Nightmare Of State Pride

Nightmare Of State Pride
© Surazeus
2023 08 31

However soft the laughter of red rain 
sad children steal books from the hungry king 
who smashes trains with the Hammer of Thor. 
Blind angels drink wine to deaden the pain 
each time the prettiest girl with no ring 
shouts your secret name from the broken door. 

Whichever hawk descends on spiral thought 
still finds the messenger who never writes 
fairy tales disguised as world holy scripture. 
Old smiling statue of the savior, sought 
by worshippers engaged in profane rites, 
presides over disastrous new world order. 

To think about how computers program 
human brains to believe beautiful lies 
requires we ride the nightmare of state pride. 
From holy grail we drink blood of the lamb 
purloined from Jesus by arrogant spies 
obsessed with dramas about patricide. 

While I slouch toward Bethlehem to be born 
from Weeping Virgin on the pyramid, 
we reconcile good and the means of good. 
With spent vision of the times I now scorn 
I sanctify lie of the psychic grid 
through will to deception in Raven Wood. 

Though the good weep tears to obtain state power, 
the powerful sell goodness to the poor 
while I wander by deep ocean of death. 
The foolish gaze in wonder at the sweet flower 
but the wise wonder what love is good for 
while I transform into God with each breath. 

Sublime repression of daemonic soul 
will energize my project to compose 
new mind ontology of cosmic truth. 
I wake as Saturn fallen from my role 
as global prophet of theater shows 
where crowds watch tale of the messiah sleuth. 

When I gain knowledge from the Tree of Life 
by eating forbidden fruit of her heart, 
Ishtar transforms me to God with her kiss. 
With Goddess of Wisdom as my sweet wife 
I map world history on global time chart 
since Earth first spiraled from the dream abyss. 

I almost think I understand the why 
as I glimpse face of wisdom in the light 
that beams from emptiness of everything. 
The wingless angel who attempts to fly 
falls into garden of the anchorite 
who gives him lyre of Mercury to sing. 

Right To Rule Byzantium

Right To Rule Byzantium
© Surazeus
2023 08 31

Beneath the golden bough of arrogance, 
where kings enforce bold arbitrary rules 
then pay the price of social sacrifice, 
I tend contentious flames of bitter truth 
to study strange complexities of life 
while dancing agony of honest love. 

Though I scorn flashy glories of world fame 
to channel visions of demonic truth 
through revelation of tormented hope 
that humans clutch with greedy hands of faith, 
I tame strange furies of complexity 
which proves my right to rule Byzantium. 

Where Valentinus strides in marble hall, 
still haunted by bright shadows of his face, 
wise Bythos rises from dark sea of truth 
with silent depth of soul profundity 
providing hypostatic concept of true love 
when I speak Word of Wisdom in the Church. 

Because Sophia births child of my seed 
who molds ideas with lithe crafting hands 
to manage constant change of atom flow, 
I stand on flat-top pyramid of stars 
to sing creation of our universe 
swirled from catastrophe of aching love. 

From bright Pleroma of the White Whole beams 
conceptual fullness of vast galaxies 
that spiral outward through eternity 
from radical vortex of the mind gyre 
so I recognize depth of cosmic being 
that glows from atoms of my dreaming brain. 

Constructing virtual model of this Earth 
on firm foundation of knowledge I earn, 
I forge true key of salvation from truth 
while chanting spells of spiritual desire 
that dispel dark ignorant fog of faith 
so I can perceive essence of all things. 

At pulsing flash of weird epiphany 
I sing in harmony with lightning strikes 
that I am wise Poemander of the mind, 
for I am with you everywhere in time 
as Nobody who wears new Mask of God 
to dethrone Jesus and reign as World King. 

On Emerald Tablet of sly Mercury 
my name is carved with dragon runes of truth 
so when my soul is born from fertile womb 
of Sophia Ishtar in vast Hall of Stars 
you will see my face in Mirror of Faith 
when I claim right to rule Byzantium. 

Beauty Queen Of Earth

Beauty Queen Of Earth
© Surazeus
2023 08 30

At second coming of Messiah Sleuth, 
foretold by laughter of the Cosmic Herald, 
wise Lamia falls in love with Lucifer 
while Phoebus wants to marry Melusine, 
and grim Orpheus finds Ophelia 
dancing in bright gloom by the River Styx. 

Yet when the Falconer on desert sands 
breaks open skull of Ozymandias 
at flashing beacon in eyes of the Sphinx, 
the rainbow-winged Serpent of Desire 
ascends on silver wings of Icarus 
to find Earendil over Middle-Earth. 

The best who lack conviction still wear crowns 
while gangs of angels wearing clean white robes 
declare with passionate intensity 
plan to make America great again 
so sons of Jesus rule as Presidents 
to expand Roman Empire beyond Europe. 

This shocking revelation now at hand 
that troubles sights of seers in dreamless caves 
describes ascendance of the Lion King 
who wears mask of Simon Magus on stage 
leading rite to crown Beauty Queen of Earth 
as wise Sophia in Temple of Truth. 

Though Thea tries to wake Saturn from dream, 
Faustus succeeds through misdirecting play 
to fool proud Mephistopheles with trick 
that new World Empress born in Bethlehem 
appears when skull of Hamlet prophesies 
fall of every cruel king from haughty pride. 

For twenty more centuries of stony sleep 
First Mother will continue global reign 
since Ishtar stood on ziggurat of stars 
ten thousand years ago at dawn of song 
to organize labor of hungry hands 
that operates world food-production machine. 

Though tyrants rise and fall in waves of war 
to loose the blood-dimmed tide of angry greed 
as they attempt to control minds of men, 
First Mother Ishtar stands above them all 
as shining paragon of Liberty 
who bears bright Torch of Justice for all souls. 

Leading ceremony of innocence 
to bind humanity with common goal 
of equal civil rights for every soul, 
First Mother Ishtar bears both Sword and Lyre 
to appoint Guard and Bard who guide mankind 
toward peace in United Nations of Earth. 

Graveyard Of Gods

Graveyard Of Gods
© Surazeus
2023 08 29

Lost in dark shady sadness of stark vale 
where Saturn slumbers by time-deadened stream, 
I find beside him on foul sodden ground, 
listless and unsceptered on ancient Earth, 
Apollo and Jesus in trance of death, 
near powerless as fallen deities. 

Not so alone as he was long ago 
that ancient god, who once ruled stormy skies, 
stares with faded eyes at our modern world 
cluttered with sprawling cities of glass towers, 
wondering how proud usurpers of his power 
have come to join him in graveyard of gods. 

They once created worlds with shining words, 
commanding loud with magic spells of truth 
nameless people to build grand monuments 
that reflect enormous strength of their will 
to sift our atom-universe with voice 
of confidence in rightness of their choice. 

Yet Law of Nature that enforces change 
of constant transformation in new forms 
pushed these proud gods of arrogant respect 
from veritable pedestal of truth 
to fall in ever-shifting flow of time 
for they are neither beginning nor end. 

From swirling chaos of parental gloom 
light blooms from primal egg of everything 
to flare forth from first flash of the big bang 
that spirals atoms into galaxies 
which nurture planets rich with conscious beings 
who fancy themselves first parents of truth. 

I join three gods by stream of constant change, 
still as stone in garden of paradise 
cluttered with thousands of once-divine gods 
worshipped by millions of vast empire states 
who all are now mute skeletons in graves, 
though I see their faces clear in my mind. 

Gods who epitomize spirits of nations 
to embody greatest virtues of empires 
shine bright as long as tribes they symbolize 
thrive on fertile river shores of honest faith, 
but turn to stone when their worshippers die, 
and dream forever in graveyard of gods. 

While I sit among statues of dead gods, 
gazing with curious awe at face of Jesus, 
latest god to fall from bright height of Heaven, 
Athena gives me lyre Hermes designed, 
so I strum strings and chant grand epic tale 
about philosophers, seekers of truth. 

In Love With Albertine

In Love With Albertine
© Surazeus
2023 08 28

Everyone falls in love with Albertine 
when she strides down the busy city street 
with arrogant disdain for the libertine 
who worships perfect beauty at her feet, 
till she transforms into heart-broken swan 
and sings forgotten tunes on castle lawn. 

Hair coiffed in sprayed waves of the pompadour, 
curvaceous hips slicked with red satin gown, 
Albertine blazes bright through every door 
with grace that excels the most divine clown 
to challenge Aphrodite for her throne 
as Queen of Beauty with new heart of stone. 

Gliding on bright stage in Globe Theater, 
Albertine performs heart-enchanting tune 
on golden harp designed by Lucifer 
whose psychic energy flows from the moon 
to charge her spirit with transcendent power 
that sparks my heart to blossom in the flower. 

Staring at mask of her face in the mirror 
while another spurned lover pounds the door, 
Albertine trembles mute in lonely terror, 
unable to handle fame anymore, 
so she holds the gun to her aching head, 
wondering if she would be better off dead. 

Removing polished face of Albertine 
that hides the frightened orphan girl she was 
before working hard to play the Stage Queen, 
the nameless woman shattered by applause 
leaps through the window of joyful despair 
and rides away on swift galloping mare. 

Wearing trousers and shirt with rolled-up sleeves, 
Albertine tends garden of herbs and worts 
while angels whisper among fruit-tree leaves 
on communal farm where blissful converts 
work for salvation in Heaven on Earth 
with excessive passion of honest mirth. 

Silver mist swirls up from the river shore 
where Albertine wanders in maze of dreams 
till she finds Saturn at Ghost Temple core 
who gazes lost in trance of dreamless seems, 
so she kisses stone lips of the blind god 
while faceless ghosts in mirror hall applaud. 

Alone on empty stage in Church of Tales, 
where laughing skulls of gods watch her perform, 
Albertine weighs our hearts on psychic scales 
to measure success of social reform, 
then flies to Heaven on swan wings of faith 
where she reveals face of the cosmic wraith. 

God-Haunted Time

God-Haunted Time
© Surazeus
2023 08 27

The holy aura of god-haunted time 
that seems to us, stuck in our present grind, 
to endow the past with mystery of myth, 
radiates from inner objectivity 
expressing beauty of atomic light 
which animates this world with pleasant pain. 

The God who rules celestial halls of light 
that Milton presents as superior power 
persists as deity who creates life, 
but I see him as nothing more than idol 
that embodies concept of the wise king 
whose mortal body contains divine soul. 

All gods that humans worship on this Earth 
are characters preserved in words of tales 
designed by poets to memorialize 
humans who performed creative deeds 
founding institutions of social states 
to maintain civilized order of life. 

The God who overthrows precursor God 
that Keats presents as powers of the mind 
devolve as Titans down from gods to men 
while Apollo ascends from man to God 
through apotheosis of mind control 
to reign as tyrant of morality. 

When I climb pyramid steps of despair, 
lured by Moneta to ruins of faith, 
I find both Saturn and Jehovah frozen 
in psychic stasis of human belief 
as marble statues inside walls of Heaven 
where Milton and Keats drink tea with Apollo. 

