Bullets Of The Tongue

Bullets Of The Tongue
© Surazeus
2023 10 31

Reverberating bullets of the tongue 
untangle haunting shadows of cold streets 
where blue ghosts wander past wide open doors 
in search of lost time hidden in old books 
that reek of rotting apples in gray grass 
stolen by the boy with one crippled wing. 

That faceless shadow of my misnamed self 
who grins from unmirror of timeless fate 
calls out to me with beast voice of the wind 
so I am fooled to think the thunderstorm 
that roars at me with loud fatherly voice 
perceives my being with wrathful eye of love. 

So I hang upside down in cave of dreams 
to swim in moonlit lake of whispering words 
with potent energy of wasted wish 
through which I criticize how light reveals 
stark self-awareness of the laughing crow 
who leads me on useless search for true love. 

Young woman in black gown who smiles at me 
presents her painting on the empty wall 
of sunlight gleaming beyond nothingness 
when I reach out my warm capable hand 
from icy silence of the empty tomb 
till hot blood streams again in my stone heart. 

Dark raven of my heart with wings of fire, 
still perched in twisted oak of ancient myth 
after rise and fall of one thousand empires, 
gives me grim shadow of its crippled wings 
so I can swoop and glide over phone lines 
to measure progress of justice with death. 

Down on weed-thick shore of the River Styx 
we gather at tables with plates of fruit 
to feast and share tall tales in moon-gold glow 
in scene forged on the shield Achilles bore 
during the world war to conquer despair 
when I pour libation to the Ungod. 

The voice without a face explains to me 
justice of our war against cruel hate, 
so I stand firm on arbitrary spot 
where I vow to fight to defend this land 
won by my father in chess game with Death 
who hobbles to hot forge in mountain cave. 

If you are still beside me in this maze 
of hazy visions borne by mangled myth, 
then know that we will find Garden of Skulls 
where Ungod waits for my status report 
so I can earn reward of nameless souls 
when bombs destroy library of my home. 

Eye Of Nothing God

Eye Of Nothing God
© Surazeus
2023 10 31

Austere wetness of orange-gray evening air 
omits compassion of my eager hope 
to find new paradise of peaceful rest 
somewhere far away from war-torn land 
soaked red with blood of enemies and friends 
whose voices whisper wordless in dark wind. 

Proliferation of jagged sunlight 
encased as glare in jar of fractured hope 
breaks every thought that I attempt to speak 
in jumbled riddles of conceptual lies 
that drool from hollow anguish of my mouth 
though I stare into haze of fuzzy shapes. 

Yet tangled syllables stuck to my tongue 
boil howling laughter to shoot earnest bombs 
in sudden ringing silence of despair 
that follows me on signless road of hope 
ten thousand miles in waste land of fake homes 
where I play settler in the genocide. 

To join with earthly things in naked books 
so I can feed hungry hordes of believers, 
I declare war against statues in churches 
though they exile me to mysterious isle 
where apple trees laugh at my fierce ambition 
to reclaim crown my father wore till death. 

Through shadow of the tyrant I expel 
amazing data stolen from the wind 
that dances spirals on the mountain peak, 
which inspires me to design ideogram 
defining concept of aggressive faith 
forged into sword I wield to enforce truth. 

Celestial body of light-blazing brain 
radiates from dreamless Eye of Nothing God 
which sees through minds of every breathing being 
that lives now on this planet in the void 
because humans just want to feast and sing 
till angry fools spoil the game with blind rage. 

So when I find crystal skin of the snake 
gleaming gold in lush grass of my back yard, 
I sing weird magic spell of honest fear 
to grapple with specific fantasy 
through which I recognize Goddess of Love 
who walks beside me everywhere I go. 

If we fall laughing in indifferent rain 
at bitter irony of random fate 
we might find energy to rise again 
at resurrection of the cosmic herald 
who speaks dark omen of the swirling storm 
that looms over empire of Nothing God. 

Awake In Organic Brains

Awake In Organic Brains
© Surazeus
2023 10 31

I savor pleasure of weird paradox 
that, though no divine supernatural mind 
transcends all matter of the universe, 
natural minds awake in organic brains 
that evolve from matter of pulsing light 
permeate the universe with consciousness. 

God is no real being that knows all things since 
we mortal humans invent that concept 
as Ideal Form we frail beings could attain 
through conscious discipline of self-control 
to transcend temporary frame of flesh 
with vibrant spirit of generous love. 

I cannot control how people love me, 
but I control how I love other people, 
so I care not if anyone loves me 
while I will love with deep spring of my heart 
every conscious being in our multiverse 
who feels alone in vast eternity. 

God may not be real being of conscious thought 
but we are real beings with thoughts about being, 
so sit with me beneath the Tree of Life 
and eat sweet fruit of wisdom that we share 
while we gaze at strange beauty of our world 
and sing together with our natural minds. 

Great I Of Everywhere

Great I Of Everywhere
© Surazeus
2023 10 31

Because Noon is the great abyss of light 
from which our bodied minds cannot depart, 
we charge with potent nothingness of being 
to shine with false brilliance of victories 
as we begin routine of hope again 
through eternal recurrence of desire. 

Thus stuck in heart of Nihilism, I am 
alive with passion to become the God 
our brains design based on the Ideal Human 
which waits with energy of nothingness 
as rich potential negation of love 
that blossoms our bodies into bright souls. 

I find no meaning in my random being 
except as passion of quick molecules 
to generate organic body frame 
containing vibrant energy of light 
which glows with conscious intention of love 
to construct model of envisioned time. 

So here I am awake on planet Earth 
that spins forever in vacuum of space 
around bright pulsing Eye of Cosmic Mind 
who dreams itself aware inside my brain 
through vibrant atoms forming neural net 
which names itself Great I of Everywhere. 

Each conscious mind of atoms glowing bright 
on every planet in the multiverse 
feels so alone in vast eternity, 
enclosed within narrow scope of its dream, 
yet we feel radiant energy of love 
weaving us all together in One Soul. 

Though we exist without meaning or aim, 
we seek to reincarnate in dreaming mind 
immortal soul of genes that knows the I 
through eternal recurrence on Time Wheel 
as sperm conceives life inside fertile egg 
so light wakes inside my organic brain. 

This body-framed brain that I feel as me 
exists in temporary organ form, 
but light-vibrating atoms of my being 
still flare forth from first flash of the big bang 
forming star and planet from which I spring, 
and they will still glow long after I die. 

So I gaze up from surface of my world 
to peer at heart of being at dawn of time 
that bonds my heart to White Whole of all being, 
savoring pleasure of existing as me, 
for my atoms will become other beings 
to remain as Great I of Everywhere. 

Ring Of Our Soul Tone

Ring Of Our Soul Tone
© Surazeus
2023 10 30

When I embrace wind that rests in the stone 
my heart becomes cold water on hot sand 
that sparks black seed to sprout as apple tree 
who sings with joy whenever she sees me, 
so I give her sweet sun-fruit in my hand 
which will harmonize ring of our soul tone. 

Flush with secret kisses of the moon rain 
that seals our alien hearts with loyal bond 
preserving vibrant channel where love-flow 
irrigates vast fields of wheat with brain glow, 
I return to Star Lake where my soul spawned 
conceptual ghost tangled in mythic skein. 

Nourished by thought beam from infinite stars 
that weaves atomic wings into my soul, 
I sit by apple tree of truth to weigh 
return of profit through thematic way 
that might result from tragic global role 
I choose to perform in dream seminars. 

Conceived by passion my parents express 
through contentious ambition to escape 
confining space more featureless than air, 
I swell beyond bounds of the self-aware 
so drama of my life plays on seascape 
since I translate dreams in code gods access. 

Beyond ruined walls of our mystic maze, 
deep in confusing labyrinth of truth, 
I consult map of opportunities 
resplendent with sparkly tune of world keys 
because I wear mask of messiah sleuth, 
evolving into God with each weird phase. 

Uncanny winds of autumn blow with smirk 
bright traffic lights that sway with nonchalance 
while I drive curving road in Spider Wood 
to analyze nature of my Manhood 
which animates strangeness of my response 
in silent gloom I treasure as Dream Clerk. 

Weird Way Of The Mystic Maze

Weird Way Of The Mystic Maze
© Surazeus
2023 10 29

Once I trace weird way of the mystic maze 
that presents pattern of eternal scheme 
involving every soul in perfect whole, 
I solve the dark perplexity of faith 
when I feel my cold body start to life 
through Awakening Nature of our world. 

Though one unbounded spring encircles all 
in ever-flowing waves of psychic light 
I feel containment, binding ancient soul 
as this flesh body of bones flushed with blood, 
emanate divine flame of conscious mind 
that springs from veil-piercing flash of my eyes. 

If this chaotic world of changing forms 
springs to life from perception of my eyes, 
I dream eerie landscape of fluid shapes, 
illuminated by stark rays of light, 
as ordered model of conceptual words 
bursting azure shell of infinite thought. 

So tense storm of billowing black clouds 
breaks over light-striped valley of lush grass 
to veil broad meadows of wild dancing trees 
with flashing sheets of rain that splash bright drops 
popping on mysterious surface of the lake 
where my dark spirit haunts its soundless depth. 

Yet shattered clouds of arrogant disdain 
that rove far with tumultuous respect 
reveal interminable sky of blue glow 
where Sublime Soul dwells vast in azure space 
with round immensity of joyful love 
when Nature resurrects from winter waste. 

No supernatural architect of space 
designs complexity of teeming forms 
that burgeon from Nature with writhing souls 
which populate valley of solid light 
with aching passion to express in dance 
immense compassion of the star-bright void. 

Thirsty for dazzling deluge of true love 
that converts pain to pleasure with calm heat, 
I slake fierce need to taste soul of far stars 
that sing in awful listening gloom of hope 
to rouse my spirit with sacred terror, 
inspired to build pure harmony of mind. 

Deep in confusing maze of timeless truth 
I channel frenzied energy of hope 
through seraphic vision of aching love 
till Earth absorbs hot energy of life 
which flows from bottomless well of my heart 
as I trace weird way of the mystic maze. 

Peace We Earn By Killing

Peace We Earn By Killing
© Surazeus
2023 10 28

Based on potent way pulsing apple curves 
beyond reluctant gravity of truth 
I reproduce weird profile of my mind 
to mirror mask of Apollo Death carves 
from endless singing riddle of sea froth 
by which angelic lovers come to bond. 

When I follow River Styx to find source 
sordid angels hoard with expectant mouths 
I find Mother Goddess Terra awake 
in psychic haze which imitates the farce 
we still perform in plays based on lost myths 
trapped in characters of forgotten book. 

I inhabit wax image of myself 
in marketplace where ideas are bought 
from blind angel stuck in mouth of the door 
who dances in smoke from eye of the calf 
foolish enough to fall for the bright bait 
used to lure the dead lost in our nightmare. 

