To Love Angel Of Death

To Love Angel Of Death
© Surazeus
2023 06 30

Lost in the castle maze of dreams with Kafka 
because I have no guide like Beatrice 
to lead me safe through dark caverns of Hell 
and up rugged mountain of Purgatory, 
I walk with Eve from Eden before dawn 
to cross Slough of Despond and enter Gotham. 

I should not try to love Angel of Death 
because she is indifferent to all life, 
yet I would cross the gushing stream of hope 
to save the person I love from despair 
for she inspires me to express my truth 
as I create new life before I die. 

When Happiness thrusts spear of arrogance 
to stab the Angel of Death through her heart 
I throw myself in front of her as shield 
to save immortal spirit of her soul 
for I would sacrifice my precious life 
so she can live beyond eternity. 

Far in the distance over misty heath 
I heart strange eerie melody of pain 
emanate from rocky vale of desire 
so I grasp fear with passion of my heart 
and climb rugged mountain of Purgatory 
to find Angel of Death in apple grove. 

Face glowing whiter that the midnight moon, 
the Angel of Death wearing black lace dress 
invites me to dwell in her Bower of Bliss 
where Orpheus plays gold lyre by the pool 
and Gorgon dances with snakes in her hair 
so I lounge under Sword of Damocles. 

Yet as I linger by the River Styx 
where White Hart grazes among rustling reeds 
I feel intense desire inside my heart 
swell huge from sharp anxiety of fear 
bright as pure lilies bloom from slimy mud 
to translate howl of sea waves into song. 

No Beatrice leads me to the Promised Land 
yet I always find my way to Elysium 
where shy Artemis strings her yew bow taut 
with gut cords from the white cow of Europe 
who bids me follow her on winding trail 
to the ziggurat where Ishtar still rules. 

Because I choose to love Angel of Death 
she holds my trembling hand with selfless love 
to charge my heart with energy of faith 
as we walk side by side on ocean beach 
because I know that I will die someday 
and leave my spirit awake in my children. 

Too Many Ways To Fall In Love

Too Many Ways To Fall In Love
© Surazeus
2023 06 30

Despite too many ways to fall in love 
I wake as spirit of the Messenger 
urged by intense energy of desire 
to light my way through endless maze of myths 
so I can find safe haven in the cave 
where shadows of truth flicker on the wall. 

Because too many ways to fall in love 
erase my story from legend of time 
I fly on silver wings of eager faith 
half way around the spinning world of lies 
to find my soulmate on the river shore 
who sings about strange beauty of the bird. 

Although too many ways to fall in love 
enhance my opportunities to mate 
with fertile goddess of the singing lake 
I walk alone in rain of broken hearts 
to catch wild lightning of new attitude 
that fuels my journey to the Promised Land. 

Without too many ways to fall in love 
that leaves me stranded on the lone highway 
far from the fog-enshrouded city streets 
I paint road signs with sacrificial blood 
that flows from heart of the arrogant goat 
when I drink wine and fall from the Blue Sky. 

Before too many ways to fall in love 
disturb my sunny afternoon of peace 
with demons screaming from pages of books 
I eat banana pudding on the porch 
then walk among spider-infested weeds 
to find sweet girl who weeps by the slime pond. 

After too many ways to fall in love 
discombobulate strange vibe of the stage 
with tragic consequence of false romance 
I hold hands with pretty Angel of Death 
as we walk country road in searing heat 
that strips all meaning from our naked souls. 

Beyond too many ways to fall in love 
surrounding paradise with cold stone walls 
I climb the Ivory Tower of despair 
where blind Rapunzel sings with aching sorrow 
to find salvation in the far tomorrow 
because there is no life after our death. 

Whereas too many ways to fall in love 
define my true demonic character 
with urgent intention to procreate 
I fight weird monster of the howling sea 
to save Andromeda from Doom of Death 
because Medusa kisses me with love. 

I Open My Eyes

I Open My Eyes
© Surazeus
2023 06 30

When God appears as the white butterfly 
I will play the Gardener of the Earth, 
cultivating human souls frail as flowers 
who seek to express their will to exist 
as temporary flames of spirit light 
that glow so dimly through eternal night. 

The moment thirteen thousand years ago 
when four million people around the Earth 
wish for God with aching love in their hearts 
I open my eyes and feel all their pain 
expressed as hope that someone with great power 
would control strange unknown process of fate. 

Alone on mountain of starlit insight, 
I gaze at small human communities 
scattered along the shores of flowing rivers 
and design plan of life for every soul 
because they want me to manage their fate 
that gives clear meaning to their futile lives. 

As long as humans struggling to survive 
pray for direction to their futile lives 
by giving each soul the important task 
their skills may qualify them to perform 
then I will exist in conceptual state 
as force of will who guides their noble play. 

While each living human who breathes the air 
of holy spirit through atomic waves 
conceives omniscient God inside their minds 
then I will swirl from energy of faith 
as supernatural being they idolize 
to play role of the guide they pray I Am. 

For I embody all their hopes and dreams 
in mortal human they elect to lead 
their nation forth on path of destiny 
through unified attention of free will 
when I perform the role of president 
whose heart contains the suffering of their fears. 

As supernatural concept of free will 
who wears the mask of God they wish to love 
I guide each person with my silent voice 
of wise authority inside their head 
by teaching them to choose with honest faith 
to create the Good rather than destroy. 

The God created by Humans must act 
according to their desperate will of hope 
that hides in holy prayers of psychic spells 
we chant while dancing in glow of midnight 
as we invent the Father of the Earth 
embodied by the man we choose to rule. 

Gods In Human Form

Gods In Human Form
© Surazeus
2023 06 30

The tears I have held back and never cried 
for too many years since my loved ones died 
have formed glistening pool inside my head 
where all my fears drown in silence of dread, 
so with bold bravado of the grim fool 
I face nothingness with psychotic tool. 

Lost in shadow of American Gloom, 
I reach out and grasp the strong hand of Doom 
though Angel of Death appears in my space 
to wake demonic beauty in my face 
when I rise up from ruins of world war 
and leap through spiral of the History Door. 

Born from anguish of the bottomless sea 
to comprehend glow of eternity, 
I swim forever upward toward the light 
as I evolve through bodies in star-flight 
to dance at last on spinning globe of faith 
in ever-shifting form of the Mind Wraith. 

When Death arrives at door of my bruised heart 
to laugh at errors of my dream-world chart 
I somersault Bridge of Forgetfulness 
to escape diseased Devil of Success 
who wants to crown me with Diadem of Fame 
though no one could ever win at that game. 

Though dark cloud of disaster from dream cave 
looms over our nation in fateful wave 
I face tsunami of tellurian change 
with magic gesture that would disarrange 
conceptual players in contest for wealth 
who invade Heaven with occultic stealth. 

When Jesus deploys divine privilege 
to condemn my Free Will as sacrilege 
I lead rebellion against tyranny 
to advocate for world democracy 
when I bear shining torch of Lucifer 
in vain fight against greed of Jupiter. 

As Earth spins lost in void of starless hope 
my soul evolves by learning how to cope 
with mindless nature of hostile intent 
till I subdue all monsters who resent 
how I declare I am true Son of God 
who rules the world with legal justice squad. 

I float in pool of tears my heart conceals 
as I chant spell with dream code that reveals 
celestial force of gods in human form 
who cooperate to control social storm 
through argument about the state of being 
that conjures our ability to sing. 

Affirmative Action

Affirmative Action
© Surazeus
2023 06 29

Privilege of family with wealth over talent 
has ever reigned at core of western culture 
since God chose Jesus over Lucifer 
to conserve status of the power elite 
against slow progress of democracy 
that opens doors with affirmative action. 

Weird Strategy Of Truth

Weird Strategy Of Truth
© Surazeus
2023 06 29

To demonstrate weird strategy of truth 
I build Castle of Ideology 
based on foundation of strict measurement 
consistent with generation of life 
when sperm fertilizes egg of the mind 
since I live in dream cave down by the river. 

To navigate unknown landscape of fate 
I run on broken wings through maze of mirrors 
because there is no ordered sense of things 
that we can compose from random events 
till I stand on edge of the universe 
and laugh with my beast-face in the abyss. 

To abdicate the golden throne of power 
I grasp guitar lost by the blind folk singer 
to wield as weapon against tyranny 
as I hitchhike across the bleak Waste Land 
to find in library of faceless ghosts 
the laughing skull of Hamlet I must steal. 

To activate social media account 
that would connect pulsing core of my brain 
to vast world wide web of computer cores 
I leap into blank sea of cyberspace 
and sail my boat to land of Zathamar 
to reconstruct weird vision of the world. 

To oscillate on pendulum of faith 
between sincere seriousness of belief 
and ironic playfulness of cynicism 
I study thought-deconstructed concepts 
of grand narratives to find the true hero, 
then wear their mask I reconstruct from myth. 

To decorate castle of poetry 
where professors and poet laureates 
rule the Poetry Industrial Complex 
I smash the mirror of conceptual truth 
that spirals from God Eye of the White Whole 
who dreams every soul who has ever lived. 

To obligate my heart with moral laws 
I choose to treat each person with respect 
so I would create rather than destroy 
for the universe is structure of atoms 
that fluctuates through matrix of the mind 
as one drop in wild cosmic sea of souls. 

To animate brave puppet of my brain 
as shimmering eidolon of the Not-Me 
I tell grand story of the cultural hero 
with ironic sincerity of faith 
to manage social stress of psychic truth 
that we are atoms swirling in the void. 

To annotate epic poem of the Earth 
I champion interconnection of cultures 
through continuous revision of the lie 
that my nation is the greatest on Earth 
by grasping phenomenon of desire 
that urges me to generate new life. 

To decorate the pyramid of power 
where mortal gods strut on the skulls of demons 
I signify the ordinary fact 
with mysterious significance of faith 
beaming eerie light of infinity 
that illuminates the mundane with Weird. 

To digitate sad songs of ocean waves 
with intertextual fragments of our dreams 
I occupy ruined Temple of Virtue 
where angels and demons play games of chess 
which deconstructs our subjectivity 
because I am the king who plays the clown. 

To distillate essence of alcohol 
squeezed from bitter-sweet fruit of paradise 
I melt ten thousand crowns and swords of death, 
transforming privilege of wealth and power 
through psychic alchemy of honest faith 
to equal rights for every living soul. 

To contemplate strange mystery of this life 
with shocked amazement of the songless owl 
that anything exists from beams of light 
I deconstruct grand narrative of truth 
so I can study tropes of ideal forms, 
then build new Heaven in dark vale of Hell. 

To moderate discussions about how 
we humans struggle to transcend our death 
through self-deceiving doctrines of religion 
I black out lies in every holy scripture 
with erasure technique of the blind seer 
that reveals ancient wisdom in grim jokes. 

To procreate immortal soul of genes 
that has evolved four hundred million years, 
fish to lizard to mouse to cat to ape 
to wingless angel in the city maze, 
I fly to the other side of the Earth 
where I find my soulmate with tiger eyes. 

