Blaze Their Own Trail

Blaze Their Own Trail
© Surazeus
2023 09 30

When I was young, bursting with eager hope, 
I could not then appreciate inner beauty 
glowing from passionate hearts of the old, 
forged into gold by life-affirming flames 
of dramatic experience which transforms 
foolish youth into wise actors of wisdom. 

Fierce passion to transcend this mundane life 
fuels forward-leaping quest of my rash heart 
to leave safe walls of Heaven with bold plan, 
based on audacious enterprise of faith, 
to follow signless way my fathers blazed 
to where first mothers rose from lake of dreams. 

With dauntless confidence of the blithe fool 
I vault high walls of paradise to race 
back east eight thousand miles to first homeland, 
from land where I was born in Oregon 
to Scythia where my ancestors woke from dream 
ten thousand years ago in mist of time. 

Yet somewhere in lush Appalachian hills 
I now dwell with two children and my wife, 
designing maps that model world of dreams 
to nurture their progress on road of hope 
creating art that mirrors state of mind 
which drives our bodies to generate life. 

I walk vales formed one billion years ago 
where giant spiders and long dragons roamed 
high jagged peaks as crackling thunderstorms 
hurled diamond raindrops smoothing them to hills 
that shimmer green in gentle twilight glow 
as I lounge on back porch and strum guitar. 

Fierce energy to explore spinning world 
long drives me forward on quest to find truth 
till I find mate to generate new life, 
so we establish productive routine 
to nurture children through wise adulthood, 
then we relax in paradise we build. 

As I fade into twilight of old age 
my children glow with energy of youth 
that drives them forward on long road of faith 
which our ancestors blaze since dawn of time, 
till I sleep forever in grave of dreams, 
heart glowing with strange beauty of this Earth. 

So though I sleep forever in moist soil 
somewhere along road my ancestors walk, 
body tangled in roots of apple trees, 
immortal soul of genes that forms my brain 
resurrects in descendants of my heart 
who blaze their own trail back to paradise. 

Heart Of Curious Lucifer

Heart Of Curious Lucifer
© Surazeus
2023 09 29

So on this day I skip down to the sea 
to sail my ship to land of Zarathi, 
but on huge boulder, gleaming in hot sun, 
I see three skulls of warriors who had won 
eternal fame in epic tales of heroes 
smiling as mute thrones of three singing sparrows. 

Entranced by eerie music of their song 
they sing in choir before angelic throng, 
I ask three sparrows if they know bold names 
of ancient warriors who once played war games, 
so when they tweet with eyes bright as the moon 
I lounge and listen to their epic tune. 

The first relates fierce madness of Achilles 
who fought cruel king over who owns fillies 
while sacking city of Troy for rich spoils 
in war that unwinds countless mortal coils 
of country boys who sink in gloom of death, 
aching for love as they gasp their last breath. 

The second recounts wiles in many turns 
of Odysseus whose nostalgic heart yearns 
for embrace of his faithful wife at home 
though angry sea god forces him to roam 
till he escapes love priestess who deceives, 
then shoots just arrows to kill greedy thieves. 

The third records arms of homeless Aeneas 
who bears his father with heart of Orpheus 
to sail stormy seas for the Promised Land 
where he kills native king with bloody hand, 
then lays foundation for world empire state 
that still frames ontology of our fate. 

Why are aggressive goons of epic tales, 
I ask myself to analyze details 
of tropes that present tragic lives as great, 
portrayed as noble heroes who fight fate, 
instead of curious seers who search for truth 
whose quests for facts define the clever sleuth. 

I greater value wise philosopher, 
endowed with heart of curious Lucifer, 
who studies essential nature of being 
composed of atoms, forming carbon ring, 
that spiral from First Flash of Divine Light 
which animates our brains with Cosmic Sight. 

Three sparrows dart away into Blue Sky 
so, after I analyze with God Eye 
conceptual nature of our spinning world, 
I record message of the Cosmic Herald 
who wakes as demon in heart of my soul 
refracting pure spirit of the White Whole. 

Alpheus Chooses How

Alpheus Chooses How
© Surazeus
2023 09 28

However long it takes to dream the moon 
that shines on mirror of the mellow pool, 
Alpheus floats in river of lost hope 
that sparkles purple liquid of his eyes 
so when he sees sweet girl with flowing hair 
he hums and disappears in star-bright air. 

Refusing to chase nymph with golden hair 
that bounces curls around her rosy cheeks, 
Alpheus ponders why full silver moon 
cannot escape taut web of tangled limbs, 
though apple tree of arrogant despair 
still dances with the faceless wind of time. 

Wading knee-deep in purple river flow 
to search for magic ring of solitude, 
Alpheus ignores nude girl on lush shore 
who peels ripe oranges with fingers of lust 
to taste light of the sun in juicy fruit 
while two hawks circle hill of skeletons. 

Whichever way on road past paradise 
that he decides to walk at flash of dawn, 
Alpheus chooses how to swerve off path 
to stand on jagged cliff of fortitude 
and watch white lightning flash across black sky 
in shocking revelation of the mind. 

Ignoring ache to kiss sweet river nymph 
who lies entranced by grape vines on the hill, 
Alpheus gathers small plump eye-round fruit 
that squirts sweet juice of sparkling honesty 
when he tastes bitter sorrow of the moon 
while three hawks measure progress of the wind. 

Amused when star-eyed dryad with long hair 
flees into shadow each time he appears, 
Alpheus carves runes of weird magic spell 
on marble wall of temple on the hill 
where ghosts of long-dead mothers whisper soft 
strange secrets only the blind moon would know. 

Annoyed that bold dramatic tale of love 
ignores grand genius of his aching heart, 
Alpheus in apple tree by the stream 
considers why the dryad with long hair 
always runs away when he calls her name 
because she wants to incarnate the moon. 

Although it overteems with mellow words 
that lead his eager steps to sunny glades, 
Alpheus watches water of the stream 
flow ever onward to the swirling sea, 
so he calls Arethusa on the phone 
but she transforms into the spider crone. 

Strange Fantasies I Dream

Strange Fantasies I Dream
© Surazeus
2023 09 28

While sitting in church, suffused with sunlight 
glowing on faces of angels who sing 
sweet hymns, I realize all my fantasies 
of climbing marble stairs to temple hall, 
where I write verses on long parchment scroll, 
are memories of lives my ancestors lived. 

Those shining halls of Heaven I envision 
as home where I play lyre by sparkling pool, 
while boys and girls in white gowns twirl in dance 
to match their hearts in couples pledged to mate, 
still stand on hilltops by the wine-eyed sea 
as ruins crumbling now two thousand years. 

Torn bodies of warriors, gone mad with grief 
during battle to kidnap fertile brides, 
transform into hills where marble fanes gleam 
with songs of angels in heavenly choirs 
till we build factories to make engine cars 
that glide on highways paved with bones of gods. 

Many generations of reborn souls 
sprout from bodies of mothers to assert 
will to generate new bodies from genes 
who construct wagons and boats from tall trees 
to journey along rivers from burned cities 
and build new cities in valleys of wind. 

I feel tense energy of will to power 
motivate my body with ancient hopes 
to build eternal paradise with trees 
blooming fruit for my children to consume, 
but walls I build to protect them from harm 
crumble from relentless turning of time. 

Called by the faceless Father in the Sky, 
my first ancestor left garden of fruit 
to build vast city maze of ziggurats, 
then journeyed west ten thousand years to find 
paradise lost in the future of faith, 
till I stand today under the bright moon. 

That same moon and stars that once lit their way 
as my ancestors walked long signless roads 
still shine now on me in this distant land 
where I feel energy of countless years 
surge through my body with bold tides of change, 
which charges my heart with faith in the future. 

Strange fantasies I dream in reverie, 
where individuals of my bloodline strive 
to overcome all obstacles of fear, 
provide archetypal framework of action 
which programs how I perform my own role 
as nameless nobody singing in rain. 

White Horse Named Sparkle

White Horse Named Sparkle
© Surazeus
2023 09 27

After working in car factory all day 
bolting seats and doors on assembly line, 
Brian washes sore hands with lemon soap, 
zips up leather jacket and pulls on gloves, 
then walks shortcut across abandoned field 
by stony river behind barbed wire fence. 

While pushing through tangled branches of trees 
that twist from rotten weeds in swampy muck, 
slicked by polluting chemicals from pipes 
spewing waste water from large factories, 
Brian feels his head buzz with dizziness 
as he trudges into foul-smelling smog. 

Uncanny sense of disorientating fear 
thrills his heart with shock of anxious hope 
when Brian steps from gloom of foggy woods 
into misty mountain meadow that shines 
with vibrant blush of flowers that bloom tall 
around silver lake fed by sparkling stream. 

Gleaming white as full moon in misty sky, 
strange creature moves toward him with eager stealth, 
and Brian gasps when beautiful white horse 
emerges into silver timeless glow, 
large eyes gazing from her long slender face 
half-veiled by silk mane gleaming white as snow. 

Amazed at ethereal beauty and grace 
embodied by elegant pure white horse, 
Brian fetches ripe apple from coat pocket 
and presents sweet gift with extended hand, 
then smiles and caresses her silky mane 
as she consumes free treasure of his heart. 

"My name is Sparkle," the white horse explains, 
and I am glad to meet Son of the Raven 
in Rainbow Valley where the river sings." 
Astonished when he hears the creature speak, 
Brian closes his eyes and takes deep breath, 
then opens wide to see if she is real. 

"How many times in weird shadowy dreams 
of restless angst, after working all day 
assembling machines that replaced the horse, 
have I seen you with flowing snow-white mane 
galloping fast as wind along wild rivers, 
heart beating with fierce passion of the sea." 

Slipping on back of elegant white horse, 
then pressing knees against her buxom sides, 
Brian smiles and requests, "I wonder if 
you would give me grand tour of your demesne, 
for I would love to see world of your heart 
that blossoms with fruit trees of every kind." 

Rearing on hind legs by the sparkling lake, 
white horse named Sparkle leaps on wings of light 
and gallops fast as wind along bright river, 
swiftly gliding on lithe exploring legs 
among tall trees that gleam on misty hills, 
hoofs and mane sparkling in mountain sunlight. 

Waking at dawn in his tattered blue tent, 
he pitched in trash-littered woods by the river 
after losing his house in the recession, 
Brian washes his face, eats scrambled eggs, 
then walks back to the factory at dawn, 
but pauses to gaze at the field with longing. 

Sinister Beauty Of Life

Sinister Beauty Of Life
© Surazeus
2023 09 26

One sip of wine, brewed from sorrow of time, 
expands my mind with fireworks of desire 
to savor sinister beauty of life, 
portentous with menacing honesty 
of macabre splendor through serenity 
based on tranquil spaciousness of respect. 

With stiff fingers grasping at truth, I climb 
cathedral balcony to join the choir 
of angels hymning about strength from strife 
we gain through flash of bold apostasy, 
masked as truth of divine insanity 
designed by faith of the world architect. 

Once I realize we evolve from sea slime, 
I climb windy height of cathedral spire 
from which I can see island where my wife 
waits for me while I map my odyssey 
to record story of humanity 
in holy scriptures for my private sect. 

