When I Put My Voice

When I Put My Voice
© Surazeus
2023 03 30

When I put my voice in the glowing box 
to beam my opinion deep in the sea 
I listen to conversation of rocks 
who discuss quintessence of liberty 
based on mother-daughter relationship 
that is not quite like our abandoned ship. 

When I put my voice in the empty home 
to redesign conceptual language key 
I hesitate to explain why I roam 
from passive-aggressive hostility 
against basic rules of good sportsmanship 
since I record my continental trip. 

When I put my voice in the hungry book 
to understand sweet language of the bee 
I fall in love with the productive cook, 
blessed with passion of soul fertility, 
who commissions my honest stewardship 
so we kiss by the lake, then take a dip. 

When I put my voice in the sullen lake 
to chat with mind serpent in the pear tree 
I analyze tales to discern the fake 
though I accept death with alacrity 
through fraudulent context of pastorship 
that conceals hatred with humorous quip. 

When I put my voice in the country tune 
to measure soul vibe of the river flow 
I play piano on the beach sand dune 
to channel dream code of the embryo 
because I boldly claim the authorship 
pertaining to my epic comic strip. 

When I put my voice in the doorless maze 
to offer my service to the moon crow 
I map road of faith in the purple haze 
when I sing from spontaneous overflow 
of feelings that evade state censorship 
so I steal dream nectar to take a sip. 

When I put my voice in the mountain cave 
to weep for Tammuz while I knead bread dough 
I find myself trapped in cathedral nave 
where Satan dares to play the piccolo 
as we feast and pray in close fellowship 
because the stone is worn by timeless drip. 

When I put my voice in the skull of god 
to record soul memories that help me grow 
I organize new global justice squad 
which I lead wearing mask of Scorpio 
to evade duty of messiahship 
though Jesus sees my faceless radar blip. 

Death Wins In The End

Death Wins In The End
© Surazeus
2023 03 29

The way pages of story books are stuffed 
in brown beer bottles of absolute hope 
reveals why singers on the radio 
forget the names of their children who run 
screaming from bullets of the laughing clown 
to escape shadow of fake happiness. 

The way strings of violins twang red rays 
of moonlight on windshield of speeding cars 
reveals why fathers strolling on the beach 
give watermelons to children of time 
who wander somewhere among Christmas trees 
with suitcases full of torn photographs. 

The way dollar bills blind arrogant kings 
with bitter hope to dominate fruit trees 
reveals why truth fuels our automobiles 
with forward-thinking concepts of desire 
for children to write letters with their blood 
requesting God to free their souls from Hell. 

The way broken highways connect small towns 
where no one ever celebrates birthdays 
reveals why soldiers gripping guns of fear 
refuse to play chess with Death on the beach 
till he agrees to steal the harp of David 
so his daughter can escape house of lies. 

The way gold hairs from the demon of truth 
charm wingless angels to support their cause 
reveals why mothers hide weird happiness 
in chocolate cupcakes only clowns will eat 
so grim goats dance ballet on moonlit stage 
to prove the Ferryman still waits for you. 

The way hurricanes of caution decide 
who can escape the concentration camp 
reveals why indifferent nature loves how 
humans believe some powerful god in the sky 
will beam their souls to halls of shining gold 
where no one suffers injustice or pain. 

The way feathers of angels are disguised 
as fragile quills that poets use to write 
reveals why dancing skeletons prefer 
to drink absinthe brewed from demon blood 
so we discuss philosophy with crows 
who predict when the next world war will start. 

The way heartless silence of honest faith 
kills serpent guardian in the Tree of Life 
reveals why no soul can reincarnate 
except through bodies of children they make 
by calculating how tropes interact 
to dramatize that Death wins in the end. 

Safe In The Parthenon

Safe In The Parthenon
© Surazeus
2023 03 28

The strangeness of how gold grass smiles at me 
startles my mind from timeless reverie 
to float in shining now eternally 
as all my memories swirl into one stream 
that encodes my soul with beautiful dream 
which all my nameless ancestors program. 

Yet I prefer lax repose of the slouch, 
lazy as Damocles on velvet couch 
with slacker attitude of the mind touch 
through imitation of the winding flow 
that rivers choose on their journey from snow 
as they meander to the sparkling sea. 

So in warm sunlight on Parnassus hill 
I roast strips of beef on hot temple grill 
while chatting with Despair about Free Will 
because, as mute soul lost in the new world, 
I hide sacred book of the cosmic herald 
from the dream tyrant who sneers on the threshold. 

For none can hear strange song of the skylark 
who leads war refugees to the state park 
where Cronus teaches them code of the quark 
that pulses at heart of our universe 
so we evade mockery of the god curse 
since Minerva keeps our souls in her purse. 

Awake before vast shadow of the well, 
I wait for Juturna, with crystal bell, 
to teach me secret of communal spell 
which conjures demon from heart of the human 
who charges us rent to live in his Heaven 
though I metamorph into the Moon Raven. 

Another angry boy, twisted with hate 
of toxic passion to control our fate, 
shoots people dead who hide behind the gate 
that cannot protect us in paradise 
because we refuse to pay karma price 
since Death always cheats us with loaded dice. 

Safe in the Parthenon, I write my goals 
that measure achievement of normal roles 
I play to admire beauty of young foals 
who whip their tales and prance in apple grove 
as hungry wolves hunt for the treasure trove 
that Plato hides as shadow in his cave. 

Because he has nothing worthwhile to say 
about desperate sorrow when people pray 
Cronus chooses to follow his own way 
recording history of humanity 
around how jesters prove insanity 
is diamond-studded crown of vanity. 

Behind Masks Of Glass

Behind Masks Of Glass
© Surazeus
2023 03 27

The ocean flatness of the photograph 
resembles fractal waves of solid thought 
discrete as nameless object self-contained 
in cryptic matrix stretching space to touch 
strange contradiction between real and if 
through second nature of the subterfuge. 

Betrayed by grand narrative of the self, 
not quite traditional as fairy tales, 
the unsubjective mind of faceless who 
subverts expressive passion of false hope 
to now investigate slow ego loss 
with radical critique of tongueless truth. 

Essential to the scene in retrospect, 
she wanders aimless on the campus lawn 
with skeptical temperament of the clown 
dressed as the princess in her tower room 
who watches people on the streets below 
hide from each other behind masks of glass. 

Yet she remains ambivalent to fame 
about ambition of the wonderful 
to sell paradise on the hungry bridge, 
eager to objectify the best friend 
who wins golden prize of the arrogant, 
yet rueful of the need to humble brag. 

Unique depiction of the broken heart 
reveals putative attitude toward how 
we listen to the prophet in the cave 
compete on stage to win the laurel wreath 
that floats on summer breeze down the sea 
as if we are unique in all the world. 

Together in bold enterprise to gain 
tragic sense of how we must accept death, 
concealed in densely suggestive respect, 
we choose to examine the consequence 
inherent in nature of riddle spells 
carved on granite skull of the morning mist. 