Red tongues of fire that teach my heart the truth 
illuminate cave of illusions hid 
in shadow of the soul-transcending stone 
so I declare how I am lost in faith 
robed with moonlit dust blown from mouth of God 
who gives diamond to Sylvia in gold rain. 

Because the dead have eyes large as the moon 
I wait in empty jar of timeless hope 
to answer telephone which never rings 
though all I want is to play haunting tune 
which lingers with nameless ghosts in the ship 
who beg me to translate ocean-dark songs. 

The raven in my heart never escapes 
impediment to marriage of true minds 
who alter alterations back to why 
time fools our bodies to imitate maps 
since twirling compass measures soul of winds 
which guide our journey on the signless way. 

Now that I live at last in Spider Wood, 
far from hope-busy streets of Zathamar, 
I stop in swirls of snow to count their eyes 
which draw state of my fragile soul as God 
since I sing on darkest night of the year 
while I search for my lover in Dream Maze. 

When I go gentle into that good night 
with solemn psalming at slow close of day 
my words fork lightning in prophetic verse 
which highlights beauty of this life that fate 
throws random variables at how we pray 
since peace we earn by killing is a farce. 

Lovely Red-Brick Home

Lovely Red-Brick Home
© Surazeus
2023 10 27

Today I bought a lovely red-brick home 
to dwell in shadow of green-acre wood 
in city of Athena where the Muse 
gives me lost lyre of Mercury to play 
enchanting tunes that woo beautiful Death 
with names of frightened children killed in war. 

No king on pyramid of one-eyed god 
shoots rockets to demolish my quaint house, 
so I sing to the dead in the graveyard 
underneath my window with aching heart 
so they will rise from restless sleep of fear 
to climb the windy mountain of lost hope. 

To flash unquenched defiance to the stars 
with spirit reconciled to fate of death 
I leap and sing in stark light of the moon 
with ironic quietude of calm faith, 
expressing passion to love dreamless world 
with knowledge I will disappear at death. 

Safe in brick walls of my new haven home, 
I will sing elegies the Muse dictates 
lamenting death of children who run scared 
in maze of bomb-shattered homes to escape 
angry men with guns who claim holy land 
as birthright from faceless man in the clouds. 

I wish my new home in green-acre wood 
could expand to nine hundred million rooms 
so every family on our spinning Earth, 
displaced by wars between gangs of dream thieves, 
can feast as friends together by warm hearth 
and share experiences in story-songs. 

If someday gangs of angry men with guns 
storm red-brick walls in castle of my home 
and claim this land I bought as theirs alone, 
I will journey, as my ancestors did, 
west ten thousand miles across the waste land 
to build new Heaven in Hell of lost dreams. 

From Scythia to Scotland to Massachusetts 
to Oregon my ancestors searched far 
beyond fallen walls in Garden of Eden 
to find safe homeland where they can live well, 
but their children continued quest for Heaven, 
leaving their parents buried by the road. 

My body has become home where I dwell, 
white glow of wisdom in green-acre wood 
where fairies and dryads dance in star light 
while I play lyre of Mercury with sass, 
for when the time comes for me to move on 
wherever I roam my heart is my home. 

Dark Secrets I Conceal

Dark Secrets I Conceal
© Surazeus
2023 10 26

So I will lounge on leather couch and eat 
plantain chips while listening to sad jazz 
in direct violation of the state law 
designed to suppress my freedom of speech 
though I would rather drive the monster truck 
to crush police cars in the muddy field. 

While I type story of the angsty hero 
who dares defy the law of gravity, 
the black cat perched on my shoulder observes 
ships glide across purple waves of the sea 
where Aphrodite once rose from white froth 
so she could campaign for state senator. 

Aggressive laughter of the picture book 
misdirects attention of the lawmaker 
who stands with his wife and children in church 
to sing of Jesus in Garden of Skulls 
who plays chess with Satan to lose my soul 
till Grim Clown arrests him for psychic fraud. 

Though Ithuriel pokes my heart with his spear 
I remain stuck in mortal coil of flesh 
as if my brain is made of time-clock gears 
that record memories I experience 
in genes which I incarnate as my child 
who stares at me surprised that I am real. 

My unface reflected in silver grail 
reveals weird truths about my cosmic soul 
when I become fierce tyrant on the throne 
who rages against dying of the light 
in paranoid fear of the smiling girl 
who seems to know dark secrets I conceal. 

If she opens garden gate of my heart 
at just the right moment the moon explodes 
in silent fragments of snow on our skin, 
I will know without doubt of broken wheels 
she is the soul mate of my shadow self 
whose face I always see in the dark pool. 

Whose woods these are, I declare on the stage, 
you know are mine because I hold the gun 
that writes the laws, so I build every house 
on unmarked graves of natives without names 
whose ghosts emerge from television screen 
to scream beautiful melodies of faith. 

Why my heart bleeds black verses of weird spells 
I cannot explain to the rain-drenched hills 
who care not whether I might live or die, 
so I build model of Earth in my eye 
to prove I still possess freedom of speech 
when I defend the innocent from greed. 

Island Of Weird Faith

Island Of Weird Faith
© Surazeus
2023 10 26

Away from everything I know and love 
on clacking wheels of anguish unforetold 
I realign the real with regal shove 
which disenrolls my soul from psychic mold 
so I can reinstate the faceless ghost 
as blind prophet who wanders misty coast. 

Weird nonsense of the multifarious book 
which contradicts cruel edict of the seer 
deceives Silverius when he asks the cook 
to prove true beauty blooms from wordless fear 
since dogs consume dead warriors by the sea 
who once believed they fought for Liberty. 

From children who survive each bombing raid 
new holy angels rise from flames of war 
with lust for honor that might never fade 
though hot blood flows from the humanoid core 
when angry men go on wild killing sprees 
because they cannot understand dream keys. 

Alone in cave on Palmarola Isle, 
Silverius watches shadows of his mind 
transform to shining god from crocodile 
when he eats mushroom Apollo designed 
to reprogram brains of devils with truth 
that makes them angels of messiah sleuth. 

Elusive crystal eye of ancient thought 
refracts conceptual ideas through words, 
so we discover what the prophet sought 
who shares tragic plot with the haughty birds 
because they disappear in glowing screen 
of myth engineered by the faith machine. 

Heart empty from patent faith of despair, 
I lie on jagged island of weird faith 
in exile from mirrored court of fake prayer 
while eerie tune sung by the cosmic wraith 
hypnotizes my mind with tragic play 
which Hamlet directs to dispel doomsday. 

Awake with ancient wisdom of mute stars, 
Silverius stands on ocean beach of hope 
while Ishtar floats over highway of cars 
to give him book with jokes that help him cope 
with anguish that he lost the power game 
while clutching broken jade seal of world fame. 

If only we could dwell in mirror hall 
that resembles Heaven we dream in tales 
which conjure vision of the Formless All, 
then we would weigh evidence on frank scales 
to expose true face of the cosmic herald 
whose spells will soon reorganize the world. 

Fractured Door To Happiness

Fractured Door To Happiness
© Surazeus
2023 10 25

When I grasp eternity in the grape 
and sing like Phoebus to the starry sky 
about how humans evolved from the ape 
I might begin to feel the reason why 
souls form from sunlight in the fertile womb 
of Earth that swallows us back in the tomb. 

Cursed by divine consciousness of self, 
we bind immortal soul with mortal name 
through machine of language on the book shelf 
by composing our own script for the game 
so we can stabilize our spinning world 
at seventh coming of the cosmic herald. 

Anointed with oil of sea-dragon brain, 
I transcend mortal frame in flashing dream 
through vision reflected in drops of rain 
that reveals how we incarnate in stream 
of genes that spiral through first flash of fate 
from hydrothermal vent with our soul mate. 

Through paralyzed force of my shapeless form 
I gesture without motion to extend 
weird variations of one psychic norm, 
born as the hollow man who must pretend 
to rule vast colorless kingdom of death 
when I utter the magic shibboleth. 

As last church bell rings soft beneath the sea 
I stand on theater stage to express 
compassion for children who lose the key 
that opens fractured door to happiness 
though bombs reduce to rubble their world view 
because their savior missed deceptive cue. 

Heart aching with despair at shocking horror 
that children are slaughtered in brutal war, 
I shake hands with blind devil in the mirror 
who sells skull of Orpheus in his store 
to prove sad prophet of the screaming whale 
would never put paradise up for sale. 

Jagged ridges of mountain ranges fade 
into the distant sorrow of blue haze 
till Earth and Sky dissolve in wounded shade 
that stretches anguish of my searching gaze 
till my heart understands beauty you see 
when you sing to me with faith of the free. 

Though we are strangers in the world of light 
our spirits walk together on Star Road 
to ponder solutions for bitter plight 
we suffer when we fail to ask God Toad 
how to live in harmony with the Tao 
as I pluck peaches from the Golden Bough. 

Wars Of Gangster States

Wars Of Gangster States
© Surazeus
2023 10 25

While walking waste land of the Holy Land 
in bombed towns in Israel and Palestine, 
shattered by war to own the Hill of Skulls, 
I see young mother holding child on her lap 
like marble statue of Madonna and Child 
in Bruges church, carved by Michelangelo. 

I see deep in eyes of mother and child, 
both Jew and Palestinian, pure love 
for beauty of life in this war-torn world 
burn bright with fear-enduring flame of hope 
for time of peace when they can dwell together 
sharing fruit and tales in Garden of Eden. 

While searching waste land of the Holy Land 
in rubble of homes once glowing with life, 
where only memories linger as blind ghosts, 
I find sad mother cradling her dead son 
like statue of our Lady of Piety 
in Rome church, carved by Michelangelo. 

I see deep in eyes of all weeping mothers, 
whose sons die protecting their tribes from death, 
both Jew and Palestinian, mute grief 
from derailed promise of flourishing youth 
destroyed by violent aggression of hate 
which has demolished lush Garden of Eden. 

While wandering waste land of the Holy Land 
I meet thousands of diligent young men 
both Jew and Palestinian, who work 
to save women and children from the rubble, 
like statue of David, the Shepherd King 
trapped in church, carved by Michelangelo. 

Though kings send boys to fight their holy wars 
with angry hearts, forged by terrible pain 
when their fathers fought to control the land, 
who protect their wives and children from death, 
they would rather work together in peace, 
living as good friends in Garden of Eden. 

While wandering waste land of colonized lands 
in every nation all around the Earth, 
devastated by war between fierce gangs 
of men fighting to control Tree of Life, 
I find families who struggle to survive 
in flesh, not carved by Michelangelo. 

We worship image of the noble man 
willing to die to protect his family, 
the kind mother raising their child with love, 
while millions of families around the world 
suffer and die in wars of gangster states 
to control fruit trees in Garden of Eden. 