To replicate persona of my being 
as social symbol of the mumbling fool 
performing abject role of Dionysus 
who dances blissfully on graves of gods 
I hide from television camera eyes 
that would deform divine soul of the stars. 

To tabulate names of the global dead, 
forgotten by turmoil of history, 
I follow Kafka through the castle maze 
to find Dante asleep in Cave of Dreams 
when Adam and Eve escape Gates of Eden 
and wander lush shores of Windermere Lake. 

To syndicate these riddles of despair 
contained in cartoon tales as social jokes 
that analyze complexity of life 
I bottle time in jar of memory 
that shimmers on ghost hill of Tennessee 
which explains the slovenly wilderness. 

To stimulate psychic activity 
that flashes my brain with infinity 
I measure process of eternity 
that motivates my quest to find the grail 
which is power of woman to create 
new body from genetic spark of love. 

To speculate why atoms conjure life 
through tangled math of sexual chemistry 
when molecules bloom in organic beings 
I stand on ocean shore of timeless hope 
to translate roar of waves to holy hymns 
that code fear in weird strategy of truth. 

Nothingness Of The Swamp

Nothingness Of The Swamp
© Surazeus
2023 06 28

The strange way tree branches explain the wind 
pierces my pungent heart with angst of faith 
so ichor bleeds from rainbow-flashing eyes 
faster than television flicker beams 
immortal souls of angels through my mind 
as I struggle through swamp mud at midnight. 

Though useless moonlight on the hungry pond 
displays shadow of arrogant defeat 
I ponder if only faith motivates 
my leap across the stepping-stones of fate 
to face blind faceless monster of my fear 
as I hide in the swamp where frogs sing hymns. 

With clumsy eloquence of honest hope 
I hum in harmony with river waves 
that glisten cold with light of everything 
because I touch eye of eternity 
that weaves wild atoms in my flashing brain 
as I measure nothingness of the swamp. 

Though I erase each letter of my name 
to disarrange surreal text of my tale 
I speak new vague spell of old laughing rain 
to analyze strangeness this body proves 
with problematic ambition of love 
as I hide treasure in the misty swamp. 

The obvious way sarcasm burns our trash 
reveals how we could misconstrue the peace 
that breaks all records of the singing land 
because the old gods never know our names 
though we tend gardens in harsh vales of Hell 
as I consume bitter fruit of the swamp. 

Though I taste molten liquor never brewed 
from pungent berries of the demon woods 
I float with drunken bees in summer haze 
to drink pure honeyness with butterflies 
who howl with sorrow at the fractured moon 
as I retrieve broken dreams in the swamp. 

Elegant Foxgloves on lush river shore 
send butterflies from weird celestial fields 
as missionaries teaching secret code 
preserved in timeless pearls of solitude 
for I would not renounce my faith in Death 
as I dance singing in the moonlit swamp. 

Though we build towers of crystalline steel 
to shield our wounded hearts with shining glass 
against stark horror of Nature who molds 
our fragile bodies from atoms of time 
we will embrace to keep each other warm 
safe from indifferent hunger of the swamp. 

Identity Of This I Am

Identity Of This I Am
© Surazeus
2023 06 27

Though fluctuating motion of my soul 
is bound by details of particulars 
in pulsing formulas of time and space 
I must articulate tension of will 
with sense that this faceless self I perform 
is part of vast continuum of being. 

I learn identity of this I Am 
by studied measurement of natural being 
to cope with monster of incessant change 
that flows from stars of shining ecstasy 
through flashing atoms of my dreaming brain 
so I am God who wakes up in my mind. 

I measure shadow of my latent being 
that wavers dim on shining ocean waves 
with restless memory of unchanging glow 
that lifts my spirit from my body high 
on shadow wings of wild seraphic truth 
to soar beyond infinity to me. 

With each transaction of my spoken word 
I invent vision of one universe 
composed of atoms swerving in the void 
when forms of land and water interact 
to shape chaos in surging flash of life 
so we create and destroy dreams of truth. 

Confining chaos of the swirling void 
in crystal mirror atoms of my brain, 
I order disorderly nature straight 
in curving lines of infinite progress 
enclosed by nonfinality of sight 
since I perceive nothing with words I spell. 

Awake with timeless awe of everything, 
I stand still on shore of the flowing stream 
to experience natural event of change 
when our Earth blossoms from the void of light 
so as this one particular human being 
I become every soul who ever lives. 

Through weird exhilarating clarity 
of reverent anguish at organic being 
I feel divine intensity of love 
pervade my brain with visions of our quest 
to generate new life before we die 
embodied by loving couple who kiss. 

Designing virtual terrain of the Earth, 
I create heterocosm of the All 
to measure supreme catalyst of change 
confined by verbal bounds of time and space 
in which my soul exists as radiant glow 
that emanates from functions of my brain. 

Weave Threads Of Atoms

Weave Threads Of Atoms
© Surazeus
2023 06 27

Though visions of the universe are spent 
I gaze at particular forms of life 
to measure lines at edge of flowing bounds 
so when I wake at midnight I consign 
strict order to the vehicle of change 
with symbol of the ever-swirling wave. 

With logarithmic curves of coiling time 
that weave threads of atoms into our being 
toward infinitely inward center eye 
I break boundaries of discontinuous sight 
while wandering beyond border of the known 
to spiral with galaxies of respect. 

Twirled into knot of curving density 
through irreparable filament of faith, 
I prepare for each possibility 
unspooling fate from abyss of desire 
that blossoms inner hollow of my mind 
against taut melody of ordered lines. 

Exploding clusters of assertive light 
expand from radial sphere of Everywhere 
as lines exploring landscape of weird dreams 
to intersect with each parallel world 
that reflects clustered nodes of deranged words 
because the moon glows on the changing sea. 

This mad song I chant not with pretty words 
about mercilessness my mind contends 
would recognize in faceless mask of Death 
the terrible necessity of time 
transforming bodies into swirls of dust 
so we hold hands in the swirling tide of change. 

Mirrored in blank face of the Oversoul, 
my soul engages particular form 
designed by intersecting lines of hope 
composed from chaos of electric thoughts 
though I wait stranded on the ocean strand 
still contemplating action of my mind. 

Predicted action of the Absolute 
overcomes summary of shifting dunes 
with every particle of sparkling truth 
rearranged by constant voice of mad wind 
which describes how bodies of our minds change 
with every dream of strange serenity. 

I compose reality with precept 
despite how terror of the final end 
pervades our beating hearts with arrogance 
since all escape routes lead back to my brain 
where I remain awake this fleeting hour 
that stretches through eternity of now. 

Possessing Demon Spirit

Possessing Demon Spirit
© Surazeus
2023 06 26

Possessed by demon spirit of wild truth, 
I dance with Bacchus in the pouring rain 
to feel pure energy of blazing stars 
surge through each pulsing atom of my soul 
till I am divine mind of the White Whole, 
awake my hour beyond eternity. 

Possessing demon spirit of strict love, 
I chant with Merlin under apple trees 
to channel passion of the star-blind bard 
whose faceless Nemesis of eager faith 
stares back at me in mirror of the mind 
so I can see beyond eternity. 

Exploring maze of myths on ardent wings, 
I fly with Icarus above stone walls 
to guard lost paradise against cruel thieves 
where children spring lithe from my dreaming mind 
to find weird treasure of the cosmic mind 
encoding symbols in the story book. 

Imploring splendor of the mountain cave, 
I search with Lucifer in starless gloom 
for psychic battery charged by mute angst 
that fuels aggressive struggle to survive 
through flashing visions of the wordless mind 
trapped by the Beautiful Necessity. 

Submerged in surging tide of timeless hope, 
I swim with Oceanus toward strange light 
to walk upright on shifting sands of time 
and follow winding river of desire 
till I find cavern of the divine mind 
that dreams life of each soul who ever lives. 

Emerging from ancient rock of respect 
with restless motivation of sea foam, 
I contemplate negative space of being 
till I realize with shock of honest awe 
that I am nothing more than swirl of light 
whose brain invents eternity of now. 

Accounting swerve of action I express, 
I flow with eddies of conceptual fact 
in ceaseless motion of continual change 
contained in structure of the absolute 
to follow faint path of remembrance well 
that mirrors vast mind of the Overall. 

Recounting progress of thought to preserve 
persistent memories of our endless quest, 
I measure concreteness of clarity 
that atoms beaming from first flash of time 
compose this fragile body of my mind 
through which starlight invents my nameless soul. 

Doohickey Of My Heart

Doohickey Of My Heart
© Surazeus
2023 06 25

For I have hidden on antique bookshelf 
in sunless corner of my haunted house 
worn maple-wood treasure box with bent hinge 
cluttered with rare doohickeys of my heart 
that horcrux my memories in fragile forms 
with aching anguish of forgotten lore. 

Each delicate doohickey of my heart, 
artfully arranged through shadow of hope 
in cabinet of curiosities 
among skulls of prophets, and leather books 
written centuries before I was born, 
hides in its symbol memories of my angst. 

Hand-crafted by grim half-blind artisans, 
with tangled hair, and crooked teeth, and grins 
wild as the wordless sea in red moonlight, 
these delicate doohickeys of my heart 
express forbidden passions I conceal 
with beauty not even the rich can buy. 

While wandering narrow winding alleyways 
deep down dim nameless streets in Gotham maze, 
I find each dear doohickey of my heart 
displayed behind despair-smeared window panes 
that catch attention of my faith-spurred eyes 
when stray sunset rays glint on their frail forms. 

So with slow cautious step of leather boots, 
my entrance announced by eerie bell ting, 
I timidly approach the moon-eyed wizard 
to respectfully inquire with gentle tones 
if I could see doohickey of my heart 
and offer price to purchase priceless truth. 

Whether holy grail stained with demon blood, 
or cameo depicting Septimius 
and his curly-haired Hera with gray eyes, 
or gold ring of invisibility, 
or mirror that reflects what I desire, 
I will buy each doohickey of my heart. 

When I place coin depicting fane of Janus 
on marble counter of the antique store 
to purchase bust of Pallas from Saturnus, 
the three-eyed raven flaps her mordant wings 
that stirs tart petrichor of honest faith 
which approves new doohickey of my heart. 

So when you visit me at haunted house 
of seven gables in oak-tangled woods 
I will present for your attentive eyes 
huge cabinet of curiosities 
that preserves as museum of our dreams 
these strange priceless doohickeys of my heart. 

Because I Talk To God

Because I Talk To God
© Surazeus
2023 06 25

Because I talk to sad ghost in the tree 
the horse in the river laughs at the way 
my face disappears from mirror of wind, 
except the man on the radio shouts 
about the global threat to liberty, 
so I sit on the porch and drink blood tea. 

Because I talk to mad goat on the lawn 
he transforms into boy with curly hair 
who offers wine to women stuck at home 
so I play bone flute in light of the moon 
while they dance on skulls of dead presidents, 
disrupting traffic on interstate highways. 