Each form of transportation we design 
resembles Ouroboros in the sky 
with diamond eyes of cognitive expanse, 
which substitutes for bold hypocrisies 
because we choose to create our own myth 
as rebel who defies romantic quest. 

We might become the person we are not 
because we think we are the way we talk 
instead of floating on butterfly wings 
when night consumes visions our brains reflect, 
hoping to escape fallacy of faith 
just in time to buy melancholy back. 

If I should diagnose the shadow ghost 
as honest idol of authentic self, 
I would fall into portrait of my soul 
depicting loyal nature of false fame 
so I can walk on the lake shore in peace 
after escaping from the robot game. 

Engaged in civil war of angry boys 
who shoot dark shadows of paranoid fear, 
we cry for angels bleeding on the floor 
whose ghosts are sucked into stories in books, 
compressed as roses red as bloodied dress 
that flutters ego-less on the school lawn. 

Global Jesuvian Empire

Global Jesuvian Empire
© Surazeus
2023 03 26

The old bearded man sits in the wood chair 
on the front porch of the shack in the woods 
and watches Glow Cloud swirl across the sky. 
As faceless Emperor of Jesuvia, 
which spans America, Europe, and Russia, 
he rules one global empire from Israel. 

Watching his face shimmer in the Glow Cloud 
that hovers over global city maze, 
Jesuvius ponders nature of the self 
that glows as idol in the conscious mind. 
Because the past is haunted by the future 
the future is tormented by the past. 

Picking up the lost Stone of Resurrection 
and waving the Wand of Ultimate Power, 
Jesuvius proclaims to the forest creatures 
his latest decree that all human beings 
are born with equal rights through liberty. 
Blind raven in the distance caws reply. 

Dropping the rock and the stick in the dust, 
the old man wanders along sparkling stream 
while pondering how to design new programs 
which solve all socio-economic issues, 
but stops by waterfall of wordless angst 
to ask the gold-eyed owl why we will die. 

Wearing Cloak of Invisibility, 
that hides hungry horror of his mute heart, 
Jesuvius smiles at beauty of the rose. 
Alone in vast forest of humming pines, 
the old man with eyes silver as the sea 
sings about the people he met in life. 

Ruling the global Jesuvian Empire, 
by doing nothing as he sits all day, 
Jesuvius carves runes on trunks of old trees 
while horses gallop on Highway to Heaven. 
The book of ancient tales falls from his hand 
so ghosts of heroes escape on frail wings. 

Surrounded by the nameless ghosts of Earth, 
from every human who has ever lived, 
Jesuvius dreams the drama of their lives 
that streams in history of the spinning globe 
to record their lives in Epic of Amen, 
First Mother of the Jesuvian Empire. 

Resting in the hammock on the high hill, 
while butterflies flutter around his head, 
Jesuvius watches nations of the Earth 
fight each over who rules each land 
while statue of Apollo by the lake 
declares nothing about changing his life. 

Dreams In The Box

Dreams In The Box
© Surazeus
2023 03 24

Gracefully toward revolution of time 
I wear white nothingness to hide my heart 
while following the sad stream in the woods, 
but stop beside abandoned mill of wealth 
to chat with willow trees about true love 
safe in the farmhouse on the silver moon. 

The lonely path to the weird moon reveals 
strange shelter from despair of falling snow 
without tumult of beauty reconciled 
by music that must bring to us our thoughts 
in rarefied form through infinity 
with furious sigh of monstrous innocence. 

Though pleasure might persist in naked dream 
of snow-capped mountains, based on fragile hope 
contained in heart-shaped windows of the church, 
we know depth of the ocean we would seek 
when the heavenly moment of death blooms 
beyond lewd horizon of the vast mind. 

The fabulous face of the tongueless seer 
still ornaments forest of laughing birds 
who openly discuss religious faith 
as final diversion centurions buy 
from shadows in hungry boats never found 
again in flesh of incarnated word. 

We cannot understand fastidious faith 
more acquiescent to the lion smile 
with interest in how history allocates 
fragments of wealth left for impatient ghosts 
who ramble on about how bookstores keep 
secret stories only children remember. 

If walls of light collapse before glad dawn 
we hesitate to measure traffic flow 
since blue mirror sleeping in the lost land 
desires emergence of the urgent law 
with innumerable leaves swirling in wind 
till she finds flowing stream of everywhere. 

Back to small homes of silver attitudes 
grim ravens fly above my subtle sea 
to meet peach Glow Cloud over nameless town 
who asks for wisdom of the dormant seed 
as we gaze moodily at mirrored wind 
to wonder why we always must move on. 

Since the last song of the eagle retires 
at tangled disalignment of the clock 
we talk about world peace with no one else 
as if we understand why trees still weep 
in thinnest shadow of the bitter moon, 
even as we pack our dreams in the box. 

Appropriation Of Obscurity

Appropriation Of Obscurity
© Surazeus
2023 03 23

Through appropriation of obscurity 
to manage strange psychological state, 
based on self-confident grandiosity, 
Lucifer bears lamp of conceptual light 
to find new road in gloom of ignorance 
so he can save good people of our world. 

Obstructed by vampire in leather suit 
who clutches severed head of some dead god, 
Lucifer twirls scepter with diamond blade 
and battles fierce snarling monster of greed 
with mortal combat in the lightning storm 
till he defeats despair with mocking grin. 

Scouring storm-blasted beach after midnight, 
Lucifer leads ship-wreck survivors safe 
to spacious temple on high ziggurat 
where they huddle warm around glowing hearth 
and drink hot wine he pours in golden grail 
as Phoebus strums harp and sings soothing hymns. 

Breaking chains that restrain their hearts with fear, 
Lucifer teaches slaves how to express 
dreams they harbor for how they want to live 
so they can exercise through active force 
free will in context of communal trust 
so their acts create rather than destroy. 

After liberating people from fear 
by teaching them how to exert free will, 
Lucifer sails swift ship into the sky 
with lantern of truth shining on its prow 
that gleams bright as the cardinal North Star 
which guides his journey to explore the world. 

Climbing thirteen steps up high ziggurat, 
Lucifer kneels before tall graceful queen 
wearing gold silk gown and crown of twelve gems, 
so Ishtar places left hand on his head, 
then praises him for good deeds he performs 
protecting all people of Earth from harm. 

Offering large ruby he secured from Fear 
by liberating people from his chains, 
Lucifer presents gift of his pure heart 
to holy priestess of our fertile Earth 
who accepts his loyalty with sweet smile 
as galaxies shimmer in her black eyes. 

Through appropriation of obscurity 
to maintain global attitude of love, 
supporting honest people of our world, 
Lucifer bears lamp of conceptual light 
to guide our journey to the Promised Land 
by giving us strength to overcome fear. 

Blue Hydrangeas Of Faith

Blue Hydrangeas Of Faith
© Surazeus
2023 03 22

I will not walk away from my reflection 
because this trick will not dispel despair 
when uncertainty unfolds with quick flicker 
of light that accumulates in bright swarm 
through timeless breath illuminating clutter 
veiled by eclipse that reveals the way out. 