Honest Spear Of Ithuriel

Honest Spear Of Ithuriel
© Surazeus
2023 10 24

With Spear of Ithuriel in my heart 
I expose satanic spirit of men 
who hide their greed and bitterness of hate 
with mask of the good loyal citizen 
though they distort the truth with clever lies 
to enforce agenda of mind control. 

Jewels fall from hands of Ithuriel 
that flash bright as rubies in sapphire sky 
when he meets Astarte on Bridge of Tears 
halfway between Heaven and Hell on Earth 
who begs him to stop the mass genocide 
while Osiris and Set fight over Eden. 

Raised by wise counsel of Ithuriel 
who guides him to chart mystery of rebirth, 
Horus flies swift airplane of Icarus 
high over war-torn lands of Middle-Earth 
to find the long-lost scroll of Earendil 
that prophesies rise of the New World Order. 

Exposed by research of Ithuriel, 
whose strict detective work with hawkish eye 
sparks revelation of the global mind, 
vile gang of scammers and thieves, who declare 
scheme to make Gothinia great again, 
cockroach into gloom of deceptive lies. 

Guarded with respect of Ithuriel, 
who wields sword forged by hope of the zeitgeist, 
Astarte reigns on pyramid of faith 
as oracle of the Many-Faced God 
to manage United Nations of Earth 
that rises on Phoenix wings from world war. 

Though tyrants wielding power of nation-states 
fight each other in brutal civil wars 
over who will profit from factory slaves, 
Ithuriel wields spear that exposes lies 
to reveal with faith true satanic form 
of dictators who crown themselves as kings. 

While I wander on my Arthurian quest 
to find Holy Grail in castle of skulls, 
I find instead embedded in Dream Cave 
lie-exposing Spear of Ithuriel 
which I wield in war against monarchy 
to reveal evil form of royal thieves. 

Grasping honest Spear of Ithuriel, 
with vow to protect Mother of Mankind 
from toad of toxic masculinity, 
I fire arrows with yew bow of burning gold 
to shoot down rockets of imperialist greed 
that kill whole families in Garden of Eden. 

Quasar Ghost Of Faith

Quasar Ghost Of Faith
© Surazeus
2023 10 23

Alone in tangled mess of tree-born words, 
eyes bound by undulating rainbow waves, 
I dance with Dionysian passion to express 
explosive surge of manic energy 
disguised as fierce anxiety attack 
through haunting song about beauty of truth. 

Deep down in dark abyss of seething rage 
I feel black hole of psychic energy 
surge upward with volcanic lust for life 
till I translate its radiant scream of horror 
to sweet enchanting harmony of thought 
that beams through eerie melody of love. 

Strange passion sparked by lightning smile of hope 
fuels wild projection of my faceless soul 
through searing mask of crystal energy 
refracting concept of my conscious mind 
to beam ten billion light years into space 
so I become bright quasar ghost of faith. 

Enraptured by pure love for every soul 
who ever lives with conscious sense of self 
on every planet in the multiverse 
as flares of chemicals that sing with hope, 
I sing their names in epic tale of life 
as never-ending dream of cosmic soul. 

My song of life rings out in waves of light 
across clear crystal surface of time sea 
as one small theme in cosmic choir of love 
that radiates symphony of mental mirth, 
weaving all our bodies in cosmic soul 
to form vast tapestry of human worth. 

We radiate glowing energy of love 
as mental suns that nurture worlds of souls 
with tender compassion for hopes and dreams 
that motivate their quest for holy faith, 
so we give love with generous trust to all 
without expecting to be loved in turn. 

Though boundless darkness of eternity 
envelops our small universe of light 
expanding from first flash of the big bang 
to flare forth into galaxies of worlds, 
we fear not nothingness after we die 
for we shine bright with beauty while we live. 

Though gangs of people, frightened by blank death, 
kill each other to control strips of land 
that they claim is their ancestral birthright 
because their fathers came and killed the natives, 
we share this tiny planet lost in space, 
so we share feast of faith with maskless face. 

Puzzle Of The Shadow Land

Puzzle Of The Shadow Land
© Surazeus
2023 10 22

The tall sky-lacing tree in my back yard, 
I climb up to play Tarzan in the woods, 
knows me better than anyone on Earth 
because I tell her all my secret dreams, 
so, though I have moved more than thirty times, 
she follows me across the shadow land. 

While I lounge on the gritty ocean beach, 
and listen to the silver waves of hope 
say nothing about paradise on Earth, 
the horror-eyed girl searching for her mother, 
who vanished when their dingy home was bombed, 
cries with stark anguish of the shadow land. 

How much I am the woods I wander in, 
I contemplate while searching for the grail 
that shines on airy stone by putrid well 
where nymphs play hide and seek with praying folk 
who wield angry guns to defend themselves 
against devils who hunt the shadow land. 

The proper-acting woman in pink gown, 
who sits on stone wall of the hillside garden, 
gazes with joyful sadness at small town 
where her grandchildren will someday be killed 
when they are locked in prison camps of faith 
to cleanse wanderers from the shadow land. 

The moon so long alone in starry sky 
believes itself to be the glow of truth 
that writes profound riddles in river sand 
to welcome bathers in her silver thoughts 
who play with naked liberty of fear 
till raven witch measures the shadow land. 

Time conjures fear from patient ocean waves 
as if we feel no sorrow for the dead 
killed by grim terrorists against their state 
because we turn to sand with changing clock 
of mental atoms that unwinds dazzled faith 
to prove who really owns the shadow land. 

Bright pearl of wisdom fashioned by despair 
illuminates my heart with timeless truth 
I cannot see except with telescope 
which redesigns my cosmic paradigm 
to include the girl weeping for her mother 
whose body formulates the shadow land. 

Through poignant passion for weird prophecy, 
matchless with authentic vibe eyes refract 
as diamond rainbows piercing hearts with facts, 
my brain perceives the real world as it is, 
forever surging waves of molecules 
which might solve puzzle of the shadow land. 

Death Of The Garbage Man

Death Of The Garbage Man
© Surazeus
2023 10 22

Though rain still falls on hills of Zathamar 
with haughty unconcern for blooming signs, 
night clear as owl eyes ever watching moons, 
contemptuous of our pride for who we are, 
we must refuse to pay our traffic fines, 
indignant for how violins warp tunes. 

Still waters that run deep conceal false dreams 
dead angels sell to tourists on the beach 
at sunset screaming silently for faith, 
yet horses grazing by forgotten streams 
refuse to accept lessons devils teach 
for how to contact brain of the star wraith. 

Forth unto misty woods of Avalon 
no wingless angel, stuck on twisted tracks, 
remembers how to pay the piper gold 
forged from stolen Byzantine coins at dawn 
to cover evidence of moral cracks 
that disassemble mirrors never sold. 

For every journalist murdered in war 
another child is born in Bethlehem 
to carry on tradition of their tribe 
though Jesus wants to run the grocery store 
instead of wearing divine diadem, 
yet falls in love with daughter of the scribe. 

Reluctant to play chess with Death in Hell, 
awake in darkness visible through words 
invented by the faceless ghost we fear, 
I search for Melusine by drought-dried well 
for help to translate poetry of birds 
in songs now mimicked by conceptual gears. 

While bombs destroy Museum of Weird Art 
young children play war in the city park 
in games they convert into government 
through which they control fate with a star chart 
which beams psychotic pulse from divine quark 
to honor the dead with new monument. 

Through marriage of like minds we rule the Earth 
by sitting quietly on judgment throne 
to guide humanity in building peace 
based on standard value each soul is worth 
as sales recorded on dinosaur bone 
in scenes displayed on the lost altarpiece. 

With books of epic poems stuffed in my bag 
I walk confusing maze of Athens town 
in search for tomb of the last vampire clan, 
then enter Jerusalem on white stag 
at crowning of reluctant emperor clown 
who covers up death of the garbage man. 

Unbloomed Apple Seeds

Unbloomed Apple Seeds
© Surazeus
2023 10 22

As faceless storm in love with the wild sea, 
I sing sad hymns with invisible birds 
in bare ruined choir of abandoned church 
where God is nothing now but skeleton 
still glowing with atoms of the big bang, 
so I paint nameless stars of outer space. 

In love with absence of my lonely house, 
I cling to ghosts inside pictureless walls 
to float on ocean waves of dreamless words 
that throw me up from abyss of despair 
so I must stand and walk this spinning Earth 
without getting dizzy with love for you. 

Searching for love in unbloomed apple seeds, 
I flit with shadows in the ruined church 
to read tales of heroes in tattered book 
that lies beside the broken altar stone 
as eyeless wind flips pages of its dreams 
to find the name my mother called me once. 

Yet clock in trunk of the ancient oak tree 
cannot translate sweet riddles of the wind 
for me to trace footsteps of hope you leave 
half-erased on trail through moaning woods 
because my soul is trapped in picture frame 
above piano no angel can play. 

White dogwood petals on the happy tree 
may represent wounds of the Fisher King, 
who hangs on cross of the telephone pole 
two thousand years beside the River Styx, 
but I examine their secret of faith 
with god eye of the curious microscope. 

Though grandson of Dionysus transforms 
into Siddhartha beneath the fig tree, 
who watches sun and moon, engined with stars, 
swirl bright around the Earth ten thousand years, 
I play tortoise-shell lyre of Mercury 
with hands eager to spark Love Energy. 

When fifty thousand children of Thor dance 
on rain-soaked farm while Lucifer plays hymns, 
stoned on ambrosia brewed by Ceridwen, 
I rocket from White Whale on the ocean wave 
to flash through lightning of butterfly wings 
transformed from jet planes in burning Blue Sky. 

Thus sly Taliesin, wearing business suit, 
runs international bank to fund farmers 
whose produce feeds all people of the world 
who dance to music in the muddy field, 
as depicted on the shining brass shield 
Achilles bears when he invades lost Eden. 

Truth Hidden By Lies

Truth Hidden By Lies
© Surazeus
2023 10 22

Stalked by bitter spies, he flees in exile 
from greedy gangsters of the misty isle 
to wander pristine lands of honest horror 
in search for his face in mountain pool mirror 
till he can translate riddles of the skies 
that encode bitter truth hidden by lies. 

Inspired by aching passion of respect 
to express hopes in clever dialect, 
he strips nude to lead Dionysian rites 
in lush Bactrian hills of draconic flights 
till wild spirit of Bacchus might disguise 
fierce energy of truth hidden by lies. 

Rejecting destiny to rule the Earth, 
he meditates to rein anger with mirth 
by seeking calm Nirvana through deep breath 
that spirals lust in coils accepting death 
when he rejects power and wealth as prize 
that blinds our eyes to truth hidden by lies. 

Awake with flame that Dionysus sparks 
through self-control that sly Apollo marks, 
he channels energy of Shiva whole 
through ardent quest of Buddha to play role 
of God in Human Form devils despise 
since they trap souls with truth hidden by lies. 