Because I talk to demon with six wings 
trapped inside the cracked television screen 
my mouth is stuffed with ancient words I steal 
from beautiful prophet in golden cage 
who reads her poetry on empty stage 
while turtles crawl over sand to the sea. 

Because I talk to deep hole in the Earth 
Arimaxus leaps across the abyss 
to give me love letter Clementine wrote 
before she went swimming among the clouds 
to find Cave of Illusions in my head 
where the blind philosopher counts the ways. 

Because I talk to castle on the hill 
Ophelia brings me flowers and herbs 
to heal the common people sick from plague 
who gather in the empty church to pray 
for salvation from idol in the mud 
till warriors spring from dragon teeth of rage. 

Because I talk to monster of the deep 
Neptune teaches me how to tame wild horse 
so I can explore cities of the world 
where women tend gardens in walls of stone 
while their husbands march to fight holy wars, 
running in trenches with arrogant guns. 

Because I talk to smiling Cheshire cat 
Alice explains how we should navigate 
maze of myths where statues of dead gods sing 
so I descend to bottom of the sea 
in yellow submarine made of whale bones 
to find the titan Saturn still asleep. 

Because I talk to God inside my head 
Jesus Christ asks if I want to play chess 
so we set up round table on the beach 
and drink wine while stars spiral overhead 
till I become bright shadow of the wind 
that whispers in fruit trees of paradise. 

Vanish In Weird Silence

Vanish In Weird Silence
© Surazeus
2023 06 25

The great square wood house on the lonely hill 
shines bright gold from inside with family love 
through light that emanates in rays of warmth 
from ceaseless fountain of maternal hearts 
as beacon that guides my path in the gloom 
back home safe from terrible hell of war. 

Though wind originates from ache of hope, 
formed by desire deep in the Absolute, 
I blossom my particular soul here 
through flawed perfection of my hungry mind 
fueled by fierce longing to become 
pure flowing of eternal light this hour. 

Because sea wind anoints my hungry tongue 
with mission to enchant strangers with truth 
I must accept this frail organic form 
of bone and flesh that generates my soul 
for conscious knowledge that I am alive 
startles me awake with vision of love. 

Released from formal structure of my brain 
to flow from strict bounds of my river mind, 
I flow into vast sea of Unity 
to float in timeless dream of everything 
till binding particulars of my being 
dissolve as rain so I am everyone. 

Soft wind of mindless being carves from hard void 
unchanging monuments of mortal beings 
who wander landscape of light-pulsing Now 
in bold relentless search for secret code 
that programs how my brain perceives the world 
which sustains and consumes my body frame. 

Beyond the loss and gain of restless hope 
I walk shifting dunes of eternity 
with plan to find the origin of light 
because the sun bursts bright in blaze of fear 
from formless shadow of the mountain peak 
that calls my name with sorrow of the wind. 

I turn and stand on momentary height 
of bone-buzzing ecstasy to breathe 
soul-swirling wisdom of the mindless wind 
to study strange process of birth and growth 
while bodies ever dissolve into dust 
after struggling to evade nothingness. 

Vexatious shadow of controlled desire 
liberates my heart from cavern of despair, 
too long constrained by irritating faith, 
so I transcend this fragile shell of flesh 
to radiate conscious mind of divine love 
and shine before I vanish in weird silence. 

When Saturn Leads Us

When Saturn Leads Us
© Surazeus
2023 06 24

I stroll down Sunshine Avenue at noon 
in ancient city of the prancing horse, 
and look for face of God in mirror moon 
to feel electric power of the Force, 
but all I see are mortal souls like me 
who seek to comprehend Eternity. 

Mute ghosts of poets who once lived on Earth 
and sang visions of truth with clarion voice 
guide me on quest to find secret of birth 
when man and woman make romantic choice 
to generate new life from glowing genes 
so we can play our roles in tragic scenes. 

Reborn from Egg of Hope on ocean beach 
each generation we evolve from light, 
I open my heart to what Death may teach 
when I soar to Heaven with eager flight 
only to discover nothing but clouds 
that spill fertile rain on lamenting crowds. 

I fly airplane around the spinning world 
then stand on stage in crowded church of faith 
to foretell coming of the Cosmic Herald 
who battles tyranny of the Mind Wraith, 
opposing ministers of monarchy 
by building strong state on democracy. 

Renewal of organic conscious life 
who tend fruit trees from rich abundant soil 
blooms from word seeds that fund our social strife 
to gain our earned reward from daily toil 
when Saturn spreads bold wings of fortitude 
to build empire he rules from solitude. 

We find in hearts that ache from bitter pain 
bold courage to assert our right to live 
free from oppression of their greedy reign 
with liberation through power to give 
when Saturn leads us to the Promised Land 
with legal sickle in his honest hand. 

So when the White Crow of the silver sky 
flies spirals over temple of the cow 
I climb Saturnius Mountain with one eye 
fixed on the shining monolith of How 
to forum where sweet Ceres sells baked bread 
we soak in honey to honor the dead. 

To maintain peace in Garden of the Bride 
I grasp the labrys double-bladed ax, 
bound with twelve magic wands of the Dream Guide, 
then construct world view based on measure facts 
through paradigm that forms reality 
where every soul lives well in liberty. 

Grendel In The Shadow Lair

Grendel In The Shadow Lair
© Surazeus
2023 06 23

I swim with Grendel to the shadow lair 
where ghosts of people lost in cyberspace 
dance to the flashing beat of Anywhere 
till I return with strange demonic face, 
so I wear suit and tie to code your dreams 
that flow away in flush of mountain streams. 

At midnight on the stark Manhattan street 
I sing strange hymn about the faceless god 
who teaches me weird magic of the beat 
that leaves me stranded in the college quad 
where children measure angle of the mind 
to prove our brains are angels misaligned. 

I drink old wine from holy grail of faith 
brewed from red mushroom of the secret cave 
where curious seekers of the flaming wraith 
attempt to translate wisdom of the wave 
that rises from dark seas on demon wings 
to bow with reverence when the blind girl sings. 

Her voice enchants my heart with flashing ache 
that emanates from swamp of laughing frogs 
because I seek the honest rattlesnake 
as mental master of transcendent bogs 
so I can find lost valley of the clown 
who plays computer king of Nowhere Town. 

Whichever movie you decide to watch 
on which you base religion of the fool 
your words mismatch your actions that may botch 
state program funded by the Golden Rule 
because Tiresias claims both gender roles 
for eager children circling old Maypoles. 

I visit Grendel in museum hall 
to find the real lost Key of Solomon 
where he stores skulls of prophets on the wall 
to legalize his rule of Avalon 
which proves Orpheus and Hamlet were real 
and not bland metaphors for how I feel. 

Though cosmic herald waits on Bridge of Hope 
for Melusine to come with rings of power 
we mortal humans still must learn to cope, 
helped by blind Sibyl in the Ivory Tower 
who casts her bread on waters of soul birth 
when we elect her Empress of the Earth. 

I hang with Grendel in the shadow lair 
to watch world history on the silver screen 
in tragic tales that prove life is not fair 
for we must fight against the greed machine 
to map our long and winding road of fate 
as individuals organized by state. 

Phantom Of The Door

Phantom Of The Door
© Surazeus
2023 06 23

When I gaze at moon and stars in the sky 
I always see bright sparkle of your eye 
that gleams in darkness of the Nevermore, 
yet transform into phantom of the door 
to enter Shadow of my ancient Sprite 
as nameless wanderer lost in dreary night. 

Each time I pause on signless road of time 
I hear the nightingale of Clementine, 
as senseless ghost entranced by silent truth, 
sing eerie melody of heartless ruth 
that highlights strange discordant harmonies 
I juxtapose through dream-coherent keys. 

I plant the alien seed from Outer Space 
to multiply ancestors with one face 
as I project strange vision of our world 
transformed by dream spell of the cosmic herald 
because we want to change society 
so every person lives through liberty. 

Yet in dark gloom of our Zarathian land 
the Seraph born from fierce volcanic brand 
spreads nuclear wings of bold romantic force 
to spark voracious wisdom from the source 
that fuels aggressive rise of empire gangs 
beneath the bloody cross where Jesus hangs. 

Immortal demons of the Holy Book 
who emanate from radio by the brook 
realize our urgent need to defend truth 
when hungry people seek messiah sleuth 
to lead our revolution against greed, 
entranced by angel of the apple seed. 

So I wear gold mask Parzival designed 
with naked heart Ishtar sent me to find 
to hurl my ghost against the mindless void 
as incarnation of the god android 
who crawls from dragon egg on beach of slime 
and wanders city streets as Gothic mime. 

Then climbing mountain trail to touch the sky 
in quest to find mysterious reason why 
our bodies bloom from ocean of desire, 
I meet the pretty princess of green fire 
who transforms spirit of my aching heart 
into wise child who draws the new world chart. 

I see your spirit shining in the star 
that beams our souls to vale of Zathamar 
as burning angel of Earth liberty 
who gives our minds new life through alchemy 
so I emerge from swamp of honesty 
to fight with pride for world democracy. 

Holy Book Of Why

Holy Book Of Why
© Surazeus
2023 06 23

If I can hear soft singing of the sky 
that urges me to seek and wonder why 
our bodies blossom from tears of the rain 
then I could transcend this material plane 
beamed by crackle of the telephone voice 
that teaches me I always make the choice. 

If I can hear sweet laughter of the snow 
preserved by story of the picture show 
that flickers dim on blank face of the moon 
then I will compose the house-haunting tune 
to wake dead gods with mind-expanding spice 
that teaches me I always pay the price. 

If I can hear harsh howling of the sea 
surge through my body with carnality 
that weaves my spirit from atomic light 
then I might work as the honest wheelwright 
inspired by Helius to travel the world 
that teaches me how to play cosmic herald. 

If I can hear one voice in buzz of lies 
express new world view designed by dream spies 
who search through trash of long-forgotten myths 
then I should carve on crystal monolith 
my epic poem of dead philosophers 
that teaches me key of cartographers. 

If I can hear mute voices of the dead 
cry out to angels trapped inside my head 
with secret wisdom of the Holy Grail 
then I may comprehend the shocking tale 
told by the idiot of the internet 
that teaches me truth I should not forget. 

If I can hear code of the monitor 
that programs how I think like Lucifer 
who guides the lost with light to paradise 
then I would conceal the homing device 
I use to map the way to Nowhere Land 
that teaches me how to build with my hand. 

If I can hear the forest call my name 
to come and play the soul-adjusting game 
designed by Tiresias from the Snake Eye 
then I shall write new Holy Book of Why 
explaining evolution of the soul 
that teaches me God Mind of the White Whole. 

If I can hear weird love song of the wind 
sung by the aching heart of Melusine 
who gives me cup of water from her well 
then I must build Thought Library in Hell 
so broken demons can heal from their hurt 
that teaches me my brain is dreaming dirt. 