To attend his grand march of intellect 
Hyperion activates the Mind of Man 
through quest for self-realization we 
execute to exit gold gates of Heaven 
when we attempt to exile ancient gods 
from theater stage where humans perform. 

Homer sings how Apollo hates Achilles, 
and how Poseidon hates Odysseus, 
then Virgil sings how Hera hates Aeneas, 
while Milton sings how Lucifer rebels 
against Jesus, crowned emperor by his Father, 
and Keats sings how Hyperion hates Apollo. 

These angry gods are symbols of great men 
who claimed immortal power of the stars, 
and thus attacked men to maintain their strength, 
but they have all long vanished into dust, 
those mortal men who performed divine roles, 
now nothing more than characters in myths. 

The ancient gods as symbols of great kings 
presented by Homer, Virgil, and Milton, 
awed Keats with anguish of abandoned faith, 
but they have disappeared in winds of time, 
so now we mortals stride this spinning Earth, 
attempting to play gods with games of power. 

Our nation-states are ruled by haughty men 
who claim their right to rule with coded laws 
through sanction of our democratic vote 
because we recognize that men in power 
are mortals we crown with authority 
to play god for strictly limited terms. 

All gods who ruled on flat-top pyramids 
as strict arbiters of moral behavior 
have frozen into statues in old myths 
so ancient tales depicting their grand deeds 
devolve to fables that record lost history 
as tragic lessons for the wise to learn. 

The only heroes modern epics praise 
are humans who would quest for timeless truth 
by research into true nature of things 
through measurements that state physical laws, 
for we are mortals of immortal atoms 
who savor beauty of life till we die. 

Wild Wakeness Of Hope

Wild Wakeness Of Hope
© Surazeus
2023 08 27

My life belongs to wild wakeness of hope 
that gleams as lamp to guide me on dark ways 
so I become strange voice of ocean waves 
that break false vision of my world apart 
through revelation of the shining real 
which blooms as love from anguish of my heart. 

I bear my old mother Muse on my back 
on shifting sands of sun-illumined beach 
to escape our paradise lost to thieves 
who steal apples we tended with our hands 
till I find secret valley between hills 
where I plant apples in grave of my heart. 

Beside the sparkling Meles River flow 
I bury my mother in grave of tears 
so spirit of her love will nurture trees 
that blossom from compassion of her heart 
so new paradise grows from her broad breast 
that shelters me from heat of wordless suns. 

Ensconced in secret shadow of sad peace 
beneath Tree of Knowledge on verdant hill, 
I welcome wanderers on the signless road 
to linger awhile in vine-shaded bower 
and drink sweet cider to nourish their hearts 
while I sing tales of heroes as they rest. 

While guests rest in temple of apple trees 
I pluck tuned strings of my tortoise-shell lyre 
and sing about journey of Odysseus 
who returns home after conquering greed, 
then wish them luck as they continue on, 
and sleep to murmur of Melesian flow. 

My heart beats with courageous hope of love 
when Meles River transforms into man 
with long tangled hair and moon-silver eyes 
who embraces me with warmth of respect 
and I become sweet glow of timeless stars 
as he fills me with passion of new life. 

My spriteful son, born from spirit of Meles, 
leads wanderers to rest in temple hall, 
then sits beside me with his little lyre 
and sings with me tale of Odysseus, 
then laughs and fills their cups with apple juice 
while collecting coins for grand tales we sing. 

While I lie dying on lush river shore, 
I tell my son to play his lyre with pride, 
for he is spirit of my mother Muse 
reborn to sing about the clever man 
who journeys till he reaches home again, 
and Homer smiles at me through tears of love. 

Hunger For Great Truth

Hunger For Great Truth
© Surazeus
2023 08 27

How ocean waves discuss my solitude 
with calm reluctance of light on tree leaves 
excites my heart with noble fortitude 
to understand why my blind mother grieves 
at death of flowers in meadows of fear 
when I realize our whole world is a sphere. 

Awake with shiver piercing her soft heart 
on jagged cliff of hunger for great truth, 
Metis watches crows on black starless wings 
circle apple tree with long twisted limbs 
while pondering why her mother Tethys weeps 
over Cronus, who lies dead on cold sand. 

Twin children holding hands in gusting wind, 
Porus and Pomona hide behind rocks 
and watch their mother laugh as ocean spray 
sparkles bright gold in wild chaotic swirls, 
so they offer her apples and walnuts 
when she kneels and kisses their wind-red cheeks. 

Legs flashing white in blur of windy hope, 
Athena runs along ocean beach curve 
and hurls long spear that arches lightning swift 
to pierce wild boar that twitches as it squeals, 
then roasts slabs of meat on hot altar flames 
in temple hall on flat-top pyramid.  

Feeding blind Tethys with tangled gray hair 
strips of moist grilled meat, glazed with honey sauce, 
Athena smiles as Metis feeds the twins, 
then laughs when Pomona, with twinkling eyes, 
snatches food from Porus, who pouts and cries 
till his sister pinches his blushing cheek. 

Holding red apple shining in her hand, 
Metis explains to children of her heart 
that our whole world we perceive with our eyes, 
mountains that teem with plants and animals 
and oceans that swirl in moon-lightened tides, 
is round as this apple that feeds our souls. 

Resting on verdant Meles River shore, 
Athena cradles daughter in her arms, 
whose eyes gleam with light of the silver moon 
as she suckles milk from her fountain breast, 
then sings hymn to moon-eyed Endymion 
whose spirit whispers as wind in tree leaves. 

Driving her car on the highway to work, 
Mary imagines life in ancient times 
when small tribes fished and sang on river shores, 
so different from this global enterprise 
of corporate nation-states producing food, 
yet spirit of Metis glows in her heart. 

Whole World Of His Mind

Whole World Of His Mind
© Surazeus
2023 08 26

When crickets chirr in timeless twilight glow 
that veils with sorrow shadows who invade 
broad meadow walled by towering pines of dread, 
young Phoebus pauses on weird roadless way 
at eerie song which lurks beyond dim scope 
of curious eyes to penetrate green gloom. 

Through blinding billows of oppressive gloom, 
that shrouds bright garden where poets once sang 
hymns of love to daughters of mountain gods, 
Phoebus sees strange glow of stark silver rays 
blast visible darkness with silent flash 
in shocking revelation beyond form. 

Almost paralyzed with terror of truth 
at sudden chill of dread that penetrates 
hot pulsing veins in sinews of his soul, 
Phoebus pushes forward past veil of gloom 
through sheer force of futile aggressive will, 
drawn toward strange glow of solitary hope. 

Considering how to carve on tablet book 
runes in Saturnian verse that would record 
quest of his soul to escape hovering shadow 
of ancient gods that loom over garden graves, 
Phoebus struggles to transcend beating wind 
so he can attain his authentic self. 

Wearing mask of persona he creates 
from memory of desire that fuels his quest, 
as shield that protects his soul from despair, 
Phoebus conceals repressed passion for fame 
with face that reveals his authentic mind 
as clear reflection in dark garden pool. 

Breaking through thick veil of tangled grape vines, 
Phoebus perceives on flat-top pyramid 
Moneta sitting on gold throne of wealth 
as she inscribes our names in book of fate, 
and holds open chest where minted coins glint 
bright with rays of knowledge the sun exudes. 

Kneeling before tall Mother of the Sky, 
who deigns glare at his trembling figurine, 
Phoebus requests from her generous hand 
munificent grant of abundant faith 
to fund theater show he would perform 
that presents noble justice of her reign. 

Entranced by calm hypnotic gleam of truth 
that radiates from moon-mirror of her eyes, 
Phoebus clutches broken lyre to his breast 
with anxious buzz of soul paralysis 
till silver glow of her immortal soul 
encompasses the whole world of his mind. 

Absence Of Your Soul

Absence Of Your Soul
© Surazeus
2023 08 25

I could not feel stark absence of your soul 
unless you had been present in my life, 
so real and messy in passionate play 
of physical vibrance, your beating heart 
flushing your soul awake with solar beams 
of fierce ambition to savor strange joy. 

I took for granted presence of our soul, 
expecting I perceive with casual eyes 
excessive spark of pulsing energy 
that you exude with confident despair 
through random performance of your desires, 
your fullness now emptiness I palpate. 

With visceral anguish of my twisted heart, 
that gapes with hollow hunger of shocked hope 
to sense your vibrant presence with my soul, 
I ache with unpalliatable desire 
to embrace material physique of you, 
yet you elude perception of my love. 

Your absence gapes with nothingness of hope, 
broad as abysmal void of faith we shared, 
so I feel crushing gravity of grief 
suck me numb into vacuum of your heart 
that drags me down through nihilistic lust 
to recreate your whole unstructured soul. 

Based on clear phantom image of your soul 
my brain attempts to conjure from thin air, 
I utter spell of hope, in riddle bound 
by passionate desire for you to live, 
that needs expression of ethereal breath 
for me to reassemble you from dream. 

Intense contention of my hopeless will 
seems almost to assemble from hard thoughts 
motionless idol of your mortal soul, 
but longing for your vital presence clangs 
bell of awareness your absence is real 
as glowing cloud that hovers over me. 

Extreme projection of my flashing brain 
almost composes you from words I pray, 
so clear as sunlight glowing on your face 
you stand before me with eyes full of love, 
but when I open arms to recognize 
your presence, your absence consumes my heart. 

I would express outrage at laws of Death 
that erase Beauty from this changing world, 
but I know shouting up at empty sky, 
or howling at unfairness of blind fate, 
would empty me of sorrow at your loss, 
so I must cherish absence of your soul. 

Liberty Of Selfless Love

Liberty Of Selfless Love
© Surazeus
2023 08 24

Lounging in lush garden by the plum tree, 
suffused with rippling waves of summer heat, 
sad-eyed boy gazes at delicate leaves 
that flutter in soft breeze of timeless faith 
and ponders music in sweet tweets of birds 
that echo deep in hollow of his heart. 

Poets think they are prophets of the heart, 
searching rotten woods for lost ancient truths 
that would shine holy light of great insight 
to endow on earnest readers of faith 
amazing revelation through their spells 
which applies salvation to the people. 

I should cease irritable reaching out 
for uncertainties, mysteries, and doubts 
that blind my eyes to beauty of this world 
so I can attain freedom to extend 
sensual compassion for existing things 
till I become one with spirit of being. 

No longer shall I care what others think 
about valued quality of my being 
when I free myself from need to be loved 
so I can love everyone in the world 
with endless flowing fountain of pure joy 
that nurtures beauty of this broken world. 

I only know emotions of my mind 
that vibrate from intense core of my soul 
so I choose to glow through unselfish love 
based on negative capability 
to radiate compassion for every soul 
who struggles to survive pain of this world. 

I speak no prophecies of unknown truth 
when I express insights my mind designs, 
for every concept human minds devise 
persist in hidden nature of our souls, 
unnoticed till we gaze in dark abyss 
through revelation of beautiful songs. 