Blue whispers echo in tragic eggshell 
that believes why nervous memory of light 
keeps my soul from falling into blank sky 
where I daub clay to form pot which contains 
frenetic passion that blends energy 
with summer flame embodied in red flowers. 

Amazed among blue hydrangeas of faith, 
I think about all the places I miss 
years after I traveled too far away 
to ever find the true way back alone 
because I accept the ocean is real 
as if waves can crash out of picture frames. 

Though everything of worth I wish to gain 
requires heart-breaking sacrifice with love, 
I insulate my heart of naked hope 
with continuous loop of sudden change 
described by honest script that fate designs 
because I remember competent sorrow. 

If new moon of the quiet night deceives 
eyes of strangers who follow the wrong road 
I plunge straight into ocean of my dreams 
to explore strange new worlds beyond fake walls 
of paradise, long fallen into ruin, 
where I give myself to beauty of horror. 

Atonal thoughts of narratology 
translate mitotic tales in cultural myths 
dividing clans of cousins into tribes 
that clash in bloody civil wars of freedom 
over who gets to eat apples of life 
by basing rights on random privilege. 

Weird openness of soul entelechy 
guides vital principles of gene rebirth 
so we self-organize on sacred quest 
to extract concepts from the nameless land 
that prove our right to occupy lake shore 
where loud voices impose new moral law. 

Through perpetual revolution of power 
we transform demons to angels with faith 
common as pebbles on the river shore, 
framed by entire sincerity of truth 
as we compose global ideogram tree 
that filters sunlight into wordless psalms. 

Burning Bush Of Being

Burning Bush Of Being
© Surazeus
2023 03 21

Shocked by truth at the burning bush of being, 
I plot with Lucifer to steal the wing 
that Icarus lost when falling in the sea 
so I can forge the soul-recharging key 
which helps me summon light from distant stars 
to power engines of time-machine cars. 

Amused before the burning bush of being, 
I strum guitar on street corners and sing 
about horrible beauty of this life 
that motivates my quest to find a wife 
who can manage my clandestine estate 
in virtual model which calculates fate. 

Stunned by hate at the burning bush of being, 
I beam my spirit in the magic ring 
to forge psychotic horcrux from my brain 
that tunes my mind in sync with cosmic skein 
so I feel vibrant energy of time 
reverberate from Hell as charming chime. 

Amazed beyond the burning bush of being, 
I swipe electric scepter from the king 
who cries in anguish of the fallen fool 
while staring at his blank face in the pool 
with desperate hope to prove that he is right 
about eccentric meaning of the kite. 

Dazed by fear at the burning bush of being, 
I film conceptual wisdom of the zing 
to find out why organic creatures die 
at dissolution through the divine eye 
yet replicate their bodies with coiled genes 
because we are soul-projecting machines. 

Surprised about the burning bush of being, 
I dream writhing runes in secret wellspring 
from which our spirits, trapped in frames of flesh, 
flow swift in channel of the psychic mesh 
which undulates in rhythm with the moon 
while we kiss on sand of the veiled lagoon. 

Awed by joy at the burning bush of being, 
I write guidebook for my yet-born offspring 
who gather on lakeshore by cave of dreams 
to share life wisdom in narrative memes 
that praise the hero who observes and thinks 
about mysterious beauty of the Sphinx. 

Unnerved inside the burning bush of being, 
I wake soul of Sophis with the bell ting 
because she teaches me the arcane art 
of mapping the cosmos with the star chart 
so I can hear voice of God in the flames 
translate my dreams into cultural games. 

Golden Star Of Faith

Golden Star Of Faith
© Surazeus
2023 03 20

With sacred sorrow of the wretched wood 
sad refugees from war still seek the good 
elusive as frail butterfly of love 
that long evades divine gaze from above 
when whistling bombs of arrogant desire 
fail to shatter crystal church of the choir. 

Too many centuries on this spinning Earth 
aggressive people calculate the worth 
of human bodies energized with hope 
that wisdom of the church may help them cope 
with savage beauty beaming bright the soul 
though no one ever chooses fateful role. 

Across wild sea of desperate hope to gain 
expansive state of liberty in vain 
we sail to find the fertile Promised Land 
where humble farmers tend crops with the hand 
that reaches for the golden star of faith 
which nurtures dream world of the psychic wraith. 

To bear the pomegranate in my heart 
with blooming irony of the star chart 
I must extract the ruby of soul power 
which lights my journey to find the dark tower 
where the blind princess sings with lonely birds 
enough to teach me her magical words. 

While England weeps beneath the old oak tree 
her daughter teaches art of Liberty 
as beacon of democracy through law 
sustained by holy book of Onatah 
so we oppose oppression of the church 
that tries to hide what must be found through search. 

Still dreaming of my homeland Avalon, 
that bloomed from pyramids of Babylon, 
I wander lost from sea to shining sea 
on restless quest to find the vatic key 
through which I prophesy in riddle code 
new global empire of the singing toad. 

Since sacred temple of the star-eyed Muse 
is crowded now with bloggers hawking news 
I should drive scammers from cash-sullied hall 
who cannot read the writing on the wall, 
but I act without acting to adjust force 
I channel through my soul from its true source. 

All kings are symbols of divine state power 
controlled by men who trample on the flower 
of freedom to pursue ambitious plot 
by stealing glamor of the royal yacht 
when they maneuver to claim sacred land 
because vast empires must ever expand. 

Vulnerable Spirit

Vulnerable Spirit
© Surazeus
2023 03 19

I want to crawl on hard rocks of the beach 
where cold waves of the indifferent sea swirl 
to feel beautiful horror of the world 
chafe against naked anguish of my soul 
as vulnerable spirit of the bright sun 
that stares into my heart with blazing eye. 

Curled tense on soft meadow of fearful hope, 
I feel the universe pulse in my blood 
so I breathe in excessive shock of hope 
that swells my body huge in mountain bulk 
as vulnerable spirit of the blind stone 
that shimmers at heart of the spinning world. 

I want to rise and do what should be done 
to maintain character my heart invents 
through urgent action of aggressive pride 
so I become the durable butterfly 
as vulnerable spirit of the fierce flame 
perseverant with everlasting faith. 

Bound firm to surface of the boundless globe 
that shudders as it spins in starry void, 
I feel volatile calm fuel my vain quest 
to reparadigm how my brain perceives 
as vulnerable spirit of the mute sea 
resolute with eagerness to give love. 

I want to sustain vision of my world 
my brain conjures from puzzling memories 
which I attempt to organize by code 
through evanescent tenor of fake truth 
as vulnerable spirit of the hard cloud 
able to express compassion through rain. 

Contained firm in frail frame that indicates 
nature of my body buzzing with lust, 
I ponder mystery of the ringing bell 
that lures me to search across swampy heath 
as vulnerable spirit of the rich muck 
surprised at beauty that shines out from pain. 

I want leap through thousand open doors 
to merge all my selves in the multiverse 
in one consummate person I can play 
based on conceptual archetype I dream 
as vulnerable spirit of the god brain 
who claims divine right to rule how men live. 

