timeless Well Of Love
© Surazeus
2022 01 07

Though revelations dwell in panic state 
I will unlearn the names of all Wise Men 
so I can set dead stars above to flame 
where shadows fall from strange eternal eye 
that breeds cold gloom from flash of agony 
because I sing while candles hide lost tales. 

Familiar melody of grateful rain 
preserved in grapes that hang from tangled vines 
inspires grim silence of my aching hope 
when I remember shocking gift of life 
that burns too deep inside my hollow heart 
for me to hear lost tales in candle glow. 

If brutal softness of harsh arctic winds 
reveals warm depth my heart will seek in fear 
I may not pray for miracles of faith 
while standing steady against mocking blast 
when blizzard of words erase stars of truth 
too dimly lit by candles of my eyes. 

The land disdains to care about my hope 
for though I dwell firm on its curving shores 
my soul will never belong to its dream 
yet I dig hands in thick soil wet with rain 
to plant seeds of desire in tomb of rage 
so Tree of Life may grow from my foul heart. 

My eyes imagine beauty of this land 
so I tremble to caress flowing light 
through accurate grace of subtle desire 
that paints sweet vision of this teeming world 
on fractured walls of empty churches where 
blind ghosts draw maps of this strange land we love. 

Fraught scenes of strange behavior blind my eyes 
when I recall sad memories of mute rage 
from people fighting for their right to live 
free from control of people with sharp blades 
though we rebel against strict social rules 
designed to constrain passionate desire. 

Still locked in prison in the arctic waste, 
I breathe contemptuous winds of freezing fear 
that spark my heart to revolt against hate 
when I kneel in grass of Elysium 
to caress petals of the eglantine 
and dream about the woman I still love. 

Engaged in state of panic by the lake 
where eyeless demons lurk in murky flow, 
I tremble to caress eternal light 
that paralyzes my expanding heart, 
then sing transcendent beauty of this life 
in song that springs from timeless well of love. 

Down In Aberdeen

Down In Aberdeen
© Surazeus
2022 01 06

When thoughts destroy church of the avant-garde 
with psychic canon of the howling ghost 
we gather weeping with the snarky pard 
who mocks principles we treasure the most, 
so I play the publicity machine 
while drinking whiskey down in Aberdeen. 

Weird paradox of the punk chanting hymns 
to praise the laureled king in castle court 
displays power game where the moonlight swims 
when poets compete in the bloody sport 
to prove they are the heir of Dickinson 
then dance with devils down in Aberdeen. 

Rejecting social agony of truth 
by adapting complex grammar of lies, 
we erase self of the messiah sleuth 
who shoots fire arrows at God in blank skies 
while strumming harp and singing by the moon 
after Sylvia cries down in Aberdeen. 

Though anodyne prophecies prove too real 
for sweet Minerva dancing by the lake 
I pluck eglantine to hide how I feel 
about star-eyed princess who is not fake 
when I lounge drinking mead on Stone of Scone 
at resurrection down in Aberdeen. 

Collecting garbage in anthology 
that presents brightest minds of Babylon, 
I synthesize code of theology 
which appropriates myths of Avalon 
in the new world order of Oregon 
founded in my tomb down in Aberdeen. 

Experimental spells of mental states, 
confounding sensual profit of the clown, 
produce aesthetic jokes of tragic fates 
that glitter bright as soul-stars on my crown, 
yet I design map of phenomenon 
so we evade death down in Aberdeen. 

Heuristic tool for radical assault 
against institutions of social power 
urge me to modernize conceptual fault 
through honey bee of my eternal flower 
so I play important role in the scene 
of rapping jesters down in Aberdeen. 

Strumming lyre of Hermes by sparkling pool 
as wingless angel in the pastoral masque, 
I imitate romance cant of the fool 
who pines for the princess behind the mask, 
then play Orpheus on the silver screen 
to lead singing ghosts down in Aberdeen. 

To Touch Your Why

To Touch Your Why
© Surazeus
2022 01 06

The last persimmon on the snow-white hill 
reveals strangeness of kaleidoscope eyes 
which cannot see the soul behind the face 
except when rain exposes silent pain 
so I walk backward on the signless road 
to find the person I love lost in time. 