Meshed by delicate web of human trust, 
that weaves our hearts with ardour beyond lust, 
he hears above his head weird unreal wings 
that lead him to valley where Ishtar sings 
astonishing beauty of serpent eyes 
which puzzle code in truth hidden by lies. 

Searching for water of the dried-up well 
that assails haughty cliffs of Gothamel, 
he frees the arch-negator from word cage 
who makes our world vast prison of his rage 
while creeping in black mist our fears comprise 
to fog Eden with truth hidden by lies. 

With sage intention of world-loving heart 
he teaches warriors to map music chart 
so when Achilles strums soul-haunting lyre 
innocent children he kills sing in choir 
that fools the living to accept demise, 
through genocide, our truth hidden by lies. 

Exposed to cognate splendor of our world 
at seventh coming of the Cosmic Herald, 
he preaches to all nations New World Order 
that will erase every national border 
so we experience our narrative clockwise 
which unravels our truth hidden by lies. 

Empire Of Corpses

Empire Of Corpses
© Surazeus
2023 10 21

Though I lead armies of warriors with swords 
to conquer every nation of the world, 
I find I rule with glorious crown of fame 
over empire of corpses without souls 
who haunt me in tears of widows and children 
while I eat poisoned apple of despair. 

While searching for ardent woman I love, 
I walk past corpses on the battlefield 
who beg for water from the faceless sun, 
so I sit on nostalgic turtle shell 
to play sweet melodies on golden lyre 
and sing with sorrow of the death I caused. 

Seeking revenge against cruel terrorists, 
who kill women and children without qualm, 
I kill the innocent and the guilty 
caught in tsunami of angry young men 
who rampage across the land with sharp hate 
that destroys all people, both good and bad. 

Honed sword I hold upraised with bloody hand, 
which my father forged from demons of fear 
to protect me in haven of his heart, 
is terrible demon with lust for blood 
because it kills with indifferent contempt 
to sate thirst for revenge that drives my heart. 

After I kill tyrants, oppressors, thieves, 
rapists, slavers, cheaters, killers, and liars, 
to free innocent people of the world 
from self-blinding greed of their tyranny, 
I throw sharp sword in deep lake of despair 
then win hearts of the people with sad songs. 

Since our world that spins in starless void 
was ruled by hungry dinosaurs of rage 
we mice, evolved to humans, fight to live 
by forming gangs ruled by messiah god 
who leads us into holy war for peace 
till he rules empire of corpses with love. 

Despairing at beauty of human souls 
that glow with life for too-short span of time, 
I give away gold and jewels of pride, 
then sit beneath the fig tree of lost hope 
to perceive repeating patterns of change 
that cause our bodies to be born and die. 

Half blind from sunlight gleaming in my eyes, 
I stand on river shore of timeless faith 
to note that water flows in bounds of truth, 
so I wash blood of the dead off my hands, 
then pray for release from slow wheel of time 
while I rule empire of corpses who sing. 

Ever-Wandering Wind

Ever-Wandering Wind
© Surazeus
2023 10 21

When I reach out my hand with eager hope 
to pluck mysterious moon from blue sky 
I find I hold sacred orange of your heart, 
so I walk signless road of everywhere 
to see if I can find you in this world 
till I become the ever-wandering wind. 

Far off beyond horizon of gray hills 
I hear faint melody of some sweet voice 
ring clear through hazy purple evening glow 
so I walk signless road through eerie woods 
to find vivacious beauty of the Earth 
though I remain the ever-wandering wind. 

Ten thousand years I follow winding stream 
from mountain cave of dreams where I was born 
down to swirling waves of the sun-gold sea, 
planting oranges on verdant river shores 
to transform bleak world into paradise 
with passion of the ever-wandering wind. 

With wings of Mercury powering my feet 
I climb the highest mountain on the Earth 
and stand tip-toe on star-aspiring peak 
with project to transcend this mortal flesh 
but I remain trapped in chemical shell 
which imitates the ever-wandering wind. 

With ache of far-sight burning in my heart 
I long to escape teeming city maze 
to find in hostile wilderness of fear 
haven of hope in hidden bower of bliss 
sequestered in nestling green of your heart, 
diligent as the ever-wandering wind. 

Lost on journey in waste land of my heart, 
I flow with surging waves of constant change 
to find the safe unchanging bower of bliss 
that embodies timeless world of desire, 
yet I must continue quest for your heart, 
now zealous as the ever-wandering wind. 

In grove of hazels by the sparkling stream 
I breathe with taut suppression of the heart 
voluptuous passion of the generous Earth 
with longing to rest from my endless quest, 
but I walk signless road of everywhere 
with vehemence of the ever-wandering wind. 

Ten thousand rockets bursting with red glare, 
fired from towers of Heaven by cherubim, 
destroy safe homes wet built with bleeding hands, 
so, bearing nothing but memories and hopes, 
I join exodus of my people from Hell 
with fierce faith of the ever-wandering wind. 

Circle Of The World

Circle Of The World
© Surazeus
2023 10 20

I never go back along road of life 
for I must progress toward my destiny 
which I create with every choice I make 
when I turn forth this way, and not that way, 
till I stand on lake shore where I began 
and realize I circled the entire world. 

When I follow blazing wheel of the sun 
I walk in circles around the whole world 
to always end up back where I began, 
so I note where the sun rises and sets 
and always follow its light toward the night 
till I break free from circle of the world. 

When I struggle, trapped in slough of despond, 
forever surging toward the flashing sun, 
I stop and float in nothingness of hope 
till I gain strength to rise above taut frame, 
then race beyond the world I know too well 
to find that Heaven emerges from Hell. 

While collecting apples, mushrooms, and eggs, 
I see stand on enormous mound of stone 
tall regal woman wearing long white gown 
and arching brass helmet with horse hair tufts 
who wields slender scepter with diamond tip 
that glitters bright as her sky-silver eyes. 

From spirit of my heart she creates life 
by generating with shape of my soul 
small replica who appears just like me, 
so I name our child she makes from my mind 
whose face mirrors maternal face of love 
when she follows my footsteps with delight. 

We walk together to explore far lands, 
small playful replica of my weird soul 
ever smiling with word-enchanting joy 
at beauty that forms circle of the world 
though everything we love crumbles in rain 
of constant change with turning of our globe. 

In footsteps of my father many years 
I followed unseen road of blazing light 
till he lay down from process of old age 
and disappeared in whisper of the wind 
while his frail bones form structure of our sphere 
that spins in circle of adjusting force. 

Someday far down the winding road of fate 
I will lie down at finish of my quest 
to vanish in soft glow of light on fruit 
while child who sprang from vision of my mind 
continues journey to follow the sun 
and find at least where She rests in her cave. 

Her Bombed-Out Home

Her Bombed-Out Home
© Surazeus
2023 10 20

Forever evening of green eerie glow 
erasing sorrow from soft pristine snow 
enwraps my heart in foil of willow lace 
at mirror-flash of moonless raven face 
so I remember why my spirit beams 
in singing trees by clock-clandestine streams. 

Beyond exquisite touch of our lost kiss 
my heart still radiates flowers of stark bliss 
despite how awkwardly I fumble lines 
at mute seduction of our eglantines 
that coil around our bones in grave of faith 
with each explosion from eyes of the wraith. 

Not soon enough for breezes to quell hope 
when I pause paralyzed on shadowed slope 
at heart-enchanting cry from fractured ground 
extending soft wail through Mercury sound 
that chills my soul with bright epiphany 
more vast than words trapped by infinity. 

So I reach out my curious hand to touch 
elusive beauty of your far-too-much 
that blinds my mind with leap of liberty 
based on radioactive divinity 
assembling puzzle I create from me 
at lightning laughter of the doorless key. 

Though relative to noble arrogance, 
deceived by riddle of strange evidence, 
I code experience I would soon forget 
bewitching quirky sprites without regret 
who creep with smirks in fluid evening grass 
to whisper proverbs of atomic mass. 

If I join ritual of the waterfall 
in mirror-masking maze of ghostly call 
I might find treasure of the weeping book 
composed by daughter of the castle cook 
who draws my picture with blood of the ghost 
on plate of snake eggs for the hungry host. 

Young girl in tattered dress of bitter truth, 
who will be mother of messiah sleuth, 
waits in gray rubble of her bombed-out home, 
innocent heart pure as the honeycomb, 
while rockets casting red glare on her face 
reorganize concept of the safe space. 

Melodious wails of children maimed by bombs 
translate our horror to religious psalms 
we sing while marching to protest cruel war 
our hearts suppress in lessons of folk lore 
when Phoebus soothes our hearts with haunting lyre 
that releases Caliban from the mire. 

Equation Of Conceptual Love

Equation Of Conceptual Love
© Surazeus
2023 10 19

By disassembling machine of the mind, 
I puzzle concepts encoded in words 
through linguistic technology of thought 
expressing complex mural that depicts 
humans constructing grand ontology 
based on equation of conceptual love. 

Graceful black horse with undulating mane 
gallops with elegant muscular strides 
around tall apple trees in blooming grove 
to measure vibrancy of mountain slopes 
which present ambitious stage of desire 
to bear equation of conceptual love. 

My face in shining mirror of the pool, 
crowned by thirteen stars of authority, 
conceals with Mask of God my teeming brain 
that flows swift as wide rivers to the sea 
where pulsing heat of hydrothermal vents 
creates equation of conceptual love. 

When I perform on world theater stage 
as noble jester who deceives through words 
minds of perceivers with visions of truth, 
I provide puzzle pieces of stray facts 
as knowledge memes recording ancient faith 
to code equation of conceptual love. 

You see your soul in mirror of my mind 
for we are all one universal mind 
who dreams itself awake in countless brains 
composed of atoms swirling from God Eye 
after first flash that flares forth into being 
sparked by equation of conceptual love. 

Since people kill people to control truth 
I invent new truth to explain why light 
creates reality our brains perceive 
so we hold hands with romantic respect 
to walk one road of purpose to our graves 
that keep equation of conceptual love. 

Through magic spell of words my brain designs 
my hand encodes logical memes of facts 
explaining how humans try to evade 
harsh outrageous necessity of death 
which motivates my quest to create life 
counting equation of conceptual love. 

By reassembling machine of the mind, 
I unpuzzle sacred knowledge of apples 
to forge new world order with hammer blows 
when I build towers of Pandemonium 
where lonely people dance as Phoebus sings 
about equation of conceptual love. 

Quest To Become God

Quest To Become God
© Surazeus
2023 10 19

I would stand in light of Eternity 
to feel divine beauty of life glow bright 
through atom-vibrant sinews of my soul 
so I can feel that greatness that is Man 
who fancies himself in great chain of being 
midway from nothing to the Deity. 

Blinded by that religion he contrived 
which projects his grand ego heavenward 
through piety beyond the visible, 
Man struts about wild jungles of the world 
to study nature of organic beings 
in search for divine spark of life we share. 