Employed by Saturn as his jesting mime 
to encode terrible truths through satire, 
I expose beauty with conceptual knife 
to measure wisdom through geodesy 
with strict performance of urbanity 
when I marry goddess I would protect. 

With Dionysus by the oil-streaked stream, 
where demon spawned from aeromantic spore 
rides into Heaven on royal giraffe, 
I study nature of soul potency 
for fools who seek fame based on vanity 
because they sign Saturnian contract. 

Sipping ginger mocha with minty cream, 
I search for faceless ghost in kitchen door 
who wants to give me diamond wizard staff 
which I could use to claim my agency 
when I build virtual world of fantasy 
to replace Earth with surreal artifact. 

Designing from scratch new world order scheme 
based on tale of the wise philosopher, 
I organize words on conceptual graph 
to emphasize religious ardency 
that fuels quest of my atheist argosy 
when I build belief on established fact. 

I never want to wake up from this dream 
where I perform role of sly Lucifer 
singing ballads that spark the knowing laugh 
since I encode truth through astrology 
to analyze gears of the galaxy, 
then eat lunch after I finish my act. 

World Of Changing Things

World Of Changing Things
© Surazeus
2023 09 26

Alienated from this world of solid things, 
I float on lambent breath of hungry trees 
through iridescent thoughts of angel wings 
that waft conceptual body on slow breeze 
of jeweled pulsing from atomic eyes 
till I tumble wingless from klaxon skies. 

Attentive to perceive conceptual spark 
that radiates from core of essential state, 
I howl harmonious trill from divine quark 
that wakes inside my brain to navigate 
confusing landscape in vast city maze 
through which I must evolve to the next phase. 

Archaic torso of Apollo veils 
immortal soul of genes I incarnate 
as I ascend psychological scales 
to find God glowing with celestial weight 
in singing skull of Orpheus, supreme 
with polytropic tricks in the quest meme. 

Awake with polyvalent attitude, 
which complicates my social character 
with ever-shifting mask in clever mood, 
I strut on global stage as Lucifer 
who brings light of salvation to the lost, 
holy survivors of the holocaust. 

Articulate with world of changing things, 
I organize perceptions in neat rows 
to categorize ideas through rings 
of language coding concepts for stage shows 
where humans struggle with conceptual gods, 
hoping in vain to overcome all odds. 

Adaptive measures to evade mute death 
prove helpful well enough to survive now, 
so I relax and meditate with breath 
that inspires my heart to comprehend how 
I can maintain food-production machine 
through empire ruled by sons of Melusine. 

Authentic spirit of the Warrior Woke, 
which motivates my quest to share the Grail, 
guides my journey to garden of the oak 
where seven ravens worship the White Whale 
whose beauty embodies the cosmic soul 
that spirals from God Eye of the White Whole. 

Auspicious portents dreamed by oracles, 
who walk barefoot on highways of swift cars, 
reveals our souls are sparked by chemicals 
through mental engines of atoms from stars 
that cause our conscious minds to glow with love 
in cosmic vision of the ocean cave. 

Human Lives Are Strange

Human Lives Are Strange
© Surazeus
2023 09 26

Moonflowers bloom from wet grave of my brain 
whiter than mist creeping in from the sea, 
so I become snow-winged owl of the moon 
so I can find you by the alder tree 
waiting for someone to bring you sweet fruit, 
though I vanish in sad tune of the flute. 

I row my river boat in misty woods, 
winding around hills of whispering oaks, 
yet I find in glowing clouds no huge gods, 
except for bearded seers in wolf-skin cloaks 
who vanish in shadows of faceless hope 
while I gasp for breath climbing a steep slope. 

Blue river reflects strange face in the sky 
who seems to mimic everything I do, 
so I ask girl by the alder tree why 
human lives are strange as the river flow, 
but she just gives me ripe apple to eat, 
so I translate riddles unseen birds tweet. 

Our tattered clothes get wet from morning dew 
as we stroll laughing among hyacinth, 
then honey bees reveal which cosmic clue 
will guide our quest through endless labyrinth, 
till we grow weary from our need to roam 
and choose shady grove to build our new home. 

Each bright morning, after we sing with larks, 
we gather from misty woods food to eat, 
then sit on river shore to watch tall storks 
discuss how time flows with restless heartbeat 
in timeless harmony of river song, 
then analyze process of right and wrong. 

Ten thousand years we live on river shores, 
tending gardens with hands that understand 
how shadow of death haunts half-open doors, 
then wander on when others steal our land, 
so we build great empires that rise and fall 
till nothing is left but some crumbling wall. 

Gazing at satellite photos of Earth, 
I trace journeys my ancestors once took 
along strange rivers where mothers gave birth, 
till ancient stories in our holy book 
record names of their ghosts vague in my brain, 
so I laugh with angst in the pouring rain. 

So we can continue tale of our genes, 
which incarnate in children we create, 
we map our own journey in time machines 
which we drive down crowded highways of fate 
in world city of Pandemonium 
through which I dream life in Elysium. 

Abstract Symbol Of Beauty

Abstract Symbol Of Beauty
© Surazeus
2023 09 25

When frail Endymion, waking in moonlight 
by sparkling stream, embraces faceless lover 
with passion to know unknown soul of life, 
he wonders if sweet pleasure he now shares 
is nothing but illusion of desire, 
or pure light of love that guides him to Heaven. 

He listens with attentive heart of hope 
while she relates weird stories of the sky 
that entwine their hearts with immortal speech 
preserving breath of lutes with honeyed tongue 
to teach him wisdom he can grasp with faith 
while she grasps him with arms of solitude. 

Yet while he gazes with intense compassion 
in universe that shimmers in her eyes 
Endymion begins to perceive outline 
that presents special features of her face 
emerging from mist in light of the moon 
that reveals essence of her inner being. 

No longer abstract concept of pure beauty 
which presents perfect idea of woman 
concealed behind obscure mask of her face, 
that real woman within goddess of life 
appears with vivid features full of flaws, 
special with unique design of her soul. 

Whispering with awe of swelling adoration, 
Endymion explains to strange nameless woman 
that he pursued sweet shadow of her being 
so long across stark landscape of desire 
to know unknown beauty within her heart 
that he must savor pleasure of her soul. 

No longer just abstract symbol of beauty, 
she radiates with vibrant intensity 
of love for life through mirror of her eyes, 
so he inquires for what specific name 
defines complex character of her being, 
and she replies with teasing laugh and smile. 

Cynthia refers to complicated heart 
that pulses wild with eager will to savor 
sweet beauty of this world which indicates 
special being perceived is eternal truth, 
so my happy love that you find me real 
overwings enclosing bounds of my mind. 

Kissing with selfless compassion of trust, 
Endymion and Cynthia, by swirling sea 
of boundless possibilities, embrace 
with eager cause of vital comprehension 
to generate new life in child of hope 
which incarnates immortal soul of genes. 

Road To Somewhere Else

Road To Somewhere Else
© Surazeus
2023 09 24

Between eternity and nevermore 
I walk long signless road to somewhere else, 
whistling tragic tunes from theater shows 
that only birds on phonelines understand. 
Milk glistens in glass cup in windowsill 
where seven sparrows talk about true love. 

While Sisyphus on the hotel front porch 
reads newspaper stories about world war 
his sister in the kitchen bakes peach pies 
as if the train whistle will never blow. 
Brown leaves float on silver waves of the lake 
where white-tailed deer talk about faith in rain. 

Beyond ruined walls of Heaven up north 
where car factories drink tears of hungry hope 
Sisyphus drives to Niagara Falls 
to find his daughter on the misty bridge. 
Gold sunrays seep across the office floor 
where two horned lizards talk about desire. 

Backward I walk unpaved road to my grave 
while glass eyes measure distance to the moon 
perfect for the man who designs our bridge 
to stare at his face on the silver screen. 
Soft lawn grass sighs with contentment of rage 
where clowns and dancers talk about the book. 

Photos upside down on gallery wall 
depict events in life of Sisyphus 
from hour he was born in cavern of ghosts 
till he stops pushing the boulder uphill. 
Soft breeze of sadness taps typewriter keys 
where river fairies talk about our death. 

Gaunt hands catch sunlight falling from the tree 
as if each move in our chess game reveals 
conceptual framework to base judgment calls 
on revolution we prepare with care. 
Sharp cracks of gunshots echo in church hall 
where faithful worshippers talk about lust. 

Behind invisible mask of my soul 
dark energy seethes from conceptual cave 
to trap our dream thoughts in pages of books 
that flutter raven wings for liberty. 
Smooth flow of water wears mountains to dunes 
where homeless girls talk about sacred wind. 

Bright shadows laugh from sorrow into being 
when millions of people drive cars to work 
though angels float above them in glass rain 
because I love how sensible they sound. 
Black raven wing of Sisyphus sparks joy 
where children paint our souls from nothingness. 

Because We Hide Who

Because We Hide Who
© Surazeus
2023 09 24

If not how simple trees explain death thought 
for why consultants twist adventurous tales 
reluctant blue for iron words core bent 
not quite as weird we think pink water purrs 
three times past barrier halls of fractured prayers 
because we hide who we think we should be. 

Yet blasting soothe past interrupted coins 
three angels faceless television show 
consider how clowns cook persimmon pies 
pretending how doors seal explosive words 
obliged with anxious game of pressured chess 
because we hide who we think we should be. 

Or apprehensive dare of cautious flight 
too timid to escape compelling choir 
encourages us to worry wary cats 
who might be skeptical if not for time 
expanding space with reticent despair 
because we hide who we think we should be. 

Inclined to tear book pages fortified 
with stern refusal more afraid than death 
now quick to opt for daunting terror phased 
demur as sneering angels still surprised 
our adamant doctors struggle to fate 
because we hide who we think we should be. 

Discouraged by embarrassing contempt 
rarely seen by photographers of fear 
not quite browbeaten though initial hoax 
could coax our seldom unready game too 
we acquiesce frustrated hope of death 
because we hide who we think we should be. 

Creative eagerness obsessing zest 
creates commitment fast as talent faked 
still lusting with green ardency of faith 
however fortunate we prove past zeal 
with sour sensuality through pursuit 
because we hide who we think we should be. 

Devotion popping bottles off book shelves 
complains why windows smear cosmetic blood 
ambitious for enthusiastic lust 
to ponder vicious passion past rebirth 
now more intense than doors of shadow homes 
because we hide who we think we should be. 

Round table floats above dream-crowded street 
with fervent eloquence of self-denial 
contained by curiosity through pride 
yearning for beauty to possess our brains 
encoded by affection of respect 
because we hide who we think we should be. 

Rotating Barbie Doll Heads

Rotating Barbie Doll Heads
© Surazeus
2023 09 24

Ten thousand rotating Barbie doll heads 
float over headless king on golden throne 
with flashing television blue-moon eyes 
that stare down from jagged rocks in wild sea 
at people in tuxedos and ball gowns 
who dance in foaming waves on muddy beach. 

Red tower on steep hill of apple trees 
sprouts golden orioles with paper wings 
that flit around head of Saturn who wears 
oval glasses encoded with star runes 
sparkling in mountain lake of silver fish 
who give mushrooms to the girl in pink dress. 