The ancient hemlock by the asphalt road 
smiles sweetly at the smog-gray sky of fear 
while I wait by the twisted metal sign 
that says this road to old house where I live 
is the Dead End where even ghosts get lost 
so I paint your face on its silver back. 

The rancid cactus of the suffering clock 
draws circle of light around my cracked skull 
to translate color of history to rain 
so we can understand the alibi 
the wingless angel insists we accept 
because somehow we might still be alive. 

The sallow willow of the ghetto park 
watches homeless refugees of war play 
board games while bombs destroy religious halls 
though I wear mink-fur coat stained red with blood 
of tyrants we shoot when they crown themselves 
savior of the world on the evening news. 

The glowing hurricane of mindless bliss 
that nurtures purring brood of silver crows 
explains to me why death is absolute 
for every organism ever born 
on every planet in the universe 
so I sit in my river boat and laugh. 

The robust rhododendron of despair 
introduces me to strangers who know 
nothing about why the spider web sings 
confusing riddle about faceless kings 
who ignore augury of roaring planes 
to worship jellyfish god of the sea. 

The ardent apple tree in parking lots 
reveals the eyeless specter in the mist 
who waits outside my window before dawn 
to show me secret of the swirling snow 
so I sing love spells on the radio 
to people weeping as they drive to work. 

The errant eglantine of Avalon 
articulates strange shock of ecstasy 
when I find the person I love the most 
walking toward me in arrogant sunlight 
though empires fall at romance of the rose 
so I reach out my hand to touch your why. 

One Radio Wave

One Radio Wave
© Surazeus
2022 01 05

When my soul dissipates to nothingness 
I become every soul who ever lives 
on every planet in the universe 
since our brains connect on one radio wave. 
I strum on discordant harp of my heart 
to radiate love from spinning core of Earth. 

When I erase myself in Garden of Eden 
with pistol pressed against my heaving breast 
no wingless angel of electric wires 
will fly from Glow Cloud to rescue my soul. 
I dance in sorrow on the rainless plain 
to forge new body from relentless pain. 

When I spend glimmer of purpose with faith 
to transcend sorrow of my marvelous life 
on flapping wings of mirrored consciousness 
I wake with blaze of visionary scope. 
I breathe enormous passion of the sea 
while rising from thick mud with star-dream key. 

When I singe my wings on the burning bush 
while wrestling demon of my hungry heart 
I beam magnetic otherness of me 
beyond this fragile shell of mortal coils. 
I grasp ripe apple from the Tree of Life 
to feast in the temple where no god dwells. 

When I cleanse aggressive hate from my heart 
to shield my soul from arrows of despair 
I study mysterious word on wild water 
to comprehend my ancient erased self. 
I embrace with warm compassion of my arms 
uncanny beauty of your cosmic charms. 

When I paint faces of gods on glow clouds 
to waken dreaming creature of the sea 
I trap the fabled beast in flow of time 
to observe the world from tower of words. 
I sing every wounded song of the world 
on the bridge from which books of dreams are hurled. 

When I think thoughts before I play the role 
while dreaming true love on the summer hill 
with plangent singing of owls in the tree 
I beget my head with religious loins. 
I improvise idea of my soul 
threading through labyrinth of the White Whole. 

When I fall in love with fierce Ariadne, 
transforming from rage of the Minotaur, 
I wake as Theseus on cold city street, 
huddled in cold wind while strumming guitar. 
I follow Golden Way of honest truth 
while wearing glass mask of messiah sleuth. 

Strange Global Reality

Strange Global Reality
© Surazeus
2022 01 05

The arbitrary sorrow of the coast 
that lures me with sad siren song of hope 
obscures conceptual progress of desire 
for us to transcend anger of the boast 
though we are dangling at end of the rope 
and everything we love burns in wild fire. 

The rational anguish of ancient woods 
that calls me across the blank universe 
motivates me to design new world view 
that could replace the one that falls apart 
as multiple centers of gravity 
redefine strange global reality. 

The imperial agony of bare hills 
that diverts my attention from contempt 
exults in triumph of the global state 
prophesied by bloody runes in deep wells 
when the royal traitor begins attempt 
to defy divine dictates of blind fate. 