To venerate sacred flame of his soul 
Man thinks he should despise material world 
of physical objects our minds perceive 
but conscious vibe of self-perceptive sight 
emanates from function of neural cells 
woven in galactic network of thoughts. 

All conscious self-awareness of the mind 
glows bright as function of each neural brain, 
therefore no supernatural being of light 
as craftsman molds material forms of thought 
from changeless concepts in Realm of Ideas 
except for this god mind in my own brain. 

When I gaze at shining blaze of the Sun 
I see atoms sparking bright nuclear glow 
which my ancestors once personified 
as Eye of God that dreams us into being 
so I always feel great mind in Blue Sky 
watching me with silent judgment of love. 

Since no noble pathos dwells in Blue Sky 
I focus sharp attention of my mind 
to analyze cause and effect of actions 
which scientists formulate to express 
laws of physics that record flow of atoms 
which swerve by sly volition in the void. 

We spring to life from ambient azure shell 
with dark divinity of pulsing light 
which motivates our quest to become God 
whom we envision as our grandest self 
that humans can achieve through discipline, 
intent to transcend painful fact of death. 

As sprite of ether fueled by divine blood 
I struggle to transcend mire of this body 
through strict exercise to transform my soul 
from hungry animal to curious god 
through bold application of self-control 
till I become God our songs visualize. 

Lost In Mountain Time

Lost In Mountain Time
© Surazeus
2023 10 18

Awake in soul-less wind of mountain time, 
with three-eyed raven on my shoulder perched, 
I ponder mystery of moon-sparkling rain 
that sings elegy I cannot translate 
lamenting death of someone I knew once 
whose face recedes in mist of silent dream. 

While watching constant flow of silver stream 
that spirals gold around moss-blooming stones, 
I measure long unchanging change of thought 
reflected by each flashing water drop 
that splashes soft on mirror eye of fear 
in still repeating patterns I respect. 

Stark lonely sorrow of bleak mountain time 
expands from fragile flame of sunless hope 
that glows deep in abyss of dreamless gloom 
when I float body-less in vast unknown 
as flashing splash of water on swift stream 
enclosing me inside hard stone of faith. 

Sharp ray of dawn light stabs my frozen heart 
and startles me awake from ghastly dream 
of running forever from monstrous men 
to find myself now safe in mountain time 
far from lush garden of tall apple trees 
where the boy I love told me he loves me. 

His silver eyes and sun-gold glowing face 
shone bright with promise of eternal love 
each day we picked apples from dew-wet limbs, 
and how my heart beat wild with thrilling joy 
when he expressed his love with blushing cheeks 
and took my face with hope to kiss my lips. 

I still feel horror from shock of despair 
when arrow pierced his throat with sudden fear 
as gang of men on thundering hoofs of rage 
invaded garden walls like howling storm 
that blows down from high mountain peak of greed 
and he fell gasping in my trembling arms. 

My heart still aches that I abandoned him 
gasping as blood gushed from his wordless throat, 
and leaped through tangled woods of misery 
to escape laughing lust of men with swords, 
and ran ten thousand miles to neverland 
where I now wander lost in mountain time. 

Just as the boy I loved expressed his love 
grim soldiers sent by castle king of greed 
killed him and stole his lush garden of fruit, 
but though I seem alive with beating heart 
I wander lost as wordless ghost of hope, 
searching for dream of love in mountain time. 

Garden Of The Dead

Garden Of The Dead
© Surazeus
2023 10 18

In weird Garden of Eden of my heart 
where holy bush of faceless god still burns 
I lay broken bodies of murdered dead 
in line with flowers blooming from their eyes 
so I can recite their most secret names 
in prayer so Blue Sky will remember them. 

Innocent men, women, and children killed 
in nationalist holy wars around our globe 
lie side by side in Garden of the Dead, 
therefore my whole heart aches with equal grief 
for loss of every individual soul 
from every nation populating Earth. 

I mourn for both Jew and Palestinian, 
mourn for both American and Vietnamese, 
mourn for both Russian and Ukrainian, 
mourn for both Korean and Japanese, 
mourn for both Iraqi and Iranian, 
for all humans are precious in my sight. 

The afterlife is the cruelest lie 
priests preach to people who long to believe 
that people they love who are killed in war 
ascend on angel wings to live in Heaven 
where they meet again in garden of fruit, 
but we vanish in soul-less wind of time. 

I want each person born from seed of hope 
to savor fullness of this too-brief life, 
joyful play of childhood in sunlit woods, 
romantic trysts in picnics by the lake, 
creative work that improves civic rites, 
raising children to live after we die. 

Each person killed by terrorists or soldiers 
in bitter conflicts between nation-states 
deserves to live in garden of our world, 
but people fight over the Tree of Life 
instead of sharing fruit to grow more trees 
till blood of the dead nourishes their roots. 

When I eat fruit the Serpent offers me 
I taste sweet souls of the dead killed in wars 
so I gain knowledge of the bitter truth 
that humans form gangs to kill other humans 
till Tellurian Empire assimilates all 
in new world order of one global truth. 

I stand with people trying to live their lives 
against both terrorists and soldiers with guns 
who kill them in war to control the world, 
for I would every human thrive in peace, 
sharing stories of love at global feast 
as we build Garden of Eden on Earth. 

Homes Destroyed By Bombs

Homes Destroyed By Bombs
© Surazeus
2023 10 17

That shadow by the river is not me 
because I disappear in book of tales 
that no one reads in light of burning words 
which proves our bodies can never be free 
of nameless ghosts who haunt forgotten trails 
after their homes are bombed by laughing birds. 

Too long inside bright-lit computer room, 
I feel my brain kaleidoscope news facts 
in cute mosaic on white temple wall 
just recently uncovered in Pompeii 
that shows Narcissus gazing in the pool, 
so I wonder if my home will be bombed. 

I step outside my cozy red brick home 
to stretch my body in cool autumn night 
where Tumnus prances in mysterious woods 
with box of chocolates for the time-lost girl 
who searches shadows for the faceless ghost 
to photograph our homes destroyed by bombs. 

Sweet face of Chang-E on mask of the moon 
glows bright with passion of the lonely girl 
who lingers on Bridge of Forgetfulness 
to ask the fisherman on river boat 
why apples transform bitter rain to juice 
because soul-destructing bombs make no sense. 

With flute I carve from frail dinosaur bone 
I play enchanting tune that lingers stark 
in evening twilight of strange memories 
I almost forgot are ones I concealed 
to ease sharp pain I feel when people die 
as bombs discover garden of fruit trees. 

For fifty years, since I was the young child 
who loves to play Tarzan riding his pony, 
gangs of people in countries far away 
have killed other people to steal their souls 
while eating fruit from Tree of Steadfast Faith 
that burns with Voice of God from falling bombs. 

When beautiful Death in long black silk gown 
invites me to play chess on Beach of Skulls, 
I tell her I would rather hear her play 
Moonlight Sonata on her violin, 
but she gives me Holy Grail with dream wine 
so I drink toast to victory through bombs. 

With Hammer of Thor in my red right hand 
I build ten billion homes around the world 
so every person has somewhere to live 
where they can raise their children to love peace 
till the settler comes with his laughing gun, 
then I paint all our homes destroyed by bombs. 

Someone Bombs A Hospital

Someone Bombs A Hospital
© Surazeus
2023 10 17

As I stroll with confident nonchalance 
into backyard of the house I just bought, 
I whisper softly with ache of my heart 
that I hope an owl lives in the spruce tree 
that spreads angelic wings to guard my home, 
though someone bombs a hospital in Gaza. 

While I drive my car to the grocery store 
to provide meals for my family this week, 
I consider how hard good farmers work 
to raise crops in vast fields of sun and rain 
that help feed millions of people in cities, 
though someone bombs a hospital in Ukraine. 

When I attend the genteel theater 
to watch the opera Tristan and Isolde, 
I ponder nature of passionate love 
that urges humans to regenerate 
children who search for the meaning of life, 
though someone bombs a hospital in Sudan. 

If I stand in church to sing solemn hymns 
praising God who created this whole world, 
I question why people form nation-states 
based on ancestral claim of ownership, 
then kill each other over river vales, 
though someone bombs a hospital in Syria. 

Since I love to express dreams of my heart 
while I strum guitar Mercury designed, 
I get up on stage in Bohemian bar 
and sing quaint folk songs my grandmother taught me 
she learned as a child in the old home country, 
though someone bombs a hospital in Thailand. 

As I walk mountain trail in swirling mist 
among tall pines in hills near Mount Takoma, 
I recite poems of Basho and Du Fu, 
then play bamboo flute by tall waterfall 
to cherish beauty of Nature with love, 
though someone bombs a hospital in Bosnia. 

While I study history in the library 
that records reigns of kings and presidents, 
I analyze march of cause and effect 
to evaluate rise and fall of empires 
based on technology humans develop, 
though someone bombs a hospital in Sri Lanka. 

Since I love spirit of humanity 
that blooms in cultures all around the Earth, 
I pray for people to cooperate 
creating food and art with crafty hands 
so we build Heaven where we live in peace, 
though someone bombs a hospital in Iraq. 

Holy Scripture Of The Human Mind

Holy Scripture Of The Human Mind
© Surazeus
2023 10 16

Though I have never seen lining dark lake 
in never-ending stream of twinkling stars 
that dancing host of golden daffodils 
which filled the heart of William with sweet bliss 
of solitude, I see them with my mind 
as if I wander with cloud of his soul. 

Though I would never have seen with my eye 
our whole spinning world in one grain of sand, 
nor sensed heavenly beauty in the flower, 
I see them now with vision of my mind 
because William placed in palm of my hand 
infinity encased in ideal truth. 

Though I saw petals on the wet black bough 
as nothing more than flowers sparkling dew, 
I see pale faces in the silent crowd 
traveling by train in vast city maze 
when Ezra displays them against blue sky 
as arcane symbol of humanity. 

Though I saw nothing more than fractured stone 
carved by some ancient hand to idolize 
perfected grace of the singer in man, 
Rainier reveals inner brilliance of love 
that dazzles my mind with translucent passion 
in torso of Apollo, so I change. 

Though I see clutter of material things 
scattered across rough landscape of this world, 
I learn to perceive their organized mess 
as half-assembled puzzle of lost myth 
through spectacles of spells that poets forge 
by melting words to form dream telescopes. 

Annoyed at our weird unfinished world view, 
sewn together in conceptual rough draft 
resembling stiff monster of Frankenstein, 
I redesign whole paradigm of truth 
as Golem my hands mold from clay of memes 
in which I breathe divine genius of life. 

Though I am near blind from decay of age 
and can no longer see this world of forms 
composed of atoms swerving in the void, 
I know with vast imagination dream 
Realm of Ideas through complex Zeitgeist 
encoded by ten thousand poets in verse. 