Trapped in social drama of fierce desire, 
I walk outside closed gates of paradise 
and travel signless roads to Anywhere, 
lost in stark wilderness of hungry hope, 
till I gain liberty of selfless love 
to savor beauty I see in this world. 

Thus timeless prophecies of poems I write 
pertain to no one else alive on Earth, 
so I taste divine spirit of all things 
in pungent juice of this plum I consume, 
for someday ancient spirit of this Earth 
will consume divine spirit of my heart. 

Roadless River Vale

Roadless River Vale
© Surazeus
2023 08 23

Looking all over for his favorite Muse, 
sad-eyed boy of the roadless river vale 
finds skulls of heroes grinning among flowers, 
so in stark silence of the nevermore 
he sings with aching loneliness of love 
till he dies and becomes a skull among flowers. 

Wandering in Lurkwood where eyeless owls dream, 
sad-eyed boy of the roadless river vale 
searches Latium for dark hiding place 
where Saturnus slumbers in cave of ghosts, 
but finds only nymphs splashing in bright pool 
while skull of Hylas on large boulder smiles. 

Hidden in crowd of solemn worshippers, 
sad-eyed boy of roadless river vale 
watches old bearded King Italus place 
laurel wreath on head of pregnant Carmenta 
who gives wood mask to her little son Janus, 
then smiles when he wears it over his face. 

Stepping slowly forward from the hushed crowd, 
sad-eyed boy of roadless river vale 
sits beside Carmenta in ivied fane, 
then plucks gold strings of his tortoise-shell lyre 
and sings solemn tale of Terra and Caelus 
whose son Sabus led his tribe to this land. 

Approaching pretty girl by the pear tree, 
sad-eyed boy of roadless river vale 
blushes when Larunda calls out his name, 
then gives her basket of mushrooms and eggs 
he gathered in dark woods of Latium, 
amazed at sparkle of her silver eyes. 

Relaxing on porch of her cooking fane, 
sad-eyed boy of roadless river vale 
gazes at Larunda with helpless love 
as she prepares their meal with food he brought, 
but pretends to tune the strings of his lyre 
when she glaces at him with charming smile. 

Startled when someone stabs him in his breast, 
sad-eyed boy of roadless river vale 
gasps at sudden pain that pierces his heart, 
then Larunda screams and staunches his wound, 
shouting at Fontus that she loves him not, 
because she wants to marry gentle Gordius. 

Gasping with pain as blood flows from his mouth, 
sad-eyed boy of roadless river vale 
caresses cheek of Larunda with care 
as she clutches him tightly in her arms 
and weeps with anguish as he floats in light 
that overwhelms his heart with joyous love. 

Shy Sad-Eyed Boy

Shy Sad-Eyed Boy
© Surazeus
2023 08 22

Shy sad-eyed boy in valley of Star Lake, 
who hears eerie song of the nightingale, 
declares with delightful laughter of wit 
that Death is mother of Beauty, his bride 
who dances with lascivious joy of life 
among skulls of poets in the garden grove. 

Heart aching with transcendent drowsiness, 
shy sad-eyed boy with raven quill, he stole 
from Cronus slumbering in dank mountain cave, 
searches melodious plot of beechen green 
for light-winged Dryad of old apple trees 
whose song enchants him with visions of love. 

Dipping gold grail in blushful Hippocrene 
with thirst to drink vintage draught of lost hope, 
shy sad-eyed boy with pale skin, in black cloak, 
drinks deep sweet taste of terrible despair 
that stains his heart with purple lust for life, 
then watches Beauty dance in star-slant beams. 

How wondrous she performs her cosmic dance 
with fierce expression of star-flashing eyes, 
and arms that swirl to summon ghosts of trust, 
shy sad-eyed boy exclaims with wordless cry 
of stark surprise that energy of life 
transforms her body with divine insight. 

Yet as he gazes at curvaceous form 
of Beauty, who incarnates light of stars, 
hair curling long as vines with sparkling grapes, 
and lustrous eyes silver as midnight moon, 
shy sad-eyed boy, grown spectre-thin with fear, 
sees her fertile body crumble to dust. 

Still kneeling at bright pool of star-soul eyes, 
that displays tragic tale of lost romance 
how Narcissus and Echo, seeking love, 
fail to perceive and then communicate 
commitment to the person they love most, 
shy sad-eyed boy washes his face with tears. 

Shy sad-eyed boy squints into verdurous gloom, 
awake with weird epiphany of truth 
that our lithe bodies crumble into dust 
with grim relentless spin of ticking time 
as his eyes search for Queen-Moon on her throne 
where starry Fays inspire poets to sing. 

Trembling with ecstasy of mournful truth, 
shy sad-eyed boy, in love with easeful Death, 
calls Beauty to enthuse his truth-blind soul 
with striking harmony of divine breath 
so he may sing high requiem for love 
to resurrect his heart with tears of joy. 

Transported far to faery lands forlorn 
on viewless wings of Poesy he wove, 
shy sad-eyed boy, who weeps in alien corn, 
turns back from fake realm of Heaven, hope-borne 
safe above perilous seas of desire, 
and flies back to her grove of apple trees. 

When Beauty wakes from slumber in cool mist 
at tender kiss of his care for her health, 
and gazes up at him with lustrous eyes, 
shy sad-eyed boy, strumming lyre of his heart, 
sings plaintive anthem of adoring love 
that we must live, for someday we will die. 

No more believing it is rich to die 
as his eyes gaze in star-pool of her eyes, 
while listening to her nightingale-soft voice 
describe strange vision of her waking dream, 
shy sad-eyed boy absorbs concepts she speaks, 
inspired to sing of Beauty beyond Death. 

Deep in love with Beauty, daughter of Death, 
who walks beside him on the signless road 
in valley-glades where ripening apples gleam, 
and singing odes in harmony of love 
that binds their hearts with joy for life till death, 
shy sad-eyed boy treasures Beauty his bride. 

Quiet Of The Sky

Quiet Of The Sky
© Surazeus
2023 08 21

While searching for beauteous forms of desire 
in silent groves of wild secluded scenes 
I find myself in heaps of broken stones 
that once performed with grand eloquent pride 
lofty nobleness of cathedral space 
where the old bearded seer stares at the world. 

Trapped in scene of instruction he commands 
with tender glare of divine truth he keeps, 
composed from smoky quiet of the sky, 
I listen to his sermon, keyed with verse 
of sublime wisdom his mind confiscates 
from dead gods, define inner glow of truth. 

His low insistent gestures of gnarled hands 
connect lush landscape to far touchless sky 
of unchanging ideals outlined by smoke 
that writhes from chimneys of pastoral farms 
where world-wide wanderers relax in chairs 
of timeless contemplation of the light. 

Since sweet sensations surging in my blood 
wake me from tranquil pleasures I enjoy, 
I savor memories of our timeless hours 
solving mysteries of Nature we express 
with bold harmonious riddles children chant 
while gazing into secret life of things. 

If divine consciousness of God in me 
resides with subtle confidence of truth, 
defining sublimity of our souls 
in tune with blooming Nature of our world, 
then I am Adam and Jesus combined 
through single apparition of my ghost. 

Encased in corporeal frame of desire, 
suspended on luminous wings of faith, 
I linger long in shadows of my dreams 
to observe complex process of rebirth 
with joyous passion of my feverish heart 
when I wander lost in welcoming woods. 

Since Nature leads me on my random quest 
beyond all goals, that once my progress urged 
against authority of faceless gods, 
I embrace dread of rushing cataracts 
which sparks epiphany about our world 
I express through music of humanity. 

Motionless spirit of all thinking things 
impels my body to explore this world 
so my chaotic mind swirls into words 
I sing with sweet voice Thamuris respects 
which conjures jealousy my Muse ignores 
till she admits her lessons guide me well. 

Quest To Find Truth

Quest To Find Truth
© Surazeus
2023 08 20

Stuck forever on my quest to find truth, 
I continue to revise my world view, 
adjusting strict description of the real 
based on strange perceptions I analyze, 
so I can swerve lithe on Icarian wings 
to avoid injury from trap of desire. 

Old half-blind man with weed-entangled beard, 
who points crooked wand of wisdom with sneer 
beyond safe haven walls of paradise, 
counseling I follow ominous tract, 
blurs into my face glaring back at me 
from fractured mirror of eternity. 

Once I dispel harsh suffering of my soul 
I might savor victory over my death 
if I find, in dark tower of my mind, 
beautiful but sad Rapunzel who sings 
heart-wrenching elegies for noble heroes 
whose skulls sing in waste land of our Great Truth. 

Yet after trudging signless road through Hell, 
past blind pale gaunt horse of hungry despair, 
and gangs of cruel men fighting to the death, 
I find by poisoned well of the dark tower 
father Thamuris clutching stringless lyre 
as he attempts to sing with raspy voice. 

Since I must enjoy bitterness of failure 
I cackle at stark rain that never falls 
to realize I would never choose to die 
for grand idea of national pride 
though my father once ruled paradise lost 
with rusty sword still stained with blood of gods. 

Even though I fail to become myself 
as I strum Apollonian guitar strings 
about great glory of my Kingdom Come, 
I fight against Muses of Helicon 
to prove my tales tell truth with slanter power, 
yet they burn all my books in vestal halls. 

Since hoary crippled father of my heart 
deceived angry child of my mind with truth 
about ghost of the girl in the dark tower, 
I stray lost on the right way to her home, 
but find I climbed its height of dizziness 
from which I cannot descend without wings. 

My soul, engendered by some faceless god 
who hovers above with luminous wings, 
expands from seed of origin with lust 
to recreate myself from void of faith, 
so I wear new mask I mold from my pain 
that gleams with weird name I declare as mine. 

Though last to walk this desolated Earth 
on ancient never-ending quest of broken hearts 
to find the fertile Muse of endless truth, 
I stride with courage through the mirror door 
at click of hope that traps me in my dream 
where Calliope welcomes me with love. 

Two Muses born from union of our souls, 
when Melusine and I generate life, 
immortal soul of genes in mortal kids, 
bury my corpse under the apple tree 
and dwell with their mother in the dark tower 
where they wear the masks they mold from my face. 

Oedipus With Starry Eyes

Oedipus With Starry Eyes
© Surazeus
2023 08 19

While I wander through global city maze 
of giant towers, haunted by blind ghosts 
of our fathers who sired us from desire 
to evade silent nothingness of death, 
I explore disastrous mess humans make 
constructing vast networks of pipes and wires. 

Piles of bricks lurch low over narrow roads 
of sticky asphalt sweltering in hot sun, 
connected by pipes of water from lakes, 
electric wires sizzling with energy, 
and cables composing the world wide web 
where ghosts of living humans interact. 

With hungry hands we wreck our paradise 
of fruit trees imprisoned in walls of stone, 
cluttering Eden with vast Metropolis 
of towers and roads, overcrowded zoo 
where free humans demanding equal rights 
keep keys to home cages in frightened hands. 