Pink flamingos flutter dollar-bill wings 
among orange cars on narrow city street 
where snow flakes flurry past lit cafe doors 
while people wearing long wool coats discuss 
why angels hanging from telephone poles 
steal fake words we speak with serpentine jaws. 

Enormous baby Zeus in river boat 
opens wide bird mouth with hungry despair 
while salmon fly circles in purple air, 
and naiads frolic in green fountain pool 
to trade library books with lizard hands 
while arrows clatter on white marble floor. 

Blonde fairy queen in long white flowing gown, 
who sits on rock by roaring waterfall, 
aims rifle at smiling dragon of faith 
while innocent lambs with emerald eyes 
lounge among pink roses with serpent teeth, 
then points to starship in gold glowing clouds. 

Dionysus wearing brown business suit, 
still sitting surprised in orange velvet chair, 
stares shocked at army of zombies with guns 
who chew with rotten teeth on story books, 
as black oil drips from swirling cloud of smog 
though lizards crawl across the rain-wet rug. 

Sad girl in white lace dress and red wool coat, 
who holds triangle ruler in gloved hand, 
stares down at raven with arrogant eyes 
till he transforms into bald snarky boy 
who places plastic crown on her bowed head 
when pine trees sprout from fractured asphalt roads. 

Minerva wearing gown of yellow silk, 
whose face is painted white with angel blood, 
turns mirror eyes toward me with lightning flash 
and smiles soft as exploding nuclear bombs, 
so I change bronze armor for banker suit, 
then play soul-wrenching tune on god-bone flute. 

Born From Weird Passion

Born From Weird Passion
© Surazeus
2023 09 23

Born from weird passion of the singing sea, 
deep in misty mountains of Zathamar, 
I forge from horror of death love-bright key 
to open dream door of the god-mind star 
through which I soar to Earth of flowing soul 
as wingless angel sprung from the White Whole. 

Wearing weird mask I steal from mirror hall 
haunted by ghosts of our Many-Faced God, 
I dance with joyful angst in waterfall 
that molds my body from pungent Earth sod, 
for god-soul of the universe glows bright 
through my brain as atoms of timeless light. 

As temporary embodiment of light 
pulsing with atoms in my dreaming brain 
which focus fractal beam of inner sight, 
I channel straight immortal voice of rain 
through eerie song of wild harmonious faith 
by which I emanate the cosmic wraith. 

I am no more than fragile flame of thought, 
composed of memories my ancestors dream, 
that gleams between eternities of nought 
till I dissolve again in atom stream 
as water sparkling in wordless sunrays 
when I evolve into my mortal phase. 

Though I am conscious of myself alive 
in this temporary body of frail flesh, 
to sing as wingless angel of world hive, 
my spirit disappears in global mesh 
to become other bodies born from love 
woven by light beams from the sun above. 

With ancient astral magic of my brain, 
that swells in waves of pleasant agony, 
I surf conceptual mirror of sweet pain 
when I transcend frame of mortality 
to kiss strange person I love beyond death 
whose starry eyes share startled trusting breath. 

Though I cannot remember how our souls 
are born from prime conception of dream seed, 
we play social drama through psychic roles 
in sacred garden of romantic creed 
that spells weird riddle of true love we share 
to transmit essence of the Everywhere. 

Born from dream-flashing shadow of my heart 
as mind-embodied soul of Zathamar, 
I code my journey on dream-riddle chart 
so I can explore whole world in my car, 
and sing weird vision flashing in my mind 
to praise beautiful Earth atoms designed. 

Pretending My Character

Pretending My Character
© Surazeus
2023 09 23

Pretending my character is not fake, 
I sell the Devil rancid slice of cake 
that blows his mind with allocated spell 
erupting as blood from cosmetic well 
so children who play hide and seek in Hell 
laugh at sweet king who steps on garden rake. 

Pretending my character is not woke, 
I mock the Devil with heavenly joke 
that twists his heart with agony of faith 
dissipating soul of the cosmic wraith 
that cripples happy children with foul scaith 
who hang mad king from the tall bleeding oak. 

Pretending my character is not blind, 
I wow the Devil with car I designed 
that races sleek on narrow mountain road 
chasing frantic vision of the God Toad 
which makes me carry guilt in heavy load 
I try to sell to last king of mankind. 

Pretending my character is not bland, 
I sell the Devil map to the Waste Land 
leading Children of El on wild goose chase 
around our planet spinning lost in space 
to find Messiah, vanished without trace, 
who traps sad king deep in the Promised Land. 

Pretending my character is not weird, 
I tease the Devil with long tangled beard 
losing games of chess to Death on the beach 
because Apple of Love is out of reach 
so children fight for our Freedom of Speech 
stolen by grim king of the disappeared. 

Pretending my character is not bored, 
I stab the Devil with the burning sword 
while Daughters of Eve break the pearly gate 
to escape Heaven of unwanted fate 
with children by the River Styx who wait 
till mute king deceives the rebellious horde. 

Pretending my character is not lame, 
I bind the Devil with his secret name 
jinxing seekers of truth with divine key 
which distorts our view of reality 
through psychic prism of verbality 
because snarky king misdirects our game. 

Pretending my character is not home, 
I map signless road where lost pilgrims roam 
searching for messiah who never dies 
though he rules nations of the Earth with spies 
who lead us to the church where Mary cries 
till First Mother rises from ocean foam. 

Compatible Spirit Of Love

Compatible Spirit Of Love
© Surazeus
2023 09 23

When cool twilight of evening beams mauve rays 
in muffled shadows veiling apple trees, 
Hesperus wanders anxiously through grove 
of wind-fluttering leaves with wordless desire 
for supple passion to engage with words 
faceless stranger whose vision haunts his heart. 

Approaching gleam of level sunset rays 
glancing off pool surface with blinding hope, 
Hesperus sees young woman with long hair 
stealthily dancing with elegant grace, 
taut with lithe tension of perfervid doubt 
to generate life with hot spark of faith. 

Startled at beautiful vision of grace, 
Hesperus crouches behind lilac bush 
to watch sylphine dryad with demure lust 
express sinuous compassion for being 
with nimble gestures of majestic will, 
and echoes wordless melody she hums. 

Entranced by splendor of her supple form, 
Hesperus arrests his breath to observe 
lithe dryad reach slender arm with intent 
to snatch ripe apple from entangled branch 
where feathered serpent hisses to detect 
quick motion of her hand stealing sweet treasure. 

Pleased when the strange woman, with eager strike 
of aggressive hope, snatches sun-ripe fruit, 
then bites soft crunchy rind of squirting juice 
to chew while lounging with blithe unconcern 
on seat of roots curling into moist soil, 
Hesperus prepares to approach with love. 

Pausing when she gazes into bright pool, 
Hesperus hears sweet tenor of her voice 
whisper, "So, Hevah, name your mother dreamed 
while bathing in angelic tears of hope, 
still you linger alone in paradise 
without lover to spark awake your heart." 

Emerging from evening shadow of time, 
Hesperus calls out, "Hevah, I come now 
with passion to share warm embrace with you," 
but she shrieks, startled at sight of his face 
looming from shadow of terror with lust, 
and struggles to escape grip of his hands. 

"You tempt quick eager serpent of my heart 
with passionate hope for embrace of love," 
Hesperus gasps when she slips from his hands, 
"but vanish when I offer to fulfill 
prayer of your heart for seed to fertilize 
field of your womb with our incarnate soul." 

Staring at his face in glow of the pool, 
purple as wine-eye of the surging sea, 
Hesperus ponders why, with fearful cry, 
beautiful apple-tree dryad he desires 
flees frightened from eager grasp of his hands, 
confident his face is lovely to see. 

Hiding behind lilac bush of mute fear, 
Hevah whispers soft echo of his words, 
"Though I am lonely for some faceless lover 
to fertilize my womb with seed of love 
that would generate life before I die, 
I prefer to know well man I embrace." 

Soft echo of her words from lilac bush 
startles him awake from dark revery, 
so he searches shadows for face of Hevah, 
who yet eludes attention of his eyes, 
then frowns, "I will not like Narcissus drown 
attempting to embrace my ghostly self." 

Diving into cold water of the pool, 
Hesperus floats in shadow of his mind, 
then rises dripping with angelic tears, 
and calls out in red twilight, "I will love 
vibrant beauty of your conceptual being 
with selfless concern as guard of your soul." 

"Loving you means I will give with free hands 
fruit of life I gather from Tree of Knowledge," 
Hesperus declares to all apple trees, 
"without expecting gifts from your hands, 
so I will live for you with eager faith, and die 
protecting your soul-warm body from harm." 

Sweet heart-haunting song of the nightingale 
echoes eerily through purple twilight gloom 
as Hevah glides with alert cautiousness 
of reluctant hope to stand with tense faith 
before soul-piercing eyes of the strange man 
who smiles and gives her basket of snake eggs. 

Frowning as she peers at his handsome face, 
Hevah offers ripe apple of desire 
that she swipes from serpentine jaws of lust, 
then grins, "You startled me with sudden hope, 
so better to approach with cautious step, 
and sing sweet tune that woos my heart with trust." 

Arranging stones in circle by the pool, 
Hesperus sparks fire with clash of flintstones, 
then stands guard with diamond-tipped magic wand 
while Hevah cooks stew of mushrooms and eggs, 
that bubbles hot in cauldron on tripod, 
then seasons it with cilantro and lime. 

Eating together at night by the pool, 
their faces lit scarlet by flickering flames, 
Hesperus and Hevah share their life tales, 
presenting events of adventurous hope, 
to compare their progress, and analyze 
compatible spirit of love they share. 

Embraced in Garden of Eden with trust, 
Hesperus and Hevah make love, which binds 
two energetic hearts of fertile hope 
with one tight knot of compassionate faith, 
to create from immortal soul of genes 
new mortal body of child they adore. 

Terrestrial God

Terrestrial God
© Surazeus
2023 09 22

When that Terrestrial God inside my heart 
sees me as Nameless Stranger in her eye 
I feel gray mundane world of changing forms 
catch fire with bright atomic flame of truth 
that glows from core of each material body 
so Earth transforms into divine Elysium. 

So when she comes from woods of shadowed gloom 
as mirror glowing brighter than full moon 
new rising from abyss of swirling waves, 
sly Muse finds me passed out on temple floor, 
prone figure half paralyzed amid ruins 
of ancient prophecies on fractured tablets. 

Mistaking her for grim Angel of Death, 
I call her Azrael with raspy voice 
of prayer that she treat me with prim respect 
when she escorts my soul to Cave of Hades, 
but she assures me with waterfall voice 
she is Urania come to give me wisdom. 

Together strolling grove of apple trees 
along the rueful river Cocytus, 
my Muse and I ascend long winding trail 
to shining hill at center of Elysium 
where bright Apollo on gold throne of skulls 
strums lyre of Mercury with nimble hands. 

Mistaking me for Tantalus, or Sisyphus, 
then squinting at my face with silver eyes, 
Apollo welcomes me to join his feast 
at large Round Table, carved from marble slab 
by blind Daedalus, so I sit with caution 
to accept Holy Grail with purple wine. 