I hear in global choir of separate voices 
harmonious symphony of one world truth 
gleam bright from multi-eyed diamond of love 
that merges visions of eight billion brains 
in holy scripture of the human mind 
so I sense eternity in this hour. 

Ignore Agony Of Rain

Ignore Agony Of Rain
© Surazeus
2023 10 15

I cannot ignore agony of rain 
that falls on heads of refugees from war 
who pray to empty sky for help in vain 
when nothing is left in the grocery store 
except the hungry skeleton of faith 
who dances at command of the star wraith. 

I refuse to go into that good night 
with arrogant pride my heart is immune, 
but Death emerges from the blinding light 
so I dance with joy to her frantic tune 
till I become mute memory of my ghost 
who wanders wistfully on windy coast. 

Still running in a maze of bombed-out towers, 
I tell old lady sipping cup of tea 
that I help Persephone gathering flowers, 
but the White Bull of world democracy 
who bears me safe to island of the herald 
explains complex politics of the world. 

If I pretend to fly with angel wings, 
my father might approve of my weird choice 
to beam my soul in horcrux of gold rings 
so I give victims of genocide voice 
when I help innocent families escape 
brutal attack captured on video tape. 

Open-air prison of the nameless state 
where millions of people survive despair 
entangles my mind with fake code of fate 
so I breathe deep when I attempt to dare 
oppose oppression of the tyrant king 
who tries to control the free-flowing spring. 

The deal Achilles made with Raven Witch 
for early childless death and timeless fame 
warns me that I should be happy, not rich, 
when I accept the passion-fostered name 
my child will choose to emulate their soul 
which they confirm through psychic self-control. 

We run together from the whistling bomb 
hurled by fierce angel on high hill of skulls 
to worship faceless god in ruined tomb 
whose key assigns her followers state roles 
we play in world war that reframes our world 
with new paradigm of the cosmic herald. 

I try to ignore agony of rain 
but I must play Jupiter, temple host 
who welcomes refugees from the war bane, 
yet they find no one but the faceless ghost 
who gives me ring of power with mocking sneer 
as soon as grim angels of death appear. 

When I Pretend To Fly

When I Pretend To Fly
© Surazeus
2023 10 15

The winding path of infinite desire 
that leads through misty woods of somewhere else 
takes me past so many half-open doors 
that I forget what birds are trying to say 
when they explain the fertile life of trees 
since I would live alone in garden cottage. 

The obligations of social welfare 
that humans shoulder in bustle of hope 
form armor I wear to protect my soul 
when I search through delirium of fear 
that blinds my eyes with sunlight in rain clouds 
though I carry your angelic tears 
in leaky bucket of my aching heart. 

The voice that calls my name across wheat field 
restores my faith in kindness of strange eyes 
that follow me beyond the edge of time 
where unseen vistas blossom from blank thoughts 
so my view of this world expands at flash 
of sunlight piercing my heart with compassion. 

The joy of silent passion for new life 
cries out from quarry of lost promises 
where hidden stones of gold wait for my grasp 
to change my fortune with intense respect 
for how far I fall from exploding cloud 
to spill my wordless sorrow in the lake. 

The ardent faith of hope hangs in my brain 
with numbered seasons of the flashing sun 
that burns far inward to dark pit of faith 
where measured pain contrives how I respond 
to tears of lovers flooding fields of rage 
since I leave lost dreams in my fractured bones. 

The mortal state of sheltered arrogance 
marks off old calendar of secret rites 
recounting process of my ageless mind 
that cannot stop decay of hungry flesh 
though I seethe hot with hope beneath the sun 
from eager faith that I will bloom again. 

The winds of autumn dancing on lake waves 
express sad creak of wood boat on the shore 
that urges dawn to beckon me from dream 
so my feet crunch old melody of stones 
when I pass horses of the dew-soaked farm 
where blueberries still gleam by the pine fence. 

The mask of my face smiling on the oak 
extends sword tongue with diamond eyes of fire 
so I see beauty in this world of foul decay 
which I express through river song of light 
in harmony with curves of flapping wings 
when I pretend to fly with moon-black ravens. 

Deal Of Achilles

Deal Of Achilles
© Surazeus
2023 10 15

With caw at flash of lightning in my eyes 
the Raven Witch appears from stormy skies 
to stand before me in cold silver rain 
with magic mushroom that would ease my pain, 
so I accept Deal of Achilles with Death 
to gain Star Wisdom in exchange for faith. 

With shout of agony from blinding guilt 
the Money King in tower piracy built 
sees countless people, who die from his greed 
because he sells them drugs that soothe their need, 
fall from storm clouds as rain of howling skulls 
to form huge pyramid of mangled souls. 

With drugs that spur men to breed kids with lust 
by driving them hard to capture and thrust, 
then stripping laws that protect sacred right 
of women to choose whom to love or fight, 
the Money King wields economic keys 
that force girls to be baby factories. 

With spear of hope in walls of paradise 
we build religion of the sacrifice 
so mothers raise their children to be strong 
by living through strict rules of right and wrong 
till we conquer every monster on Earth 
as we generate more workers through birth. 

With focus on conceptual fertileness 
from small tribes in the hostile wilderness 
humanity builds empires to control 
rich resources based on ultimate goal 
of nurturing children who obey state laws 
designed to strengthen the company cause. 

With pure water from Well of Melusine 
we fuel global food-production machine 
funded by capital from bank of hope 
through seasonal cycle we use to cope 
with pain of hunger easing fear of death 
that encodes obedience in shibboleth. 

With fierce ambition to control rich lands 
that we transform to wealth with bloody hands 
we process food through factories to stores 
for hungry consumers behind locked doors 
to spend more money till we eat the world 
despite fair warning from the cosmic herald. 

With eyes of justice gleaming flames of Hell 
the Raven Witch through paralyzing bell 
spurs Jester Seer to punish Money King 
by hanging him without seraphic wing 
on Tree of Life for all the world to see 
tyrants pay for crimes against Liberty. 

When Children Flee

When Children Flee
© Surazeus
2023 10 14

Lost in permanent blueness of the lake, 
without the name my mother wove from flowers, 
I study weightless strangeness of my body 
to understand mysterious code of love 
which motivates my quest to become who 
I see in shadow of the mirrored sky. 

Dark hills assemble memories of my eyes 
with barren harvest of the pestilence 
that leaves me stranded in the doorless house 
where I call to blind spirit of the tree 
who creeps on whispers to my secret space 
to empty my heart with sorrow of truth. 

Distorted tale of artificial mist 
explains how I must change daily routine 
to intervene in social genocide 
when blood of victims from the sacrifice 
fertilize desert fields with soul of love 
without warning of destiny to prove. 

Immense confusion of the shouting voice 
when the father leads frightened son by hand 
from smoking rubble of their bombed-out home 
explains why his mother buried in bricks 
will never fry cakes on the stove again 
though their scent is mingled with burning flesh. 

Material of our bodies formed from light 
dissolves in searing wind of arrogance 
expressed by voice of angels in swift bombs 
that soar from Heaven on wings of desire 
to reconstruct reality we cherish 
with foolish faith in justice of the Earth. 

We cannot unsee visions of despair 
when children flee from maze of ruined towers 
to leap across abyss of flowing waters 
with fearless terror of the singing bomb 
which redesigns our global paradigm 
with every searing blast of holy light. 

Though refugees from war on signless road 
kneel before Burning Bush of divine truth, 
they see in writhing flames of honest faith 
bodies of people they love blown to bits 
from which no Frankenstein can build new souls 
sewn together with stories no one shares. 

Immaculate field of pure snow-white sand 
shields nameless ghosts who cannot find the boat 
from screaming bombs of noble tyranny 
when they flee garden of the Promised Land 
to search for fountain of the wingless horse 
that springs in valley of the singing skull. 

How I Have Survived

How I Have Survived
© Surazeus
2023 10 14

How I have survived turning of the Earth 
I cannot say except with song of rain 
when I lie buried in damp soil of fate, 
responding to words people say to me 
when I float breathless in raw wind of time 
as I open to cold light of spring dawn. 

When I emerge from shadow of the tent 
and walk with people moving toward the stage 
to join our camp meeting of song and prayer 
I feel my feet touching breast of the Earth 
for I am walking on Mother of Life 
whose spirit flows up from the rain-wet grass. 

Awake in darkness of my sunless grave 
before beginning and end of all time, 
I crawl from terror of eternal life 
and stand in bright illusion of the sun 
among one thousand people who cry out 
for salvation from the empty blue sky. 

Swept up in fervent prayer for holy grace 
to save our souls from wrenching pain of death, 
I sing for Jesus to come through gold clouds 
and fly down to me on seraphic wings 
to lift me high from sorrows of this world, 
but I fall back into my buzzing head. 

When they all vanish in the evening breeze, 
one thousand people who had prayed for grace, 
I stand alone in meadow of lost time, 
breathing air filled with pungent scent of flowers 
while butterflies land on my hair and hands, 
and I feel strange energy of wild lands. 

No longer can I feel where I begin 
as body of the Earth flows from my heart 
with sweetness of desire to transcend death 
and live forever in meadow of birds 
where I run laughing with arms wide outspread 
as I pretend I fly with Icarus. 

How I have survived process of decay 
when organic bodies sprout from wet Earth 
and search for treasure of the holy fruit 
hanging ripe from the ancient tree of knowledge 
I sing about while I strum vibrant strings 
to enchant the lost with visions of hope. 

Then men with guns surround our singing camp 
and shoot us in the heart with bitter hate 
so we all fall on tattered wings of faith 
where ripe bodies rot into hungry Earth 
so our voices that sang sweet as the moon 
vanish in cold silence of midnight wind. 

Center Of Everywhere

Center Of Everywhere
© Surazeus
2023 10 14

Louise Glück 1943-2023

The Snow Woman turns around with sweet glower 
when her heart transforms into lonely flower 
that survives as consciousness in dark Earth 
when she discovers secret of rebirth 
that fountains from center of everywhere 
in spirals of shadows stripping fear bare. 

Thus when she returns from oblivion, 
bearing in stiff hands the writhing sun, 
she speaks with azure voice of loving horror 
about faceless demon in broken mirror, 
expanding from center of everywhere, 
who knows the secret name we never share. 

Then Snow Woman points to lightless sunset 
that reveals mountains of shadowy threat 
where bare chestnut tree of soul revelation 
waits for the man with the horse of decision 
to explore the center of everywhere 
where sings the sea that only he can hear. 

Burning bright as sunlight on mountain snow, 
the horseless man who wonders how souls grow 
now alone hears distant sound of the sea 
concealed in sparkling mystery of the key 
that can open center of everywhere 
as face of Snow Woman through timeless flair. 

The Snow Woman in summer garden sees 
millions of people moving with the breeze, 
gathering flowers on dirt path of faith 
into voiceless desert of the dream wraith 
who dances through center of everywhere 
to count each soul as dust in singing air. 