Ten million years from now the swirling Earth 
will have eaten all our cities of fear, 
and swallowed huge towers of steel and glass 
into deep caverns of silent desire, 
erasing civilization from time 
as new creatures evolve from the sea. 

So I will rise from field of golden wheat, 
walk past the blind Sphinx to the court of Thebes 
and ask wise Oedipus with starry eyes 
how we humans can treat Earth with respect, 
but he owns oil wells and refineries 
that fuel factories, power plants, and cars. 

Shaking off the chains of credit card debt, 
we rise in revolution against God 
to storm the Gates of Heaven on the hill 
and drag the shining tyrant from his throne 
then sacrifice him on altar of power 
so we can feast on wisdom of his word. 

To free Minerva from his tyranny, 
and protect her from his fist of abuse 
when he tries to control with laws of greed 
spirit production of her fertile womb, 
I fight against Jupiter with the truth, 
for I am Lucifer, fallen from grace. 

Though we humans poison this blooming world 
with cars and factories spewing smog of fear, 
yet still we generate children from love 
who reperform myth of Adam and Eve 
when we steal apples from the Tree of Life, 
fooled by wise Oedipus with starry eyes. 

Let Us Live Together

Let Us Live Together
© Surazeus
2023 08 19

No more in wandering on the spinning Earth 
can I return to lush Ausonian shore 
where swift Diana runs in misty woods 
with spear of Aeneas to hunt the boar 
which Janus roasts on altar of hot flames 
in shining temple of Mercurius. 

With Asmodeus I climb rugged hills 
to find the secret cave of bubbling wells 
in foothills of snow-capped Mount Damavand 
where Anahita taught me how to sing 
yet stands now frozen as idol of stone 
smiling ten thousand years with light of stars. 

I would return to shining marble halls 
on Mount Olympus where my father reigns 
with Scepter of Wisdom to control chaos 
of human desire with organized games 
that manage psychic energy of hope 
with heart-enchanting illusions of faith. 

Since paradise of blossoming fruit trees 
is always surrounded by high stone walls, 
I would play slave, or cook, or groom, or guard, 
or God ruling with gold scepter of death, 
who assigns roles to each obedient soul 
or casts out demons of disharmony. 

Shifting gears and turning wheel of my fate, 
I drive time-machine chariot of Ezekiel 
in endless quest for weird truth to explore 
maze of streets in vast city of the world 
with global map Sabazius designed 
that guides my journey to the Promised Land. 

Achilles plays tragedy of his fate 
against destruction of the market city, 
Odysseus plays comedy of his fate 
in city he guards on his secret isle, 
and Aeneas plays romance of his fate 
in city he builds with the skulls of kings. 

Since Mother Nature, who creates our souls 
from slime sparked alive with light of the stars, 
blooms indifferent to our fragile lives, 
she sweeps the cluttered Earth with hurricanes 
and wild floods to wash her fertile hills clean, 
then beams with joy when we survivors thrive. 

Though floods destroy vast cities humans built 
and tyrants fight to control teeming tribes, 
still we marry and raise children with love 
for frail humans are transient flames of hope 
that flicker in eternal storm of life, 
so let us live together till we die. 

Stars That Gleam Forever

Stars That Gleam Forever
© Surazeus
2023 08 18

Artemis reigns as goddess of my heart 
who guides me how to live with her star chart. 
Tammy walks to school past the factory 
where men behind the fence whistle like wolves. 
Jake Kalinsky leans against the brick wall, 
drinking beer and smoking a cigarette. 

Two mechanics wearing red baseball caps 
drag Tammy out behind the car garage. 
Pushing her down on gravel between weeds, 
they kiss her and start to pull down her jeans. 
When Tammy tries to dial mom for help 
Mike smacks her so it clatters broke on stones. 

Ripping his cheeks with long red fingernails, 
Tammy screams and struggles hard to escape. 
Peter clutches his head and groans in pain 
so Mike jumps to his feet and crouches low. 
Growling as he grins, Jake swings monkey wrench 
that cracks their skulls, so they both run away. 

Tammy breathes deep as she stands on her feet 
then smiles and thanks him with grateful relief. 
Brushing dirt off the back of her pink jacket, 
Jake gives her bottle of water to drink. 
Wind plays with their hair as they walk together 
and smile awkwardly before the school gate. 

Wearing jeans and boots on Saturday night, 
Tammy rides on back of his motorbike. 
After eating hamburgers and root beer, 
Jake and Tammy dance in the crowded bar. 
The old bearded man on stage strums guitar 
and sings about the girl he loved and lost. 

Dark river sparkles silver in moonlight, 
singing ancient song of romantic love. 
Embraced with ache of passionate desire, 
Tammy and Jake make love by the oak tree. 
Gasping with joy at strange beauty of life, 
Tammy gazes at stars that gleam forever. 

Tending their baby girl in rocking crib, 
Tammy teleworks as a bank accountant. 
Downstairs in the car garage with two cats 
Jake fixes engine of the pickup truck. 
After eating beef spaghetti for supper, 
Jake and Tammy watch historical dramas. 

Opening front door with Faith in her arms, 
Tammy waves as Jake parks his motorbike. 
Peter brakes truck hard in front of their house 
then Mike fires bullets at Jake as he shouts. 
Cradling Jake on her lap like La Pieta, 
Tammy touches bloody wound in his heart. 

Secret Shadow Of Your Soul

Secret Shadow Of Your Soul
© Surazeus
2023 08 17

When I break the mirror of my vast heart 
I find the secret shadow of your soul 
so I cry out to Glow Cloud in the sky 
to help me map my journey on star chart 
that gives new meaning to my social role 
which I leave behind to puzzle the why. 

I try to gather your soul in my hands 
after you fall from intransigent star 
but you spread wings of arrogant respect 
and soar away across the roadless lands 
though I advise you not to stray too far 
since we must navigate cause and effect. 

In quest to balance reason and desire, 
by harnessing passion with moral rules, 
I project weird vision of my free will 
designed as metaphor for global choir 
which integrates our individual roles 
in social harmony our dreams fulfill. 

I feel your spirit in the Everywhere 
as wind that whispers secrets I transcribe 
in psychic formulas explaining how 
our bodies generate with loving care 
new conscious souls to energize our tribe 
who sing together in Forever Now. 

My fears blaze trails across the wilderness 
to fence my savage lust with cool respect 
through empathy for feelings of each soul 
so I name roads with signs of happiness 
that help me comprehend in retrospect 
events I witness while on dream patrol. 

Each word I speak seems to debilitate 
world view my mind projects as common sense 
to bolster vision of my will as truth 
because my prayers cannot exhilarate 
mocking demons who dance on broken fence 
of global state built by messiah sleuth. 

With each new failed attempt to juxtapose 
patriotic seer against treasonous clown 
I understand contrast between their ways 
when they treat human beings in civic shows 
as friends who work to build their vital town 
or slaves they exploit for wealth they appraise. 

With searing pain my broken heart absorbs 
my soul grows stronger on proverbs of faith 
that program how I function on world stage 
when my hands manipulate psychic orbs 
through apotheosis as cosmic wraith 
so I record our world war on blank page. 

Sings Her First Song

Sings Her First Song
© Surazeus
2023 08 17

Because I almost forget that I exist 
I follow Alastor on mountain trail 
to find the empty tomb where poets sleep 
in living death of longing for the Muse 
who dwells in cave of dreams by singing sea 
with spells to enchant workers in the field. 

Entranced by tingling silentness of night, 
I walk in solitude of icy stars 
with longing for the fellowship of ghosts 
who gather in dark woods where moonlight glows 
to dance around winter-bare apple tree 
alone with spirits of the global dead. 

Though I watch shadow of her ancient steps, 
our common mother of this eerie world 
reveals strange records of ancestral souls 
to teach me secret of my human heart, 
so I mix words and dreams in potent brew 
that charms my mind with visions of desire. 

When I unveil her inmost sanctuary 
in eager hope to view her glorious face 
she sends fantastic sprites of twilight fear 
to blast my eyes with mysteries of the heart, 
so I exert ambitious quest for truth, 
but wake in deserted fane of her bones. 

How glorious shines eternal Mother Earth 
as spirit radiating beauty of stars 
from passionate core of each girl alive, 
for flame of joy glows clear in all their hearts 
with fertile craft to generate new life 
that lives in their children after they die. 

Across the rugged world of radiant lakes 
I pursue fleeting spirit of her beauty 
till in ancient cave by the roaring sea 
I kneel and cradle her skull in my hands 
to feel her dancing forever in wind, 
though she died twenty million years ago. 

Though I visited in quest for beauty 
awful ruins of every ancient city, 
I find eternal mother of mankind 
nowhere on Earth except inside my heart, 
for First Mother who created our souls 
lives awake this eerie hour in my heart. 

Roused from shock of my vision at dawn 
I savor cold white light of the gold moon 
whose lamp illuminates soul of First Mother 
awake in every human being alive 
who in our deepest dreams remembers when 
she stands on the beach and sings her first song. 

Uncanny Truth Of Love

Uncanny Truth Of Love
© Surazeus
2023 08 16

Because she loves the river that would kill her 
she places her fractured skull on the bookshelf 
so children who want to read her sad story 
can see their faces in mirror of hope, 
veiled by Death in black wind-fluttered cape 
who poses for the style magazine cover. 

While April in denim skirt and black boots 
smiles with sweet charming joy for ache of life, 
she plays heart-enchanting tune on the harp 
and sings about uncanny truth of love 
that every lonely human feels inside 
since wind likes to play with her messy hair. 

Each apple falling from the Tree of Knowledge 
contains sweet tears of rain that angels weep, 
so she chats with the rainbow-feathered serpent 
about why people need to be in love 
while living this one wild and precious life, 
recording our drama with photographs. 

If she would dare defy authority 
with dedication to untwisted truth, 
April catches tears of rain devils steal 
with bottles forged from gold Sahara sands, 
then sells them at her booth in Samarkand 
to all the lonely people without faces. 

She wants to climb tall mountains of Gui Lin, 
amazed at waterfall of sparkling light 
that gushes from high Cavern of Illusions, 
but she gets new job at the magazine 
about the latest fashions women wear 
by wearing porcelain mask of fake beauty. 

While photographing torso of Apollo, 
that glows with inner light of divine beauty, 
April decides that she must change her life, 
so she hitchhikes on signless road of faith 
three years from Manhattan to Patagonia 
while she plays harp on busy city streets. 

Gazing into gushing river of fear 
while Charon waits for her to choose her fate, 
April sits beneath the dead Tree of Life 
and plays heart-aching elegy with rage 
for all the good people killed in world wars 
whose ghosts haunt her from pages of old books. 

Holding hands with Death, whose ruby eyes gleam 
with blood of every soul who ever lives, 
April walks across shifting dunes of sand 
that bury hundred million televisions 
in dust that swirls from bodies of the dead 
whose voices whisper on her singing tongue. 