Enclosed in curving matrix of the world 
through integral node of numeric chains, 
I walk circles around the apple tree 
to wind electric wind into my heart 
as vulnerable spirit of the swift strike 
reborn from amnesia at dawn of time. 

Who Spiral In Lightwaves

Who Spiral In Lightwaves
© Surazeus
2023 03 18

Forever and a day on the seashore, 
yet without her smile in the lonely door, 
Virginia talks to white bee on the rose 
about the reason why the dead tree grows, 
because we are the children of her soul 
who spiral in lightwaves of the White Whole. 

Since there are plenty of fish in the sea 
Virginia ties pink ribbon to her key, 
then hangs it safe to glitter at her breast 
in sacred memory of the dispossessed 
despite manifest beauty of the mind 
who spiral in lightwaves death once designed. 

To think outside the box of assumed truth 
in vain quest to find the fountain of youth 
Virginia wanders through library room 
to find ancient prophecy of world doom 
calculated by riddles of weird clowns 
who spiral in lightwaves of lost playgrounds. 

If she wants to grab the bull by the horns 
with foolish courage of mad unicorns 
Virginia must decide how rivers flow 
by how she writes her true name in the snow 
except for bitter laughter of god skulls 
who spiral in lightwaves of secret scrolls. 

Because every cloud has a silver lining 
designed to enhance fortune of the shining 
Virginia works in her garden all day 
to forget lost love in the one-horse sleigh 
though she wants to search for ghosts in the maze 
who spiral in lightwaves with each dream phase. 

Since we know all that glitters is not gold 
even though the book of dreams has been sold 
Virginia poses on the temple porch 
as Lady Columbia holding the torch 
that lights the way for lost war refugees 
who spiral in lightwaves of atom keys. 

Tragedy Of The Fake Truth

Tragedy Of The Fake Truth
© Surazeus
2023 03 18

With freshened beauty of the evening snow 
that sparkles with frustration of fake truth 
I break icicle off the beard of God 
and write my name on mirror of the moon 
that wakes Anubis from the buried temple 
who gives me rubies extracted from mud. 

With naked anguish of the demon spawn 
that flickers filthy flame each midnight hour 
I clutch cracked statue of Poete Maudit 
who drinks sweet poison of his shimmering shade 
while scribbling riddles on dry autumn leaves 
in curses that kill tyrants with fake truth. 

With noxious spasm of the tribal word 
that spews from hostile deity of grief 
the wingless angel from wise Hydra born 
casts charm of passion in psychotic brew 
to wake fierce Blasphemy from boundless hope 
that dazzles granite tomb of the fake truth. 

With ripened star of the clandestine future 
that scintillates eyes of worshipping throngs 
I measure insubstantial grief to score 
depth of anguish the vagabond ignores 
in program to slander death for her games 
when she creates our souls from the fake truth. 

With shocking silence between music notes 
that echoes funereal pall of our hearts 
I record history of human desire 
with arcane hieroglyphs of hidden wisdom 
silenced by sibylline sobs of blind girls 
who create stories based on the fake truth. 

With appalling lack of memory revealed 
that mocks vain triumph of aggressive sport 
I fashion noble splendor of great deeds 
proclaimed with golden trumpets in grand halls 
while Parsifal writes on vellum with blood 
hilarious tragedy of the fake truth. 

With collapse of the central pedestal 
that fails to support privilege of the rich 
I am eager to commit sacrilege 
when I perform grand role of Lucifer 
by bringing bright lamp from Persephone 
that highlights signless road of the fake truth. 

With heart-searing blood of the snowy quill 
that reflects pure grief of the diamond star 
I cry out to the angels up in Heaven 
but they ignore harsh suffering of my heart 
because they are not real except as ghosts 
in brains of men entranced by the fake truth. 

Blind Tree Of Sorrow

Blind Tree Of Sorrow
© Surazeus
2023 03 17

The singing serpent in blind tree of sorrow, 
whose rainbow scales sparkle with moonlit frost, 
watches black stars of heaven softly fall, 
then teaches men to build them into walls 
so they can warm their hearts with stone-cold fear 
while tending fields of wheat with tears of prayer. 

They gather close around blind tree of sorrow 
to sing about black star of sin and death 
that spins above their heads with flashing sparks, 
and fills their hearts with hot ambitious lust 
to assert control over fertile land 
as they compete to win the prize of fame. 

Awake in shade cast by blind tree of sorrow, 
each one alone, though gathered in wild crowd, 
attempts to calculate heart-twisting fate 
by measuring sturdy passion of stone walls 
that promise safety of false paradise 
for those who exercise free speech of power. 

For ages shadowed by blind tree of sorrow 
they follow forlorn road of enterprise 
to buy and sell strange magic of quartz stones 
as hoof-prints of their commerce vanish when 
time-shattered minds bloom frail from shallow love 
in homes crushed by sweet softness of harsh hope. 

Forever wind whelming blind tree of sorrow 
inspires frail children in the country farm 
to search for anguish hidden in sopped ferns 
as souls acquainted with the starless night 
unearthly bleak as signless lane that calls 
luminary clock of my heart from Hell. 

Still cautious deep inside blind tree of sorrow, 
reluctant to search for blueberry bushes, 
the singing farmer writing poems on bark 
walks over stubbled field of hungry snow 
with nothing to express through loneliness 
that haunts him with mute absence of her trust. 

Eating berries under blind tree of sorrow, 
with gaunt luxuriance of the well-trained beast, 
we grasp the bitter wind of winter faith 
which preserves apple trees of weeping gods 
to weave lost angel feathers in my mind 
till wild gardens bloom from graves of mad kings. 

Through my existence with blind tree of sorrow, 
and nourished by dream magic of the sun, 
I catch swift silver lizard of the moon 
to prove all mountain slopes are not transfixed 
when wingless angels cast from breath of storm 
immortal beauty of the global soul. 

Made Large By Time

Made Large By Time
© Surazeus
2023 03 16

Lost in snow-blue delirium of truth, 
eager to escape idol of his name, 
Alfred wades into changing tide of hope 
to measure seascape of indifferent love 
blooming as anemones in his heart 
made large by time in sharp shock of now. 

Because sparkling sand of the nameless beach 
consists of hard-shelled creatures and bright gems 
ground down to particles by swirling waves, 
Alfred feels atoms of his body buzz 
with thinning sunlight on high jagged cliffs 
made large by time in subtle surge of waves. 

Searching for truth in source of images 
flashing brilliant from fever of his eyes, 
Alfred concentrates on audible sands 
to translate anguish of the moonless man 
who clutches vainly at platinum mist 
made large by time in tranquil honesty. 

Skating his hand across texture of truth 
recorded by shells in clear starless sea, 
Alfred tugs at taut threads of molecules 
to test balance of his dilated mind 
that wants to consume motive of desire 
made large by time in garden of wet blooms. 