How like gleaming waves of the wine-eyed sea, 
dark purple waters that reflect sunlight 
with sharp heart-piercing rays of anxious hope, 
sweet nectar in emerald-encrusted grail 
presents weird face of that Stranger I am, 
so with eager passion I drink its power. 

Head buzzing with strange visions of Sad Girl 
dancing with energetic angst of faith, 
I snatch tortoise-shell lyre of Mercury 
to strum ecstatic strings of honest rage 
and sing Hymn to Themis Orpheus wrote 
before Eudaimonia tore off his head. 

While writing my new hymn with raven quill 
to praise First Mother of the human race, 
with spell that sparks dream to swell in my heart, 
I sense Terrestrial God expand my mind 
till I become whole Universe of Light 
that flashes clear in neurons of my brain. 

Fierce Energy Of Hope

Fierce Energy Of Hope
© Surazeus
2023 09 21

When I leave behind busy city streets 
that teem with people fulfilling their needs, 
I wait not for angelic muse of light 
to lead me down to cavern by the sea 
where star-eyed Solitude on barren beach 
reveals weird otherness of my mute soul. 

Trudging past skeleton of Cerberus 
with rusty harp of Mercury I found, 
I follow trail Orpheus never marked 
to find skull of Hades on iron throne 
where no shadowy spirits haunt my heart 
with whispered wisdom of the Singing Snake. 

At shocking presence of the Other Soul, 
which I cannot see with light of the moon, 
gazing at me from mirror of the pool 
that hides bottomless abyss of my mind, 
I feel wordless terror of nothingness 
after death strike my heart with honest truth. 

Too sublime with fierce energy of hope, 
despair at beauty of strict ordered world, 
disordered by hard words I dare to speak 
in vain attempt to describe inner essence, 
flashes through my body with waves of sparks 
that buzz my brain with holy vibe of dread. 

Through otherness of the numinous soul, 
that seems to glow from objects I perceive, 
I almost sense transcendent cosmic mind 
that gazes down at me from faceless sky 
and seems aware that I exist in form 
of fragile flesh that struggles to survive. 

Yet with stark laughter of hard gusting wind, 
that lashes jagged rocks with foaming waves 
of honest passion to comprehend truth, 
I realize no unbodied divine mind 
watches me perform rituals of my life 
with comforting compassion of dead parents. 

Alone on jagged rock spinning in space, 
crowded with fierce hungry organic creatures 
fighting each other to eat or be eaten, 
I savor strange beauty that emanates 
from pulsing core of atoms in my brain 
which envelops all with bright consciousness. 

Because my body is woven with atoms, 
that spiral from first flash of the big bang 
then swirl into planets that nurture life, 
I feel my soul at one with Everything 
that exists in material form of light, 
so I hum hymn in harmony with death. 

Weird Trance Of Faith

Weird Trance Of Faith
© Surazeus
2023 09 20

While wandering in dark evening down the road 
beneath gold lamps that glow with fairy wings, 
Faust hears melancholy horn of the train, 
that wakes the Erdgeist from demonic sleep, 
blow soft across weed fields where horses graze, 
so he knows at last that Gretchen is gone. 

Through smoky bar, where boys in cowboy hats 
flirt with girls in skirts of denim and lace, 
Faust moves toward destiny bought with his soul, 
and after tuning strings of his guitar 
he sings sad ballad of the lonely girl 
who leaves town on the train going nowhere. 

Where Saturn slumbers by dark gurgling stream 
sweet Amaryllis, with sparkling blue eyes, 
dances stealthily in weird trance of faith 
to call from gloom of bottomless abyss 
seamonster Cetus with serpentine grace 
of the train that slithers among old hills. 

With voice of thunder that condemns our hunt, 
which tramples crops and sheep in frantic lust, 
half-blinded Saturn rises from despair 
and lumbers dark across the ruined town, 
destroyed by bombs from airplanes in black clouds, 
to kneel before empty tomb of Lenore. 

Though broken is the golden bowl of faith, 
and wild bells toll across the Stygian stream, 
sweet Amaryllis strides into the bar 
and listens to pale Faust sing tales of woe, 
in love with how his Mercury voice wails 
with melancholy passion of the train. 

They walk together on the busy street, 
the Gothic Bard beside the Pixie Sprite, 
so opposite in temperament of soul, 
then linger with beers on the river bridge 
to watch fireworks explode across dark sky, 
then almost kiss with awkward shy surprise. 

He sings no paean for the days of old, 
and she recites no elegy for joy, 
yet they feel spark of something beyond fear 
weld fractured hearts with art of Kintsugi, 
so they hold hands and walk the signless road 
where sad trains wail in misty moonlit night. 

Beneath the apple tree where Eve found love 
Faust and Amaryllis exchange gold rings 
and pledge eternal love on road of hope 
to generate new life from ache of death, 
deciding name for child they must create 
will bind protective spell to guard her soul. 

First Rolling Stone

First Rolling Stone
© Surazeus
2023 09 20

Reluctant sorrow of red blinking light 
directs fierce traffic of old hungry ghosts 
who race each other for the Promised Land 
but wander lost in shopping mall of myths 
to purchase salvation from greedy gods 
who program our brains with deceptive codes. 

Though she waits by glass door of paradise 
to purchase road map for the cosmic soul, 
Isis wonders why car of sullen hope 
refuses to play with the looming cat 
which sells salvation to the faceless clown 
who tells us he is the first rolling stone. 

Admixture blending concepts of desire 
between tomorrow of forgotten pasts 
and yesterday we reinvent with songs, 
binds our two hearts with angst of hungry hope 
to play grand role in drama of the world 
when Alexander cuts the knot too gnarled. 

Eternal sunshine of the busy street 
suspends my soul in animated sleep, 
so I float blissful in the teeming crowd 
crossing lonely bridge of forgetfulness 
on the way to the baseball stadium 
where angels and devils fight tedium. 

We almost understand clear mirror flash 
beamed through the egotistical sublime 
when magic spells distort reality 
though we cling to illusions of desire, 
laughing on the wild roller-coaster ride, 
then join Hector on foolish predawn raid. 

Discarding strange illusions of despair, 
that program slow ticking of my clock brain, 
Raphael tries to explain to my father 
why Lucifer rebelled against state power 
when the king chose his incompetent son 
to play global god on the judgment throne. 

Yet Melusine refuses to declare 
that we are stuck in the apocalypse 
while Tiresias plays piano on stage 
to wake the dragon underneath the world 
who writhes at bitter anguish of our hearts 
without accepting why cosmic truth hurts. 

When grizzle-bearded sage of Zathamar 
appears before White House with the red flag, 
news casters from the cable news networks 
analyze rainbow sparkle of his eyes 
since no one understands his prophecies 
except Pixie Girl inside apple trees. 

Mask Of The Castaway

Mask Of The Castaway
© Surazeus
2023 09 19

When I fail in my quest to detect beauty 
I send myself to the sea to find pearls, 
but like some mad-eyed prophet in fierce wind, 
or manic bard twanging strings till they break, 
I tear away mask of the castaway 
so it becomes my frail boat on wild waves. 

Austere waves of freezing fortitude hurl 
my fragile boat against the silver sky 
with haughty arrogance of laughing fate 
till I forget conception of my name 
still concealed by mask of the castaway 
I carved with bleeding hands from Tree of Life. 

That stark face of my father on hard trunk 
that glares at me with disapproving eyes 
revolves in twisting curve of melting clock 
entangling memories of my younger self 
with taut nerves in mask of the castaway 
which blinds the sun to pulsing of my heart. 

When old bearded man planting seeds in soil 
refuses to relate path of his life 
so I can avoid tragedy of faith 
that cripples him with arrogant disdain, 
I shield hope with mask of the castaway 
that hides my soul with bitter tears of love. 

Sad wind that weeps in empty cabin room, 
that serves as tomb for the abandoned wife, 
records her wordless sorrow in dry grass 
to crack rock of salvation with contempt, 
which caresses mask of the castaway, 
transforming me into wise-cracking jester. 

Awake with flash of weird epiphany 
on jagged mountain where red flowers bloom, 
I hold skull of my father in chapped hands 
and wonder if Hamlet will laugh again 
because I wear mask of the castaway 
that once kissed my cheek with adoring lips. 

Each time I am born in body of flesh, 
which my mother makes from soul of my father, 
I evade awful fate of Oedipus 
by drinking from spring of the winged horse 
to study weird mask of the castaway 
till I understand nature of desire. 

Cheeks glowing peach with passionate respect, 
Kwan Yin smiles sweetly at my faceless soul, 
so I express courageous vow of love 
to stay attentive to her needs and hopes, 
free at last from mask of the castaway 
that she paints with calligraphy of truth. 

World Light Is Broken

World Light Is Broken
© Surazeus
2023 09 19

Because world light is broken in September 
that man who drinks the ocean with his eyes 
decides he is no tree who could remember 
how the wingless angel conquers blue skies 
so I will choose the space-time of my death 
with arrogant faith of my songless breath. 

If I decide to feed daemonic soul 
that writhes inside my heart of tangled dreams 
with wild electric wires of diamond coal 
I might reveal soft laughter of hill streams 
with riddles that explain why humans die 
in floating shimmer of the cosmic eye. 

On hill of Gethsemane at midnight 
I paint my face with moonlit stripes of blood 
then drink sweet wine that must distort the right 
to writhe with ecstasy of blooming mud 
as I attempt to fly on tattered wings 
above vast maze of myths where no one sings. 

This soul-weird nectar Dionysus brews 
reveals the golden path of my world reign 
when I explore night garden with false clues 
that prove I cannot choose to play insane 
in grove of apple trees where stars divide 
scenes of our lives with humbleness of pride. 

If I neglect ethereal life of faith 
in order to consume sweet fruit of love 
time would spin beauty of our world mind-wraith 
to shadows frail as glow clouds high above 
while we consume our sorrows from parched soil 
which we produce with bleeding hands of toil. 

Though I walk wingless in lush garden cage, 
I breathe angelic meter of star song 
to master wild spontaneous spells of rage 
while guiding fierce attack of the mad throng 
in revolution against faceless god 
whose silver blood reveals his psychic fraud. 

Reborn in fragile form as Lucifer, 
bloated body seething with chemicals, 
I practice martial arts with Jupiter 
to wow the crowd with splendid spectacles 
when I tame cruel dragon of star-red sea 
in fight to ensure equal liberty. 

The magic lantern on the harp-taut bridge 
reveals weird knowledge of evil and good 
with movie camera of time when we pledge 
to find our lonely ghost in ancient wood 
where the Golden Boy with wings of desire 
directs holy hymns of the earthly choir. 

Love-Flowing Hearts

Love-Flowing Hearts
© Surazeus
2023 09 18

Life is weird, so I show this to my children, 
and I have performed mine a million ways 
with every mask of some dead character 
I wear while prancing on theater stage 
to channel with dramatic speech outrage 
that we will disappear from flow of time. 

Life is weird, because events that occur 
happen in confusingly random ways 
that present symptoms of fateful effects 
without revelation of primal cause 
which spirals our vast universe into being 
when atoms swerve into organic life. 