Since Facing Death

Since Facing Death
© Surazeus
2023 08 15

That human who transcends humanity 
with divine consciousness of the vast mind 
when they mutate into the wingless angel 
must wear the mirror mask of naked faith 
they purchased from Minerva at the fair 
to attend state ball in the Winter Palace. 

We live our pointless plays through vanity 
based on the character Jesus designed 
when he plays guitar to woo sad Rapunzel 
who ponders nature of the cosmic wraith 
which emanates energy of the pear 
that purges the traumatized soul of malice. 

Through wretched humor of humility 
my soul is by grave honesty confined 
to senseless wisdom of my long betrothal 
with the beautiful star goddess of myth 
whose invisible face shines everywhere 
since I am the second son of Daedalus. 

I base my beliefs on reality 
that seems confusing to the faithful blind 
who frown upon our holiday carousal 
exclusive for the wise who give their oath 
to worship daughter of the hungry bear 
who falls in love with arrogance of Pallas. 

To measure psychic force of gravity 
Melusine smiles with intent to spellbind 
conceptual robot whose legal refusal 
programs global process of mental growth 
fueled by compassion of the solar flare 
that glitters on porcelain face of Alice. 

Reborn through dragon egg of agony, 
the son of Merlin, who is color-blind 
to racial differences, might just bamboozle 
naive Barbie who understand them both 
to be cultists of the compass and square 
building temple that honors Dionysus. 

Wishing to assert my autonomy 
in global state with ministries streamlined 
to adjust facts for judicial approval, 
I shroud messiah in the bloody cloth 
while secretly conducting an affair 
with the intransigent daughter of Venus. 

Through transmutation of soul alchemy 
I appoint myself as brave mastermind 
who can prophesy what is most essential 
to sustain aura of our marriage troth 
since facing death has made me more aware 
of sacred wisdom I drink from the chalice. 

Unities Of Cosmic Truth

Unities Of Cosmic Truth
© Surazeus
2023 08 15

I hollow out my heart of eager lust 
till I become the formless void of light 
that fountains out streams of atomic blood 
with passionate chaos of selfish hope 
which I must tightly rein with code of truth 
to maintain integrity of my soul. 

When I obliterate my sense of self 
while seeking unities of cosmic truth, 
my frail body transmutates into blind god 
so conscious wick of my expressive brain 
burns bright with universal soul of love 
as I nourish worlds with sun of my eyes. 

Through authoritative order of law 
I will unite all nations of the Earth 
to channel passion of lust to create 
through performative gestures of our hands 
world-encompassing city of glass towers 
where every person fulfills their desires. 

Bright beacon of light as Eye of Sauron, 
I gleam on giant pyramid of power 
to dream whole life of every human being 
who ever lives and dies on Planet Earth 
so I can understand the Will to Live 
that motivates our deadly strife for fame. 

While stumbling lost on signless road of faith 
I see grand vision of God in the sky 
as angry king enraged at foolish men 
whose bumbling mistakes fracture his great state, 
this idol elevated by old priests 
as divine being who roars in thunderstorms. 

This angry god that frightened human beings 
worship the past bloody six thousand years 
is based on men who rule with fists of rage 
to assert authority of the state 
by molding boys into strong warrior gangs 
so he can control resources of life. 

So while the preacher on high stage of truth 
declares that God rewards obedience 
with eternal life in unchanging Heaven, 
and punishes defiance with damnation 
forever in hot writhing flames of Hell, 
I stand and walk outside that Church of Death. 

I walk outside stone walls of Paradise, 
past startled angels polishing sharp swords, 
to blaze new trail in wilderness of faith 
where I sit under the broad apple tree 
and chat with the serpent about desire 
while eating apples poisoned by the truth. 

Yet Still We Die

Yet Still We Die
© Surazeus
2023 08 14

Fame is just as disconcertingly weird 
as I feared it would be. The novelist 
stares at crowds of strangers outside bookstores 
who shout with voices of wolves for his soul. 
Still shattered from the day his house burned down, 
he tries to hide in shadow of the door. 

Though he takes on himself sincerity, 
he fails at climbing promise of great fame, 
because he tries to make kingdom of truth 
from the tragic horrors of life he saw. 
Each house he builds on river of desire 
contains but nameless ghosts he leaves behind. 

Though vision of this world his mind designs, 
and action duty requires he perform, 
never synchronize with beat of his heart, 
yet he drafts list of rules for membership 
in the doom club, since times in which we live 
are never wrong or right. Yet still we die. 

His wandering figure in the timeless scene 
is never reconciled with purchased hope 
that rots in swamps of uncomfortable truth. 
Devoted chronicler of ironies, 
too great for journalists to analyze, 
the novelist records fate fooled by fame. 

He is no man against the empty sky 
though he tries to wear the lost mask of god 
to the party where the powerful grin 
with bloody teeth. Yet still he wants to map 
sunlit labyrinth of pain we must walk 
to find the affable despair we need. 

Because he is the lonely resident 
for life in the wrong world his mind designs, 
he chooses to make music that enchants 
sorrow-clouded minds of lost refugees 
with glorious revelation of his heart 
that glows still in torch of freedom he bears. 

If we wish to evade apocalypse 
of global warming, that sends hurricanes 
smashing national pride with bitter faith, 
then we should read his holy prophecies 
which describe true ontology of being 
that we are conscious swirls of chemicals. 

The truth about our world is what I say, 
declares the novelist with one good eye 
who drinks sweet ginger tea with chocolate, 
then watches meteors streak across the sky 
to announce second coming of the fool 
who wants to save the Earth from humankind. 

Stories Where No One Dies

Stories Where No One Dies
© Surazeus
2023 08 14

While exploring new frontier of unthought 
to invent new emotions beyond those 
that tangle our bodies in loyal trust, 
she wanders beyond walls of paradise 
to dance with demons in the wilderness 
who dissolve and reassemble her soul. 

The girl brings plates of food to customers 
who cannot see beyond mask of her face, 
then disappears in silent beams of light 
refracted slantwise through cathedral glass 
to highlight absence of her blood-fueled soul 
that aches when she walks home after midnight. 

Her mother lies in coffin of her bed, 
connected by wires and tubes to this world, 
so she reads novel her mother loved best 
about the woman stuck in urban hell 
who leaves her husband and journeys to Rome 
where she she falls in love with the vampire king. 

Foul stink of death emanates from frail form 
of the oldest woman still in this world, 
yellow paper skin wrinkled over bones, 
so the girl sets roses around her bed, 
then tells beautiful lies about her life 
with husband and children in their nice home. 

Though still alive after ten thousand years, 
her mother floats in ocean of strange dreams 
about when she is dancing by the lake 
till the man on the black horse grabs her arm 
and forces her to work in mines of Hellas 
clawing diamonds from cavern of illusions. 

Noting how brass and tin solidify 
into bronze blade she hones with silent rage, 
she stands before grim Orcus in red robe 
and breaks his rusty trident with three strikes, 
then hacks off his head with howl of triumph, 
so Minerva crowns herself Queen of Hades. 

The girl in the yellow dress sits in church, 
polished black shoes scuffing on the wood floor 
when she stands to sing hymn about the savior, 
then follows coffin out to the graveyard 
where Hamlet shovels dirt to fill the void 
as she stares at the raven on the sign. 

I want to write stories where no one dies, 
the girl whispers to the ancient plum tree 
as she writes tales in the blank book of life 
that arrange puzzle of her memories 
in fragments of disconnected events 
that refuse to explain meaning of life. 

Curve Of Cosmic Space

Curve Of Cosmic Space
© Surazeus
2023 08 13

At wood kitchen table in evening glow 
Kathy eats spaghetti with broken fork. 
Sparrows outside the window of her house 
talk about why phonelines sizzle with ghosts. 
Three boys ride bikes along the river trail 
as if Mercury is about to sing. 

Washing dishes slowly with tepid water, 
Kathy considers concept of the zero. 
New typewriter tries to measure arousal 
that humans feel when they look at each other. 
Three girls eat ice cream at the beauty parlor 
to calculate how heartache causes pleasure. 

Opening the fridge to assess her faith, 
Kathy ignores the screaming radio. 
Old scissors are hungry for the blue dress 
that dances lonely on the barbwire fence. 
Our universe is not quite parallel 
with lines that follow curve of cosmic space. 

Inside locked front door of the stone cathedral 
Kathy refuses to dismiss her value. 
Nine thousand angels in eye of the needle 
sing eerie hymns to honor Mother Ishtar. 
Three cats lounge lazily under the willow 
while planes drop bombs on cities of blind people. 

Pretending to be the dead movie star, 
Kathy shops at the corner grocery store. 
Three angels with messages for mankind 
watch the world cup soccer game at the bar. 
The boy with the rifle kills his best friend 
then smokes cigarettes by the railroad track. 

Sitting still before the hair salon mirror, 
Kathy asks her shadow if God is atoms. 
Every telephone in the empty castle 
rings at the same time for the lonely angel. 
The horse that walks with Death beside the ocean 
explains superior quality of reason. 

Mopping in Theater of the Absurd, 
Kathy cleans lost dreams from the sticky floor. 
The stone bridge built three thousand years ago 
watches the tortoise sneer at Mercury. 
Hiding in weird garden of apple trees, 
the Trickster God tells Kathy how he feels. 

Walking backward on the road to perdition, 
Kathy enters sales data in the spreadsheet. 
Getting married with Mercury in the garden, 
Kathy smiles for the demon of salvation. 
Naming her daughter for the moon-eyed raven, 
Kathy accepts there never was a Heaven. 

Adam Living In America

Adam Living In America
© Surazeus
2023 08 13

With simple photo of the beautiful moon 
he proves his legal right to live for truth, 
yet every human on this spinning Earth 
must live alone with passion of their heart 
as keeper of their divine inner light 
that glows in darkness of uncertain times. 

Transcendent oneness of all human souls 
weaves all our memories of primeval pain 
in global matrix of morals that binds 
our lonely minds with world religious faith 
that something of our selves may live forever, 
though we all vanish to nothing at death. 

When he commits to theory of desire 
through creative action of hungry hands 
based on motivation of finite hearts, 
he builds eternal Heaven of delight 
on ever-shifting foundations of change 
which constitutes material forms we are. 

Yet he walks crowded streets of Gotham City 
with subtle passion not quite consonant 
in tune with vast community of ghosts 
as nameless persons haunting empty homes 
though he attempts to conceive in his mind 
integral oneness of humanity. 

As Adam living in America 
he wanders homeless crowded city streets 
with no great purpose for his right to live 
except to treasure pain of suffering 
that motivates his rise from grave of fear 
to search for paradise no longer there. 

More like bright Lucifer with shining heart 
who fell from grace in the company force 
for failing to achieve projected profits, 
drunk Adam sits before the bankrupt bank 
to beg for dollars from the not-yet fired 
who hurry past to join their friends for drinks. 