Tasting bitter green juice of ecstasy 
promised by the Glow Cloud of careless faith, 
Alfred watches memories of his strange life 
flicker on ocean waves of wordless fear, 
but laughs with relief through absurdity 
made large by time in cool Oregon wind. 

Struggling past dead stretches of timeless doubt 
concealed in picture albums of the past, 
Alfred lies resting on the ever-changing world 
to replay moments of his faded life 
when he danced fumbling by the willow tree 
made large by time in romantic belief. 

Climbing familiar hill of singing skulls, 
lit with eerie silver shimmer of stillness, 
Alfred grips secret seed of ancient truth, 
essential to structural passion of fate, 
then tells eye-fluttering wind his fatal plan 
made large by time in beauty of calm trust. 

Safe in snow-blue delirium of love 
lit by light from other worlds of our minds 
that break in hungry waves on this weird world, 
Alfred recognizes soul of his face 
shining in restless waves of desire 
made large by time in harmony he earns. 

Free All Economic Slaves

Free All Economic Slaves
© Surazeus
2023 03 15

Though thoughtless stairway of the shadow mind 
takes me to bowels of the fractured Earth 
I almost fly on wings of Icarus 
but wake in metro station by the sea, 
staring at petals on the wet black bough 
that are not pale faces of lonely souls. 

The cosmic herald on the rain-gray horse 
appears from beams of light in psychic haze 
to prophesy rise of one global state 
that integrates puzzle of human nations 
with Chinese ideograms as verbal tags 
weaving our brains in divine world wide web. 

But rebels who favor the nationalist state 
form cruel confederacy of corporate kings 
who fight for right to enslave laborers 
too tired from working all day to support 
children who compete for the tattered laurel 
that falls from weary head of the blind seer. 

So I push red wheelbarrow full of dreams 
while working to construct the welfare state 
that cares for every person in the world 
who work together in conceptual mines 
to extract meaning from minerals of hope 
so we can feast in museum of tales. 

The cosmic herald on the throne of oak 
strums golden strings on lyre of Mercury 
and sings enchanting hymns to Liberty 
so we can free all economic slaves 
from gnawing hunger of the frantic mind 
mad with faith to comprehend the Star Wraith. 

But none will listen to the screaming tree 
who warns the proud official heads of state 
that global warming might soon energize 
demonic Glow Cloud of celestial wrath 
who wears the tarnished mask of Jupiter 
while lounging on the Himalaya Range. 

Because the cosmic herald of the Earth 
is new theophany of Apollon 
we gather in Stonehenge at flash of dawn 
to drink sweet wine as ichor of Earth God 
and dance with wild abandon of state laws 
in whirl that wakes the Phoenix of our hearts. 

After we dismantle white privilege 
that props the patriarchy on weak laws 
which gives advantage to fragility 
we build new global state based on just laws 
that provide equal rights to every soul 
so we generate life before we die. 

Humming Snow Of Time

Humming Snow Of Time
© Surazeus
2023 03 14

The orange thunderhead of swirling desire 
crackles over slurred contours of sour hills 
where grulla horses graze. Three sparrows dart 
along radio waves to the lonely house 
where wind waits mute. If I fall from the cloud 
no child will find kite of my skeleton. 

Divergent blooms of cohesive cottonwoods 
explain why childhood in gold sunlit fields 
deceives my heart with bitter truth that we 
die forever. With humming snow of time 
flowers transform rotten bodies. Too deep 
in dark hypnotic well my spirit floats. 

Unbearable beauty borne by bold bells 
cracks foundation of our global world view. 
Roses bloom from bloody light of the moon 
ten million years of serpentine respect 
more varied than weird eyes. I choose to live 
because I will know naught after I die. 

Reluctant syntax of tangled tree roots 
articulates why love, from spring wind born, 
emerges sharp through inelegant grief. 
Behind granite walls of my startled eyes 
wounded heart of the cosmic architect 
hides shocking joy in unseen artifacts. 

If I speak plainly to indifferent rain 
about why green bleeds from my pulsing brain 
you would understand why I want to sing 
hymns of honor to the hyacinth girl 
before she dies. Her mask floats in the pool 
where she threw her innocence with disgust. 

Dressed in black suit and white silk wedding gown, 
the man and the woman, still holding hands, 
walk in dark pine forest among wet ferns 
while their mothers photograph their true love. 
Quotidian routine of soul mimicry 
conceals vainglorious quest for how to dance. 

Gesturing fingers in complex figurines, 
she synthesizes fractured beams of light 
through drops of water quivering mirror eyes. 
If cataracts veil world view of my eyes 
I may become the Glow Cloud no one sees 
that gleams with madness of the sad goldfinch. 

I never will believe tall tales men tell 
to hide that they lost all their hard-earned wealth 
which simulates nature in works of art 
no one wants to steal. Bells on the oak ring 
illogical fate of magic expressed 
by blind seer who allocates sparks of time. 

Topography Of The Mind

Topography Of The Mind
© Surazeus
2023 03 13

Slow butterflies on glass chrysanthemums 
tolerate absence of the lightning god 
who chats with ravens in the holm oak tree 
about strange beauty of the violin 
that defines topography of the mind 
where the laughing horse eats your holy book. 

Sad clown in dark abandoned theater 
stares at mask of his face he never wears 
after tearing up the script of his life 
never witnessed by spectators with wings 
who gamble to escape their obvious fate 
to never measure chasm of the mind. 

The absent guide of unearthly respect 
throws pages of her fake biography 
in heavenly wind of symbolized hope 
to dispel mirage of her ancient soul 
which liberates my moonwhite consciousness 
for sparrows to fly out the open window. 

Lost antique land of seven houseless hills 
lures me to touch weird beauty of this land 
which no human can ever claim is theirs 
based on map of absence I draw with blood 
from bodies of people who lived here first 
to run beyond horizon of the mind. 

Because I belong to another road 
where I will never walk in this lifetime 
I look back on my own ancestral trail 
to hear their voices searching for the truth 
that floats diaphanous over blind lakes 
till all my roads converge inside my mind. 

The unplucked string of the broken guitar 
wakes ghost of every soul killed in world war 
so I make new mask for each one to wear 
so they might remember who they once were 
more lithe than wild salmon caught in the weir 
while clutching compass of the voiceless choir. 

Purple wisteria draped on southern pines 
veil my evening meditation with scent 
sweet as broken wineglass on mansion lawn 
where buzzing bodies of humans embrace 
to generate meaning in words we speak 
that diffuse mystery of the covenant. 

I am only me in this frame of flesh 
awake with lightning of the glass guitar 
because my heart ranks on the starless scale 
heavy with sorrow of the nameless dead 
who animate my journey back to Eden 
where Melusine always welcomes me home. 

Sky Inside My Heart

Sky Inside My Heart
© Surazeus
2023 03 12

Strange glitter of the sky inside my heart 
reflects stubborn silence of the strict air 
that washes pain from my body with rain 
till I recreate the world with syntax 
affecting clay of my flesh with emotion 
tense as borrowed light of the sudden world. 

