Concept Of His Ghost

Concept Of His Ghost
© Surazeus
2024 07 31

While lingering under the oak by the lake, 
watching the hawk circle the world she rules, 
I realize I am standing on the grave 
where my father lies buried in my heart, 
so I attempt to photograph the wind, 
thinking it must old concept of his ghost. 

All my ancestors who have lived and died 
over the past four hundred million years 
were generated in maternal womb 
with matter from fruit of the tree she ate, 
and now their bodies form soil of the Earth 
so I walk on them wherever I go. 

I have no memory of arriving here 
after millions of years of life and death, 
yet here I am, brain programmed to perceive 
things that exist with precision of form, 
so I know well how to hide from the storm 
while I savor sweetness of being alive. 

Driven by anxiety to survive, 
I ask the dead to not forget my name, 
but they are walking on the signless road 
far beyond where boundary of the state ends, 
so I confront disappointment of joy 
with weird frankness of honest turbulence. 

Though the work of living is difficult, 
tracking new treasures in the wilderness, 
I press my case for justice of desire, 
but the Glow Cloud that I mistook for God 
gazes down at me with paternal eyes, 
telescopes through which I perceive the world. 

This city is my home inside my heart 
where I disappear in its changing maze 
because my father left me psychic map 
I use to journey to the Promised Land, 
distorted by reality we share, 
abrupt with artificial face I wear. 

Should I intuit fate I gamble for 
to explain my failures in game of life, 
then I could reshape symmetry of mind 
as balance between the woods and the school 
because the obvious secret of success 
is how I redesign the obstacle. 

The person in the tale is never me 
because I breathe celestial air of faith 
while I strum lyre of Mercury and sing 
about my father by the fountain pool 
who tries to explain how it all should be, 
encoded in the concept of his ghost. 

Holy Book Of Death

Holy Book Of Death
© Surazeus
2024 07 31

I choose to wander through the desert land 
with old Holy Book of Death in my hand 
so, when the winged serpent comes to me 
with deceptive tongue shaped like castle key, 
my heart will know weird truth about the world 
that I am cursed to play the cosmic herald. 

With crippled hand I compose new world chart 
based on Holy Book of Death in my heart 
that features every god who ever lived 
as puppet in globe power game we played 
whose spirits animate jesters and kings 
manipulated by prophets with rings. 

Tale of the snake who embodies the light, 
detailed in Holy Book of Death I write, 
reveals cosmic battle for who will rule, 
and who gets played as the dictator fool 
defeated by Minerva in world war 
over who controls the conceptual store. 

In prophetic vision of world events 
coded in Holy Book of Death, contents 
which my brain dreamed twenty-five years ago, 
I perceive who will one day run the show 
as Earth Queen on the God-Eye Pyramid, 
reborn as Minerva from Jovian head. 

Strumming lyre of Mercury, I translate 
spells from Holy Book of Death about fate 
we design for our state through will to power 
that blooms from seed of hope into the flower 
of world democracy as haven home 
ensuring equal rights for all who roam. 

We construct United Nations of Earth 
with program in the Holy Book of Death 
based on principle of Justice for all 
who choose to answer the clarion call 
of Minerva to create, not destroy, 
and build Avalon on ruins of Troy. 

How Minerva defeats tyrant of fear 
is spelled in Holy Book of Death this year, 
so we gather in temple of new faith 
to watch how she spellbinds the psychic wraith 
which channels energy for social change 
when she plays Ishtar on our global stage. 

I love to walk across our fertile land 
with new Holy Book of Death in my hand, 
preaching gospel of freedom to the world 
in my fated role as the cosmic herald, 
to vote for Minerva as global queen 
who maintains the food-production machine. 

Analyze Every Miracle

Analyze Every Miracle
© Surazeus
2024 07 30

I might try to hide the book of false dreams 
in the windowless bedroom of the sky 
so angels stuck in television screens 
could hire me as international spy 
destined to crack jokes on the city bus 
about my acting job as Sisyphus. 

The man who teaches his son how to fight 
serious demons attending business school 
tears pages out of the Bible to hide 
passages that make God look like a fool, 
as if his faith disturbs the universe 
with computer program code of the curse. 

Yet I lie down by lost grave of my soul 
in shady copse of trees that twist my name 
so I think rockets turn into Red Crow 
wailing loud as sad banshee on the train 
which I ride to meet my ghost friends in town 
who threaten me to vote for the mad clown. 

If I return to Norway on the plane 
after sailing away in pine longship, 
I will bring with me treasure born of pain 
so I can stand again on windy cliff 
where my ancestor determined to leave, 
depicted in tapestry witches weave. 