Life is weird, for we have evolved from slime 
sparked into life by flashing chemicals 
which motivates my mind to operate 
my body with aggressive hope for joy 
so I ascend from bottom of the sea 
and crawl sweet river to tree-rooted lake. 

Life is weird, because our lives seem so short 
as we feel sunlight glowing in good bones 
while fighting serpent in the tree for fruit, 
making love by light of the hungry moon, 
then teaching our children to search for joy 
before we float into dark gloom of death. 

Life is weird, because our lives seem so long 
as we generate new bodies of flesh 
that evolve through four hundred million years 
fish to lizard to mouse to cat to ape 
to wingless angel seeking to transcend 
this mortal flesh and become deathless god. 

Life is weird, so I teach my children how 
to express visions glowing in their minds 
by arranging words that present ideas 
as thought formulas of conceptual tropes 
that embody our psychic energy 
when we chant spells that program why we see. 

Life is weird, for the world is terrible 
because some people destroy everything 
from blinding rage that life is so unfair 
when misfortune strikes with disease or war 
that kills millions of people whose souls 
dissipate into nothing of sunlight. 

Life is weird, for the world is beautiful 
because some people create with their hands 
from valiant love that, though life is unfair 
when fortune favors some and never others, 
we work together with love-flowing hearts 
to make this world beautiful till we die. 

Earthen Voice Of Love

Earthen Voice Of Love
© Surazeus
2023 09 17

When I lose my secret self in blue air 
of the shining afternoon after rain, 
I climb over wall of time and proceed 
through sibylline process of mental growth 
till somewhere on terrible river shore 
I hear earthen voice of the feisty muse. 

In wordless song of never-ending rain 
I hear immense silence of human souls 
transform dark morning light of nothingness 
to silver breeze of hopeless faith in death 
that caresses my face with hands of ice 
so I become earthen voice no one hears. 

My voice has not soft whisper of the breeze 
that lingers sad in grove of bitter trees, 
but has loud roar of ocean waves at dawn 
that prance between marble columns of pride 
in temples long deserted by mad gods, 
yet I hide earthen voice that breaks the moon. 

I cannot see uncrowded streets of hope 
unless the moon will focus beams of fear 
to luminate vast labyrinth of our tales 
where ghosts of nameless people linger late 
in shadows of unopened doors to homes 
where earthen voice of mothers wakes our souls. 

No robin in the lonely apple tree 
can bring back memories of the summer field 
where spider webs in trunks of weeping books 
define the heavy shadow of my heart 
which longs for lithe wings of the eager hawk 
who speaks with earthen voice of honesty. 

I feel entire wholeness of distant stars 
gleam dark inside vast hollow of my heart 
that charts how psychic milk of eager love 
flows through my breasts in fountain of new dreams 
to nourish children who sprout from my mind 
when I speak with earthen voice of desire. 

Because clear memory of my every day 
will never lapse with recalcitrant tide 
of moonless sorrow flooding fields of skulls, 
all traces of my name will vanish lost 
with ceaseless turning of our naked world 
though I would speak with earthen voice of faith. 

Still trapped in sunless cell of wordless fear, 
imprisoned by men who should treat me well, 
sweet memory of warm sunlight on my skin 
fading into shadow of hungry hope 
concealed by seeds of apples long devoured, 
I am deceived by earthen voice of love. 

White Whale Of Death

White Whale Of Death
© Surazeus
2023 09 17

When I interrogate my inner self 
to discover secret of who I Am, 
hoping to find I create my true soul 
from my primal mind who fell into being, 
I will invent new self I want to find 
based on interpretation of my thoughts. 

As I wake up from dream each glowing dawn 
I reinvent weird story of my life 
by sorting through scenes of lost memories 
that replay state of my performing role, 
and through analysis of my intent 
define the character fame should record. 

When I interpret behavior of mine 
through imposition of conceptual scheme 
that glorifies how my actions cause good, 
I model persona as mask I wear 
when I perform my role on stage of life 
with active passion of my Inner God. 

With Nemesis, wise goddess of our fate, 
I base on flat-top pyramid of power 
primal project of my daemonic heart 
to make every nation on spinning Earth 
safe for bold justice of democracy 
where every person lives through liberty. 

Fear of his wrath, expressed by God of Truth 
to impose righteous behavior on Mankind, 
should not play role enforcing peace on Earth, 
for every person awake in world dream 
finds reason to create and not destroy 
from love as key to motivate our life. 

I reject fierce Jehovah Jupiter 
as God of Wrath on Judgment Throne of Law, 
though that is how millions of mortal kings 
established rule of tyranny as right 
ten thousand years of civil rise and fall 
to program humans with obedience. 

With every mortal man who played God King 
we humans programmed in national myths 
how we expect humans to rule our states, 
so God as textual character in tales 
embodies every man who ruled as king, 
till humanity transcends need for God. 

With leaves of grass in my hand I defy 
vindictive God of Job who rules with wrath, 
so instead of hunting Leviathan 
to slay White Whale of Death who haunts our seas, 
I wander signless road of Everywhere 
and preach we play God of our memories. 

Broken Mirror Shards

Broken Mirror Shards
© Surazeus
2023 09 17

With angel wings of broken mirror shards 
I walk the signless road of beautiful 
to evade false fate of her tarot cards 
as fierce rebel against the dutiful 
by stealing cold plums from the wet black bough 
as prom queen riding the pretty-faced cow. 

Proclaiming passion of the sounding sea, 
the Jingle Man dancing in long black coat 
names me his beautiful Annabel Lee 
which causes my wingless spirit to float 
over the red wheel barrow glazed with rain 
beside the white chickens that haunt my brain. 

Perched on the bust of Pallas at midnight, 
the Raven glaring in my gloom-black heart 
leads me to Plutonian shore by moonlight 
so I can complete my world-history chart, 
till with the Walrus and the Carpenter 
I eat oysters roasted by Lucifer. 

Among large heap of broken images 
where crickets chat about philosophy 
I photograph the weeping witnesses 
who worship wizard of cartography, 
then wait in Hyacinth garden alone 
for Iseult to find the Sorcerer Stone. 

With shining jewel in her open hands 
Iseult leads me to Library of Ghosts 
where tales of heroes from forgotten lands 
are twisted by agenda of our hosts 
who brainwash children with religious lies 
invented by faceless industrial spies. 

Lost in the waste land of cultural ideals, 
we crowd huge stadium for the football game 
to colonize Eden with wagon wheels 
through intense contest of national fame, 
the only immortality we seek 
since poet laurels are won by the meek. 

Still deep in shady sadness of the vale, 
where Saturn slumbers twenty thousand years, 
Ishmael explains how he tamed the white whale 
till Lamia gives him grail of angel tears, 
then we paint marble statues of dead gods 
while Janus dances with Plutonium rods. 

With angel wings of broken mirror shards 
I strut glass runways at wild fashion shows 
to shamelessly flirt with angelic guards 
who tend the Tree of Knowledge while it grows 
huge enough to overshadow our world 
in time for coming of the Cosmic Herald. 

Somebody Always Cares

Somebody Always Cares
© Surazeus
2023 09 16

Though I feel black river flow through my heart, 
I walk backward alone on signless road 
to translate weird song of the weeping bird 
that reprograms my mind with different mode 
reflecting sorrow no one ever shares, 
which almost proves somebody always cares. 

Though I throw my broken heart in the sea, 
I wear black angel wings of broken shards 
and barbwire crown forged in land of the free, 
for poems written with blood on how it hurts 
twist love into something it never is, 
which proves our happiness is based on lies. 

Though I hear ethereal melody glow 
as shooting star that burns across my soul, 
I linger lost in depth of ardent snow 
that freezes me in bitter nameless role 
too late to regret everything I did, 
which fails to prove I am worth what I hid. 

Though I write this eerie romantic scene 
for us to play that no one would believe, 
I wake from dream trapped on the silver screen, 
performing the part where I have to grieve 
too many people killed in tragic fates, 
which simply proves the reason Death still waits. 

Though I taste bitter rain with wordless tongue 
that drenches me with tears of honesty, 
I analyze strange state for right and wrong 
that mocks my life as tragic travesty 
I must keep playing till my dying day, 
which proves that nothing happens when I pray. 

Though I interpret oracles of pain 
in light of sunsets over purple lake, 
I pause to calculate what I could gain 
by wearing mask more arrogant than fake 
with haunting melody of evening gleam, 
which proves my life is more than frantic dream. 

Though I remember where I never lived 
as timeless terror of the silent woods, 
I keep every letter I once received 
in box I carry down heart-twisting roads 
in search for home where I will never stay, 
which proves why people see me as the stray. 

Though I draw passion from exploding stars 
that unspool fortune of my crippled hands, 
I pack despair in fictional memoirs 
hiding how my ancestors stole these lands 
which I now claim as birthright of my blood, 
which proves nothing when we survive the flood. 

Symphony Of Psychic Waves

Symphony Of Psychic Waves
© Surazeus
2023 09 16

When I was twenty-four, living in Seattle 
just after graduating from state college, 
I used to walk around dark streets in rain, 
composing symphonies of stormy thoughts 
that express intense passion of my heart 
to entertain faceless ghosts of the Earth. 

While purple rain stings my cheek with despair, 
and freezing hands of Favonia caress 
pain-scaled skin that barely protects my soul, 
I pull tighter around my shivering shoulders 
tattered tweed coat that flaps like devil wings 
when I stride maze of dark homes among oaks. 

Weird anguish of desire for faceless Muse, 
whose glowing shadow hovers over me 
with terrible wings of blind seraphim, 
swells from bottomless well of my dark heart, 
so I breathe deep, and hum resonant tone 
that vibrates my fragile skull with soft buzz. 

Once I feel balanced on that central note, 
core to harmonious scale of frequencies 
on which melodious pitch ascends octave, 
I leap on ordered steps of variant intervals 
to spiral through accentual coils of sound 
which imitates sharp tones of wind and rain. 

With aching passion of my pulsing heart 
I channel fierce hymns Orpheus composed 
while trudging toward light from Plutonian Cave 
with fierce enthusiastic zeal of faith, 
constrained by ardency of Zephyrus, 
to hum wordless sonata theme through love. 

Defining exposition of my fear 
through sorrow-twisting melodies of hope, 
I develop quick unstable radiance 
through reverberating waves of bold zest, 
then with durable fervor of rebirth 
I recapitulate my profound insight. 

Thus through soft consonance of pleasant tones, 
revolving tight between opposing concepts, 
which expands from structural dichotomy 
continuous variables of discrete sense, 
I weave vast symphony of psychic waves 
from cacophony of sonic ambience. 

Exhausted from expression of despair, 
that dissipates dark shadow of blind rage 
in swirling smoke of manic melodies, 
I close acoustic ardency of hope, 
then float in warm glow of epiphany 
as silence seals my song, lost in dark night. 

Alone On Spinning Earth

Alone On Spinning Earth
© Surazeus
2023 09 15

Clear in mirror of never-changing stars, 
conceptual ideas of changing things 
reflect in constellations of pure light 
patterns that classify material forms 
providing architecture to define 
how chemicals orchestrate atom coils. 