My voice is sand scattered in wind of hope, 
Snow Woman says to teach us how to cope 
with nothingness of the mind after death, 
so I become mountains and seas of Earth breath 
that swells whole from center of everywhere, 
then disappear nameless in the Nowhere. 

The Snow Woman by clear window of sight 
watches her children play in fusing light 
games of chance to acquire riches from fate 
till lone wolf boy dares to open the gate 
so he can find center of everywhere 
in heart of the girl at Scarborough Fair. 

The person with nothing wins in the end, 
the Snow Woman says to her faceless friend 
who teaches me name of light in the sky 
which I dream alive when I ponder why 
we return to center of everywhere 
in cycle of life and death beyond prayer. 

Tomb Of The Unknown Soul

Tomb Of The Unknown Soul
© Surazeus
2023 10 13

Through every age of bloody human history, 
in every land around our spinning globe, 
greedy kings build armies from sons of farmers, 
then attack threats to their hegemony 
in hungry tribes that fight their tyranny, 
using genocide to destroy their state. 

On this Friday the Thirteenth of October 
I stand before Tomb of the Unknown Soul 
to memorialize victims of genocide, 
innocent civilians in every land 
killed by invading armies of proud kings, 
whose blood cries out from Earth to empty Sky. 

To protect their wives and children from harm 
men carve holy mountains in blocks of stone 
to build paradise of surrounding walls 
enclosing Heaven in haven of hope 
where God stands guard over garden of fruit, 
presiding over police state of laws. 

Ten thousand heavens built with bleeding hands 
fall when besieged by pirates crowned as kings 
whose angry followers slaughter the people 
so refugees of war wander bleak waste land 
in endless quest to find the Promised Land 
till they invade and kill its local tribes. 

When noble temple knights defending Heaven 
are slaughtered by fair king hungry for power 
they form secret society in caves 
to operate honest fight for Liberty 
till they overthrow every monarchy 
and organize one world democracy. 

On hill of skulls, where the humble tribe leader 
died to protect his people from oppression 
against the haughty king on throne of gold, 
I stand to defend with song of my heart 
innocent families with mothers and children 
against angry gangs with weapons of death. 

Before broken Tomb of the Unknown Soul, 
bombed by tyrant on high throne of gold, 
I pray for salvation to empty sky 
while empires expand control over land 
where women and children survive each day 
vowing to fight the men who killed their fathers. 

No world messiah descends from Glow Cloud 
though the Cosmic Herald with Burning Book 
wanders vast maze of Pandemonium, 
city of towers that spans the entire world, 
yet Athena, bearing the Sword of Justice, 
searches for lost child of the lonely wolf. 

Timeless Mirror Of The Sea

Timeless Mirror Of The Sea
© Surazeus
2023 10 12

Falling back upward to high wall of Heaven, 
I unwrite every story my heart dreams 
till history of the human race dissolves 
to sparkling atoms in abyss of hope. 
When I emerge from mirror of the sea, 
from sorrow I forge infinity key. 

Reluctant to remember why rain sings 
about how Death walks ever by my side, 
I leave expected path of wealth success 
to walk bleak wilderness of honest faith. 
When I look back at mirror of the sea, 
I blink illusion through reality. 

Surprised by beauty of desolate waste, 
I walk through vast city destroyed by bombs 
where ghosts of people go about their lives 
while their skulls sing to me about their hopes. 
When I vanish in mirror of the sea, 
I translate psychic code of irony. 

Awake with awe at mystery of our being, 
I map our relationship with the Cosmos 
to validate moral order of the state 
through tales that play as how-to guide to life. 
When I redesign mirror of the sea, 
I study functions of society. 

Amazed at how machine of chemicals 
conjures conscious spirit of the brain, 
I compose neat narrative of my life 
to explain messiness of random fate. 
When I assemble mirror of the sea, 
I feel my god soul spring from chemistry. 

Sailing somewhere far away from my heart 
in cracked boat built from bones of dinosaurs, 
I search the waste land for the Promised Land 
where my children play in Garden of Sweden. 
When I map timeless mirror of the sea, 
I fuel my progress through anxiety. 

Transcending fragile shell of mortal clay 
in vain attempt to get outside my head, 
I follow Raven to Illusion Cave 
where I eat mushrooms from heart of the Earth. 
When I dissolve in mirror of the sea, 
I dream peaceful flow of eternity. 

Each face that glows in sunshine of this world 
is fair product of romantic desire 
from thousands of people falling in love 
who generate new bodies from old souls. 
When I make love with mirror of the sea, 
I transform into all humanity. 

Beauty Of Light Beyond Things

Beauty Of Light Beyond Things
© Surazeus
2023 10 11

Far between searing dawn of mirrored faith 
and sunset sorrow drowned in moonlit tears 
she waits for church bells ringing in the dell 
before she steps outside to taste steel rain 
and smile about strange truth she cannot tell 
contained in beauty of light beyond things. 

Closing her eyes to bleak Idaho plain 
of winter gray grass beneath snow-sharp hills, 
Sophia dreams of gold-domed garden hall 
that gleams on lush hills of Byzantium 
where angels in white gowns play ivory harps 
and chant heavenly hymns of loyal love. 

When flaming wings of Phoenix spread dawn light 
in gleaming rainbow swirls across vast sky, 
Sophia feels ache of passion expand 
from pulsing core of Earth to spread swan wings 
and transcend mortal frame of clay on breath 
divine with selfless love to become stars. 

Green gryphon trotting among poppy blooms, 
scarlet with lips of lovers, flashes wings 
of mountain wind to wake from revery 
young housewife who ignores her cleaning chores, 
then sings uncanny tune of timeless joy 
that radiates from black radio by the stove. 

When long-haired hippy Christ of faith, who grins 
with holy wisdom of the far-out seer, 
emerges from too-high cathedral dome 
as cheerful carpenter on her front lawn, 
constructing parlor writing desk from pine, 
Sophia prays for salvation through love. 

Young child she bears in swirl of nine gold moons 
toddles around the house on wolfish feet 
while clutching hammer he found in the drawer, 
seeking to repair world of broken dreams 
with passionate glare and insistent frown 
of grim determination to be real. 

If I could fly on wings of Icarus, 
Sophia sings while playing piano tune, 
I would return home to Byzantium 
where wingless angels fallen from the moon 
guard widows and orphans in times of war 
from angry boys who wield aggressive guns. 

I would rather you choose the building tool 
to construct temples to wisdom and love, 
Sophia smiles to her curious son 
over eggs and toast, rather than the gun 
that kills the human soul with bitter rage, 
so you can host lost souls in home of truth. 

Mother Weeping For Her Son

Mother Weeping For Her Son
© Surazeus
2023 10 11

Azure starkness of cold dawn winter light 
casts alien memories of forgotten hope 
on clear originality through thought 
with pungent sting of juice from apples ripe 
too long from whistle of blind autumn wind 
that frantically searches desolate land. 

Gold barren waste of stubble-stunted grass 
swells vast with sodden sorrow slowly sunned 
sordid from angst of hunger-haunting moss 
too lonely for time unwinding taut mind 
that savors every shudder of cold wind 
creeping from sinister river of sand. 

Gaunt face of her shadow in window glass 
startles awake her deepest sense of self 
contained in long-unspoken name of bliss 
she whispers to remind herself how half 
of blank eternity will pass each hour 
she lingers waiting for Death by locked door. 

Numb fingers of their own volition touch 
terror-stretched skin of her wind-blistered cheek 
to test if she can feel demonic itch 
tearing at her heart with mortified squawk 
as last hot flame of romantic desire 
sears wordless despair in dull pulsing sore. 

Whose grim wolf face of honest love she loved 
fades dim in moaning wind of midnight gloom 
she half recalls from sweet pleasure she craved 
at shattered vision that props up their home 
since he last kissed her lips with tender care 
before trudging off to fight noble war. 

Though ice-cold wind crushes her heart with fear 
warm spring glow sparked by passion of his lust 
flickers dimly deep in womb of last star 
that flashes far above her fragile ghost 
since seed of his soul grows into their child 
as her body fashions his spirit mold. 

So though he dies on battlefield of pride 
his child in her preserves immortal soul 
which incarnates state of his psychic code 
that will grow conscious in his reborn skull 
while never knowing his paternal source 
during life-long search to dispel his curse. 

Bright moon screams silent lullaby of faith 
through melancholy tune her heart contrives 
as through long reverent prayer she conjures myth 
to play mother weeping for son she saves 
who watches her pray to God forty years 
to seal bitter pain of her hidden scars. 

Beyond The Real I Know

Beyond The Real I Know
© Surazeus
2023 10 10

If I leap out beyond the real I know 
to play rebellious jester, who contrives 
abrupt religion binding soul of light 
through taut equations laced with honest fear, 
I might remember how to breathe god soul 
which animates my body with despair. 

Each bomb that sings beyond the real I know 
translates our holy bodies of pure light 
to swirling smoke of psychic energy 
that wafts to Heaven high above red clouds 
where Jesus sleeps on throne of shining gold 
while humans kill each other in world wars. 

Though children play beyond the real I know 
where faceless angel, lost in mirror maze 
of laughing statues, knocks on mindless door 
of arrogant flags, lions drink our blood 
that flows from laughing skull of ancient god, 
distorted by strange words we never speak. 

When darkness spreads beyond the real I know 
with looming bulk of passion for this life, 
we celebrate regret from shocking rage 
at sudden fall from height of broken tower, 
safe in abyss of narrow mindedness 
to chat with angels blinded by our shame. 

Reborn from hope beyond the real I know 
to drift with endless sorrow on blank roads, 
I name each Earth-born creature I perceive 
to soothe sweet turmoil tearing at my heart 
when I recite tale of each human killed 
by bombs and bullets shot from mouth of faith. 

With weary eyes beyond the real I know 
that whisper spells of flame for global peace, 
I grope through subtle smoke of blasting bombs 
to find our Eden scorched by holy hymns 
where Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil 
lies twisted by hunger of rumbling tanks. 

Heartless with hope beyond the real I know, 
now hidden deep in shadow of my words, 
I hurl my brain at cathedral of truth 
to bomb conceptual idol God extends 
with silent laughter burst from egg of light 
at solemn prayer sad mothers still recite. 

Awake from dream beyond the real I know, 
which implements national pride in love, 
I practice theory through my life relived 
in shadow of delusion I construct 
to embody immortal soul of genes 
when I stand on the ocean shore and cry. 

That Small Bomb Falling

That Small Bomb Falling
© Surazeus
2023 10 09

That small bomb falling from the godless sky 
that whistles with joy at the work it does, 
I laugh at graceful way it streaks toward me 
and then it turns into white butterfly 
of divine wisdom when I wave my wand 
and cast my honest spell for peace on Earth. 