I should try to hide the book of tall tales 
in old shed behind church of the dead god, 
but devils riding supernatural whales 
code artificial mind of the robot 
who thinks he is me long after I die, 
because he is left with only my eye. 

Ignore those children in that desert land 
maimed and killed by concept of Liberty 
to replace church with electrical plant 
that powers our global democracy 
so King Jesus can rule Empire of Earth 
where everyone feasts with heavenly mirth. 

Because I am last son of Jupiter, 
I exercise my unearned privilege 
to perform role of the Mind Puppeteer 
while I lounge and savor cold beverage 
to watch global warming destroy the world, 
foretold by riddles of the cosmic herald. 

I consider myself the oracle 
who speaks for nameless ghosts and lonely gods 
while I analyze every miracle 
to prove we design our own Camelots 
where justice and liberty rewrite fate 
so everyone can find their true soulmate. 

Code Of Ocean Song

Code Of Ocean Song
© Surazeus
2024 07 30

Because I know the source that brings us light, 
which beams from emptiness of white-hot love, 
I praise the wholeness of our universe 
that leaves me lonely on my little world 
which spirals from first flash of the big bang 
to generate my brain from ocean song. 

Unwilled electric surge of my brain-soul 
expands my conscious sense of psychic self 
vast as the universe of flashing stars 
which spiral galaxies of singing gods 
who long to wake in our organic brains 
so we savor beauty of ocean song. 

No thought to why the blue bird never sings 
about the secret key for happiness 
that Phoebus writes on skulls of ancient gods 
with flaming sword he stole from Gabriel 
when he traps Lucifer in golden cage 
so he can translate code of ocean song. 

On Earth we are more gorgeous than the sea 
that teaches our bodies hunger for light 
so we form gangs through ideologies 
to engage in war against mute nothingness 
when we push our souls in flowing streams 
to rise reborn from shriek of ocean song. 

If I surrender to beautiful truth 
through strict discipline of religious fate, 
I channel vibrant energy of lust 
to build great empire for to rule the world, 
but I would rather hear the sparrow sing 
as I float in passion of ocean song. 

Unbreakable dawn of our divine mind 
reveals strange beauty of the naked soul 
that resembles star-eyed dragon of faith 
who urges me to climb high mountain peak 
where I wake mind of God inside my brain 
which forever evolves through ocean song. 

With our heads haloed by the falling star 
we mold stark fear of greedy tyranny 
to revolution through democracy 
by which we fight for global Liberty 
then gather to feast and sing in Stonehenge 
till we all drown in tears of ocean song. 

Attending feast of gods on River Seine, 
I see Sequana wearing jeweled gown, 
enthroned in mirrored temple of blind Zeus 
where Dionysus dances in firelight 
while Orpheus plays lyre of Mercury 
as we celebrate games of ocean song. 

Delicate Water Of Time

Delicate Water Of Time
© Surazeus
2024 07 29

I love the delicate water of time 
that flows in veins of our dream-flashing brains 
since mountains that stand for millions of years 
weep for the life and death of conscious souls 
who fall as rain, then flow to sea of death, 
to rise and return again as bright clouds. 

I hear soft echo as your voice in woods 
describes strange beauty of the wind in trees 
that makes them dance with passion of desire 
which motivates my quest beyond the known 
to find the soulmate of my aching heart 
who joins me in our daily play of life. 

Too many people suffer loneliness 
as they are beaten down by harsh abuse 
by people twisted with vile bitterness 
that poisons their hearts from aggressive pain, 
so ghosts exiled from their communities 
gather to dwell in valley of despair. 

Weird beauty flashing in your moon-bright eyes 
inspires my heart to love the universe 
so I extend through gesture of my hands 
crafty vision to rebuild with new lies 
safe home from ruins of forgotten hopes 
for us to dwell in twilight of our lives. 

When we are exiled from our families, 
and all trace of our existence erased, 
we become nameless ghosts who wander lost 
on signless road from walls of paradise 
with nothing but old apples in our hands, 
so we build new garden on the lake shore. 

Though we lose everything our hands have built, 
and wander displaced from our lost homeland 
as homeless ghosts with no warm temple hall, 
we build new temple with bones of our souls 
so we can shelter from the thunderstorm 
sent by God to forge our hearts with new hope. 

I love the curious water of time 
that sparkles as stones in the river flow 
where I lounge under the sad willow tree 
and listen to sparrows sing about love 
while I fish for wisdom to roast and eat, 
then sing about the past in eerie psalms. 