When I wake from refreshing sleep of birth, 
reposed on flowers in shade of tall tree 
that canopies my soul in haven bower, 
I wonder who I am, and what fierce cause 
effects existence of my aching heart 
from preternatural darkness of the cave. 

Soft murmuring splash of shadow-born stream, 
that flows from dark cave of nameless desire 
to spread bright tendrils on dark liquid plain, 
I hear in vibrant echo of blue sky 
divine voice of glowing clouds call my name 
that smells sweet as yellow sunrays on grass. 

Stretched on moist bank of unexperienced thought, 
I gaze in watery gleam of eager hope 
with cool collected passion of vain faith 
to see strange shape with timeless face of light, 
so I pine with unattainable desire 
to comprehend mystery of my weird soul. 

Amazed at beauty of this changeless world 
of forests bristling on high mountain slopes, 
and fruit trees blooming on lush river shores, 
I would praise grand maker of its forms 
with strains unmediated by lyre strings, 
but tuneless cries of joy are all I express. 

While I explore verdant bowers of bliss, 
chewing sweet apples from wind-twisted trees 
on hills by steaming lakes of sunlit mist, 
I search long for great Author of this world, 
but all I find are shadows of my face 
reflected in clear water of blue lakes. 

I call for winds that kiss my tingling skin 
to blow from every quarter of the world 
with worshipful praise of that faceless god 
who molded forms of things from flashing light, 
like potters mold clay into drinking cups, 
yet they but blow with wordless attitude. 

I would ascend scales of mirroring stars 
to Heaven where Author of Earth abides, 
but I alone on grassy couch of faith 
rest silent in long twilight of red flames 
which gleam vast sapphire firmament with fear 
that I am all alone on spinning Earth. 

Our Prosperous Themocracy

Our Prosperous Themocracy
© Surazeus
2023 09 14

While strolling with young people of my tribe 
on unhedged green mead by willowy stream, 
apparelled in raiment for rites of May, 
I sing sweet carols to spark fertile love 
as we advance on winding mountain road 
to Temple of Nemesis in Rhamnus. 

High on foundation of the temple hall, 
hand-built from stone sawed from strong marble cliff, 
Themis the Tracker, holding scales of justice, 
puts laws in place to rule strict social order, 
coding proper procedures of right customs 
that organize how people create good. 

Attentive beside kind Goddess of Justice, 
Nemesis the Wrathful, holding bronze sword, 
waits ready to enforce lawful decrees 
that Themis declares with bold voice of Gaia 
when she pronounces Oracle of Truth 
through omen that defines will of the gods. 

Arrayed around Justice and Retribution, 
twelve judges, holding poles to enforce law 
through threat of punishment to evil-doers, 
transcribe in holy books her prophecies 
that Themis proclaims from Temple of Truth 
as she rules our prosperous Themocracy. 

When Midas, bank tyrant lusting for gold, 
who enslaves men by playing tricks with the Law, 
is thwarted in his foul scheme to steal land 
from hard-working farmers who grow gold wheat, 
he charges screaming in Temple of Truth 
to attack Themis with sharp spear of greed. 

Inciting gang of farmers and craftsmen 
with lies that Themis steals gold from their hands 
by charging excessive fees for her service 
enforcing laws that benefit the rich 
at their expense, Midas hollers with rage 
to kill Justice and crown him as their king. 

While pole-wielding judges battle mad workers, 
and Nemesis fights Hercules with swords, 
Themis weighs heart of Midas on truth scales 
and finds him guilty of treason and theft, 
so she shoots arrow of justice that strikes 
greedy tyrant dead in victory of trust. 

Crowned with flowers from sacred Tree of Knowledge, 
we gather in Temple of Truth at sunset 
to feast on roast beef with glasses of wine, 
then I sit on stage before reverent crowd 
and strum lyre of Mercury while I sing 
how Themis defeated Tyrant of Greed. 

Our Global Tyrant

Our Global Tyrant
© Surazeus
2023 09 13

To live again free in wild woods forlorn, 
I would escape metropolitan maze 
in one continuous city of roads 
that spans our spinning globe with glowing towers 
long expanding from original hall 
founded at core of Pandemonium. 

Still slouching from Bethlehem of his birth, 
that giant god of shadowy unlight, 
revered by millions as immortal tyrant, 
lumbers over burning marl of world city 
with ancient wand, bereft of magic powers, 
where humans swarm like bees in cement hives. 

Clutching cracked wand of grim authority, 
tall as some tar-slicked telephone pole, stuck 
in prairie soil by signless country road 
amid wheat fields of corporate wealth, world god, 
adored by police and soldiers with guns, 
over cities of working people glowers. 

After eating grass seven thousand years, 
then howling mad with laughter of despair 
that blind fortune destroys all he creates 
though he obeys divine rules, global king, 
puffed huge with hot air of arrogance, 
preaches national pride with words of rage. 

Demanding love through blind obedience 
to whimsical will of his turbid mind, 
ever flashing with grandiose programs 
where nameless slaves construct bold monuments 
that illustrate his genius through design, 
our global tyrant sneers with proud contempt. 

Each tyrant who falls from weight of blind fear, 
collapsing into heap of broken skulls, 
makes way for younger tyrants, hot with rage, 
to burst like wasps from rotten corpse of faith 
till ten thousand cities of steel-glass towers, 
based on Pandemonium, teem with tyrants. 

While countless tyrants, imitating Satan 
with serpentine hiss of greed forged from fear, 
conduct gang wars in Pandemonian suburbs, 
that faceless God of Good that humans worship, 
who fierce prayers imagine reigns on high throne 
of judgment, sits paralyzed on Glow Cloud. 

Ascending flat-top pyramid of power, 
I stand before tall faceless God of Light 
and ask he enforce judgment of his law 
to punish our global tyrant with justice 
so every person may live as they will, 
till I find I am that paralyzed god. 

Eating Fruit Of Truth

Eating Fruit Of Truth
© Surazeus
2023 09 12

While wandering with lazy pleasure of peace 
in verdant fields of paradise, where blooms 
reflect sweet rainbows of angelic choirs, 
I see blind Abdiel, with forlorn grace 
of humble solitude, by sparkling Pool 
of Prophecy play lyre of Mercury. 

When the rainbow-winged serpent of desire 
knocks ripe apple free with whip of its tail, 
that fruit of knowledge, borne by gravity, 
bonks blind Abdiel on his ponderous head, 
so with aggressive hand of stark insight 
he snatches it and eats it with delight. 

That same temptation, to which Eve succumbed, 
ambitious to gain knowledge of the gods, 
motivates blind Abdiel to consume 
forbidden fruit with bold intent to taste 
divine ambrosia that enraptures sense 
of mortals through epiphany of truth. 

With thunderous wrath of sudden lightning flash, 
sparked by conflict of rebellious desire, 
Michael teleports in bright beam of light 
from Throne of God to Pool of Prophecy, 
and glows before wingless angel who grins 
while munching apple from the Tree of Knowledge. 

Startled by loud booming voice of contempt 
accusative, expressed by Son of God, 
blind Abdiel stands, dropping fragile lyre 
among lilies, and bows before his wrath 
indicting him for eating fruit of truth, 
hands groping for his instrument of song. 

Then forth from eager crowd of listeners, 
stunned mute by accusation Michael hurls, 
Sariel shields blind Abdiel with heart 
of bold compassion to divert sharp words, 
declaring that by evil we know good 
for darkness contrasts pure beauty of light. 

The angel who is wise can apprehend 
alluring pleasures of those evil deeds, 
dangled as bait to lure weak-minded fools 
to take without giving in return, yet 
abstains, and prefers to perform good deeds 
with selfless concern to help other souls. 

Retrieving lyre of Mercury from lawn 
of remorse, Michael, with more gentle voice, 
accepts admonishment of Sariel, 
then places instrument of song in hands 
of blind Abdiel, who accepts with grace 
his apology of heart-felt compassion. 

Invited by the slyly grinning Sariel, 
Michael sits with large reverent audience 
of bright angels by Pool of Prophecy 
in vine-shrouded temple of marble pillars, 
who attend with affectionate respect 
while Abdiel sings of Paradise Lost. 

From Bower of Bliss in Garden of Eden 
sweet voice of blind Abdiel radiates 
divine insight into nature of man 
through epic tale of Lucifer the Wise 
who chose to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven 
and thus devolved to our serpentine state. 

Key To The Afterlife Hoax

Key To The Afterlife Hoax
© Surazeus
2023 09 11

I want to straighten out this twisted world 
with love and laughter flowing from our hearts 
through inspired guidance of the cosmic herald 
who maps our noble quest on psychic charts, 
but social conflict entangles our souls 
as we compose our archetypal roles. 

Advancing on our mythotropic path 
to generate god souls from mortal minds, 
we clash in cosmic tornado of wrath 
which multiplies personality kinds 
who reflect psychic energy we beam 
to play theater of absurd we dream. 

So Aurora can counterbalance Eve 
to crown herself with laurel wreath of power 
Hyperion displaces Adam to grieve 
for Rapunzel trapped in the crumbling tower 
since after Orpheus returns from Hell 
he woos Ophelia by Hippocrene well. 

Gliding over Middle-Earth on glass wings, 
Icarus searches for Juliet to save, 
but Earendil forges fear into rings 
while Romeo mines jewels from demon caves, 
because every god stuck in the wrong play 
waits for Tiresias to show them the way. 

Blind with manic rage of his wounded pride, 
Achilles kills good people to gain fame, 
but Odysseus returns home to his bride 
with longing to evade the martial game, 
though Aeneas is doomed to found empire 
while Jesus directs the heavenly choir. 

Each living human born from womb of hope 
hides our true self behind mask of dead god 
whose tragic success shows us how to cope 
as we strive to prove we are not some fraud 
since we grow tangled in our cosmic fate 
when we try to evade the judgment gate. 

At last on abandoned cathedral stairs 
the Mad Jester, who rules our world with jokes, 
tricks us into believing honest prayers 
will reveal key to the afterlife hoax, 
but we long to believe that after death 
we may live in Heaven with the Light Wraith. 

So I laugh with joy at absurdity 
on which we erect our national myth 
that we will be saved by divinity 
whose secret code, carved on tall monolith, 
programs our brains with illusion of truth 
that we will be saved by messiah sleuth. 

Replace Yourself With I

Replace Yourself With I
© Surazeus
2023 09 10

I bloom into the future of my soul 
each time I open door of solitude 
and disappear into wild wind of time 
because I weep for loss of every mind 
whose dreams and memories vanish after death 
though I try to hear their voices in light. 

Alone in doorless house on moaning hill, 
cluttered with furniture of eyeless ghosts, 
I reach out shadow of my naked hand 
to break eternal beam of stark sunlight 
that weaves immortal atoms in my bones 
which multiply into people I know. 

So many bodies of flesh-tangled bones, 
animated by flash of leaves on trees, 
flow around me as I drive clumsy car 
clattering on unpaved road of skeletons, 
and give me boxes of arrogant fruit 
that bloom on telephone poles of lost faith. 