New Psychic Theology

New Psychic Theology
© Surazeus
2023 06 22

If I explore dark bottom of the sea 
to find sad ghost of Tiresias in me 
I might be able to return from death 
with silver startle of the bird-song breath, 
yet I appear on television screen 
as long-lost son of Princess Melusine. 

Before I deconstruct your social myth, 
carved by hand of God on white monolith 
that looms shadowless above Gotham streets, 
I hitchhike back east with radical Beats 
to invent new psychic theology 
based on liberty of democracy. 

While searching resplendent abyss of Hell 
before sad ringing of the noon-time bell 
I sing about our yellow submarine 
still haunted by sweet ghost of Clementine 
who wants to crown me king of Nowhere Land 
though I prefer to join the pop-star band. 

Without bicycle of the humming snake 
I wander listless by the secret lake 
to serenade mad princess in glass boat 
who grins while sipping frosty rootbeer float 
because I dream about weird future state 
where every person controls their own fate. 

I still remember eerie summer day 
when we played carefree in Saronic bay 
till serious prophet of the faceless god 
commissioned me to form new justice squad 
to free from economic slavery 
people trapped by religious gimmickry. 

So I hitchhike to Wonderland at dawn 
on quest to find homeland of Avalon 
controlled now by grim jester in the crown 
who rides rusty carriage all over town 
where I play harp at midnight in the rain 
about sad whistle-blow of the last train. 

Holding hands in strange hour of happiness, 
we stroll across Bridge of Forgetfulness 
where undone people, shocked by the world war, 
stare at handless clock on the locked church door 
till the oak tree smiles and asks how we are, 
as if we are blessed by the falling star. 

Beneath the clear blue sky on lonely hill, 
entranced by trickling of the rocky rill, 
we ponder why the world exists at all, 
then wander back to the grand feasting hall 
where Tiresias lectures on gender roles 
while blood-stained flags whip on telephone poles. 

Ghost Voice Of Tiresias

Ghost Voice Of Tiresias
© Surazeus
2023 06 21

With box of broken toys from my childhood, 
I wander through the crowded restaurant 
to search for glamorous idol of my wife 
who flits on frail gossamer wings of love 
between the smiling masks that strangers wear 
till she transforms into the agile deer. 

Since I am merry wanderer of the night 
disguised as prancing horse with flowing mane 
I gallop fast as wind till I am fire 
that swirls in silver mist of moon-lit flight 
to run with frantic joy in sudden rain 
till I transform into the falcon gyre. 

Yet as I enter temple feasting hall 
eight hundred people in blue robes cry hail 
and cheer when I at last find where she waits 
in shining shadow of the primal star 
inside vast boundless cavern of my heart 
so I give her box of my broken toys. 

Reaching her hand down from red glowing cloud, 
my wife with hundred thousand spider eyes 
transforms my body from male to female 
so I experience giving birth to gods 
who fight galactic wars for worshippers 
till I transform back into Jupiter. 

With ghost voice of Tiresias I sing 
conceptual ballad of my futile quest 
to find the phoneline-tangled angel wing 
that I can use to ride the dragon west 
till I forge from despair the magic ring 
by which I compose this new Almagest. 

In grim portentous House of Broken Doors 
I play the merry prankster Puck with faith 
that I may yet outwit the angel Death 
who chases me across the gleaming moors 
to find the writhing serpent of my mind 
till I transform back into Lucifer. 

While hunting demons in Broceliande 
I stumble on Pool where Artemis bathes 
who shoots sharp arrow in my aching heart 
that wakes me from strange enchanting dream 
when Echo mistakes me for her Narcissus 
and kisses me with anguish of desire. 

Wounded by Well of Forgotten Dreams, 
where ghastly visions of war plague my heart, 
I explain to Melusine with earnest hope 
how I map signless roads of the Waste Land 
so traumatized souls who escape from church 
colonize Hell with movie theaters. 

Scribe Of Secret Truths

Scribe Of Secret Truths
© Surazeus
2023 06 20

I want to break my idols with weird words 
and reassemble bodies of lost souls 
for all the memories our ancestors dream 
are written in genetic code of faith, 
so I walk in world city of high walls 
with harp I stole from angel of the sea. 

If I sell pomegranates to proud gods 
who stride on terraces of broken trees 
I feel the sign of sorrow on my breast 
when I paint blood on doorposts of your homes 
then stand before the idol of my soul 
that will smile at you long after I die. 

Before the hungry leopards of sea caves 
invade the temple of the golden throne 
I carry basket full of grapes from fields 
where horror shimmers in heat of the sun 
then speak against efficiency of faith 
preserved in silence of the weeping queen. 

I heed word of the lonely mountain god 
who lies forgotten in dark cave of dreams 
ten thousand years of spinning clockless time 
till curious prophet from the college town 
inscribes my name on idol of my soul 
that walks its own path to paradise lost. 

Without sufficiency of silent song 
I hear strange voices in dim shadowed halls 
tell lurid tales of scandalous desire 
indulged by monarchs of the faceless god 
imprisoned in vast palaces of gold 
so I become the scribe of secret truths. 

I enter city maze of doorless homes 
with flute I carved from fragile dragon bone 
to harry spirit of the dancing ghost 
with devastating wisdom of fake love 
encased in silver amulet of greed 
safe in the hand that scatters apple seeds. 

Hidden behind idol of the dead god, 
the girl who knows how snowflakes are designed 
records dark secrets no one dares to tell 
in holy book she gives to the last king 
who walks with tears on windy beach of hope 
still clutching bone flute of the girl he loves. 

Though I break my idols with ghostly words 
they reassemble from my memories 
with contradictions of uncanny truth 
contrary to obvious state assumptions 
when I return from forest of the dead 
to take my place as scribe of secret truths. 

God-Conscious Soul

God-Conscious Soul
© Surazeus
2023 06 19

When I wail against limits of my body 
by hurling my soul into void of death 
I feel intensity of timeless truth 
motivate my quest to transcend my Self 
so I become every god-conscious soul 
who ever lives in all the universe. 

Stripping my body naked of my name 
to discard my brief social character, 
I wade into waves of the Mother Sea 
to feel immortal soul of mindless stars 
express passion of my god-conscious soul 
through heart-aching song of love no one hears. 

Awake in mortal body of soft flesh 
my mother designed from traumatic dreams, 
I feel conceptual buzz of liberty 
vibrate from first flash of dreamless mind 
that blossoms into our god-conscious soul 
composing plenitude of the White Whole. 

Entranced by visions my ancestors spelled 
that store memories of their lives in my dreams, 
I feel my body evolve from light, fish 
to newt to mouse to cat to ape to human, 
programming genes of my god-conscious soul 
as I dance rope across abyss of time. 

Safe in terrible calm of paradise 
where trees of indifferent nature bear fruit 
that transform light and rain into sweet juice, 
I measure complex structure of the Earth 
to inventory our god-conscious soul 
that proliferates from chemical gears. 

I sense immortal spirit of my genes 
which generates this temporary self 
so divine energy of glowing atoms 
sparks bright in neural network of my brain 
angelic mind of my god-conscious soul 
when I accept finality of death. 

When I gaze up at Glow Cloud in the sky 
my brain imagines Thought God watching me 
yet atoms are but flashing beams of light 
that spiral from first flash of the big bang 
to wake as sense of my god-conscious soul 
that flames briefly between eternal Noughts. 

Because my body is breath of the Earth 
who generates my body from her hope 
I inhale pneumatic spirit of love 
through inspiration of the sad sea song 
so my brain beams with our god-conscious soul 
when I float on waves of eternity. 

Fight To Be Together Now

Fight To Be Together Now
© Surazeus
2023 06 18

Dark specter of inevitable death 
looms over every creature on this Earth 
because our sun will burn out into gloom 
so we should sit on lake shores and despair 
instead of struggling each day to survive 
for we are pulsing blobs of chemicals. 

There are no happy endings for our tales 
for though we raise our children to love and build 
the farcical charade of daily life 
we call civilization will collapse 
and scatter families in the wilderness 
where we clutch at uncaring sands of time. 

Though we are beams of pulsing energy 
awake with consciousness of this frail self 
there is no meaning to our futile being 
for we are characters our dreams invent 
performing sad roles in grand narratives 
we kill each other in wars to prove right. 

While we are vibrant with young energy 
we dream grand visions where each soul will live 
with joyful pleasure of beautiful truth 
but harsh reality of hungry death 
crushes our spirits into bloody dirt 
for we cannot outrun the scythe of death. 

With utter meaninglessness of existence 
we grow strong battling demons of despair 
by clawing roots from rancid soil of fear 
and snatching fruit from serpent jaws of rage 
with desperate hope to evade slow decay 
till we crumble into cold silent graves. 

Though our mothers tell us with sincere voice 
that love supports sacred meaning of life 
we can discover on our quest for truth 
yet we evolve from surging sea of lust 
in random sequence of conformity 
nurtured by safe state of the atmosphere. 

Yet I decide to work my crafting hands 
to construct safe haven of paradise 
where I guard my wife and children from harm 
while they tend fruit trees and gardens of herbs 
so we can sit at table of firm faith 
and feast on bounty of indifferent Earth. 

Though we decay and die with turn of time 
on this frail planet spinning in the void 
we choose to live this hour with laughing joy 
by holding hands with the person we love 
so we can sing hymns that record our hopes 
about our fight to be together now. 

Worldview Of Weird Truth

Worldview Of Weird Truth
© Surazeus
2023 06 18

Through enterprise of consciousness I map 
my self is annihilated by truth 
when I lose myself to victory of stones 
extreme enough to blossom into Earth 
because the universe knows the real me 
when I surrender to sweet threat of life. 

Dethroned by knowledge of the star-born soul 
that beams out from God Eye of the White Whole, 
I wander windy heath in blasting rain, 
bereft of reason I had learned in school, 
and eat lush grass with cows by singing stream 
because the Cosmos knows itself in me. 

Before my mind unifies with God Mind 
I hesitate on margin of the world 
to hear the universe in sea waves sing 
because when I become one with the Soul 
my material body will dissipate 
so I become perceiver of the Source. 

When I become wise puppet of the Force 
that flows through me in pulsing flux of love 
I surf the violent waves of social change 
with zen-mind calmness of the hurricane 
so I can build new worldview of Weird Truth 
on fractured ruins of grand narratives. 

Till I arrive at Fountain of the Source 
beyond the nowness of this aching flesh 
I float on wingless breath of eager hope 
toward holy mountain of the Singing Skull 
because when I perceive the Mind of God 
my body will dissolve to swirls of dust. 

I wake in doorless room of Timeless Truth 
as mindless Zero through the Absolute 
deep in vast maze of formless liberty 
where no entrance nor exit leads me forth 
beyond conceptual walls of paradise 
because I am the God Mind of all stars. 

I cannot stop not-being and break my flow 
when I return to longing of fierce guilt 
because I am the wind that guides my quest 
to be the best self I was born to be 
by giving up hope for eternity 
since I will vanish in blank void of death. 