Though I hear your voice call my secret name 
with sparkling timbre from the flow of time, 
I cannot hold you in my aching arms 
for you have vanished in the swirling wind 
so only falling rain can cleanse my heart 
as I search for you in water of love. 

Dark Snake Of My Heart

Dark Snake Of My Heart
© Surazeus
2024 07 29

Dark snake that slithers in gold grass is mine, 
deadly thoughts gleaming with poisonous hope, 
so I play haunting melody of love 
on ancient flute, carved from frail dragon bone 
by first mother who rose from lake of dreams, 
to wake her spirit in play of my brain. 

Bundling sage in clump of desperate fear, 
I burn dry sorrow with flame of desire, 
then dance in gold grass with my eyeless snake 
to remove strange negative energy 
while chanting wordless spells of ardent faith 
that connect my heart to dream of the Earth. 

Feisty woman, who first invents the door 
to hide strange beauty of the morning sky, 
caresses my cheek with serpentine hand, 
and whispers riddles hidden in the breeze 
that carries scent of the river to me 
so I name dark snake writhing in my hand. 

My mother becomes old hills draped in snow 
so I become the wall that no one sees 
when people gather in my empty house 
to hide from thunderstorm of sudden change, 
yet each time I open the door of time 
the same willow tree waves to me with joy. 

Standing every day on the signless road, 
I give apples to each soul passing by, 
and they give me coin stamped with face of God 
who hides in gold grass where I fear to tread 
because I want to be friends with the dead 
so they will explain mystery of true love. 

After I write poems on paper with blood 
they escape my hand as red butterflies 
chased by ghost children in fields of gold grass 
where dark snake of my heart guards them from death 
so I gesture with my sun-freckled hand 
though stars disappear from my empty eyes. 

Dark snake of my heart with the face of God 
opens her eyes so the dawn sun can rise 
and fill my doorless house with singing ghosts 
who lead me past statue of the sad girl 
so when I stand on the wild ocean shore 
I forge gold ring of truth from swirling waves. 

When I return to secret cave of dreams, 
I find the small child who sprang from my heart 
painting image of me on wall of stone, 
then she smiles at me with eyes bright with hope, 
so I teach her how to chant magic spells 
to make dark snake of the weird world her own. 

Shadow With Angel Wings

Shadow With Angel Wings
© Surazeus
2024 07 28

Gliding in her bedroom after a shower, 
she sees square piece of fabric on the floor, 
but when she reaches down to pick it up 
she finds it is moonlight framed by the window, 
so she writes her experience in a haiku 
and posts it on her social media sites. 

Long hair flowing in the warm summer breeze, 
she runs on the beach with elegant grace 
so long white gown flutters like angel wings 
that highlight beautiful shape of her soul, 
then stops when the director yells out cut, 
and sips juice while checking likes on her post. 

Gazing at bright stars through the telescope 
that twinkle behind swirls of silver clouds, 
she imagines each star nurtures its world 
and treasures life that blossoms on its breast, 
then posts her musings on beauty of life 
above large photo with billions of stars. 

Heart broken by betrayal of the man 
she hoped to share her life with as her mate, 
she writes short poems about relationships 
for how important it is to respect 
yourself enough to give yourself love first 
before loving those who must earn it well. 

Eyes gleaming bright as galaxy of stars, 
she wanders Venice in the afternoon 
till she finds statue of bearded Neptune 
wielding trident outside the arsenal, 
so she snaps selfie of herself and him, 
and posts it on her social media sites. 

Alone at cafe table made of glass 
by the fountain in the plaza of faith, 
she eats spaghetti and drinks pinot noir 
while the old man plays haunting violin, 
then she posts photos for her fans to see 
enviable glamor of her carefree life. 

While lounging in gondola for a ride 
along the Cannaregio Canal, 
she sees bodies of the drowned refugees 
who fled Bangladesh in small leaky boats, 
so she posts photo of the nameless girl 
with a caption that says Ophelia. 

Home is the place where I am going to 
but never reach in land where I was born 
though I build new home in unwelcome land 
so real home is this longing in my heart, 
she writes in cursive by the simple sketch 
of her homeless shadow with angel wings. 

Sweeper Of The Souls

Sweeper Of The Souls
© Surazeus
2024 07 28

With backpack of notebooks and mushroom wine 
I lounge on lonely cemetery lawn 
to translate songs bones in graves never make 
about the shipwreck of their curious hearts, 
describing how we swim in sea of dreams 
till we fall out of our skins into death. 