The mercurial assurance of the sea 
that animates ambition of my heart 
supports my program to communalize 
wandering tribes with ovation of the key 
outlined by formulas on the star chart 
to found one religion under blue skies. 

The whimsical comfort of mountain wind 
that twists my spirit with suffering of pain 
disassembles world model of my mind 
so I gaze at the world through pouring rain 
to see atomic essence of its being 
defined by beating of the angel wing. 

The erratic solace of the clear lake 
that ejects my body from halls of truth 
guides my wandering spirit in the waste land 
where every noble savior is a fake 
who distorts my faith in messiah sleuth 
by charging toll at gates to Wonderland. 

The capricious ache of the waterfall 
that programs how my brain perceives the world 
reflects my specter in the mirror mask 
worn by every president we elect 
who sends Parzival to kill every tyrant 
and free mankind from shackles of blind hate. 

The principled horror of empty sky 
that wakens me as vampire in the tomb 
crowns me as Orpheus to play his role 
leading refugees of war who ask why 
we must suffer since we exit the womb 
at soul birth from first flash of the White Whole. 

Old Shadow Book Of Why

Old Shadow Book Of Why
© Surazeus
2022 01 04

Writing tale of Lost Princess I adore 
with blood words in old shadow book of why, 
I question moral conclusions of laws 
that define etiquette in castle courts 
where angels stab each other in the back 
in competition to win heart of God. 

Assembling puzzle of global events 
recorded in old shadow book of why, 
I analyze power moves of politics 
fought between brothers in the game of thrones 
to calculate divine decrees of fate 
with fraught formulas of the social state. 

Wandering jester of the dead honey tree, 
whose eyes bleed in old shadow book of why, 
plays crystal flute on shore of the Black Sea, 
heart aching with desire for the Wolf Girl 
who hunts darting deer in Tellurian Wood 
far from stone tower where her mother weeps. 

Discussing events on the radio show, 
dissected from old shadow book of why, 
I preach salvation of the arcane spell 
carved on cement wall of the factory 
where sons of angels assemble new cars 
we drive on highways to the Promised Land. 

Riding the whirlwind of global events, 
encrypted in old shadow book of why, 
to fight for freedom from cruel monarchy, 
I walk bleak wind-swept plains of Scythia 
to find the pool from which the Volga springs 
where Zorya welcomes me home with a kiss. 

Constructing castle from skulls of dead gods 
with plans drawn in old shadow book of why, 
so I can keep my family safe from harm, 
I kneel before fane on Mount Helicon 
where skull of Orpheus prophesies how 
men and women choose each other to love. 

Solving weird riddles invented by Death 
that sizzle in old shadow book of why, 
I journey from Arabia to Guilin 
to follow highway my ancestors blazed 
on quest to find cave where Helius was born 
so I can understand my ancient soul. 

Running with horses on vast Scythian plain 
where trees sprout from old shadow book of why, 
I harness forward motion of desire 
to build global empire of fertile farms 
where children play free in paradise lost 
till they invent concept of God from fear. 

New King Of Everywhere

New King Of Everywhere
© Surazeus
2022 01 04

The absolute glow of the trembling Earth 
which emanates from effect of my heart 
originates conceptual thoughts I dream 
to witness primordial darkness of truth 
when you smile and gaze deep into my eyes 
so we contemplate hollowness of time. 

The horned owl in the oak of clacking skulls 
beams moonlight through cracked crystal of my heart 
so I hear song of the meteor who brings 
spirit of truth from the infinite void 
awake in humming diamond of my brain 
since I illuminate horror with words. 

The last vaudeville clown of America 
dances weeping in empty theater 
where ghosts of angels and demons reflect 
spirit of the age that dissolves in war 
as smoke from guns veils lost Garden of Eden 
till laughing skull of Hamlet reclaims truth. 

The fractured mirror in temple of masks 
distorts eternal truth words fail to prove 
so I climb the crooked sycamore tree 
and wait for messiah sleuth to see me 
but the girl in white dress of loyal love 
gives me the apple she stole from the snake. 

The eyeless face behind the curtain lace 
in upstairs bedroom of the ancient mansion 
watches me ride swift horse of Zathamar 
so I become the serpent in Star Lake 
who builds enormous towers of steel and glass 
to prove I am new King of Everywhere. 