I have something to tell you with my throat 
by I forget the secret of true love 
because my footsteps on the signless road 
could be erased by words bleeding in books 
though I keep singing in the burning world 
to prove my hands know suffering of hard work. 

The caterpillar on the blade of grass 
worships the butterfly on the wild thyme 
as incarnation of the wingless god 
who flies along gravel path of salvation 
to find strange beauty of the Absolute 
who stands shocked in glow of the right here now. 

Ghosts of people killed in ten thousand wars 
relax with me in grove of cherry trees 
to study how the piston engine works 
without resentment toward the faceless man 
who invented the gun centuries before 
Oberon sets me free from the oak tree. 

We turn way from the heart-breaking truth 
when frightened men, terrified of defeat, 
attempt to crush the weak with fist of rage, 
but at the coming of messiah sleuth 
the weak unite to defend fields of wheat 
and free their children from the money cage. 

Though you appear with face I have not seen 
from swirling shadow of the lonely tree, 
and speak to me with voice I have not heard 
about true nature of our spinning globe, 
I know eternal beauty of your soul 
for I feel you vibrate through every star. 

I know I heard these platitudes before, 
perhaps one summer evening long ago 
when your face was lit by flames of the fire, 
but tonight I gaze into heart of darkness 
to feel star of the first flash in my heart 
glowing with vision of some better world. 

Yet just as everything seems to be lost, 
and we feel ourselves fading in cold wind, 
the timeless sparkle of the diamond star 
restores my heart with longing to connect 
with strangers after they tell me their stories, 
then our names and deeds vanish from the show. 

Death Always Beautifies

Death Always Beautifies
© Surazeus
2023 03 10

Not in the empty silence of the world 
do I express sweet anguish for the way 
those thirteen blackbirds in the snowy tree 
discuss strange pathway of my wayward soul 
as I, with each phase through abyss of light, 
traverse the rainbow bridge of wordless fear. 

With subtle pantomime of my blackbird 
do I become one mind with one I love 
based on strange beauty of inflected mood 
awake through innuendo puzzled weird 
by whistling sorrow time decides to bell 
though traced in shadow of the cipher dream. 

Yet lucid rhythms still involved with death, 
more inescapable than random truth, 
teach me to fly on euphony of thought 
connecting accents sharply green with hope 
all afternoon in tangent snow of prayer 
because we feel dire ecstasy of love. 

These many circles of my endless flight 
wind tighter concept of my sparkling brain 
at sight of sudden wings on plangent wind 
too sonorous with melancholy hymn 
not quite pathetic as unnumbered states 
we lose at lamentation children trade. 

Still searching for conceptual humor, bound 
by flowing water of contingent dawn, 
we eat ripe melons on the misty hill 
to figure why our wretched poverty 
provides foundation for intense success 
unknown before false maxim of the crow. 

Three travelers in ruins of the church 
discuss with candles why red sunrise blinds 
arrogant fools with riddles of the morgue 
while paused in pirouette of phantom style 
described by laughter of the staged profound 
with solitude of darkness undeterred. 

Our lesser influence through radiant mood 
persists with equal flow of dreams between 
three grieving seasons of the leafless tree 
loud as reluctant drums which serenade 
one who remembers salty taste of glory, 
entranced by arabesques of candle beams. 

Death always beautifies those complex men 
who hide contemptuous pride behind gold masks 
by abdicating noble rights to eat 
with old triumphant sting of honest faith 
exposed in vibrant stories of the sea 
that never expose secrets of our hearts. 

Tangled Threads Of Memory

Tangled Threads Of Memory
© Surazeus
2023 03 09

The tangled threads of memory in our hearts 
connect our bodies to bodies of souls 
who dream endless song of the ocean waves 
for souls of all our ancestors remain 
entwined in neural network of our brains 
so we remember moments of their lives. 

Our First Mother of all humanity 
glows as the universal faceless ghost 
which animates our bodies with desire 
to generate new life before we die 
with ancient energy of beaming light 
that radiates from core of our conscious minds. 

I feel her energy awake in me 
as basic shimmer of my conscious mind 
that forms foundation of the virtual world 
which she programmed in one grand narrative 
to manage how I perceive the formal world 
which swirls around me in atomic waves. 

The Deathless Mother of our spinning Earth 
dreams awake in each conscious human brain 
so we recognize her immortal soul 
when we gaze in eyes of people we meet, 
for we are entwined in one family 
through tangled threads of memory in our hearts. 

Sad Moon Of Anywhere

Sad Moon Of Anywhere
© Surazeus
2023 03 08

Based on oracular spell of the gem 
divining concept of the cryptic dream, 
I stand with noble horse of prescient wind 
beneath enigmatic oak of my mind 
where Sibyl writes riddles on fragile leaves 
that encode weird cypher of dreamless caves. 

Entranced by pungent petrichor of roads 
unspooling rapid warmth in eerie woods, 
I ponder why sad moon of anywhere 
reflects stark beauty of the gliding car 
fueled by sweet ichor of sad dinosaurs 
who solve grim formulas of engine gears. 

Veiled by diaphanous mask of my name 
concealing doleful passion hearts consume, 
I dare perform role of the wingless god 
too busy saving our world to go mad 
till my soul gets trapped in computer spark 
where souls of the dead can never more lurk. 

Urged forth on buoyant breast of rainbow swirl 
floating in wordless hopes of poisoned laurel, 
I probe extensive network of fake doors 
transformed into boats that explore dark fears 
though still stormy after cheerful neglect 
exposes national pride to be abstract. 

Embraced by cumulous visions of love 
spiraling from fate of the ocean wave, 
I fish for thought demons in Lake of Eyes 
whose charming songs guide me in the myth maze 
where famous people go to escape fame 
because no one respects the honest mime. 

Bound to changing Earth by gossamer wings 
expressing perfect beauty of thought pangs, 
I strum lyre and improvise memories 
to sing within wild tradition of jazz 
till deathless mother returns to the tomb 
where she sings schematics of the brain bomb. 

Versed in ethereal flash of liberal words 
reflecting our real world in countless shards, 
I chat with crows in oak tree of the moon 
to frame my spirit with the Skjolder Rune 
as lantern that lights my way to Alfheim 
where I will construct occultic elf home. 

Damned alive with luminous arrogance 
radiating from core of the cosmic chance, 
I wake from memories of ancestral brains 
that map characters through conceptual zones 
so I evolve from fish to singing god 
reborn from fertile mind of the Mermaid. 

Psychic Ghosts Of Chemicals

Psychic Ghosts Of Chemicals
© Surazeus
2023 03 07

Faint tracks in mindless snow of lonely woods 
map futile quests of poets to explain 
romantic compassion of mortal gods 
to transcend twisting agony of pain 
endemic to our struggle to live well 
as conscious shadow of the cosmic soul. 

The conscious radiance of the cosmic soul 
consists of every light-perceptive brain 
awake on every carbon-blooming world 
in the universe, nurtured bright by its star, 
who sings vision of life their mind creates 
to express joy at pleasure of existence. 