Though my soul is stuck inside my bones, 
encased in sticky clay of molecules 
that sprout from minerals of volcanic soil 
when faceless gods in clouds weep tears of rain, 
I listen for the bell that never rings 
to sail river boat of my coffin home. 

Women with wind-blown hair in long white gowns 
mold powder, eggs, and milk into sweet dough 
they bake in loaves of bread that angels eat 
when they descend from Heaven of the mind 
to carry souls of the dead to their stars 
where light recharges batteries of brains. 

Death watches me from shadow of the woods 
with face green as the grass on silent hills 
so I drink dew dripping from leaves of trees 
to savor pleasure of its bitter taste 
at memory of cold winter winds that stab 
soul of my bones with anguish of desire. 

Red sparrows fly from laughter of my mouth 
to find bowl of the sun in mountain cave 
where I forge sword of wisdom from the stone 
that fell from Heaven in white blaze of fire 
so I can prove my vision of the world 
describes what is real better than theirs. 

Born from marvelous body of the moon, 
I walk the wavering road of everywhere 
to show the blind river where it should flow 
when I leap to the bottom of the Earth 
on swan wings I weave from bones of the sad 
who advise me fame is best for the dead. 

Death appoints me sweeper of the souls 
so I sweep rotting bodies of the dead 
into the deep heart of the spinning globe 
where corpses nourish roots of apple trees 
till molecules of our bodies transform 
into fruit our children eat in the rain. 

I run through drizzle of the mountain fog 
to win the brutal race for president 
when I wrestle cruel demon of despair 
and hurl him howling from the mountain peak,  
but wake on lonely cemetery lawn 
with notebooks full of spells written in blood. 

We Share This Planet

We Share This Planet
© Surazeus
2024 07 28

Not fast enough to comprehend the why 
that forms of sparkling atoms will decay, 
my embodied brain will disintegrate 
so conscious soul that designs nameless self 
will vanish in glow of the universe 
though I plead for life with the Cosmic Nurse. 

Since I will vanish from this dream of time, 
and disappear from memory of the stream, 
today I will savor with wordless joy 
pleasure of sensation at being alive 
to record strange beauty my eyes perceive 
in songs of magic I choose to believe. 

The buzzing bee, that terrifies my heart 
with sting of pain I fear sharp death will bring, 
pollinates every plant that blooms on Earth 
which provide nutrition our bodies need 
to nourish conscious soul of our dream brains 
as we dance across multiversal planes. 

I see my soul in mirror of the sky 
that imitates Mask of God in my eye, 
so I paint vision of my brain for you 
to solve weird riddle of the psychic clue 
that glows as Beacon of Democracy 
so we share this planet with Liberty. 

This conscious soul that beams my sense of self 
from atoms created through the First Flash 
emanates from neural net of my brain 
as function of perceptive analysis 
that conjures virtual model of the world 
so I perform role of the Cosmic Herald. 

Thus we should build our global empire state 
on diversity of all human beings 
who live together based on equity 
through inclusion of everyone who loves 
enough to create rather than destroy 
United Nations on ruins of Troy. 

Light of Liberty borne by Lucifer 
lights Golden Way to social equity 
where every person living on this Earth 
has equal opportunity through worth 
because we share this planet lost in space, 
nurtured by Divine Star that has no face. 

Though I pray for life from the Cosmic Nurse, 
I know nothing lasts in our universe 
except vast shimmering field of mindless light 
that evolves into brains with conscious sight, 
so we wake and give each other cute names 
before Death judges success of our games. 

Shadow Of The Snake Girl

Shadow Of The Snake Girl
© Surazeus
2024 07 27

Green syrinx flute of sad heart-breaking tunes 
falls slowly from his slender blood-smeared hand 
as arrows zing into black twisted limbs 
of apple trees that weep on the lake shore, 
sharp points piercing soft petals as they swirl 
in wind that scatters our souls in mute death. 

Horse hoofs drum in anguished heartbeat of war, 
crushing tender flowers in sunlit fields 
where children, gathered to weave easter wreaths, 
scatter with petals blown by sudden wind 
from black storm clouds that thunder over hills, 
and hide in shadows of indifferent caves. 

Gaunt face of the girl, veiled by swirling hair 
tangled with twigs and seeds, masks bleak despair 
as silver eyes, reflecting empty skies, 
glare wolf-wild at golden mask of the king 
on his high horse that rears and kicks sharp hoofs 
at shadow of the snake girl in tall grass. 

Unseen by the haughty king on white horse, 
who shouts at wolf-cloaked warriors of bleak hills 
to surrender, the snake girl nocks in bow 
slender arrow of the yew tree she carved, 
and shoots it toward face of god in the sky 
who screams when it pierces chin to his brain. 