The latest book of the World Testament 
that appears in temples of singing skulls 
records brave journey of Zarathia 
from vast Babylon to lush Oregon 
on quest for secret of eternal life 
hidden in dream code of genetic coils. 

The writhing umbrage of the Tree of Life 
conveys clairvoyant attitude of care 
on waves of molecules that weave timed space 
in walls of paradise that trap my mind 
too deep in labyrinth of Tellurian myths 
for me to remember my secret name. 

No phantoms dance in my mysterious mist 
so I disappear from all social platforms 
prepared to open window of my mind 
through aggressive chess play of liberty 
reluctant to allow freedom to reign 
at sudden cracking from the door of doom. 

Whiter Than Nothingness

Whiter Than Nothingness
© Surazeus
2022 01 03

Electric sorrow of the broken word, 
whiter than nothingness of empty books, 
binds my heart to expressions of your face 
reflecting vulnerable turmoil of snowflakes 
preserved in tales of trauma we endure 
with each tender caress of faith we share. 

Plasmic happiness of words we invent, 
whiter than nothingness of laughing joy, 
renders kindness absolute for the win 
with every game we play in war for who 
better defines the real world we perceive 
before it changes into something else. 

Cellular lightness of the cosmic being, 
whiter than nothingness of puzzling facts, 
composes things from waves of molecules 
which calculate fractal branching of brains 
soaked with sparkling blood of crucified stars 
though I declare I am the key of why. 

Erotic force of exponential growth, 
whiter than nothingness of thirsty roots, 
designs character of messiah sleuth 
who climbs three steps to Heaven before dawn 
reveals true nature of our multiverse 
reflected in fractured mirror of truth. 

Aromatic memories of falling leaves, 
whiter than nothingness of bitter breeze, 
transfuses hormones in crystallized bones 
when I initiate conceptual marriage 
between soft flesh of our love-tangled hearts 
when we embrace at spinning of the world. 

Radiant apple tree of the humming hill, 
whiter than nothingness of poisoned juice, 
shelters refugees from war of the banks 
where star-eyed prophet of the sacred fruit 
explains how mothers generate new souls 
though we choose to share apocryphal tales. 

Climactic scene of tragic comedy, 
whiter than nothingness of faceless masks, 
presents consequence of moral decay 
in communities corrupt with blind greed 
when the naive girl who loves everyone 
disrupts their intricate games for control. 

Didactic novel of treasonous hope, 
whiter than nothingness of selfish love, 
describes how the Lost Princess resurrects 
valiant honor of the Cynical Knight 
who sacrifices his life to save hers, 
so she sings in his tomb by the sad sea. 

Unreal Thought-World

Unreal Thought-World
© Surazeus
2022 01 03

Time sprawls in undulating wings of light 
to shadow space of my unreal thought-world 
with writhing flames of words I never speak 
because my travel through the multiverse 
unspools unplanned by solitary hope 
crumbling from glass castles of Wonderland. 

The ship I build from fantasy of lust 
floats among clouds on tattered angel wings 
still tangled in telephone lines of dreams 
where nameless ghost trapped in the empty church 
teach the child how to understand the horse 
so rain falls in love with the tongueless girl. 

Though I forget the names for everything 
my mother invented from river wind 
I get ahead of myself on the road 
when I return to the beginning when 
I learned how to walk upright in sea waves 
so now I can leap off the hill to fly. 

While swimming in cold nothingness of fear 
I lose soft rhythm of the surging sea, 
so I weave sorrow with taut guitar strings 
to remember everyone who has died, 
but I wake in mist of strawberry field 
to call my lover on glowing eye-phone. 

Salacious respect for the naked Earth 
inspires my heart to veil souls of the dead 
with factory smog that poisons sacraments 
so we drink black oil from the Holy Grail 
and eat rubber body of rancid hate 
to worship symbol of toxic desire. 

Through ardent ennui of the honest thief 
I learn to give only what I create 
from parabolic dance of the Uplight 
that glistens brighter than the crescent eye 
who dreams unreal this world of changing forms 
preserved in timeless concept of the Word. 