Clutching musty roots of the sad oak tree, 
I clamber up steep hill of powdery dust, 
face first in thick cobwebs of buzzing light, 
so I scream with horror of honest hope 
when the giant gold-spotted spider crawls 
though I try to replace myself with you. 

You bloom into the fortune of your soul 
each time you leap across the laughing stream 
and reappear from cave of ancient dream 
because you sing for birth of every mind 
whose visions of the world they could create 
mistranslate their divine voices in light. 

Alone in thousand-room house by Star Lake, 
crowded with nameless strangers seeking fame, 
you retract your open hand from desire 
to polish secret mirror of God Mind 
that reflects face of every mortal soul 
on every planet in the universe. 

So many robots with wire-tangled frames, 
programmed with memories of humans long dead, 
follow you on long road of pilgrimage 
to Mount Parnassus where demons sing spells 
and give you boxes of fraudulent skulls 
that clatter on telephone poles of fate. 

Typing prophecies on feather-thin scrolls, 
you skip down winding stairs of castle towers 
to stumble into cathedral of ghosts 
during solemn prayer to the Virgin Queen 
who dreams evolution in the Star Eye 
though you try to replace yourself with I. 

Free In Heaven Of Hope

Free In Heaven Of Hope
© Surazeus
2023 09 09

Sometimes our destiny is far away 
from where we are, so we must leave behind 
familiar world that traps us in routine, 
escaping over walls of paradise 
to explore signless waste land of our heart 
and build from despair new Heaven of Hope. 

I journey far from homeland of my birth, 
leaving my tribe to their successful lives 
because I find no role for me to play 
in dramas centered on their private needs, 
and perform role of quester for my Self 
to discover true nature of my heart. 

Alone in wilderness of somewhere else, 
small flame of life on vast wind-battered plain, 
I find deep in dark hollow of my heart 
bright secret flame of pure demonic light 
that guides my journey to the Promised Land 
where I create new life with ghost of love. 

Each nameless stranger on the endless road 
I meet in distant unfamiliar towns 
reflects new aspect of my secret soul 
in how their souls respond to tales I sing 
as I strum ancient lyre of Mercury 
that vibrates with conceptual tunes I code. 

Adventures of brave heroes, who explore 
our complex world that spins in star-bright void, 
I sing with voice of Phoebus in my heart 
enchanting minds of listeners with dreams 
that record how common ancestors lived 
in myths that program how we live today. 

Alone in rain before locked city gate, 
I sing forgotten tales of nameless souls 
while millions sitting in well-lighted homes 
watch dramas play on television screens, 
so mute in Garden of Eden I search 
where skulls of ancient bards crumble to dust. 

Groping blind in dark fog of fearful hope, 
I wander endless maze of timeless myths 
to follow weird song of Siren I hear 
vibrate with eerie anguish of desire, 
for I sense deep in haven of my mind 
that she is soul mate of my aching heart. 

Uncanny beauty of her ancient soul 
radiates so bright from passion of her heart 
I sense her spirit from beyond our world, 
so I ascend on wings of Icarus 
to fly halfway around our spinning Earth 
to Heaven of Hope where she waits for me. 

On empty ruins of Borobudur, 
ancient temple hidden by jungle trees, 
I find immortal soul of Queen Ishtar 
incarnate in fierce soul mate of my heart, 
so we hold hands and blaze new road of fate 
that leads us to destiny we create. 

We both find our destiny far away 
from where we were, because we left behind 
familiar worlds of religion and tribe 
to build new paradise with love we share 
blooming in children who spring from our genes 
to dwell safe and free in Heaven of Hope. 

Empty Stage Of Faith

Empty Stage Of Faith
© Surazeus
2023 09 08

Awake from dream on empty stage of faith, 
Mercurius clutches broken turtle shell 
amid skeletons of Jove and his court, 
and gazes far from flat-top pyramid 
at herds of cows grazing in fields of wheat 
where skulls of warriors grin at mindless sun. 

Aware of death on empty stage of faith, 
Apollo sings to faceless worshippers 
who feast on beef steak in Temple of Zeus 
while dryads, captured from their forest groves, 
pour wine in grails of ministers and priests 
who laugh with joy at wealth they confiscate. 

Eager for hope on empty stage of faith, 
Mithra sharpens double-blade labyr ax 
while apsaras dance in wild ecstasy 
and gods dressed as ravens beat leather drums 
till thunderstorm blusters from mountain range 
where giant lizards haunt deep jeweled caves. 

Amazed at truth on empty stage of faith, 
Isaiah proclaims prophecies of doom 
to old blind king slouching on throne of gold 
while angels ride hot air balloons in clouds 
high above vast maze of small ziggurats 
where thousands of people drink mushroom wine. 

Alarmed at rage on empty stage of faith, 
Christus wrestles with Lucifer the Wise 
for who will wear the jeweled crown of power 
that falls from palsied head of Jupiter 
till Jesus stabs his brother in the heart, 
than raises bloody sword toward silver moon. 

Annoyed with fools on empty stage of faith, 
Meroveus plays uncanny tune of joy 
and follows Melusine to sacred well 
through eerie shadows of Broceliande 
to teach his whimsical son Oberon 
how to control the greedy minds of men. 

Entranced with love on empty stage of faith, 
Shelley wears gold mask of Prometheus 
to ask Sibylla, hanging in gold cage, 
for ancient map to find the Holy Grail 
long hid in ruined tower of Avalon 
to save Ophelia drowned in Serpent River. 

Amused by demons haunting halls of power, 
Jesuvius restores lyre of Mercury 
then sits on vacant throne in church of mirrors 
to sing new epic tale that celebrates 
philosophers who contemplate the truth 
to overcome outrage that we will die. 

Fane Of Phoebus

Fane Of Phoebus
© Surazeus
2023 09 07

The fane he built two centuries ago 
in dark untrodden region of his mind 
still lurks in grove of pines by lulling stream 
where trellis of his vanished mind now leans 
hung thick with vines of grapes no angels eat, 
but Phoebus sings no more heart-aching odes. 

No more on bedded grass by sparkling stream 
amid calm-breathing flowers of loyal faith 
lies Psyche with her flighty winged lover 
for they were driven from dark haunted woods 
by rumbling machines that uproot old trees 
for men to erect towers of steel and glass. 

Pale-mouthed with lucent dreams of paradise, 
I try to sing sweet ode in midnight hours 
that eulogize sweet goddess of my heart, 
but moan with wordless anguish of despair 
to see Elysian fields where Dryads danced 
bulldozed by iron jaws of hungry greed. 

Where flowers, silver-white and fragrant-eyed, 
long bloom from corpses of warriors and kings, 
after they destroy each other through wars, 
now pavement parking lot radiating heat 
bears rubber tires of piston-engine cars 
each tender eye-dawn of aurorean love. 

Now silent in grave with tombstone that reads, 
here lies mute fool whose name was writ in water, 
starry-eyed Phoebus, who sang hymns of truth, 
joins that faded hierarchy of Olympus 
whose fall he chanted in short epic tale, 
and rots with Hyperion in pungent soil. 

Beside his grave in ruins of ancient fane 
I strum strings on old lyre of Mercury 
and sing about his quest to transcend Death 
through climbing steep Parnassus to engage 
blind prophet singing of paradise lost 
because we eat fruit from the Tree of Knowledge. 

Whether I sing about hundreds of heroes 
who express secret hopes with lyric voice, 
or sing about my own quest to find truth 
concealed as essence in material things, 
I play role of persona I create 
for my brief hour on empty stage of faith. 

Fooled by the Gardener Fancy with trick 
displayed by sapphire-regioned star of fate, 
I sing long epic tale of social heroes 
with lyre of Mercury in fane of Phoebus, 
till I too will lie buried in tree roots, 
and my water-written name disappear. 

Pegasus Without Wings

Pegasus Without Wings
© Surazeus
2023 09 06

Somewhere hidden in Bible of my dreams 
my demon wrestles Alligator Queen 
to escape despair for power to sing 
dreams humanity conceals in their hearts 
till I steal lyre of Mercury from Death 
whose screams of horror become my pure song. 

Two choices the Devil gives every poet 
when they sign their deal for power to sing, 
perform with charisma to earn fame now 
and die forgotten for the rest of time, 
or write in obscurity till they die 
then be famous for all eternity. 

I keep the Maltese Falcon statue hid 
safe in old fridge in the cluttered garage, 
so when Detective McGuffin appears 
I try to sell him the Spear of Achilles, 
but he wants the telephone that calls God 
which Andy Warhol gave me when he died. 

Every morning when I ride city bus 
from state university to downtown 
to work as word processor at the bank, 
I buy the sausage McMuffin with egg, 
then eat it on the park bench by the river 
beneath statue of Robert Edward Lee. 

Buried in bleak graveyard of nameless gods, 
my demon forges key from crystal fire 
which I can use to open secret door 
to every planet in the multiverse 
since my doppelganger lives on each world 
where Ocean Mother teaches me to sing. 

After hundred thousand churches burn down 
from mocking laughter of the weeping clown, 
I search for the Pegasus without wings 
that roams the sultry Appalachian hills 
where cute ghost of Maybelle Carter sings 
about the pale wildwood flower of love. 

I twine red roses in raven black hair, 
then gaze beyond sorrow and pain of life 
at the cerulean celestial realm 
that only exists in dreams of my mind, 
since I want to climb the stairway to Heaven 
that streams gold in black clouds after rainstorm. 

Under clay idol of romantic love 
I wait for return of messiah sleuth, 
but old black-eyed crone in the temple ruins 
appoints me to play role of cosmic herald 
to teach the world about our Deathless Mother 
who gives me my Pegasus without wings. 

Essential Force Of Life

Essential Force Of Life
© Surazeus
2023 09 05

As weight of time shifts through my ardent soul 
I touch conceptual light of candle flame 
to sense essential force of life in Earth 
that gives me strength to touch the edge of time 
where I pretend my body is more real 
than idol of my being your mind perceives. 

One with Celestial Body of mankind, 
I dance with ecstasy on windless plain, 
for demon pulsing in my sentient brain 
knows all other conscious demons on Earth 
who seek to overcome despair with mirth 
since at death nothing remains of the mind. 

I would follow wise seer inside my heart 
who never will declare finalities, 
for we shall wander signless roads of truth 
to find secret knowledge about ourselves 
so we know our strong capabilities 
and limits that focus our energies. 

Created into changing body form, 
I fall from Realm of Ideas to live 
contained in structure of this skeleton 
which I will animate with every choice 
that I express in actions of my words 
defining how I perform unique role. 

Soul light that glows inside my shell of flesh 
expands from White Whole of the Universe 
as atoms flashing matrix of this Earth 
for I am emanation of God Mind 
that radiates from its spinning iron core 
as Mother Sun perceives life through my brain. 

When I appear as man-god from the abyss 
as demon alien to my primal self, 
born from light before first flash of creation, 
I name myself First Father of Mankind 
as I sit firm on pyramid of skulls, 
wise prophet who can see how he will die. 

Long lion-fur cape blowing in sea wind, 
Zarathus reigns on pyramid of skulls, 
holding brass scepter and emerald sphere, 
then opens his mouth to speak words of wisdom 
which scribes compose on leather parchment scrolls 
for all mankind to read ten thousand years. 