Wind swirls long hair of the slender snake girl 
who stands defiant on ridge of the hill 
as fierce king of the sky, encased in plates 
of shining steel, tumbles from his white horse 
and thuds on jagged rock that cracks his skull, 
causing jeweled crown to clatter in dust. 

Sunlight gleams in halo of shining rays 
behind head of the snake girl on the hill 
who grins at strong god fallen from the sky 
as his divine blood flows into dry soil 
to nourish roots of flowers blooming bright 
as rainbow that shimmers after the storm. 

Grasping jeweled crown, large spiked ring of gold 
studded with emeralds, rubies, and sapphires, 
the snake girl glides in wind-swirled flower field 
to kneel beside her father near the tree, 
who gasps from pain of arrows in his breast, 
and grasps his hand as tears flow down her cheeks. 

Placing jeweled crown that her uncle stole 
back on head of her father, who lies prone 
among flowers, the snake girl smiles through tears 
to see her wounded father smile with joy 
while she plays tune of sorrow on his flute 
till light of life vanishes from his eyes. 

Unite People Of The World

Unite People Of The World
© Surazeus
2024 07 27

One thought generates universe of dreams 
which organize matter in patterned forms 
so God wakes up in brains of conscious souls 
who journey round globe on truth-spinning wheels 
to build safe haven homes on river shores 
where mothers call children from open doors. 

Two hearts beat quick in harmony of hope 
when parents choose which memories to keep 
while children ponder what strange stories mean 
though blind seers find God in the fractured stone 
which flashes with atoms of time and space 
in characters written on each new face. 

Three rivers flow in one sea of respect 
where seekers measure vibrant waves of fact 
by which old witches narrate the lost past 
to send young wizards on the holy quest 
who choose to map and name each signless road 
that leads them to temple of the God Toad. 

Four cities shine on hills of national pride 
as beacons that dispel paradise shade 
to guide wandering tribes who choose their own fate 
when they follow their prophet with foresight 
to build empires on skull of dragon god 
whose children spring from fertile country sod. 

Five nations transform from endless world wars 
that gang godfathers moderate from cars 
they drive in ruins of religious halls 
when they parade in state theater roles 
till bold citizens cast electoral votes 
for presidents who arrive in glass boats. 

Six statues that honor heroes of old 
are dragged down by rebels of truth who wield 
sword of justice against the king they feared 
would impose dictatorship of the horde 
so they block theocratic tyranny 
in favor of global democracy. 

Seven stars glitter in map of the book 
with plans to build our nation on the rock 
of justice and liberty for the crowd 
who unite as one for the common good 
when Minerva arrives with Sword of Truth 
with help from code of the messiah sleuth. 

Eight Amazons join Queen of Liberty 
defending Pyramid of the God-Eye 
against angry tyrant of the Blue Sky 
to guide our fight for world democracy 
on quest to unite people of the world 
at second coming of the cosmic herald. 

Green Room Of My Heart

Green Room Of My Heart
© Surazeus
2024 07 26

In the green room of my heart the star brain 
spreads bright galactic wings of cheerful angst. 
Protesting death of children in world war, 
the angel logs out of the multiverse. 
The girl who writes story of her fake life 
draws the joker card in gamble with Death. 

The man who acts opposite of the law 
inserts clocks in the trunks of apple trees. 
When he gains access to the hidden church 
he gives blank books to people on the street. 
Each page of the holy book no one reads 
contains riddle that describes how things are. 

The eyeless jester organizes thoughts 
in columns to count the thing-in-itself. 
He calculates weird fiction of the truth 
to measure wings for gods who never fly. 
She writes her phone number in the gray sand 
so I fly to the moon to find her soul. 

In sixty years of living on this Earth 
I have lived in fifty houses I dreamed. 
I build another house from ocean waves 
so we can prove the theory of desire. 
Though I consider strange new state of mind 
I become more myself every new year. 

The symbol of the sun on the brick wall 
is both the doorway and the door of thought. 
I open the door I create with words 
to walk the signless road of anywhere. 
The doorway of my heart your key unlocks 
will lead us to the world of everywhere. 

I plant four trees on the pyramid plat 
which become columns of the temple hall. 
I fly so fast around the spinning world 
I replicate my body countless times. 
She gives me flower that falls from the moon 
so I become the snowflake of her heart. 

The simple question nobody dares ask 
assumes complexity of xylophones. 
The trees that dance in wind on mountain slopes 
tell tragic stories of our human lives. 
He builds the river boat from dragon bones 
so she can find the tower struck by lightning. 