Because I was born from one sperm and egg 
on one planet in the vast universe 
I seek flame of eternal mindless self 
till I become me on the storm-thrashed beach 
where I laugh and shout my name at wry death 
and savor strangeness of this fleeting life. 

Professor Of Verse

Professor Of Verse
© Surazeus
2023 06 17

When wingless angels of Oxford elect 
Alicia Stallings Professor of Verse 
to enchant us as Poet Laureate, 
who chants weird visions of our universe, 
Minerva crowns her with the laurel wreath 
designed by Mad King on the windy heath. 

As Perseus plays fierce war video games 
while wielding illusion of Chrysaor 
Cetus emerges from hot nuclear flames, 
so Alicia operates Hammer of Thor 
to crush blind monster of ambitious greed 
after drinking grail of sweet bardic mead. 

Emerging from convex mirror of art 
with power of Medusa to transform 
ancient heroes to statues of the heart, 
who dance with grace in existential storm, 
Alicia wears mask of Andromeda 
to channel sacred soul of Attica. 

With stone-levitating voice of weird truth 
from singing skull of Orpheus the seer 
Alicia performs role of the dream sleuth 
whose rhyming verse dispels demonic fear 
to scatter harpies from the Parthenon 
when Apollo plays lyre in Avalon. 

When Musaeus dances on signless way 
to lead our search for life in caves of death 
Alicia sings about ascent we play 
through ritual of rebirth with honest faith 
to gather flowers with Persephone 
who visits lost tomb of Antigone. 

Awake in cathedral of slanting light, 
built on sun-baked ruins of Artemision, 
Alicia runs in valley of starlight 
where swift Diana evades television, 
and shoots sharp arrow at bold tyranny 
to guard safe Haven of Democracy. 

Sipping coffee in ancient olive grove, 
where peacock of Hera preens rainbow wings, 
Alicia ponders mystery of true love 
to translate heart-ache blushing Sappho sings 
while refugees from war on leaking boats 
swim foaming waves where Aphrodite floats. 

While Zeus Alastor presides on gold throne 
and Dionysus pours wine in our hearts 
Apollo plays lyre in the twilight zone 
so Alicia composes new star charts 
to help us navigate the global game 
by arranging words in one cosmic frame. 

Hundred Billion Eyes

Hundred Billion Eyes
© Surazeus
2023 06 16

I see this world through hundred billion eyes 
from angled obfuscation of weird words 
since sphere of nature is composed of sparks 
that flash in quick atomic strings of light 
to writhe with agony of lust inside my brain 
through urgent passion to transcend despair. 

Though currents of the Universal Being 
cease not to circulate through my one being 
my eyes perceive dark luminosity 
that beams from emanating thoughts of hope, 
spawned first at center of the universe, 
and still glows pulsing in cells of my soul. 

With mathematic ebb and flow of waves 
that sing to me in golden light of dawn 
I wake from timeless darkness of my mind 
to feel cold breath of blind eternity 
swirl slow around my body on the beach 
so I feel roundness bloom in everything. 

Wild sea wind blows thick sheets of sparkling sand 
against blind wall of aching innocence 
that spurs dark nature in my hungry heart 
to seek for hidden treasure of the gloom 
that bears sweet loneliness of fervid love 
behind glass mask of anger my soul wears. 

Though on the shining beach of Mother Night, 
I sense the volatile respect of faith 
that speaks to my soul from dark mountain cave 
where visions showing human history glow 
on jagged walls of honest prophecy 
which I record with my blood in Dream Book. 

I gather stones of wisdom with sore hands 
to build high tower on the wave-washed shore 
so I can guard with death the precious lives 
of fragile people with observant eyes 
who follow me on winding mountain trail 
when we explore lush meadows of sweet fruit. 

Because you are the not-me of my heart 
that sees this world from angle of slant light 
I walk across bright sea marsh of my hope 
around vast sphere of diminishing air 
to stand on steep rim of the crater lake 
and gaze with bold fear in the empty stark. 

Since spirit of the Earth I sense in me 
glows inside every object that exists 
I feel my fragile soul part of the all 
that pulses in the mountain and the sea, 
so we hold hands with scintillating trust 
to see ourselves through hundred billion eyes. 

Center Of The White Whole

Center Of The White Whole
© Surazeus
2023 06 15

Though I see nothing I am everything 
that surges through my body from the stars 
for all the atoms that pulse in my brain 
are old and perfect as the universe 
so I consider radiance of the Eye 
that dreams me from center of the White Whole. 

Since nature spirals into perfect balls 
that streak on angel wings across the void 
I feel ephemeral surface of my mind 
extend perceptive telescope of I 
to signify new genesis of self 
that rotates at center of the White Whole. 

While wading into swirling waves of time 
I fear I lose my soul identity 
dissolving body of my aching mind 
to pure round drops of water shining clear 
with spark of every soul who ever lives 
reborn from vast center of the White Whole. 

When I turn toward eternity of night 
I tell indifferent ocean my true name 
but abyss of sorrow swallows my words 
so I become the dreamless wind of truth 
that dances slow on unremembered seas 
that fountain from center of the White Whole. 

As eyeless monster of the lonely world 
Nature rises from my bottomless heart 
and howls at fragile flicker of my soul 
because I dare to sing with my faint voice 
my humble melody at storm of death 
that hurls me to center of the White Whole. 

I ebb with restless tides of hungry death 
embodied by vast sea of surging lust 
with bright prismatic fragments of my dreams 
congealing memories of my search for truth 
in tale that narrates my struggle to live 
as I fall to center of the White Whole. 

When darkness snuffs the fragile beams of light 
that weave my aching body from star stuff 
I kiss lips of Death, my beautiful bride, 
who gives me new name she hears in the wind 
when I sink formless in her global arms 
to be one with center of the White Whole. 

When timeless radiance of the universe 
that beams from Transcendental Self of God 
possesses my body with glow of love 
I feel my mind wake in billions of brains 
who see their faces in my mirror eyes 
that reflect our center of the White Whole. 

Lives My Ancestors Lead

Lives My Ancestors Lead
© Surazeus
2023 06 14

When I review lives my ancestors lead 
struggling to survive for ten thousand years 
by waking up at aching flash of dawn 
and wrestling with their daemon of desire, 
I feel intense anxiety of hope 
influence my aggressive will to live. 

As I research lives my ancestors lead 
constructing homes in wilderness of fear 
and tending plants to harvest food to eat, 
I discover demonic energy 
seething through my body that motivates 
assertive passion fueling will to live. 

So I relive lives my ancestors lead, 
observing mysterious nature of things 
and designing system of language forms 
to program virtual ideology 
that sets guidelines for my daily routine 
enforcing laws that drive my will to live. 

Thus I record lives my ancestors lead, 
encoding memories of their daily work 
and crafting narratives from psychic tropes 
that describe process for cause and effect 
through how they choose to create, not destroy, 
new social myths that boost our will to live. 

Born From Agony Of Stars

Born From Agony Of Stars
© Surazeus
2023 06 14

The self I lost speaks from holes in the ground 
with God-woven tongues of angels who know 
how we are born from agony of stars 
sired by the primal spirit of the Earth 
who wakes from fullness of atomic light 
in bodies resurrected from her womb. 

Holding in divine breath of the White Whole, 
before creation ruptures from dark void 
in the beginning when Heaven and Earth 
swell full from waiting of intense desire, 
I feel my body grow from egg of time 
as I evolve from fish to wingless angel. 

Startled awake at sudden gnostic call 
that rings with subtle wind across rock vale, 
I rise from shadow of the dreaming cave 
to kneel and cup my hands in sparkling stream 
so I can drink cold snow-white blood of Earth 
that urges me to sing with wordless joy. 

After leaving Hell with shining gem of truth 
I conceal my face with gold helmet mask 
and climb high mountain road toward silent pines 
to stand before Valhalla with my harp, 
but feasting hall groans silent in sad wind, 
filled with skeletons that dance in starlight. 

With psychic transumption of buzzing dreams 
I replicate my mind in prolix code, 
deceiving seekers of conceptual truth 
with sweet illusion of the afterlife 
through sensual mimesis of soul rebirth 
based on strict calculation of desire. 

Despite facticity of hopeful prayer 
by which frail humans approach empty sky 
to comprehend strange otherness of self, 
I choose to wear bodies of dead ancestors 
who programmed how my brain perceives the world 
so I transcend my name my mother speaks. 

When currents of the Universal Being 
course through the tangled neurons of my brain 
I become nothing who understands all 
for I am Transparent Eyeball of love 
who dreams first flash flaring forth from God Mind 
in Whole Motion of my life to the grave. 

With concentric gold circle of my brain 
that ripples slow across the silver pool 
in harmony with rings of blooming trees, 
I tremble forth as demon born from me 
to play my role on stage of spinning time 
when I kiss dazzle of eternity. 

Why Of Being Alive

Why Of Being Alive
© Surazeus
2023 06 13

The brightness of their personality 
flows from gloom in seething well of despair 
because their brain converts horror of death 
to shining passion of circumspect hope 
with intense joy at why of being alive 
that motivates their energy to live. 

From cave of illusions by the wild sea, 
along the river winding from high mountains, 
they walk across bleak waste land of despair 
to explore the world for ten thousand years, 
and even now stroll busy city streets, 
observing lonely people of the Earth. 

The hero with ten billion faces smiles 
with secret ache of love for every soul 
they meet on endless journey of this life, 
rejoicing that each stranger they may meet 
survives ten thousand years of holy wars 
by joining feasts with families and friends. 

The darker anguish from suffering pain, 
that boils in heart of darkness they contain, 
the brighter passion for pleasure of love 
beams from black hole at center of their soul 
so they will savor with bitter-sweet joy 
each moment their brain buzzes with desire. 

How sweet their voice rings in the silent night 
as they stand shy before mute audience 
and sing deep ache of sorrow that burns bright 
from ancient angst of vigilant compassion 
they translate into heart-enchanting verse 
that conjures visions of love in our minds. 

Born from intensity of cautious faith, 
composed from optimistic wariness, 
that guides their quest to find the Promised Land, 
they delve deep in dark cavern of lost dreams 
to find indulgent treasure forged from fear 
in diamond shining bright as Eye of God. 

Completing projects for pleased customers, 
they gather close in dimly lit cafes 
to share apt tales about weird miracles 
that help their hearts endure fierce loneliness 
while drinking wisdom of complacent stars, 
then wander home to sleep as prudent cats. 

The brightness of their anguish-driven hearts 
beams from glum jubilance of Stygian faith 
because their bodies evolve fish to gods 
through writhing urgency to create life 
with intense joy at why of being alive 
that stimulates their trust in rest of death. 

Fall In Void Of Time

Fall In Void Of Time
© Surazeus
2023 06 12

Since death will always catch us by surprise, 
though we are sure it could strike any time, 
we boldly plunge into river of life 
to transcend horror of aggressive force 
in vain attempt to attain paradise 
till we pluck fruit of love from tree of hope. 