That small bomb falling from the godless sky 
does not explode in searing flames of rage 
and tear our bodies into bloody shreds 
because I love how apples bloom in spring 
which taste so sweet when I share one with you 
then listen as you sing your tale for me. 

That small bomb falling from the godless sky 
brings sacred scroll of wisdom from great hand 
of God who sits on golden judgment throne 
where he decides what souls will live or die 
with random lottery of plain bad luck 
because he is not there to control fate. 

That small bomb falling from the godless sky 
calls out my name with booming voice of Death, 
so I call back and give him clever name 
like Body-Blaster or Soul-Decimator, 
which makes us best friends in the whole wide world 
spinning slowly through the indifferent void. 

That small bomb falling from the godless sky, 
composed of atoms swerving in the void, 
lounges by pool of Narcissus with me 
as we take tea and crumpets with peach jam, 
and talk about the rise and fall of empires 
where the rich exploit the poor till all die. 

That small bomb falling from the godless sky 
asks me about the nature of my game 
to analyze effects of all my deeds 
with scales that balance the good with the bad, 
then blows me into bloody smithereens 
whether I am guilty or innocent. 

That small bomb falling from the godless sky 
asks me not about my race or my creed, 
nor wonders about my gender or age, 
because he wants to dance with me in Hell, 
so we twirl smiling in grand palace hall 
in harmony with the string quartet tune. 

That small bomb falling from the godless sky 
swoops down on silver wings of Icarus, 
and carries my up to the glowing cloud 
where Jesus waits for me in Hall of Heaven, 
but I wake alone on Golgotha Hill 
between two nations fighting brutal war. 

Spear Of Verity

Spear Of Verity
© Surazeus
2023 10 08

When Ithuriel touches my aching heart 
with his conceptual Spear of Verity 
I transform into devil of my fear, 
so I spread wings I bought from Icarus 
and soar with laughter of love to dispel 
prejudice, superstition, and servility. 

Powerful warlords on steel pyramids 
watch people in world maze of city streets 
to find rebels against their rulership, 
then drive them into barbed wire prison camps, 
like those their humble fathers once escaped, 
to wipe their nation off face of the Earth. 

When flaming Eye of the Tyrant perceives 
defiant spirit of Lucifer alive 
in impudent boy bearing magic ring 
that renders him invisible to greed, 
he sends aggressive gang of snarling thugs 
who corner him in hall of singing skulls. 

Impetuous jester of the insane moon 
drinks wine that Bacchus gave him with a grin, 
then twirls and leaps in show of martial arts, 
quick as lightning strike of the clever wolf, 
to render them all crippled with sharp blows, 
then saunters streets of Pandemonium. 

Alone in Bower of Bliss by Star Lake, 
when soft red glow of evening bleeds on hills 
that shimmer with smog from factory smokestacks, 
young Lucifer gazes in Pool of Eve 
to see face of his dead father Narcissus 
whose sad voice echoes in the twilight zone. 

Two silver eyes glitter in deep green pool 
so Lucifer steps back with startled laugh 
when Lilith rises from white ocean foam, 
drapes her lithe arms around his chest with lust, 
and whispers, "Fill my heart with fertile seed, 
for I would give your spirit human form." 

When nine full moons flash across starry sky, 
Lilith gives birth to their mischievous boy 
whom she names Ithuriel when he explores 
with punkish eagerness of the wild horse 
who gallops swift with fierce rambunctious joy 
through crowded streets of Pandemonium. 

Grasping Spear of Verity with firm hand, 
Ithuriel climbs steps of gold pyramid 
where Godin reigns on haughty throne of swords, 
declaring proudly, "I am Cosmic Herald 
inspired by suffering of people on Earth 
to free all nations of your tyranny." 

When Godin, giant man with gleaming eyes, 
laughs at frail little boy with feeble stick, 
Ithuriel leaps on winged shoes of justice 
and strikes cruel tyrant with Spear of Verity 
which transforms him into small croaking toad 
that hops away into the murky swamp. 

People of Earth cheer their new liberty 
in paradise lost to cruel tyranny 
as Ithuriel parades gold streets of Heaven, 
then preaches in temple of singing skulls 
bold promise to restore democracy 
while fallen angels plot his overthrow. 

Bright Ocean Waves

Bright Ocean Waves
© Surazeus
2023 10 08

Bright ocean waves that sing in silver wind 
care not humans kill each other with hate, 
though Mother Sea generated our souls 
from passionate desire to know the light 
that beams from Father Sun across the void, 
so I weep for kind people killed in wars. 

Bright ocean waves that howl in thunder storm 
care not humans kill each other for land, 
laughing as they tear down tall city towers 
built from steel that we forged in flames of Hell 
to prove this world belongs to us alone 
till Pandemonium crumbles in the sea. 

Bright ocean waves that hum in sunset glow 
care not humans kill each other for truth, 
oblivious to our endless holy wars 
that we conduct to prove our glorious God 
grants us exclusive right to rule the Earth, 
enforcing our justice with swords and guns. 

Bright ocean waves that dance in gentle breeze 
care not humans kill each other for faith, 
deaf to our prayers we whisper in despair 
when famine and disease decimate nations 
who suffer agony while silent God 
does nothing to alleviate our pain. 

Bright ocean waves that play in light of dawn 
care not humans kill each other for fear, 
swirling endless spirals of casual thought 
around our globe that spins in silent void 
while we fight to control Garden of Eden 
where nutritious fruit blooms on Tree of Knowledge. 

Bright ocean waves that laugh with carefree mirth 
care not humans kill each other for joy, 
shimmering clear beneath the mountain range 
where refugees from war walk signless roads 
without their messiah across the waste land 
while the wealthy party in Wonderland. 

Bright ocean waves that cry with bitter misery 
care not humans kill each other for sorrow, 
watching gangs of angry boys lead by kings 
shoot each other for sacred right to live 
happy and safe in walls of paradise 
or trapped behind barbed wire in prison camps. 

Bright ocean waves that dream in twilight zone 
care not humans kill each other for hope, 
sparkling with light of the sun and the moon 
millions of years before humans evolve, 
millions of years while humans fight wars, 
and millions of years after humans die. 

I Can Still Feel Grief

I Can Still Feel Grief
© Surazeus
2023 10 07

Five thousand years later I can still feel grief 
young girl felt when her grandmother died. 
While her busy clan tends crops in lush fields 
she takes old woman walking in the woods 
where they sit by the river and watch birds 
flit between trees as they sing about love. 

At first the young girl is annoyed and bored 
having to take her grandmother for walks, 
but as they sit beneath the willow tree 
she listens to old woman with gray hair 
babble about when she was a young girl, 
running with horses on the river shore. 

Arm cradling frail woman with tender care, 
the young girl helps her walk along lush fields 
where men and women bent in labor tend 
crops for god who rules on the pyramid, 
and they all beam with joyful smiles to see 
her gray hair gleaming silver in the sun. 

Gasping for breath as the moon shimmers gold, 
the oldest woman in the world smiles bright 
at young granddaughter who holds her frail hand, 
then closes her eyes and sinks into gloom. 
Five thousand years later I can still feel grief 
young girl felt when her grandmother died. 

Happy Ocean Waves

Happy Ocean Waves
© Surazeus
2023 10 06

Thoughtful as glass bird without ticking eye, 
I tell cathedral ghost why God is not 
what children call the old man by the lake 
who lines skulls of kings in cave of false names 
because the black horse in the woods reveals 
time unmeasured by happy ocean waves. 

Since I believe I am not real as rain, 
huge more than book beside hot weeping lamp, 
night tells each raven on my windowsill 
how mushrooms bloom from my brain every hour 
another child is born from lake of dreams 
to replace each faceless elder who dies. 

Slow backward walking up argentine stairs 
without last key forged by nameless oak ghost, 
I play stringless lyre with gratitude 
that Death gives me glass of fresh milk to drink, 
however far away mountains retreat 
with mute mist floating from my open mouth. 

As river god with causal curls of hair 
I lean on marble block carved from my skull 
and pluck ripe plum from tree of fortitude, 
then tip brass pitcher to pour stream of tears 
which feeds ten thousand rivers of the world 
with bitter sorrow springing from my heart. 

While digging muck in ancient hill of hope, 
I find old marble statue of tall nymph 
still holding glass pitcher in her right hand 
for she gazes with forlorn ache of love 
beyond all bodies bound in time and space, 
so I erect her in museum hall. 

No statue of Apollo in bright halls 
of holy temples on each river shore 
has ever sprung to life at gentle kiss 
school girls bestow in ritual of romance 
because we all want to find our true love 
as if each person deserves happiness. 

If I dare climb high jagged crag of words 
to touch syntactic glow of timeless thought 
when concepts reflect their opposite truths, 
I might gain kingdom of the teeming Earth 
invented by Star Mind in glowing clouds 
who hides my atoms in box of dream codes. 

Time generates matter my heart perceives 
so I climb mountain of the singing stone 
to find transcendent vision of weird truth 
radiant with eyes of ancestors who dream 
their billions of lives in my flashing brain 
because I swim in happy ocean waves. 

Infinity Gleams Small

Infinity Gleams Small
© Surazeus
2023 10 06

Strange tallness of the night that laughs with rain 
reveals where mother of the universe is born 
each hour we feel our bodies glow with light 
because infinity gleams small as dust 
that spirals open from my pulsing heart 
till hunger wakes my mind from dream of hope. 

We always see the other far away 
as shadow creeping slowly on vast plain 
with sad reluctance of the forest stream 
where children make up names to call the sun 
that wheels so fast around the broken eye 
reflecting mirror lake of timeless love. 

Because each bridge I want to cross is ruined 
by sudden laughter of the handless man 
I turn around and face the other way 
till eyes of strangers looking in my heart 
become bright television screens of snow 
erasing me from Earth when midnight burns. 

My mother glows unseen inside oak tree 
that walks around the castle seven times 
to prove power kings wield with divine right 
is nothing more than illusion of smoke 
that billows from flames of aggressive faith 
so I stand on the hill and sing to birds. 

Nine women sitting in the bookstore think 
so fast that lightning sparkles from their eyes 
though I give each one cup of tea to drink 
while they invent violins with their mouths 
transforming ocean waves to symphonies 
that ring in harmony with hammer blows. 

Yet when I see dead leaf of timeless truth 
float from high window of the fractured tower 
I know our universe of changing forms 
evolves through random particles of thought 
that splatter in patterns of cryptic code 
on faces of strangers on signless roads. 

Now bookless in dark swamp of singing frogs 
I measure flow of time with flames of rain 
that mirror Star Mind of the universe 
who wakes inside my brain with snarky smirk 
while I sing solemn hymn of solitude 
to celebrate Earth not getting blown up. 

When saddest demon in the world of dreams 
approaches me outside library door 
I show her cute chimpanzee on the moon 
who fixes broken clocks in trunks of trees 
as if mysterious curves of honest fear 
translate reality to dreams in books.