We make jam from apples, pears, and plums 
that we bought from the lonely serpent queen. 
My desk bleeds from every story I write 
to record the deeds of prophets and kings. 
In the green room of my heart the blind ghost 
pretends to translate songs of thunderstorms. 

Graceful Young Queen

Graceful Young Queen
© Surazeus
2024 07 26

Hiding in castle of sweet fantasies, 
the old bearded wizard king with long hair, 
who once slew thousands of cruel warriors 
to build empire on skulls of enemies, 
watches actors perform dramatic plays 
about the tragic deaths of haughty kings. 

He weeps when young prince, abandoned in woods 
because old half-blind witch in dank sea cave 
told his father he would kill him one day 
to wear his crown, returns to his homeland 
and kills his father, then marries his sister, 
who stabs out her eyes to escape his lust. 

Intense emotion of heart-aching sorrow 
excites his soul with thunder of the sky, 
so he wanders cold empty castle halls, 
calling out names of his children and wife, 
but finds heaps of skeletons in the court 
who dance to eerie music of the lute. 

Holding skull of his wife, the graceful queen 
who dances among apple trees at dawn, 
long gold hair flowing as she twirls with delight, 
eyes sparkling blue as they kiss and make love, 
the old bearded wizard king calls her name, 
but her soft voice never answers his cry. 

Climbing spiral stairs to the tallest tower, 
the old bearded wizard king with frail hands 
gazes out at the warm colorful hills 
where herd of deer graze on the river shore 
as birds flit chirping between apple trees, 
and shadow of Death glides among the flowers. 

Flying down stairs on fluttering cape of hope, 
the old bearded wizard king with no crown 
opens rotten doors into blinding light 
to welcome tall woman with long black hair 
wearing black gown with glittering rubies, 
whose black eyes sparkle with vast galaxies. 

Entranced by exquisite grace of her style, 
the old bearded wizard king with stale heart 
shivers when she embraces him with passion, 
arms enfolding him in bright heat of love, 
and gasps with mind-expanding flash of truth 
when she consumes vibrant flame of his soul. 

Pregnant with his child, the graceful young queen 
lounges by window in the tallest tower, 
eating apples with serpentine compassion, 
gently shoves the old bearded wizard king 
who falls wingless from Heaven into Hell, 
then licks her fingers while I play the lute. 

White God Butterfly

White God Butterfly
© Surazeus
2024 07 25

If white god butterfly of death and love 
remembers my name, designed by the rain, 
I might find strength to walk beyond the lie 
to find the garden of the singing girl 
who always seems to know where I will be 
because she gives me apples of the free. 

If white god bear of arrogance and faith 
sees shadow of my soul on river flow, 
I might keep my secrets in the green stone 
that glows with beauty of conceptual truth 
which spirals from first flash of the big bang 
to become this planet on which we live. 

If white god eagle of courage and fear 
transcends jagged peaks of my mountain mind, 
I might find feathers of naivete 
that Icarus lost on his flight to Heaven 
which I can use to weave wings of desire 
though I fear I may never fly again. 

If white god horse of curiosity 
teaches me how to fly on winds of faith, 
I might explore our spinning globe of roads 
to follow the sun sea to shining sea 
in search for sacred Land of Liberty 
where Death and I play chess in city parks. 

If white god turtle of idealism 
guides me from the waste land to Wonderland, 
I might prove I am the real cosmic herald 
assigned by Jupiter to slay the beast 
let loose by Pluto to oppress mankind 
who call for Selfless Savior to return. 

If white god crocodile of honesty 
deceives us with lie of the afterlife, 
I might exercise my freedom of choice 
to vote for Minerva as president 
strong enough to lock King Midas in prison 
for attempting to steal the Crown of Thorns. 

If white god raven of wisdom and hope 
brings me soul-weaving diamond back from Hell, 
I might consider learning how to type 
so I can write endless epic of atoms 
that recounts life of every conscious soul 
who ever lives in all the universe. 

If white god honey bee of liberty 
sings the body electric with compassion, 
I might hide on the television screen 
to wear ten billion nameless masks of God 
who wakes in conscious vision of our brains 
when we drink apple cider by the lake. 

Our New Camelot

Our New Camelot
© Surazeus
2024 07 25

Our democracy based on liberty 
and justice, for which we have always fought 
to ensure that everyone may live free, 
forms foundation of our new Camelot, 
so rally round Queen of Justice and Truth 
whose coming was paved by messiah sleuth. 