I should go cautious into that good night 
to traverse safely dangerous terrain 
where monsters lurk in pitfalls of despair 
waiting to devour the careless fool 
who stumbles into shadow of false hope 
without attentive study of desire. 

Through careful measurement of hostile space 
that looms around me with dark jagged rage 
I glide through chilly shadow of despair 
on slow tentative steps to test firm ground 
because my head buzzes with shock of truth 
that death could strike me down at any time. 

Illusion of this world I think is real 
crumbles away beneath my trembling feet, 
and sacred treasures shining in my hands 
are blown away by harsh winds of disdain 
to scatter all my hopes on fractured ground 
so I feel myself fall in void of time. 

Though I fall tumbling into swirling gloom 
my impact shatters frame of aptitude 
to blast wide open howling space of hell 
that hollows anguish from indifferent lust 
so I create my paradise from fear 
I guard from death with sweet hymn of true love. 

Though I am cast from heaven of my faith 
and lose security of fiscal aid 
till treasures I make with my crafting hands 
are stolen from sacred vault of my heart, 
yet I will build from nothingness of why 
new paradise of fruit trees with my will. 

No matter where I walk in quest of life 
on nameless nowhere roads in maze of myths 
my heart is home of confident respect 
for death still walks beside me to the end, 
bright glowing shadow hovering over me 
though I steal wings of desire and try to fly. 

Since death will someday catch me by surprise 
while I perform creative rites of faith 
I dance with swirling ocean waves of truth 
to comprehend weird language of our brains 
till I arrive on stage of bloody hope 
when I feel myself fall in void of time. 

Dreamless Eye Of Death

Dreamless Eye Of Death
© Surazeus
2023 06 12

Knowledge of soul-congealing light must come 
through my brain on opaque wings of red dawn, 
disguised as wounds that rip my pulsing soul 
on slow transition between states of mind 
while I trudge beneath exquisite lamp boughs 
that drip blood into dreamless eye of death. 

With tasteless morsels of intense surmise 
I reach out to dark shadow of my hope 
that slips away through doors of nevermore 
while I float tangled by my navel cord 
with undulating matrix of desire 
that carries me to dreamless eye of death. 

Carnivorous flower of my hungry brain, 
suppressed by casual weight of tuneless night, 
fuels my aggressive journey past myself 
with rumbling undertones of engine minds 
that drag me back from paradise to life 
when I wake free from dreamless eye of death. 

With abyss-probing instrument of truth 
I penetrate infinity of why 
to examine nature of this frail body 
by which I stumble down fraught road of life, 
expanding far beyond bounds of my soul 
that telescopes from dreamless eye of death. 

Conceptual spiders of my flashing brain 
drag neural web of frantic memories 
through swirling vortex of delirium 
toward cataclysmic maelstrom of my words 
till I surf turbulence of honest faith 
that blossoms worlds from dreamless eye of death. 

With lips still burning from sour angel kiss 
I try to sing eccentric code of truth, 
disarming demons hiding in my hands, 
till sheep dance laughing on wet meadow grass 
as shepherds construct starship from glass acorns 
that zooms black hole in dreamless eye of death. 

Wandering lost forever in maze of myths, 
that jostles wild with anonymous ghosts, 
I follow feeble flicker of glass bulbs 
to search dark underground for lonely souls 
who want to sing fierce howl of false desire, 
embalmed by fate in dreamless eye of death. 

My future self, encased in silver mask, 
thrusts wordless thoughts of love at my frail face 
with delicate wings of soul-slashing blades, 
distorting my perception of my being 
with magic apparatus of my mind 
which obliterates dreamless eye of death. 

Haven Of My Truth

Haven Of My Truth
© Surazeus
2023 06 11

Reluctant to acknowledge pain of death 
that waits patiently in shadow of truth, 
I sit by the window and eat stale bread, 
then ponder process of this divine mood 
which swells my mind bigger than galaxies 
to comprehend flash of infinities. 

To stave off death with scepter of desire 
I plant my shadow in the broken door 
and measure radiance of the morning light 
that rings with concept of the timeless note 
which swells my mind with vision of new way 
we follow to become the conscious ray. 

Excited to perceive vast boundless space 
that spirals matrix of the mental lease, 
I redesign ontology of fate 
to account for free will of the soul seat 
which swells my mind with tears of honesty 
because I must express apostasy. 

Strange characters in ancient holy book, 
like the prophet who struck the fountain rock, 
embody morals that express the good 
commanded by the tyrant who plays God, 
but when I gaze up at the empty sky 
I see truth programmed by Ancestral Eye. 

Entranced by glam of my face in the pool, 
that smiles up at me from shadow of Hell, 
I slither from twilight of social gloom 
to search for my mother in Bethlehem 
who studies skulls of ancient kings in caves 
while I translate sacred hymns of sea waves. 

Encoding my thoughts in riddles of verse 
that deconstruct grand narrative of force, 
I charter process of spirit rebirth 
urging our bodies to percolate forth 
which swells my mind from neural net of dreams 
to weave our memories in evolving streams. 

Still stuck in doorless maze of psychic myths 
while I attempt to map confusing paths, 
I stop at edge of time to plot my wits 
with ardent calculus of acrobats 
so I can live in haven of my Truth 
as incarnation of messiah sleuth. 

Playing hide and seek in warm meadow grass, 
I chase my shadow among apple trees 
on quest to become more than mortal man 
evolving through this chemical machine 
which swells my mind vast as the sky above 
through which I savor passion of true love. 

My Sweet Rowan Tree

My Sweet Rowan Tree
© Surazeus
2023 06 11

Forever running toward the rowan tree, 
that blossoms white on summer hills of hope, 
I seek the carefree joy of childhood lost 
in swirling mists of time that blind my eyes, 
yet still in dreams, imbued with wistful glow, 
I see my mother smile in cool tree shade. 

I call out to the wind-blown rowan tree 
to grow still tall on summer hills of hope, 
but thunderous crack of cannons boom too loud, 
so swirling smoke of war shrouds blasted hills 
where skulls of my brothers bleed in red mud 
far from where my mother smiles in tree shade. 

Returning to the weeping rowan tree, 
limping slowly on summer hills of hope, 
I see ghosts of my carefree siblings play 
with joyful laughter of wild raven wings 
among white blossoms in the sun-gold breeze 
where my mother smiles not in cool tree shade. 

Sitting under the silent rowan tree, 
that quivers bare on summer hills of hope, 
I gaze with my good eye at sylvan scene 
that shimmers bright with sad eternity 
while men fight wars for world supremacy 
though our mothers wait still in cool tree shade. 

Alone beneath the bonnie rowan tree, 
entwined with tales on summer hills of hope, 
I weep for all the people of my life 
who vanish lost in changing winds of time, 
yet still remain as ghosts who haunt my dreams, 
my sweet mother smiling in cool tree shade. 

Heart aching beneath the old rowan tree, 
who spreads her arms on summer hills of hope 
to shroud my heart from agony of loss, 
I sing enchanting melody of love 
that wakes from dream ghosts of my family 
to see my mother smile in cool tree shade. 

Though time floats still beneath the rowan tree, 
that trembles wild on summer hills of hope, 
I know sweet memories of my lost childhood 
and ghosts of people I have loved and lost 
cannot sustain my body but with love, 
so I leave my mother in cool tree shade. 

Bidding farewell to my sweet rowan tree, 
that blossoms still on summer hills of hope, 
I walk toward city maze to seek my home 
where my sweet wife and children wait for me, 
for I will bring them to my rowan tree 
to meet my mother haunting cool tree shade. 

Survive These Terrible Times

Survive These Terrible Times
© Surazeus
2023 06 11

If we would survive these terrible times 
we should look to the American sky 
where Jesus and Apollo play chess games 
while I lounge by the pool and ponder why 
humans form gangs to fight for fertile land 
with the Holy Book and the Gun in hand. 

Slouched in despair by the abandoned tomb, 
where the devil plays Savior of Mankind, 
I worship mystery of the nuclear bomb 
that blows all theology from my mind, 
which Zeus, the beautiful Storm God of Wrath, 
wields as thunderbolt of secular faith. 

Though he stood on the Ziggurat of Power 
ten thousand years as symbol of state truth, 
the Tribal Leader, before whom we cower, 
whose face shines bright from our loyalty oath, 
has vanished from fascist national myths 
and hides now as humble, hardworking smiths. 

When noble hero rises from the crowd 
to oppose the tyrant, who scams blind Fate, 
leading common people to rise unbowed, 
he transcends himself to become the State 
through apotheosis of mental fire 
so he directs our song in the global choir. 

While common people in each global state 
work hard to earn enough money to live 
in system controlled by greed of the gate, 
the wealthy pass laws so they can enslave 
our bodies to hunger for food and hope 
while we go mad just attempting to cope. 

The world food-production machine is based 
on back of the farmer who tills the soil 
so we consume goods till mountains of waste 
fester in Eden while our children toil 
to harvest apples from the Golden Bough 
because naught will ever be good enough. 

Though I fall from walls of Heaven at dawn 
to blast open space for living in Hell, 
I rise reborn to found New Avalon 
where hungry workers gather at the bell 
to join my feast in grand Temple of Truth 
where I rule the world as Messiah Sleuth. 

For I am apparition of state power 
who crowns myself as incarnation of god 
to rule the world from my money bank tower 
by fighting tyrants with the Justice Squad, 
while our planet spins on in silent void, 
that leaves Jesus and his son unemployed. 

Words Entombed In Books

Words Entombed In Books
© Surazeus
2023 06 10

The way I think is natural to my mind 
but others seem to think my view is weird 
though I can only see this teeming world 
with eyes my ancestors forged in their dreams 
while standing in brutal light of the rain 
to taste metallic sorrow of blind faith. 

Repressing horror that we all will die, 
I unzip wings from aching shoulder blades 
and soar above brick buildings on deep breath 
with fierce intention to transcend my self 
while drowning in the restless sea of truth 
which lifts me so high I can only fall. 

Through mortal godhood of my aching flesh 
I seek to preserve in strict tomb of words 
immortal soul of lightning born from stars 
that writhes with hot demonic energy 
through flashing nerves of honest lust to live 
which urges me to leap abyss of fear. 

My body rots into these spells I write 
so tangled matrix of my fractured mind 
preserves confusing visions of my brain 
in fictive stories bleeding from my eyes 
so we remain as words entombed in books 
long after time dissolves our souls to dust. 

I am not that marble idol in church 
that poses frozen in elegant grace, 
forever gesturing toward eternal sky 
while strumming soundless strings on static harp 
and singing one conceptual hum of truth 
with mute intensity of sublime myth. 

Awake with awed surprise on hill of skulls, 
I sing cosmic elegy for the self 
that dies again with every passing hour 
as sunlight beams sharp rays of agony 
through pulsing passion of my naked soul 
though I float nameless on surging sea waves. 