Leaping tilted scales along planet rings 
that radiate lavender sorrow of fate, 
I forbid myself to strip off my mask 
that would reveal compromise of despair 
long enough to fool the blind sentinel 
who fries eggs on the altar before Zeus. 

Each day I walk outside door of my brain 
I navigate multiverse of your minds 
by riding elevator of fake truth 
to measure shape of illusion we share 
reflected by sensorium of ideas 
based on perceptive spell I disregard. 

Riddle Of The Water Code

Riddle Of The Water Code
© Surazeus
2022 01 02

Stripping off mask of my authentic soul 
in the middle of the game against Death, 
I leave the stadium while the demons cheer 
to exit shining walls of paradise, 
then run with horses over singing dunes 
to defy prophecy of fateful runes. 

The lonely jester in the circus ring, 
who wears pinstripe suit of the businessman, 
takes off red political tie with zest 
to somersault across the multiverse 
where he overthrows every crownless king, 
empowered by passion of the broken wing. 

Since no one cares to join me on my quest 
to find Hope Diamond in the shopping mall 
I walk across Nefud Desert alone 
where black giraffes discuss theology 
while writing names of angels in the sand, 
too eager to join the rock and roll band. 

Relaxing in Ogygia Island cave 
where the eyeless princess dances ballet, 
I ponder why I am no one but me 
out of every person who ever lives, 
then I fly airplane home to Zathamar 
where I will marry daughter of Tamar. 

Since no human being who has ever lived 
can solve weird riddle of the Water Code, 
I will wait in rain by the city gate 
till Justice agrees to address my case, 
yet I am nameless ghost in court of law 
if I cannot remember what I saw. 

I cannot steal true essence of your soul 
when I photograph you without your mask, 
so I will turn around and walk away 
rather than drink toxic hate of your heart, 
but I still cannot find the Flying Horse Spring 
more sacred than spirit of the Unthing. 

We might have been best friends of the Glow Cloud 
but we never meet on long road of life 
so I sit alone under the dead tree 
to admire your honest heart from afar, 
because every star gleaming in the sky 
vanishes through conception of the why. 

Your attempt to be honest and sincere 
prove you deceive us with pretentious guile 
about existence of God among stars 
so I pack all my books in leather bags 
and walk in valley of the scheming crone 
who soothes me with love when I cry alone. 

Walking On Sunlit Sand

Walking On Sunlit Sand
© Surazeus
2022 01 02

The laughing thrush who knows my secret name 
teaches me how to wear clear ocean waves 
in body of the mother of mankind 
whose memory of walking on sunlit sand 
guides my journey to where the sun is born 
so I can sing to the listening wind. 

The people whose memories compose my soul 
transform the road where fear becomes the sign 
that leads me to illusion of their joy 
though children orphaned by the holy war 
build castles from sand of ideal desires 
when they remember how the west was won. 

As bombs from tanks and planes destroy our homes 
we walk back home with bare feet to the land 
where corpses of our parents feed the roots 
of apricot trees by polluted rivers 
since luscious clouds of ether blind our eyes 
when we recall how wars are won with blood. 

The shadow of the monolith glows white 
though flash of eternity dissipates 
so I listen to laughter of the thrush 
while eating apricots in the twilight zone 
because the new year throws dust in my eyes 
long after tears have turned my heart to salt. 

Persistent honor of the burning bush 
displays conceptual peace of terraced vines 
where handless fishermen pick rotting grapes 
so their children who have never owned shoes 
can attend university to learn 
savage art of politics from blind gods. 

The random honesty of fractured lens 
dispatched to photograph the noble hero 
decides to wear porcelain mask of faith 
to the Christmas Ball at the winter palace 
while angry peasants forge bullets of hope 
from statues of kings they melt in moonlight. 

Weird laughter of the lyre Orpheus plays 
teaches stones how to fly over the lake 
moved by external force of cosmic will 
expressed by wingless angel of the bridge 
who defines essence of created things 
while Death sings love songs to the Shadow Queen. 

Quick sunfilled waterdrops of laughing skulls 
flood senate chamber with bright consciousness 
at sudden whisper of the honey bee 
who keeps the secret even I forgot 
when I visit childhood haunts by the lake 
where the faceless avatar plays my role.