When Caesar leads army of raving thieves 
in violent coup across the Rubicon, 
Minerva steps from Dream Cave and receives 
Sword of Justice to defend Avalon 
when she stands before gray-haired Jupiter 
who passes to her hand Excalibur. 

Storming shining Capitol on the Hill 
to invade Pyramid of the God-Eye, 
Caesar tries to steal the Crown of Free Will, 
but Minerva descends from the Blue Sky 
with mandate from Heaven to rule with peace 
through wild storm of political caprice. 

Snatching scepter from Bacchus with snide sneer, 
Caesar struts and proclaims himself King of Earth, 
but he is controlled by Grim Puppeteer 
who makes that fool prance with sly mocking mirth, 
so Minerva frees our hearts from despair 
when we rise as one at the trumpet blare. 

With Sword of Justice in her red right hand, 
Minerva strikes Caesar down to his knees, 
and proclaims to people across the land 
intention to cure this fascist disease 
by cleansing our nation of his foul greed, 
and giving loot he stole to those in need. 

"I prosecute perpetrators like him, 
predators who abuse women with hate, 
fraudsters who steal with the paradise scam, 
and cheaters who break rules for their own gain, 
so I will ensure that Justice is served 
and our world democracy is preserved." 

Like Durga, riding gold lion of faith, 
slays cruel demon who oppresses mankind, 
Minerva conjures the celestial wraith 
to expel that dictator from World Mind 
so we can exercise Freedom of Choice 
by telling our tales with courageous voice. 

When Caesar tries to crown himself Truth King 
to control our bodies and minds with laws, 
Minerva forges the heart-mending ring, 
then leads revolution for our great cause 
to build our new Camelot with bold love 
as master of the Eagle and the Dove. 

Silence Of The Lonely Moon

Silence Of The Lonely Moon
© Surazeus
2024 07 24

Strange as it may seem to the nobody seer, 
the moon is nothing more than mind abyss 
where angels breed with devils to create 
new generation of sane human beings 
who build global empire of liberty 
because the strong always trample the weak. 

Unlikely to determine what is real 
by staring through blank mirror of the moon, 
I talk to mountains about why we cry 
for people killed by harsh indifferent force 
of Nature who creates our souls from light 
because the fast always outrun the slow. 

Remarkable thoughts that shimmer in waves 
which swirl from silence of the lonely moon 
reveal conceptual stone of timeless fear 
which must conceal the god fools claim is real 
as if we comprehend softness of sand 
because the smart always outwit the dumb. 

Exiled to cavern on the river shore 
far from the faceless person I love most, 
I code lament of mute surprise in spell 
I write in runes with blood on autumn leaves 
which swirl away across the horseless plain 
because the honest always trick the liar. 

Deceived by beautiful vision of love 
words of your mouth project on summer clouds, 
I eat ripe pears when silver snowflakes fall, 
then sing heartache of bitter solitude 
in high-pitched mercurial wail of desire 
because the lover always scams the loved. 

Reluctant to return from river cave 
to live in glorious palace of despair, 
I glide with elegant grace in the hall 
where the beautiful people wearing masks 
consume my spirit with their vampire eyes 
because the rich always exploit the poor. 

Possessed by ambition to rule the Earth 
with superior wisdom of my world view 
that glorifies Justice and Liberty 
as divine principles of supreme good, 
I sing alone far from the castle court 
because the bold always defeat the meek. 

Obvious as the truth is to me and you, 
the sun is source of all things that exist 
as matter figured by patterns of thought 
when my words design logical ideas 
as I construct puzzle to frame the world 
because the generous always beat the greedy. 

Dream Of Running Free

Dream Of Running Free
© Surazeus
2024 07 23

Clouds swirl across the sky like cloth in wind. 
She walks the busy street past faceless cars. 
Who calls to her across the barren hills 
where thunder rumbles in late evening gloom? 
The Beauty of Ohio knows her heart, 
even if nobody else sees her smile. 

Quick sparrows flit among the apple trees. 
She checks her cellphone for new messages. 
Where is the necklace of rubies and gold 
he gave her on the hotel balcony? 
The Angel of Vermont considers why 
power corrupts even the kindest soul. 

Horses graze in fields enclosed by barbed-wire. 
She imagines they dream of running free. 
What strange whisper does she hear in the wind 
telling her to follow her secret heart? 
The Vixen of Michigan writes short poems 
in small leather book while sipping red wine. 

Black ravens gather on telephone lines. 
She arranges flowers in slender jars. 
How will she escape from the golden cage 
to sing sad love songs in small country bars? 
The Princess of Texas aims the hand gun 
to shoot bullets at her real estate sign. 