Though Muses of the poets long ago 
once dwelled on Parnassus and Helicon, 
Tahoma, bright in silver Seattle mist, 
is my own Holy Mountain of the Muse 
where I first learned to play the lyre of Hermes 
and sing Apollonian verse of the soul. 

While standing on roof outside my apartment 
over the Beauty and the Books bookstore, 
I see Tahoma, Goddess of Rebirth, 
spread lightning wings over maze of Seattle 
and leap on flash of truth into my heart 
to fill my mind with endless flow of song. 

Inspired by sacred spirit of Tahoma, 
I journey far across the spinning world, 
from Seattle to Denver to Miami, 
chanting visions as soul of Mercury 
to lead lost souls on signless road of faith 
for we are temporary flames of love. 

With crystal stillness of unshattered dream 
that radiates silence from eight billion brains 
I rise from shimmering darkness of my heart 
to flow with breath of every living soul 
in psychic current of transcendent love 
that blooms as apples from the Tree of Life. 

We exercise free will of aching hope 
within constraints of strict atomic forms 
that bind our conscious minds with writhing words 
which energizes vessel of our souls 
over passionate waves of molecules 
for we are psychic ghosts of chemicals. 

Swift horse that gallops on the grassy plain 
reveals to me the vast scope of our world, 
so we lounge on the peaceful river shore, 
munching apples in timeless evening glow 
with Waldeinsamkeit in our sublime woods 
as conscious shadow of the cosmic soul. 

Dark Stream Of Stories

Dark Stream Of Stories
© Surazeus
2023 03 06

Deep in dark stream of stories without hope, 
still swimming forward against aching surge 
of horror encoded in fairy tales, 
that praise heroes long rotting in cold tombs, 
she reaches arms toward bright indifferent moon 
of halcyon desire to wake from mute dream. 

Yet in her darkest hour of anguished fear 
she sees bright glowing idol of her mother 
beam down from screaming mirror of the moon 
who luminates that narrow signless road 
visible to her bleeding eyes alone, 
so she continues on beyond cold dawn. 

Unsettled by sweet nightfall on wet moor, 
engoldened by weird light in black rainclouds, 
she disappears in strange nightingale song 
louder than ocean waves that rainbow rocks 
of burnished wrecks, exiled from azure skies 
to grizzled spruce bog in forest of toads. 

Baptized in dazzling light of timeless dawn, 
while standing mute before huge tapestry 
depicting star-eyed unicorn of love 
chased by handsome men in garden of apples, 
she feels divine soul of our universe 
congeal as flashing diamond in her mind. 

Haughty pride swallowed by stark wilderness 
of astonishing faith, concealed in book 
of heart-warming tales, she sips tea of lust 
from fragile teacup of her brittle heart, 
then ponders perilous passion of trust 
she hesitates to balance with taut wings. 

Exalted on high jagged peak of angst, 
she answers wild call of the cautious wolf, 
reticent yet eager to taste soul blood 
that fountains from prolific womb of Earth 
with prosperous lethargy of honest thirst 
for prurient apathy of fertile patience. 

Anguish of blind ambition to transform 
beyond opacity of amorous beauty 
motivates her bold aggressive performance 
when she plays her impossible romance 
fraught with tragic nonchalance of contempt 
to express wanderlust of her pure mind. 

Awake in cataclysm of lost souls, 
who wander downtown churchyard of blind faith, 
she pours traumatic nectar of her mind 
in humid channel of bruised retrospect 
to re-embroider fractured face of death 
with tangled riddles in dark stream of stories. 

Scarlet Umbrella Tumbles

Scarlet Umbrella Tumbles
© Surazeus
2023 03 05

Only the river is there to applaud 
intense performance of the anguished man 
who plays piano on the riverwalk 
at gold midnight under the weeping bridge 
when he laments death of woman he loves 
whose ghost haunts him with absence of her being. 

Scarlet umbrella tumbles in shocked wind 
with desperate agony to find her hand 
limp in lifeless sorrow on asphalt road 
smeared with melting rainbow of fraught blood 
that screams loud as tattered butterfly wings 
scattered with rose petals on pools of tears. 

Not even the maple by the blind pond 
could console torn heart of the anguished man 
who slouches naked on the grand piano 
with frazzled angel wings limp on sand dunes 
that whistle timeless horror of desire 
far outside vast maze of human hope. 

With clarity of silence between notes 
of heart-rending melodies no one hears 
the woman in scarlet dress and high heels 
strides toward the secret cavern of lost faith, 
ambitious to reclaim her private dreams 
lost after years of submissive obedience. 

Expressing contempt for free agency, 
the man in dark blue suit with silver tie 
shouts as he drives expensive car in rain, 
"Because you are my lawful wedded wife 
your body and mind are mine to possess 
so you must respect my authority." 

Blood of her heart gleams scarlet as the rose 
on chrome bumper of his expensive car 
when he races away in purple rain 
on roaring engine of greedy contempt 
after erasing her soul from the world 
because he kills those he cannot control. 

Only the river is there to lament 
heart-breaking loss of the elegant woman 
whose charming smile of selfless charity 
beams from her loving heart with subtle warmth 
to eradicate pain of suffering 
for each soul blessed by her attentive care. 

Awake in vast indifferent universe, 
the wingless angel on bleak river shore 
plays swift electrifying melody 
on old piano, drenched in evening rain, 
as scarlet umbrella tumbles on road 
to hide tear-gleaming eyes of the moon toad. 

Consort Through Synergy

Consort Through Synergy
© Surazeus
2023 03 04

She always wakes at dawn with crowed alarm 
in tune with eerie message of the charm, 
so when she wears the simple farmgirl dress 
she floats on angel wings of happiness, 
and milks the cows while birds chirp in the oak, 
then strides to town wearing long wolf-fur cloak. 

When star-eyed hawk on wings of ardent faith 
swoops down from castle of the faceless wraith 
she whistles sharp with austere attitude 
to reprimand with noble amplitude 
the haughty prince who sneers on prancing horse 
back at the peasant girl whose style seems coarse. 

With clash of wills in fierce opposing stance 
both prince and farmgirl exchange irate glance 
through irritated outrage of contempt, 
accusing each other in harsh attempt 
to outwit their enemy with attack 
till their hearts tangle in romantic wrack. 

Drenched in the sudden gust of freezing rain, 
both prince and farmgirl race along the lane 
to shelter safe in old abandoned shack 
where they crouch as she shares her morning snack 
of apples and cheese while the lightning flash 
glitters with passion in the stormy splash. 

Tramping together in dark tangled woods, 
both prince and farmgirl, wearing leather hoods, 
search for pool that predicts future events 
to understand what Moon Rose represents, 
bickering as they solve all problems they face 
till psychic tension transforms into grace. 

Discovering conspiracy of cruel greed 
his uncle contrives with lust to succeed, 
both prince and farmgirl evade his attacks 
in survival mode to the grand climax 
where side by side they break his tyranny 
through battle they wage with bold irony. 

Hearts bonded by their battle against hate, 
both prince and farmgirl, entangled by fate, 
work together to restore state of peace 
based on program that nurtures wealth increase 
because their minds consort through synergy 
to manage productive society. 

