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.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Friday, June 30, 2023
To Love Angel Of Death
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.
Thursday, June 29, 2023
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.
Wednesday, June 28, 2023
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.
Tuesday, June 27, 2023
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.
Monday, June 26, 2023
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.
Sunday, June 25, 2023
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.
Saturday, June 24, 2023
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.
Friday, June 23, 2023
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.
Thursday, June 22, 2023
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.
Wednesday, June 21, 2023
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.
Tuesday, June 20, 2023
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.
Monday, June 19, 2023
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.
Sunday, June 18, 2023
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.
Saturday, June 17, 2023
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.
Friday, June 16, 2023
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.
Thursday, June 15, 2023
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.
Wednesday, June 14, 2023
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.
Tuesday, June 13, 2023
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.
Monday, June 12, 2023
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.
Sunday, June 11, 2023
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.
Saturday, June 10, 2023
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.
Friday, June 9, 2023
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.
Thursday, June 8, 2023
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.
Wednesday, June 7, 2023
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.
Tuesday, June 6, 2023
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.
Monday, June 5, 2023
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.
Sunday, June 4, 2023
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.
Saturday, June 3, 2023
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.