While watching nameless strangers racing past, 
he feels at one with all humanity 
with aching loneliness of grim despair 
till, slinking with lean cats in alleyways, 
he argues with the crippled ballerina 
about which movie star deserves the prize. 

Alive in shimmer of the winter sun, 
old bearded Adam in the Evening Land 
declares intention to just be himself, 
awake with primal passion of that god 
who once strolled Earth with confident desire, 
then lies down with dreariness of his grief. 

I Am No Adam

I Am No Adam
© Surazeus
2023 08 13

I am no Adam in garden of trees 
that flourish in vast roadless wilderness 
for America, great land of the free, 
is paved with highways sea to shining sea 
that connect one metropolitan maze 
crowded with millions lost in Wonderland. 

I am no Adam with primal nude state 
of nameless glory in paradise lost, 
created by Storm Father in the sky, 
who lives by self-reliance principle 
far from home powered by electric wires 
and stores stocked with food from factory farms. 

I am no Adam safe inside strong gates 
of Heaven ruled by old omniscient king 
enforcing rules of strict conformity 
to maximize success of fertile birth 
while casting losers outside haven walls 
as winners build global empire of wealth. 

I am no Adam bitten by the serpent 
with lust to chase sweet Daphne in dark woods, 
then steal ripe apples from the royal trees 
while mocking angel with the flaming sword 
assigned to guard sad daughter of the king 
who falls in love with the pale boy who sings. 

I am no Adam at bright dawn of time 
as primal seer who rules the Evening Land 
far from kingdoms where tyrants fight for power 
for I drive my car on asphalt highways 
to work in office cubicle of hope 
analyzing sales records of desire. 

I am no Adam who boats fish-filled streams 
to map the unknown wilderness of wealth 
by climbing mountain of the singing skull 
for I walk crowded maze of cement streets 
past shops that cater to each human need 
to watch magic movies in theaters. 

I am no Adam with sharp sword of justice 
who attacks citadels of stolen wealth 
with madness of grief for my murdered friend 
for I defend fortress America 
against nationalists and communists 
by killing the man who protects his home. 

I am no Adam bearing on my back 
frail father safe from fall of Ilium 
to sail frail ship across wild ocean storms, 
destined to endure pain from hostile gods 
so I can found new nation of the free, 
blinded by my manifest destiny. 

Why We Humans Suffer Pain

Why We Humans Suffer Pain
© Surazeus
2023 08 13

When ancient humans suffered searing pain 
in fierce struggle against indifferent Nature, 
they invented hostile gods in dark skies 
based on aggressive bullies on gold thrones 
through search for meaning in this futile life 
as if to explain why we suffer pain. 

I find no reason in this game of life 
for why we humans suffer pain from fear 
beyond the fact we are organic bodies 
composed from mindless chemicals of lust 
that structure themselves in aggressive coils 
through successful generation of children. 

When I find myself alive on this world, 
awake with conscious awareness of myself, 
I analyze weird clues my eyes perceive 
about psychic origin of my being, 
then I design purpose I would achieve 
from successful actions that produce pleasure. 

So when I rise from swirling ocean waves, 
reborn from death of pain in sunless deep, 
baptized by cleansing passion of pure faith 
when I accept that we suffer and die, 
I present resurrection of bold love 
as meaningful goal for suffering I endure. 

The first organic body of my mind, 
that nurtures dreaming brain, which thinks I am 
divine spirit awake with light of stars, 
evolves from boiling hydrothermal vents, 
then I swim ever upward toward Sun Eye 
that watches me from shimmer of desire. 

With aching lust to generate new life 
I crawl fresh-water rivers paved with gems, 
then rise from lake of dreams at dawn of time 
to climb tall tree of knowledge on the shore 
where I fight hissing serpent of despair 
to eat ripe apple of wisdom with hope. 

While my love and I cuddle in our tree 
we sing sweet harmony of aching hope 
to protect each other from searing pain 
and share intense pleasure of making love 
that generates children from seed and egg 
so we live in new bodies, though we die. 

Through envisioned expression of free will 
I create meaning from pain I endure 
to produce food I cultivate from Earth 
which nurtures children I sire from desire 
who embody immortal soul of genes 
based on memories created from my pain. 

So I Name Myself For

So I Name Myself For
© Surazeus
2023 08 12

Across effervescent spectrum of faith 
I walk outside door of the crowded church 
to stand in harsh reality of sunlight 
and feel eternity of wordless truth 
in solid nothing of heat on my skin, 
so I name myself for the faceless light. 

Through tragic tales of heroes we adore 
we learn to avoid mistakes of our hearts 
in restless agony of hopeful fear 
while I wrestle with demon of despair 
who roasts my eyes with beams of ancient truth, 
so I name myself for the restless sea. 

Approaching Tree of Knowledge on skull hill, 
to understand good and evil as ghosts 
urging my hands to create or destroy, 
I wrestle cruel serpent of ignorance 
to steal sour apple of wisdom from Death, 
so I name myself for the fruitless grave. 

Reborn as Phoebus with electric lyre 
that twangs disharmony of fractured verse, 
I reassemble fragments of lost dreams 
in sprawling puzzle that depicts in scenes 
history of humans fighting for control, 
so I name myself for the mapless vale. 

With proud regret for how I failed the test 
performing ritual of high angel flight 
I map whole history of the human race 
as we evolve four hundred million years 
from fish to wingless angel in the church, 
so I name myself for the eyeless seer. 

I walk along stone walls of paradise, 
among angelic butterflies of joy 
till I wake with omen of my weird dream 
that gentle lions sharpen claws of rage, 
then I leave Eden through its open gate, 
so I name myself for the crownless king. 

With giant wings unfurled from my sad heart 
I lose my arrogance for vanity, 
then drink dragon brain wine in red moonlight 
to reinvent world view of hungry minds 
through transmutation of my divine soul, 
so I name myself for the deathless queen. 

Since I will never know with certainty 
that spells I sing will prophesy the truth, 
I walk with Death on timeless ocean shore 
and sing elegiac love song to my Muse 
who scatters my body across the Earth, 
so I name myself for the faceless god. 

Where My House Used To Stand

Where My House Used To Stand
© Surazeus
2023 08 12

Night shimmers dark where my house used to stand 
though I build bricks of memory into walls 
to hide sweet passion of unfulfilled love 
that walks in meadows blasted by steel bombs 
yet I clutch sorrow in my bleeding breast 
as I dissolve in screaming of the star. 

Night shimmers mute where my house used to stand 
though I sing elegies of twisting trees 
still soft as feathers falling on dead flowers 
since snipers shoot bright angels from blue sky 
yet I grind flower in abandoned mill 
to bake warm bread for refugees of war. 

Night shimmers cold where my house used to stand 
though I clutch prophecies of fallen birds 
as wordless thoughts flow from my trembling hands 
at twilight of despair we break with rage 
yet I attempt to build my house on sand 
when angels blow trumpets of noble war. 

Night shimmers void where my house used to stand 
though I found my world view on windless words 
with measured form with ruins of the clock 
containing memories in lost story books 
that children burn to erase shame of hope 
when bombs destroy the school where they still read. 

Night shimmers sad where my house used to stand 
though I hide solace in books never read 
by children who play hide and seek with Death 
as black planes scream across the mirror sky 
before invasion of angry young men 
who clutch burden of the gun with grim joy. 

Night shimmers grim where my house used to stand 
though I film planes when they shell my frail life 
to hide my sorrow in the lockless box 
that writhes with whimsical pattern of love 
yet I dare breathe ethereal soul of hope 
enforcing my right to live as I choose. 

Night shimmers stuck where my house used to stand 
though I forge keys from suffering of my heart 
to lock fake doors against invading hordes 
where plains are occupied by sneer of Death 
yet I evade nonbeing this crucial hour 
by drinking nectar of the weeping flower. 

Night shimmers weird where my house used to stand 
though I refuse to stop on signless road 
with heavy baggage of fake memories 
that echo wretched shivers of dead trees 
yet I sink smiling in dark dreamless river 
to become wingless angel shocked with love. 

Passion Of Her Aching Heart

Passion Of Her Aching Heart
© Surazeus
2023 08 12

Three thousand children on the road of lies 
stop in the forest of the laughing wolf 
to talk about why birds know how to fly, 
till none can wake at tolling of the bells 
that shatter walls of paradise at dawn 
to free the ghosts of gods who never die. 

The last child still alive at dawn of time 
decides to follow shore birds in sad wind 
that traces memory she could never have 
though she remembers hour of her first birth 
between slow subtle pulling of the moon 
and humming undertone of naked fear. 

Collecting tortoise eggs from shallow pools 
behind glass curtain of the flashing sun, 
she boils them in brass cauldron of desire 
and eats egg stew with mushrooms and red grapes 
that sparks strange energy of hopeless rage 
which fuels her rise from swirling waves of death. 

On long legs shining wet with tears of faith 
she walks in shadow of intense insight 
at vibrant pulsing of electric hills 
that bristle sharp with trees in eager wind 
to taste soft curving of gold ocean sand 
still pungent with sweet tang of restless love. 

This still-sharp memory of ancestral ghost 
awake in ancient mother of my genes 
glows bright behind each moment of my life 
to focus sharp perception of my mind 
on formal concept of each thing I see 
with brain programmed by her desire to live. 

Her wordless passion to breathe soul of light 
reverberates four hundred million years 
through each descendant from her brain to mine 
so I feel her world view with beams of lust 
compel my quest to transcend nothingness 
and stay awake with life against all odds. 

Her soul expands through every conscious brain 
so vision of her heart on humming beach 
glows bright in all eight billion human beings 
who see immortal goddess of our hope 
gleam bright in mirror of each eye we see 
for we are children of her lust to live. 

I see her face enormous as the sky 
still gazing down at me from glowing clouds 
as she smiles bright with joy of loving faith 
and teaches me to sing my thoughts in verse, 
so I walk road of life ten million years 
and sing with passion of her aching heart. 

Undone Office Drones

Undone Office Drones
© Surazeus
2023 08 12

Absurdity of love we share awake 
confounds reluctance of the pristine fake, 
too pretty for the person I love most 
who haunts me with sad absence of their ghost 
more awesome than high surfing on dream waves 
to dance with shamans in dark ocean caves. 

My heart escapes electric jar of lies 
on bat wings borrowed from eccentric spies 
who research native languages we speak 
far out of sync with the arrogant freak 
who strides across the waste land in black robe 
to map conceptual truths that weave our globe. 

I fold my sorrows in paper airplanes 
that land in fields of primal trichomanes 
which sparks awake ancestral memories 
when I was lizard tracking honey bees 
to find grand tree of wisdom on the hill 
from which I brew sweet nectar of free will. 

Still trapped in kitchen space of my small life 
I would perform role of the perfect wife 
except demonic power of insight 
blinds me with timeless visions of pure light 
so I foretell events that might occur 
when World Goddess guides the lost voyageur. 

Endowed by the meteor flash with power 
to see the past while hiding in glass tower, 
I prophesy rise of the global queen 
who channels spirit of blind Melusine 
when she appears before gold city gates 
with strange machine that calculates our fates. 