I only feel free when I am alone 
because each atom flashing in my soul, 
composed from web of buzzing neural wires, 
beams from first flash that flares forth from God Eye 
at godless creation of time-spun space 
to glow within me as the Divine Mind. 

I am alive in shining of the water, 
immortal supersoul in every brain 
of every creature who has ever lived 
and will live in the spinning of our world, 
so I enclose myself inside my brain 
to dream reality through poems I sing. 

Broken Lyre Of Honesty

Broken Lyre Of Honesty
© Surazeus
2023 06 10

Strolling out through my mind to the dark woods, 
with each book ever written in my hands, 
I fall into wild fire of naked words 
that burns my anguished soul into bronze mask 
I wear to play Apollo on world stage 
while strumming broken lyre of honesty. 

When god-sized shadow of the wingless angel 
hovers over valley of singing skulls 
I shout with mute assertion at Glow Cloud 
that I am not his unusable tree 
composed of mortal wood from rancid mud 
while I curl roots into heart of the Earth. 

Since I would never dare quarrel with time, 
who will erase me from this universe, 
I keep unsecret stories of my soul 
programmed by my ancestors in my brain 
that build my body from aggressive hope 
through fiction of duration I devise. 

Stumbling into empty church of dead gods, 
I find statues of seers I want to play 
on global stage of fame to prove I am 
more than this body of muscle and blood,  
Orpheus, Phoebus, Apollo, and Mithras, 
shining paragons of narrative tropes. 

Blinded by the God-tilted light of Heaven, 
which emanates from mocking radios, 
I fly on boneless wings of innocence 
high over telephone wires that connect 
computerized brains in the world wide web 
so I can walk Bridge of Forgetfulness. 

We beam our souls through fingers into words 
that slither on serpentine lust for truth 
in crackling network of the world wide web 
till we become the singing ghosts of faith 
composed of crystal energy we taste 
while drinking courage on the moonlit porch. 

Desperately chanting my hieratic spell 
through Orphic drowning man reborn as Zeus, 
I join the shrieking flock of singing ghosts 
disguised as crows on wet telephone lines 
to analyze Zodiac code of our fate 
when we wrestle with otherness of us. 

While avatar of the American Sublime 
walks signless road to Garden of Desire, 
I stare at my face in the mirror mask 
to hear the subtle shifting shape of rain 
for I am shimmer of sunlight on water, 
awake before the first word Mother speaks. 

Redisbecoming Who I

Redisbecoming Who I
© Surazeus
2023 06 10

Redisbecoming who I think I am, 
we multiply our selves across the land 
to concept void from matter undisclosed 
through universal thought we organize 
that reassembles shattered minds of gods 
who wake as humans struggling to survive. 

Through dream inclusion of unmeasured hope, 
based on pronoun of choice we meditate, 
we choose ancestors who would represent 
exsocial values forged in heat of wrath 
impossible to replicate through words 
as we assimilate colonial we. 

From self-estrangement of soul lineage 
we translate dreams with special rhythmic tunes 
based on edition of the sacred truth 
including various lyres long undeterred 
by thought plurality excluding we 
who contradict our stated principles. 

Collective self we mask with characters, 
conceived by frantic faith in singing skulls, 
decides to sing in glow of morning light 
that stripes illusions from unpainted walls 
containing tales that only children tell 
who give each other masks they hate to wear. 

From self-erasure I invent myself 
with process chartered by the faceless god 
that deconstructs first person singular 
so we become my ego formalized 
through exponential issues unexpressed 
by haughty jesters wearing social masks. 

With splintered images of mirrored minds, 
spilled from pure broken vessels, redesigned 
by bookless pirates stealing tales of fools, 
we must interrogate why we are born 
from vacant heart of consciousness at dawn 
through complex figuration of false names. 

I am anthology of other selves 
imagined by my isolated brain 
which contradicts old doctrine of the soul, 
assumed more difficult at crack of thought 
that only bears itself on open roads 
between bright portals of now-unlocked doors. 

To mobilize this we-the-people mind, 
that motivates my project to control 
effective program through the global state, 
I branch my brain to become every soul 
who ever lives in history of the Earth 
with multivalent body I become. 

Bleeding Apples Of Hope

Bleeding Apples Of Hope
© Surazeus
2023 06 09

If bleeding apples of hope smirk at me 
with indifferent passion sprouting from mud 
I might construct safe haven of my heart 
on shattered hillside of the laughing skull 
because my living body calls up love 
as shadow rising from bright stone of truth. 

On signless road that leads past paradise 
I walk alien to myself thirty years 
to find where my grandfather dug my grave 
so I can clothe nakedness of desire 
then eat sweet pears while thinking how decay 
bewilders my fragile porcelain heart. 

Though I hide on dry banks of the blank sky 
to measure beams of fastidious light 
I talk with darkness of the falling snow 
to rise above the doorless maze of fear 
and soar ten thousand years beyond myself 
till we walk holding hands in sunlit wheat. 

When psychic sense of the soft ocean waves 
envelops me with knowledge of the breath 
I listen for the interrupted cry 
that echoes over our numberless homes 
where tools of gardeners rot in old snow 
though I try to rake misery from my heart. 

Because the thought word moves with ecstasy 
in stuttered harmony of ocean waves 
I wake in shining book of nameless ghosts, 
alarmed by psychic luminosity 
by which I reconcile with skeletons 
who dance too far away from home to care. 

We blossom in the garden of blind ghosts, 
tended by our grandmother who went mad 
escaping from cruel soldiers in the camp, 
and dances free with spirit of the child 
while gathering flowers on the hill of skulls 
so she can forget mute horror of pain. 

So though the world is ending in gray war 
we dance wild around naked flames of fire 
while Bacchus plays flute carved from dragon bone, 
followed by voiceless dancer of the moon 
who teaches us to revere living souls 
with love of those who return from the dead. 

Since unwashed shadows of the living glow 
brighter than eyes of owls in singing trees 
we gather in field of wheat by the stream 
to sing obsessive hymns of honest fear, 
lost in the hazy memories of ourselves 
till we step out of our bodies and bloom. 

When we step out of our bodies we break 
into apple blossoms swirling in wind 
across the highway where ten thousand cars 
scream with unbearable silence of God 
as spiders search for our hearts in dark rooms 
till lights flash on inside our hungry mouths. 

We drink blood of gods from polluted streams 
then camp in tattered tents behind the church 
where happy zombies pray to vampire king, 
then call angels with flaming swords of greed 
to drive the homeless from their neighborhood 
so we can eat fake apples of lost love. 

Waking Up Over The Aeneid

Waking Up Over The Aeneid
© Surazeus
2023 06 08

The sun is bleeding stories on the page, 
unnumbered souls of nameless people swirled 
by restless wind across landscape of time 
who worship concept of their king as god, 
by subjugating conquered tribes as slaves, 
till we live free to surf the internet. 

Each person sitting alone in their room 
ignores how sunlight shimmers on the wall 
as they type thoughts and tales in dreamless squares 
to post their hopes and fears on social sites 
for strangers to like, or argue their case, 
while we all ponder, "Who am I, and why?" 

The Child of Aphrodite gives me book 
about the ancient hero who forsook 
his true love for his glorious destiny 
to found empire on nationality 
that still thrives on this fertile continent 
ruled by the arrogantly confident. 

When ghost of Pallas wanders Congress halls 
to howl at horror of the deficit 
then Raven King will leap through mirror door 
to battle hungry vampire of the church 
who hoards the laughing skulls of long-dead kings 
in desperate search to find lost magic rings. 

At midnight when the moon still blazes black 
we dance around the funeral pyres of gods 
to celebrate rebirth of ancient pride 
when warriors spring from snake teeth in the soil 
where corn radiates sweet energy of love 
from heart of Onatah, eternal queen. 

Translucent mask she wears on stage of fame 
reflects obsessions of our aching hearts 
so we march bold in grand parade of power 
with stately tears that working men conceal 
to follow Turnus down the signless road 
who waves star-spangled banner at the sky. 

The elephants of Carthage trample truth 
with laws that shackle women with their greed 
by banning books that expose racist hate 
till noble warrior of democracy 
breaks bloody rifle of blind tyranny 
by sacrificing his life to save ours. 

I would sit quietly in my safe home 
and map whole history of humanity 
but gray-eyed Athena demands I rise 
and strike with Wand of Zambor to destroy 
system of privilege that the rich employ 
in vain attempt to crucify the clown. 

Revolution Of The Woke

Revolution Of The Woke
© Surazeus
2023 06 07

While driving highway past your empty homes 
I feel your energy vibrate from doors 
that never open wide for wistful wind 
as if our sentimental tales record 
events more strange than mad king on the moor 
who cradles dolorous pride in his arms. 

When I drink from fountain of the blind horse, 
halfway up sad mountain of laughing ghosts, 
my hair sprouts into long vines of pungent grapes 
that taste metallic from lachrymal lust 
so we pray somber to indifferent Earth 
for salvation with sanguine honesty. 

Till Aisling asks me with tremulous voice 
to lead her revolution of the woke 
I float in dreamy mist of eager hope 
that humans may survive apocalypse 
with blessed assurance of naked rage 
because we exercise conceptual choice. 

Each prophet standing on the public stage, 
who reads riddles with literary voice, 
declares holy war against urban sprawl 
while Grendel drinks beer with complacency 
that laughing skull of Hamlet will compose 
new constitution for our global state. 

Though I am broken by life circumstance 
I run around race tracks nine thousand times 
till my heart turns to stone at sudden glance 
of love Medusa translates to sweet rhymes 
since I disappear from each photograph 
when Jesus returns on clumsy giraffe. 

While Bacchus lounges on tattered divan, 
ignoring rusty sword of Damocles 
that dangles from Sistine Chapel of faith, 
I program new world view with secret code 
from song of ocean waves that kiss cliff rocks 
which proves climate change redesigns our minds. 

Since tornadoes discuss theology 
with corporate towers in vast city maze 
about soul salvation through works of faith 
we must ignore poverty and disease 
by offering thoughts and prayers to the bereaved 
who clutch bodies of children killed by guns. 

So I wander home in my shiny car 
hidden in the screaming hills of nowhere 
where deathless mother in long yellow dress 
plays chess with Minerva to win my heart 
because I disappear in words of books 
the not-yet-born will study in high school. 

Blind Hope Of The Road

Blind Hope Of The Road
© Surazeus
2023 06 06

What strange intensity my heart must feel 
each hour the gold sun glimmers on the world 
for me to swell with anguish of the wind 
till I become the blind hope of the road 
I follow till I find edge of the world 
with each crunch of my worn shoes in the dirt. 

Michael pauses at edge of the high cliff 
to gaze at white waves sparkling on the sea 
where fishing boats bounce in the gusting wind 
and wonders why the world has become strange 
since he helped expose the treasonous plot 
by the minister to replace the king. 