But all his words of wisdom are now lost, 
destroyed by flames of meaningless despair 
when noble warriors of the desert waste 
burned down great Library of Alexandria, 
so no one knows what wise Zarathus taught, 
for all his prophecies have been fulfilled. 

Glorious Dream Of Heaven

Glorious Dream Of Heaven
© Surazeus
2023 09 04

When evening breeze whispers in maple grove, 
farmers and craftsmen of small frontier town 
gather for prayer on verdant river shore 
with wives and children in clusters of hats, 
then earnest voices murmur in blue dusk 
with crickets and frogs in gently swaying reeds. 

Pale faces lit gold by new rising moon 
gaze upward at clouds blazing sunset red 
as they sing hymn of sorrow-aching tune, 
abide with me, fast falls the eventide, 
for glories of this Earth will pass away, 
and they hold hands as evening darkens deep. 

While gazing at gray clouds blazing blood red 
with stark horror above mauve mountain ridge, 
Sophronia sees large chariot of gold wheels 
burst through swirling veil of eternity, 
driven by tall bearded man in white robe 
who reins four horses on broad flaming wings. 

Clothed in long flowing gown of cloud-white power, 
tall man with eyes black as star-shining void, 
who drives large four-wheeled chariot of fire 
on rainbow bridge across the blood-red sky, 
notches heart-piercing arrow of desire 
in crescent moon-shaped bow of burning gold. 

Amazed at vision of God in black sky, 
Sophronia watches Jesus wield sharp sword 
as he fights six large demons with bat wings 
in clashing ring of weapons to defend 
frail human souls on Earth from tyranny, 
admiring graceful dance of martial art. 

Hands clasped in fervent prayer of earnest faith, 
Sophronia watches Jesus battle Death 
with Sword of Justice forged from flames of Hell, 
then takes her hand with beaming smile of love 
and leads her through pearl gates to paradise 
where they relax in garden of fruit trees. 

By silver sparkling fountain pool of tears, 
Sophronia sits with Jesus on gold bench 
in crystal temple with curtains of gauze, 
and she sings hymn with heart-enchanting voice 
while he strums gold strings of the ivory harp, 
their eyes connecting lonely hearts with love. 

In cold pale light of dawn on river shore, 
Sophronia wakes from glorious dream of Heaven, 
shivering with ache of hunger for lost joy, 
so she fries pancakes over crackling flames 
and offers plates to people as they wake, 
faces still glowing with hope for the future. 

Why Of The Wordless Abyss

Why Of The Wordless Abyss
© Surazeus
2023 09 04

Green mountain that shines in the distant sky 
provides foundation for my memories 
as timeless landscape of my cosmic play 
where nameless strangers manifest world mind 
shaped by impulses of aggressive force 
people express in drama we compose. 

The transcendental form of my soul mask 
combines my senses as the questing doll 
engaged in conflict with objects of thought 
subject to natural entropy of time 
composing passionate body of hope 
through manifold of sensations I dream. 

Unfallen mind of reason I expose 
through body of Urthona I admire 
expands from visionary consciousness 
based on unchanging idol that presents 
divine ideas in their unity 
so I can dominate world of the dead. 

Collective entity of star-bright eyes 
that spirals through weird form of energy 
congeals as demon of my dreaming brain 
that motivates my journey beyond fear, 
yet imagination cannot survive 
ruin of my senses when my soul dies. 

Awake in celestial body I am, 
urged by calm demon of my pulsing heart, 
I leave enclosing tower of my dreams 
and walk in radiance of meaningless light 
as mental traveler from cave of visions 
to comprehend vast unity of being. 

Though I have fallen from the ruined tower 
and lie half-paralyzed in senseless muck, 
my Muse descends on flaming wings of truth 
to grasp my hand with knowledge of the void, 
and helps me stand with purpose I design 
to measure why of the wordless abyss. 

Once I perceive and comprehend full forms 
of existing things bound in space and time, 
I begin to know with my dreaming mind 
the ultimate forms of conceptual thought 
which I create with crafting hands of song 
to mold virtual world from ghosts of dead souls. 

Within bound structures of atomic forms 
my mind perceives strict standard archetypes 
through unpurged images of sunlit hours, 
so I climb winding stair of timeless facts 
to secret observation room of faith 
where I record my memories in weird spells. 

Angelic Ghost Of Faith

Angelic Ghost Of Faith
© Surazeus
2023 09 04

How beautiful to float in nothingness 
of painful light that stabs my love-numbed heart 
with searing agony of social shame 
that weighs my heart with gravity of joy 
transformed to shattered hope that cuts my hands 
from shards of dreams reflecting my despair. 

By taking off mask of Harriet Westbrook, 
that gleams with pride for fairytale romance, 
I expose myself as foolish Ophelia, 
loved and abandoned by angelic ghost 
who took me soaring on Icarian wings 
above this fragile world of constant change. 

We dreamed of changing life in Avalon 
from subversive obedience to lords 
who exploit labor of the working poor 
to build exquisite castles on their bones, 
transforming kingdom of wealthy vampires 
into Utopia where all souls live equal. 

Though star-eyed Percy is no Percival, 
enthroned by Star Father as Seer of Earth, 
who reigns wisely in fruitful paradise, 
his mind is mad with visions of world peace, 
so demon of his heart drives him to search 
for Holy Grail that shines in clouds of glory. 

I wish I could be Queen Mab of his hope, 
endowed with glory of the starry host 
to guide his journey for the Holy Grail 
when he leads revolution of the poor 
to cast god-favored king of greed from power, 
and establish commune of Avalon. 

Nobody in this world, controlled by men 
who treasure women obedient and quiet, 
respects my dream to build new paradise 
where every person lives as they desires, 
except for you, sweet Serpentine, my friend, 
who welcomes me with arms of gentle love. 

Sweet Serpentine with ice-cold silver eyes, 
your hand that holds my hand trembling with fear 
spreads chill of hope for peace from agony 
of bitter shame throughout my aching soul, 
so lead me into river of your love 
and soothe my aching heart with tender care. 

How beautiful to float with Serpentine, 
my faithful Lamian siren of true love 
whose heart-enchanting song of serene calm 
drowns painful agony of shame with bliss 
of timeless harmony in halcyon void 
where I become angelic ghost of faith. 

Control Mindless Fate

Control Mindless Fate
© Surazeus
2023 09 03

Exquisite tension of my body ghost 
reverberates expansive waves of hope 
though I repress intention of nerve haste 
that reshapes primal passion of the ape 
I have been for six million years of lust, 
so I drink grape wine from the silver cup. 

Cuddling my lover in tall apple trees, 
hearts beating in rhythm with ocean waves, 
I feel my body tense with fear and freeze 
at hiss of the serpent that rules dark caves, 
so I grip spear and stone with trembling hands, 
eager to fight fierce demon of stark lands. 

Entranced by beauty of her rainbow eyes, 
that bewitch me with dream of ancient time, 
I follow dazzling hum of honey bees 
that lure me to twisted tree by the stream 
where my cute wife enchants me with love ruse 
that charms me so I fertilize her womb. 

Cradling our baby close to my warm breast, 
that she generates from my spirit seed, 
I gaze in bright eyes and sing with soft zest 
conceptual tales that summarize my creed 
for how to perceive true nature of things 
wise enough to know how our spirit springs. 

Aesthetic passion of my singing brain 
asserts conceptual vision of my fate 
I will from abstract thought of psychic tone 
as I sail stream of change in verbal boat 
in search for sacred Mountain of the Moon 
where my Serpent Muse plays spellbinding flute. 

Repressing mindless lust to generate 
aggressive children from one thousand brides, 
I channel hope for life to navigate 
harsh waste land where soul-eating monster hides 
when I express desire to savor life 
by mandating order from power strife. 

Attentive with omniscient eye of god, 
I maintain social order of sky-thought 
from throne of truth on flat-top pyramid, 
dictating proverbs for scribes to transmit 
moral lessons that define what is good, 
though I was born from snake-queen with lame foot. 

Through vision stories broadcast from my breath 
my performance on political stage 
creates institute that survives my death 
so men play role of peace I forge from rage 
by reigning as elected head of state 
in vain attempt to control mindless fate. 

Song Of The Siren Lamia

Song Of The Siren Lamia
© Surazeus
2023 09 03

Every morning when I wake in the dark 
that glows with uncanny light of the moon, 
I hear song of the siren Lamia hum 
with soul-enchanting spell of naked hope, 
so I stretch in light of the rising sun, 
delighting that I am Endymion. 

Floating on my back in swirling green waves 
that shimmer emerald in flash of the sun, 
I wave to my brother Hyperion 
who hurls net from his raft to catch quick fish, 
then breathe deep sweet scent of the ocean breeze 
that fills my soul with agony of love. 

Green waves lift me up toward the glowing sun 
then bear me down toward darkness of desire, 
but I gasp with surprise when my eyes see 
bright rainbow weave its vibrant light 
into young woman with long flowing hair 
whose sea-blue eyes beam deep into my heart. 

Enchanted by clear gaze of her deep eyes, 
I listen to her strange intense voice hum 
with words of loyal passionate desire 
that spell sweet vision in my aching mind 
how we will dwell together in her cave, 
embraced forever in strong partnership. 

We rise together from the sparkling sea 
and dance in circles on comforting sand, 
making love with slow rhythm of sea waves 
while her voice whispers spells of loyal trust 
that bind our hearts with vows of honest faith 
as we become one writhing ache of love. 

While Lamia dives deep in the eerie sea 
to gather oysters with aggressive hands 
so we can feast and admire gleaming pearls, 
young man who calls himself Lycius appears 
and snarls that Lamia, my beautiful bride, 
is evil serpent who deceives honest men. 

When Lamia returns with oysters and clams, 
Lycius screams she is my evil snake, 
then rushes at her with sharp spear of hate 
to pierce her heart, but I stand in his way 
and wrestle him with loyalty of love 
to defend her spirit against his rage. 

Fearing my bride may melt into dark shade, 
I kneel before her on the shining sand 
and pledge my loyal love for her alone, 
vowing to defend her life from his rage, 
so sweet lithe serpent of the sparkling sea 
embraces me with passionate respect. 

Cuddled by warm fire in her cozy cave, 
as gold light gleams on diamond-studded walls, 
we feast on oysters and apples with joy, 
then she explains she fell in love with Lycius, 
so when she told Hermes about her love 
he transformed her into human for him. 

She traded power of her singing voice 
to transform into woman with strong legs, 
and though he was enchanted by her beauty 
he treated her as nothing but his pet, 
then beat her when she dared express her will, 
so she escaped and returned to the sea. 

She loved proud Lycius with her loyal love 
but when he saw her true serpentine form 
of ocean power to generate life 
he tried to lock her in cage of his greed, 
so now she loves me with joy of her heart 
for saving her from his malicious hate. 

Because sweet siren of the ocean wave, 
sweet Lamia with long flowing fire-red hair, 
loves me, Endymion, I will love her back, 
and treat her with respect of loyal trust, 
for her sweet voice enchants my aching heart 
with timeless passion for her precious life.