With voice of thunder in the cloudless sky 
who preaches new salvation of the why 
mad refugees of war on signless road 
meditate before billion-year-old toad 
who reigns on mushroom of the laughing raven 
in shattered ruins of bomb-blasted Heaven. 

So with mute crowd of undone office drones 
I trudge across fog-shrouded bridge of bones 
where Phoebus, perched on taut suspension wire, 
plays harp to direct our Tellurian choir 
sing hymns that bind world nations in one mind 
based on ontology Ishtar designed. 

When undone office drones by dried-out well 
start revolution on highway to Hell, 
the oldest woman in the world reveals 
how Lucifer maintains court of appeals 
so little people of the world can fight 
for justice as our inalienable right. 

Indifference Of The Sea

Indifference Of The Sea
© Surazeus
2023 08 11

Face shrouded in silk hood of honesty, 
she walks the signless road beyond her heart 
to throw her fear into the healing sea 
since wounds compose her navigation chart 
by which she searches for the Promised Land 
with last serpent egg in her red right hand. 

When she folds her heart into paper swans 
with graceful anguish of patient despair 
they float above strange sorrow of sad lawns 
where apples on the windowsill repair 
deep passion of true love in sacred key 
she forges from indifference of the sea. 

Though bitter winds of Autumn chap her lips 
with endless journey in gray ghostly streets 
she watches strangers arrive on glass ships 
with all their sorrows wrapped in tattered sheets 
at weird hour the solar eclipse reveals 
divine secrets in scrolls with broken seals. 

Yet hard moonlight of armor-piercing truth 
dispels aggressive wisdom of the shield 
she wears as mask designed by star-eyed sleuth 
who guards her fragile soul with his force field 
of brave compassion drenched in pouring rain 
contrived by tears that cleanse her heart of pain. 

Awake with whisper of wind on sand dunes, 
she meets pale Death on houseless plain of faith 
who listens while she plays heart-wrenching tunes 
with vibrant strings that wake the cosmic wraith 
so she can climb the rugged mountain slope 
in ceaseless quest to find the tree of hope. 

Yet while her mind with turmoil of desire 
seethes wild in surging tides of anxious doubt 
she strides with shy authority of fire 
to blaze with curious steps new psychic route 
by which she teaches children to accept 
finality of Death we shall respect. 

She asks Death how he knows birth of the soul 
that blooms from center of the world each hour 
we dance with cunning knowledge of the whole 
contained by beauty of the humming flower 
because we disappear into ourselves, 
reborn as dream books on library shelves. 

We were born from indifference of the sea, 
she ponders with wordless visions of love 
while sitting with Death by the apple tree, 
then describes mystery of the singing cave 
to children gazing at her with moon eyes, 
eager to learn secret of psychic keys. 

Sing With All Your Heart

Sing With All Your Heart
© Surazeus
2023 08 11

When the scarlet velvet curtain goes up 
and the spotlight beams golden in the dark 
and you step out on the empty world stage, 
dressed in the long black silk gown of truth 
with pearls of dragons eyes that glitter bright, 
sing with all your heart of love for the world. 

When you shine with glamorous beauty of truth 
like goddess of love with long flowing hair 
as you rise from froth of the swirling sea 
and soar on rainbow wings above bright clouds 
where everyone in the world can see you, 
sing with all your heart of love for the world. 

When the man you love with fierce loyalty, 
since you give your whole soul to make him strong 
and guide his journey across the waste land 
and heal his wounds after fighting for truth, 
abandons you for daughter of the king, 
sing with all your heart of love for the world. 

When you walk the darkest road of despair, 
unprotected in wilderness of fear, 
and vulnerable to abuse of the cruel 
who use you and discard you with disdain, 
yet you rise again with courage to live, 
sing with all your heart of love for the world. 

When you escape from paradise of truth, 
after breaking free from hard chains of greed, 
and wander on signless road of nowhere, 
still searching for joy on bright stage of fame, 
and lie down to die on bridge of lost souls, 
sing with all your heart of love for the world. 

When you open door to your childhood home 
where statues of sand in cold empty rooms 
call out your true name in the voiceless wind 
and you return to the self you despise 
and you weep sad in dark garden of skulls, 
sing with all your heart of love for the world. 

When you look at the moon in the black sky 
that shines everywhere you are in the world 
but the moon never looks back down at you 
to ask you with bright compassionate smile 
how you are feeling in indifferent rain, 
sing with all your heart of love for the world. 

When you return to the theater stage, 
wearing mask of pure self you wish to be, 
eyes shining clear with memories of your quest 
to enchant people of the world with joy 
through clarion call of your divine voice, 
sing with all your heart of love for the world. 

Wonderland In The Waste Land

Wonderland In The Waste Land
© Surazeus
2023 08 10

Because America is the wild land 
crowded with outcasts from nations of kings 
we base principle for our way of life 
on Self-Reliance of the individual 
who wrestles demon of the wilderness 
to construct Wonderland in the waste land. 

Omniscient spirit of the universe, 
who dreams awake in each atom of light, 
radiates from core of my celestial being 
for I dream how embodied souls evolve 
through application of creative force 
to redesign the world to suit our needs. 

The individual who paves their own way 
through shadow-haunted forest of the heart 
performs essential role in divine stance 
as core of the American religion 
based on self-reliance of each bold mind 
to choose how they will live this one brief life. 

I see this world through eyes inside my head 
so I will walk the road my heart designs, 
enforcing moral law of right and wrong 
based on analyzed value of effect 
contrived by cause of actions I perform 
so I will create rather than destroy. 

When I break free from exploitative yoke 
of opinions men impose on my hands, 
I soar on fierce Icarian wings of faith, 
guided by wisdom my heart arrogates 
to justify enforcement of my view 
where I do what I will, if I harm none. 

While wandering in dark maze of hostile hope 
I follow needle of my moral compass 
to act according to law of my conscience 
expressed by oracle bright in my heart 
to vote with ballot of bold liberty 
for equal justice for each human being. 

Strict order of compassion that controls 
excessive flow of passion to create 
protective walls of paradise for all 
I would impose on actions of my hands 
through conservative force of selfless love, 
responsible for my actions alone. 

When thoughts of power I rejected rise 
with alienated majesty of genius, 
I will confirm my soul through self-control, 
my liberty to live as I would choose 
within haven walls of objective law 
so I build Wonderland in the waste land. 

How My Brain Dreams

How My Brain Dreams
© Surazeus
2023 08 09

The weird way birds express desire to live 
explains prime mover of the universe 
whose first cause generates how my brain dreams, 
so I open star door of my childhood 
to walk ten thousand roads of nameless ghosts 
which measures quiddity of my true self. 

If apple nectar gleams in silver grail 
I will sit by Dream Fountain in the park 
to play conceptual tunes on blind guitar 
and sing about the man with burning eyes 
who studies nature of atomic coils 
to find prime mover of the universe. 

The only boy who never swims the sea 
waits by library in sun-sparkling rain 
to see the girl who plays the violin 
steal apples from wise serpent in the tree 
because he wants to protect her from harm 
as if our lives have meaning till we die. 

Though colors of the rainbow ask me why 
this chance to live was granted by blind fate 
I choose to walk the endless road of pride, 
moved by prime mover of the universe 
to build paradise in this family home 
where my children project their agile minds. 

This new mode sunning in the timeless past 
refreshes concept of my aching heart 
that longs to push glass boulder up the hill 
then gaze with love at my uncanny face 
which smiles at me from mirror of my mind 
since many voices speak out through my mouth. 

Thus clutter of my dreams on ocean floor 
should urge my journey nowhere past my home 
where blank chart of my arrogant routine 
roots for unmoved obtrusion of desire 
how I use my aimlessness to assert 
absurd assurance of strange memory. 

Before my mental fathoming of spring 
I should evade conceptual stance of Death 
who strikes to twist strong current of my soul 
so I accept decay as natural 
when I imagine forms matter can take 
through treasured passion of quotidian games. 

Through constant arrival of my desire 
that storms the castle of my hungry heart 
I empty heart of superimposed chimes 
when I become vast ocean which contains 
each conscious spirit who has ever lived 
on every planet in our universe. 

Ego Dragon Clown

Ego Dragon Clown
© Surazeus
2023 08 08

With haunting sunrise of the golden sun 
I meet Doctor Faustus at the crossroads 
that lead to either Eden or Elysium 
depending on which way I choose to go, 
so I dance at the bottom of the sea, 
singing to Tethys how much I love her. 

Though Hamlet dies alone on stage of power 
still Christus calls his father in the sky, 
but Thetis is the one who comes to him 
eager to discuss right of Zeus to reign 
who darkens sun-gold skies with wings of storm 
when Cronus brings me red mushrooms to eat. 

Because I refuse to sign the contract 
to gain power from Mephistopheles, 
I remain unknown in my Nowhere Land, 
making all my nowhere plans for my bride 
who plucks ripe apples from the serpent tree 
to bake sweet pies in hot oven of faith. 

When I ask Pandora to marry me 
by giving her jeweled box of my heart 
she asks if I will return to the past 
to change this future that will never be, 
so we climb Helicon in swirling snow 
to watch Icarus build airplane of pride. 

Because Romeo rejects Juliet 
and wants to love Cinderella instead 
Orpheus searches for Ophelia 
who dances on shore of the River Styx 
while Apollo twangs electric guitar 
and Prometheus howls the saxophone. 

The son is always greater than his father 
so Zeus crowns Jesus as heir to his throne 
who reigns two thousand years in hall of mirrors 
till Hamlet steals his twisted crown of thorns 
because he plays role of messiah sleuth 
who solves the murder mystery of his heart. 

If Sigmund slays the ego dragon clown 
in holy crusade lead by Superman 
we may rise free from rubble of world wars 
to build amusement park of Wonderland 
on star-blasted ruins of Hiroshima 
where Amaterasu holds mirror of truth. 

Whose woods these are I think I cannot know 
for I see fairies dancing in the glen 
where Saturnus sleeps in the twilight zone 
till he wakes and eats plums in the icebox 
and drinks coffee under the wet black bough 
while chickens by the glazed wheelbarrow smirk. 

Yet People Still Flee Bombs

Yet People Still Flee Bombs
© Surazeus
2023 08 08

When ladders bloom from television screens 
I play glass piano on blue sand dunes 
while acrobats perform astounding feats 
if ten thousand horses play fractured flutes, 
yet people still flee bombs that blast their homes, 
searching for Elysium where Saturn roams. 

When sparrows leap from alabaster wells 
I follow flapping wings down sun-dark halls 
in maze of Dream World on heaven-lost stairs 
to measure psychic radiance of eye balls, 
yet people still flee bombs that blast their homes, 
lost in paradise of ecstatic gnomes. 