The arrow Cupid fires strikes at his heart 
when he sees Aisling by the apple tree 
who clutches throat of the poisonous snake 
to capture venom in the holy grail, 
then mixes in mushrooms, honey, and milk, 
which she offers him with wink of her eye. 

When Michael drinks sweet nectar of Ishtar 
he feels his body soar into the sky, 
so he spreads raven wings of joyful lust 
to shout new gospel to the world below 
that God is illusion kings use to rule 
so break free from his power through free will. 

Roaring from the sea, quick as lightning strikes, 
fierce Dragon of Authority attacks 
the naive boy on Wings of Icarus 
who bears in his hands Lamp of Lucifer 
and Sword of Meroveus that gleams bright 
with thirst to taste hot blood of monstrous greed. 

Swooping on firm wings with elegant grace, 
Michael battles Dragon of Tyranny 
high over Gotham City at midnight, 
striking sword of justice at privilege 
till he pierces crack of arrogant pride 
to kill the tyrant with democracy. 

Snapping awake from vision of just war, 
dizzy on wind-battered Cliffs of Moher, 
Michael chuckles with energy of truth 
that vibrates from Brian Boru Harp he bears, 
then wanders safe around Slough of Despond 
to knock at Gates of Heaven before dawn. 

From gold blaze of light the White Hart appears 
through door of castle tower on the hill, 
so Michael strums the sacred harp and sings 
while Aisling scatters gold coins to the poor, 
who sit at computers inside their homes 
and tweet opinions while the ocean swirls. 

Fourth Angel Jupiter Sends

Fourth Angel Jupiter Sends
© Surazeus
2023 06 05

Slouching against brick wall of Raven Pub, 
Jake Kalinsky points to the west and grins, 
"All the cities and towns across America 
are nothing more than suburbs of New York 
where Fortune bestows fame on fools and jerks, 
so I would be the Jester, not the King." 

Watching the global beauty pageant show 
where tall slim priestesses strut on bright stage, 
Joan White shakes hair over her face and frowns, 
"Why am I not the one shining with life? 
I am no different than these beauty queens 
except I refuse to compete for fame." 

Racing motorbike over bridge of death 
toward ancient mountain of the howling moon, 
Jake searches for beauty in misty gloom 
till his heart spreads raven wings to soar high 
above endless maze of shining glass towers 
where wingless angels wait in silent rooms. 

Shelving library books with precise hands, 
skirt swooshing as she pushes the book cart, 
Joan ponders mystery of romantic love, 
then gazes at hundreds of shining towers 
where she sees wizard on the motorbike 
transform into the raven with gold eyes. 

Gazing down at the endless maze of myths, 
Jake shouts in gusts of wind to men in cars, 
"People of America, listen well. 
I am the fourth angel Jupiter sends 
to proclaim coming of messiah sleuth 
for I am the cosmic herald of truth." 

Cradling Phial of Galadriel, that hangs 
at her breast, with gentle care, Joan proclaims, 
"Hail Earendel, brightest of wingless angels, 
sent by Goden to people of Gothinia, 
I see pure light that shimmers in your heart 
emanate from God Eye of the White Whole." 

Staring at his face in the fountain pool, 
which shimmers like gold mask of Agamemnon, 
Jake Kalinsky floats entranced in weird vision 
till voice of the goddess echoes from light 
so he turns startled to see fragile woman 
transform from raven of the mushroom moon. 

Offering the hamburger and lemonade 
to the strange man with eyes full of despair, 
Joan White sits with him by the fountain pool 
where they chat about the meaning of life 
to share tales about fierce monsters of legends, 
laughing in love as the sun gleams at dawn. 

Hidden From Hunger Of Death

Hidden From Hunger Of Death
© Surazeus
2023 06 04

The subtle movement of the flashing sky 
exposes atoms of my burning heart 
when I hitchhike across the desert land 
to find my lover in the empty house 
whose flower face is veiled by cold moonlight 
while I dream of her soul warm in my arms. 

Far across the sparkling pacific sea 
that glimmers blue with inner flame of hope 
my lover walks alone on hungry beach 
to wait for me all night on chilly sand 
till I descend on silver wings of faith 
so we can dance with endless tide of time. 

Because the fevered foam of restless time 
tastes bitterer than death to those who love 
we sing together in hard blasting wind 
to maintain trust we share with eager hands 
for life is sweet when we walk hand in hand 
to know strange beauty of this silent world. 

Our lonely shadows spreading angel wings 
fly side by side along the ocean beach, 
lured by clear tones from lyre of golden strings 
I play with passion of the blooming spring 
beneath the dark uncaring sky of hope 
as we kiss with tender care of wild birds. 

Till hour our throats may ache with joyful song 
we hide from horror of beautiful death 
to savor yet another day of hope 
with graceful passion of the mortal soul 
who knows the painful end of life may come 
at any time we eat the fruit of love. 

Close to my heart I hold the broken world 
to understand this seething faith in love 
that motivates my quest to break the walls 
enclosing paradise with serpent teeth 
which keeps us safe and trapped in flow of change 
till we can teach the world our private song. 

With changeful will of arrogant desire 
we rush against blank wall of nothingness 
to float on ocean waves of innocence 
till we rise dripping from abyss of time 
to pluck ripe oranges from old tangled trees 
and drink sweet sunlight in tears of despair. 

I gather scattered selves to bind one self 
that gleams in crystal ball of timeless truth 
so I see endless flow of human history 
in shifting visions of intense conflict 
till I design safe haven of our hope 
where we dwell hidden from hunger of death. 

Continue Side By Side

Continue Side By Side
© Surazeus
2023 06 04

Sweet agony of our conceptual love 
wakes me at midnight from beautiful dream 
where we walk together in crowded halls 
to analyze the strangeness of starlight 
because when I gaze in your moon-black eyes 
I feel infinity glow in my brain. 

Reluctant pleasure of this timeless day 
fills me with terror of the empty sky 
which gleams cobalt in mirror of the lake 
revealing cosmic emptiness of being 
as we hold hands on fragile wooden boat 
which I row forward toward the hopeful day. 

If darkness lures us through door in the trees 
we decide to follow our eager hearts 
and go where Death controls our state of mind 
till our lost names appear in red moonlight 
as we keep moving with the river flow 
though gravity drags us down to the truth. 

The cogent spindle twists our points of view 
so our two bodies of ambitious flesh 
merge shadows into one immortal soul 
stretched vast as mountains laughing at the joke 
that only ocean waves will understand 
though I will try to translate them to seeds. 

The end of the road that is far ahead 
will lead us back to where our souls were born 
so we must worry to restore the wind 
that swirls around the most beautiful tree 
where we left our childhood in the twilight 
wide enough to become the spinning world. 

For even when I wander in the gloom, 
too far beyond the walls of paradise 
to know the road that would restore our faith, 
she smiles with simple charming innocence 
that glows as light to guide our lonely way 
to the house where the road continues on. 

Since we keep meeting on our daily treks 
to gather fruits and nuts from humming trees 
we decide to continue side by side, 
always together on the road we blaze 
so we can protect each other from harm 
and hold each other safe in the cold night. 

The way she beams with smiles of eager eyes 
while skipping high among the apple trees 
inspires my heart to sing about true love 
so, when she crouches down to touch the herb 
that heals all wounds, I gaze with selfless love 
at timeless beauty of her mortal soul. 

My Body Godless

My Body Godless
© Surazeus
2023 06 04

My body stretched on grass beneath bright clouds 
is the only way I can speak my mind 
through tuneless sorrow of the trembling light 
that watches me from surface of the lake 
so I become tornado in the sky 
that changes climate of the global heart. 

My body aching with chemical hope 
attempts to generate new life from atoms 
threaded by the sun through the neural net 
that translates divine spirit of the stars 
into my brain long pulsing with desire 
to rise alive from void of blinding light. 

My body twisted by anguish of faith 
expands beyond bounds of atomic lust 
to transcend material nature of time 
on blazing angel wings of honest rage 
to overcome despair of nothingness 
till I become this fragile broken soul. 

My body buzzing with electric stars 
vibrates with naked agony of love 
while I stroll down the city street at dawn, 
having swallowed stone of eternity, 
to befriend strangers with star-sparkling eyes 
who understand this wordless pain we share. 

My body godless in vast universe 
drives me down curving road of everywhere 
to find the secret treasure of your heart 
because I want to give you what you want 
since your excited joy is my delight 
as we float laughing on cool ocean waves. 

My body drunk on possibilities 
reviews all futures branching from this hour 
that fan out far across the multiverse 
to analyze which fortune I want most 
which all lead me to wander on the coast 
as nameless, faceless, transcendental ghost. 

My body hungry for conceptual truth 
composed of elemental mysteries 
consumes colossal galaxies of souls 
with existential angst for selfless love 
that radiates from black hole of destiny 
so we eat brunch at Big City Cafe. 

My body animated by God Soul 
beaming from Dreamless Eye of the White Whole 
tries to remember hour in paradise 
when we first meet beneath the apple tree 
and kiss forever in soft rainbow light 
till our children hug us and ask for food. 

Guide Man Toward Death

Guide Man Toward Death
© Surazeus
2023 06 03

I feel dark weight of twenty thousand years 
blaze from blinding star of uncertainty, 
so I break from traditions of the past 
and build my own tradition on their ruins, 
for Ishtar founded on stone of my heart 
all world religions that guide Man toward Death. 

Though I walk alone in city of wires 
I carry water from tempestuous seas 
to fill the cooking cauldrons of the poor 
with holy nectar from ichor of gods 
so we may drink bright energy of stars 
beaming with visions that guide Man toward Death. 

The man who carries ladders in his heart 
leads refugees of wars to border walls 
then helps them transcend social obstacles 
so they can invade Heaven in their quest 
to live as they will, freed from chains of greed, 
attending rituals that guide Man toward Death. 

The way to the river of singing ghosts 
leads past the broken walls of paradise 
so we escape factories and offices 
to gather in the wind-swept parking lot 
where we pray to Golden Bull of Wall Street 
whose priestly matadors guide Man toward Death. 

I am the son of ghosts clutching Dream Book 
that organizes facts about the world 
in strict coherent cosmos of the damned 
for I am blind with ambition to rule 
the world corporate food-production machine 
producing stories that guide Man toward Death. 

Though warden guarding garden of the Earth 
lies buried with keys to Kingdom of Heaven, 
I walk the sacred land of Rainbow Mountains 
where no kings with crowns of authority 
are allowed to tyrannize honest people 
who wait for Phoebus to guide Man toward Death. 

Since my heart is the Argonaut of faith 
in which flame of arrogance is concealed 
I feel it burn with universal truth 
as psychic flare in darkness of the void 
so we dance with abandon of true love 
in stories of stars that guide Man toward Death. 

Awake with ancient genius of the Earth 
in uninhabitable deserts of thought, 
I feel dark weight of twenty thousand years 
support foundation of our world religion 
that worships gods who embody One God 
so we sing ballads that guide Man toward Death.