She always wakes at dawn with belled alarm 
in tune with eerie message of the charm, 
so when she wears silk gown and jeweled crown 
she helps him rule productive castle town, 
ensuring every person may live well 
by building Heaven on ruins of Hell. 

Endless Road Of Hope

Endless Road Of Hope
© Surazeus
2023 03 

God is concept of the ideal human 
toward which we evolve through every new life. 
The slim white moon sets behind wind-tossed trees, 
gleaming clear on the hidden silver stream. 
Alone in wood boat under eyeless stars, 
I sip wine and sing ancient sorrow song. 

Our bodies and brains are woven from atoms 
that spiral from first flash of the big bang. 
Ten thousand rivers flow into one sea 
after they tumble from high mountain vales. 
I sit on lush shore of Celestial River 
and read the last letter she wrote to me. 

Bright atoms sparkling in pool of my brain 
vibrate with light beams of one universe. 
Turtles swim over rooftops of our homes 
toward small island of the high mountain peak. 
Ten thousand boats float on the shoreless sky, 
glowing with lanterns lit by fallen stars. 

The Ungod who observes life from my brain 
wakes from starlight as my conscious I Am. 
Neighbors hand pots of food over the fence 
where sparrows dart among the maple trees. 
Farmers pause from tending fields of new crops 
and gaze at clouds to see if God exists. 

If Cloud Mind wakes inside my conscious mind 
I will transcend strict limits of this form. 
People follow trails winding around hills 
where red chrysanthemums bloom from our graves. 
Stopping in silver mist on dew-wet hill, 
I wonder if my love is still alive. 

Since God exists not outside words in books 
I play my own role in drama of life. 
Standing before gate to the Everywhere, 
I play heart-breaking songs on broken lyre. 
The Garden of Eden is lost beneath 
the sprawling city of ten million homes. 

The bridge between completely different worlds 
spans the bottomless abyss of my heart. 
No one today gathers in temple halls 
to feast while Muses sing of tragic heroes. 
I drive my car on endless road of hope 
till I run out of gas on the sea shore. 

Unconscious spirit of quick molecules 
motivates soul machine of chemicals. 
Long after I have vanished in the void, 
rivers still flow down mountains to the sea. 
When you gaze in the mirror of this verse 
you will see true face of the universe. 

Weird Garden Of Butterflies

Weird Garden Of Butterflies
© Surazeus
2023 03 02

Lovers in weird garden of butterflies 
search for fragile skeletons of their gods 
soldered with cheap circuit board of weird myth 
though who can believe the impossible 
since laughing shovels discuss state of death 
as if souls are flames that return to stars. 

Angels in weird garden of butterflies 
weave feathers they stole from demons of Hell 
into arrogant wings of bogus truth 
so they can fly from streets of poverty 
in fierce competition to be the best 
though their children wander lost in the west. 

Rivals in weird garden of butterflies 
spoof authentic scam of religious faith 
with sacred doctrine of the resurrection 
designed to trick fools into purchasing 
timeshares in Heaven that never exists 
where Lucifer kills his demonic father. 

Demons in weird garden of butterflies 
write lines of code that program if then else 
to analyze moral values of Death 
which programs how computers perceive us 
as fragile flames of undulating light 
congealed in bodies of atomic flight. 

Purists in weird garden of butterflies 
build holy temple of the eyeless clown 
on rocky island where the rugged cross 
listens to prayers of hungry vagabonds 
with cold indifference of the smirking sea 
so we decide that all we need is love. 

Mavens in weird garden of butterflies 
design new world view for our global state 
based on principle of equality 
for every person seeking happiness 
in woke devotion to Queen Liberty 
to ensure justice for all who create. 

Hepcats in weird garden of butterflies 
smoke herbal essence of old story books 
while dancing lonely with the Grateful Dead 
at Rainbow Gathering by the mountain lake 
where haughty flaneurs strut down avenues 
to be seen and admired by the proud crowd. 

Trekkers in weird garden of butterflies 
explore strange new worlds in the galaxy 
where heroes trapped in ancient epic poems 
contest with supernatural demigods 
over who controls the grand narrative 
that defines truth of the excursionist. 

Pilgrims in weird garden of butterflies 
sing hymns of worship with heart-breaking angst 
to praise Sun Spider Goddess of the mind 
who weaves our planet from atomic thoughts 
that fuel chemical machine of our souls 
so we choose our fate as we play our roles. 

Nomads in weird garden of butterflies 
exchange business cards at art galleries 
where no one looks at paintings on the walls 
while making business deals with secret winks 
through fraught evasion of unspoken truth 
that Heaven is illusion of despair. 

Drifters in weird garden of butterflies 
ask the globetrotter for financial tricks 
to get rich off the vagrancy of hope 
though he keeps the gigantic skull of Smaug 
preserved inside Museum of the Mad 
till the doleful clock strikes the thirteenth hour. 

Dreamers in weird garden of butterflies 
yearn for poignant hour of tragic regret 
not quite ironic as the pensive joke 
that describes fallacy of wistful love 
because our bodies break down as we age 
so I play myself on the global stage. 

Airport Of The Laughing Mime

Airport Of The Laughing Mime
© Surazeus
2023 03 01

Lost in vast airport of the laughing mime, 
I run forever toward gate of desire 
with desperate agony to catch my flight 
to transcendental mountains of intrigue 
in quest for cave of curiosity 
where cautious demons sew dream tapestry. 

Stuck in glass airport of the laughing mime, 
I stand beside gate to infinity 
and strum blues melodies on old guitar 
while chanting epic tale of Sundiata 
to redesign concept of heroism 
within fractal framework of socialism. 

Bored in steel airport of the laughing mime, 
I read history of the world in huge novels 
that answer question what would Jesus do 
as if he were German and not the Jew 
who walks on water as the Argonaut 
still searching Colchis for the Golden Naught. 

Shocked in mist airport of the laughing mime, 
I travel far to find what never tires 
because our incomprehensible Earth 
is rude with silence of our aching hearts 
about divine beauty of chemicals 
that bloom from sparkling waves of particles. 

Amused in airport of the laughing mime, 
I stand with silent trees on changing shores 
to embody strange country of my mind 
as wounded creature of threatening clouds 
who escapes true origin of the heart 
that translates common language of the chart. 

Pregnant in airport of the laughing mime, 
I swim upstream to cave of lurid ghosts 
so humble child of hunger may be born 
as talking animal with hidden wings 
who appears as the holy deer of truth 
in ruined cathedral of the dream sleuth. 

Revived in airport of the laughing mime, 
I sing ancient stories of desert ghosts 
who linger in shade of the prickly pear 
to speak in mournful language of the sand 
though airplanes full of passengers soar high 
across glass horizon of the world eye. 

Voiceless in airport of the laughing mime, 
I open every door to Nowhere Land 
where millions of people alone in rooms 
write code on blank walls with blood of their brains 
till I catch my flight to Elysium 
in starship powered by dilithium.