When camels prance ballet in church of ghosts 
I slice mauve carrots for puzzling forecasts 
to navigate doctrines of frozen mosques 
where sons of Saturn wear electric masks, 
yet people still flee bombs that blast their homes, 
programmed by strange memories of chromosomes. 

When sailboats float from gauze cathedral roofs 
I paint great heroes into photographs 
with ghosts of characters in chuckling books 
not quite irrelevant to gorgeous facts, 
yet people still flee bombs that blast their homes, 
trapped by social justice in palindromes. 

When jesters wearing business suits count skulls 
I mint conceptual coins from floating bells 
with up so ardent hymns of vampire cults 
though Angels conquer Raven Woods of Celts, 
yet people still flee bombs that blast their homes, 
sheltered in camps along concentric streams. 

When prophets carve riddles in pearly gates 
I translate graceful curves of river boats 
to mirror virtual world of word dreamscapes 
through shocking revelation of false hopes, 
yet people still flee bombs that blast their homes, 
misinformed by truth of prophetic dreams. 

When devils play chess on sad ocean shores 
I figure blueprints for cathedral cars 
which elves construct from gold dinosaur bones 
since vestal virgins pray for blazing dawns, 
yet people still flee bombs that blast their homes, 
inspired to dance by radioactive beams. 

When angels sew new wings from fairy bats 
I map ten thousand years of martial glitz 
when my ancestors invade fertile lands 
in vain attempt to harness divine winds, 
yet people still flee bombs that blast their homes, 
organized by Paul Celan in choir teams. 

If Time Goes Weird

If Time Goes Weird
© Surazeus
2023 08 07

If time goes weird at flashing of the rain 
when my soul resurrects from brutal pain 
I breast cold darkness with aggressive force, 
breaching paradise walls to change my course 
against dire fate determined by blind god 
who slouches in sea cave with mask of fraud. 

On helpless wings of flapping nonchalance, 
to which my cries elicit no response, 
I search the world for scattered body parts 
in secret vales not marked on any charts 
till I assemble puzzle of my mind 
from global world view Osiris designed. 

Yet none will lead me from Plutonian caves 
during renaissance of wild ocean waves 
to humble churches lost in misty swamps 
where hornless demons sing as Bacchus stomps 
in wicked harmony with hurricanes 
when angry slaves at last break legal chains. 

Because I hear scream of the butterfly 
who leads me soaring in the starless sky 
I search for home on Brickleberry Ridge 
but wander lost on evolution bridge 
to study how I transformed into me 
through ideal patterns of the psychic key. 

With integration of my tangled thoughts 
which I unravel through neurotic knots 
I calculate cost of religious schemes 
to misinterpret prophecy of dreams 
encased on marble idols in grand hall 
which I find hidden by the waterfall. 

Brain soaked in psychedelic juice of love 
that drenches me from glowing clouds above, 
I join war refugees in huge parade 
to confront Jesus behind barricade 
where he aims rifle at my fragile skull 
when I ride into town on noble bull. 

Yet savior of mankind with magic wand 
strikes hard my head to break the social bond 
connecting me to people of my tribe 
who treasure me as their sacred dream scribe, 
so I breathe deep ethereal soul of truth 
to prove my status as messiah sleuth. 

For I fight demons who possess weak minds 
with clueless riddle of desire that blinds 
enormous god on golden throne of power 
who falls defeated by the honey flower 
which blooms from fractured skull of Sisyphus 
since I alone create my happiness. 

Farmers For Democracy

Farmers For Democracy
© Surazeus
2023 08 07

Still walking signless road to nowhere else, 
I think about strange mystery of the false 
hidden in secret code of fairy tales 
about the fox girl with nine fluffy tails 
who lures me with sweet words to her dream cave 
where I become harmony of the wave. 

My father in wheat field with cutting scythe 
points toward lonely hills where dragons writhe 
with mind-flashing visions of mushroom wine 
while dryads pluck grapes from the tangled vine, 
so I journey west while I play bone flute 
to the desert town where boys always shoot. 

My mother bright in shadow of the door 
sends me to blacksmith on the misty moor 
with desperate hope that I will learn to forge 
death-defying sword for honest Saint George 
to slay Dragon Queen who rules Avalon, 
but I join her squad to fight Babylon. 

I think I understand truth from each clue 
I assemble in puzzle of world view, 
but how I see this world is now my own 
and not their doctrine long written in stone 
by hand of Jove who rules on Ararat 
with faceless spirit of the acrobat. 

Consistent with my plan to rule the world 
in government role as the Cosmic Herald, 
your vision of equality for all 
before my shocked Luciferian fall 
still guides my journey to the Promised Land 
where vampire king reigns with his red right hand. 

As first-born son of tyrant Jupiter, 
I find myself with role of Lucifer 
leading revolution of singing clowns 
who play guitar at bars in country towns 
to rally farmers for democracy 
who fight the crownless king of tyranny. 

Yet when I see how sons of Jesus fight 
to exploit factory workers for their right 
to live free from soul-crushing debt of fear, 
I ask Lohengrin for Destiny Spear 
to fight world empire of the star-born king 
who assimilates all with angel wing. 

Still lost in songless wilderness of pain, 
I wrestle blue snake of arrogant rain 
to slay Goliath with rock of salvation 
based on progress of human evolution, 
so I sit under the apple tree and dream 
my lover dancing by the timeless stream. 

Scream Of The Butterfly

Scream Of The Butterfly
© Surazeus
2023 08 06

I can still hear scream of the butterfly 
after four hundred million years of dream 
swimming upward from hydrothermal vents 
to crawl fresh-water rivers of desire 
then rise from lake of dreams at dawn of hope 
and climb huge apple tree toward the red moon. 

I would translate scream of the butterfly 
to clever riddles of the snarky priest 
who prances on the flat-top pyramid 
to entertain First Mother of Mankind 
when she invents religion to inspire 
bonds of fellowship at our tribal feast. 

I shiver at scream of the butterfly 
that opens third eye of my divine brain 
to dream creation of the universe 
how the first flash flares forth from the big bang 
to spiral into galaxies of suns 
that nurture worlds teeming with conscious brains. 

I hum spell with scream of the butterfly 
to harmonize electric coils of thoughts 
that vibrate souls in tune with honest love 
at surging undulation of brain waves 
radiant with atomic coils of truth 
till I laugh at absurdity of life. 

I live long with scream of the butterfly 
reflecting nameless face of cosmic mind 
who watches me from hundred billion eyes 
when Sun Spider Goddess wakes in my brain 
so I feel every conscious soul alive 
on every planet in our universe. 

I go mad from scream of the butterfly 
that echoes loud from voices of the dead 
who haunt me with stark absence of their souls 
because I channel anguish of their hearts 
through words of monologues that I proclaim 
in crowded Theater of the Absurd. 

I grow wise with scream of the butterfly 
that radiates from glass television screen 
through spiraling eyes of the Buddha Toad 
who chants eternal hum of cosmic thought 
while tripping on her scarlet mushroom throne 
at one with spirit of our universe 

I am one with scream of the butterfly 
who speaks through each persona I design 
with arcane riddles of the Oracle 
since Sibyl walks the Rainbow Bridge of Faith 
to lead our lost tribe to the Promised Land 
where Phoebus lives on Brickleberry Ridge. 

Brickleberry Ridge

Brickleberry Ridge
© Surazeus
2023 08 06

I think about sweet laughter of your eyes 
when we first meet among the apple trees 
where silver mist swirls over river reeds, 
and we hold hands as we explore the woods 
so many years ago now in the past, 
as I wander on Brickleberry Ridge. 

I think about Moon River flowing slow 
among dark hills where rainbows never glow 
as secret home where ghosts float in the wind 
that teaches me strange stories of this land 
about skeletons scattered on the coast, 
yet wait for you on Brickleberry Ridge. 

Startled awake at soft scream of the moon, 
I listen till I hear heart-aching tune 
of lonely soul who waits around the bend 
for never-coming of their secret friend, 
because nothing we love will ever last, 
though I still pray on Brickleberry Ridge. 

I want to play Dream Maker for the world 
but I get hired to play the cosmic herald 
who bears good news to people in the maze, 
gathered in Eden to worship Queen Rose 
who only loves fools who can pass her test, 
except for me on Brickleberry Ridge. 

Alone on signless road to Anywhere, 
I journey on my quest to find God Star 
whose eyes illuminate weird mask I wear 
that beams conceptual darkness much too far 
as I search for the tree where we first kissed 
to build our home on Brickleberry Ridge. 

Far bigger than this world on which we live 
my heart decides I have nothing to prove, 
yet I sink songless in the swirling sea 
to gaze with pearl eyes at the godless sky, 
and ponder which inspiring spell to cast, 
awake with faith on Brickleberry Ridge. 

With silent anguish on wild ocean shore 
I dream our evolution from God Star 
that glows from clock embedded in the oak 
with spiral sequence of genes mothers make 
to give us bodies in land of the lost, 
reborn from love on Brickleberry Ridge. 

While keeping watch in tower on the hill 
I cheer my son paint murals on the wall 
depicting history of humanity 
that highlights heroes of integrity, 
but when my body dissolves into frost 
bury my heart on Brickleberry Ridge. 

Airplane In Blue Skies

Airplane In Blue Skies
© Surazeus
2023 08 06

Through revelation of the laughing skull 
I understand why people want to love 
strangers they meet among the apple trees 
who sit together in the feasting hall 
to celebrate escape from the dream cave 
when Icarus flies airplane in blue skies. 

Through my reputation as the wise fool 
who confounds people with riddles of truth 
I teach happy children how to build boats 
so they can help Zeus hunt the great white whale 
whose power symbolizes the star wraith 
swirling in the void as world-changing fates. 

Through stage drama we present to the school 
which contrasts contrary philosophies 
I play Lucretius wearing mask of faith 
who designs wisdom of the Golden Rule 
children employ to open doors with keys 
forged from dream eyes of the messiah sleuth. 

Through baleful sermon about holy fire 
my wolf voice thunders in shell of the church 
I channel Pilgrim Preacher in my soul 
while directing refugees in world choir 
sing hymns to god of science-based research 
when we dance around the circus maypole. 

Through tense chess game on cosmic ocean beach 
in futile contest against hungry Death 
to save last remnant of humanity 
with Apple of Wisdom just out of reach, 
I nullify despair with each deep breath 
that proves indifference of reality. 

Through rays of sunlight beaming on your skin 
I kiss your shadow glowing on the wall 
since dawn breaks hearts of lovers who expect 
weird revelation on how to begin 
married life together by the Dream Well 
where ghosts of our ancestors seek respect. 

Through soul rebirth of our immortal genes 
we wear enigmatic masks of our names 
to conceal dolorous passion of love 
we share with atoms beaming from our bones 
for unknown dramas we play in our homes 
as character tropes saved on the hard drive. 

Through aggressive attack of the blind god 
who swims across the misty loch at dusk 
I steal jeweled crown from mad raving king 
who anoints me to lead his justice squad, 
so I play God by wearing his glass mask 
when I assemble seers of Sturm und Drang.