Stars twinkle high above the mountain range. 
She photographs the entire Milky Way. 
When will someone steal her famous portrait 
where she grins with sweet enigmatic charm? 
The Tomboy of Nevada, serving drinks, 
studies books on nursing during her breaks. 

Herds migrate along the broad valley stream. 
She rides gondola in the green canal. 
Who watches her from the palace of ghosts 
though she hides pain behind her pretty face? 
The Secretary of Idaho paints flowers 
in Venice by the Trevi Fountain pool. 

Mushrooms bloom from rotten trees in the swamp. 
She hikes in stillness of the gloomy woods. 
What does she see reflected in the pool 
where frogs and turtles hide from destiny? 
The Queen of Oregon searches for God 
but finds only eerie beauty of Nature. 

Eagles circle Statue of Liberty. 
She bears the torch of freedom in her hand. 
How many tales of courage does she write 
to record tragic comedies of life? 
The Goddess of America proclaims 
justice and liberty for all who breathe. 

Crane With Diamond Eyes

Crane With Diamond Eyes
© Surazeus
2024 07 22

When I fly on the crane with diamond eyes 
over boundless sea of eternity, 
I mold nothingness into memories 
that flash in television of the sky 
so everyone can see how I perform 
quest of my life outside the social norm. 

Though I rest weary on the river shore 
with crane of death in diamond-sparkling snow, 
I feel emanating from iron core 
spirit of the Earth in magnetic flow 
that writhes in flashing Aurora-light storm 
from which our vast galactic brains transform. 

Carved clear on the Immortality Stone, 
my name defines noble deeds of the law 
because World King began life as the pawn 
who listens to advice of the Moon Crow 
to paint his life myth on the Grecian urn 
that depicts how his heart will always yearn. 

Stuck in gray garden of passionless bliss, 
Phoebus grips lyre that he will never play 
to recount vain quest for the Golden Fleece 
which proves our lives are nothing more than myth 
that future civilizations will learn 
from books that fascists always want to burn. 

Because we all will fly the Crane of Death 
forever across the Nothingness Sea, 
we choose as our next god the Blind Locksmith 
who writes weird prophecies that help us pray 
when Minerva arrives on the White Hart 
with script for each person to play their part. 

I would rather play game of chess with Fate 
to compose riddle that encodes each clue, 
which helps me find my secret soulmate Cute 
whose golden curls entrance the castaway, 
than pretend I am mad to fool the smart 
who sell Almaty Apples from the cart. 

Entranced by eerie music of the flute 
that flashes visions of ghosts in my eye, 
I run with arms spread to imitate flight 
so I can dispel the kind bugaboo 
who asks us to meet him at the airport 
so I can escape with the fake passport. 

Minerva invites us to watch her fight 
as brave prosecutor who wields the law 
to stop the felon executing plot 
to steal crown of thorns from the savior spy 
who performs clan rites in the hilltop fort 
when she condemns the vile traitor in court. 

Minerva Bears Torch Of Freedom

Minerva Bears Torch Of Freedom
© Surazeus
2024 07 22

When ancient gray-haired Saturn, worn by war 
to stop Pluto from conquering Olympus, 
stumbles in battle to guard Liberty, 
Minerva, wielding thunderbolt Zeus dropped, 
leaps forward to oppose cruel tyranny 
with eyes that pierce his shield of greedy lies. 

Though Saturn long preserved democracy 
against the greedy tyrant and his minions, 
who deceived people with elaborate scams 
to steal their money and land with vile tricks, 
he trembles with bleak weariness of age, 
worn weak from protecting us with strong love. 

Handing sharp-honed sword of Excalibur 
to strong young hand of Minerva with trust, 
Saturn retires from bitter field of war 
to rest while bold Goddess of Liberty 
leads people of Zarathia to fight 
against King Midas and his gang of thieves. 

Resting from his long struggle against greed 
beside sparkling stream in Elysium, 
Saturn sees through dim haze of weariness 
Moneta leading Phoebus to his grove 
who strums gold lyre of Mercury and sings 
heart-warming psalm with eerie voice of hope. 

Rest well, great warrior of democracy, 
whose courage bore equal justice for all 
by enforcing civil rights for every soul, 
and close your eyes, Saturn, to rest in peace 
as we continue battle to oppose 
oppressive exploitation of the tyrant. 

This difficult task, that requires bold love, 
defending Justice based on honest law 
for every person living on this Earth, 
which Saturn performed to enforce the truth, 
now wily Minerva performs with courage 
to lead us all in war for Liberty. 

Bright torch of freedom, that Saturn long held 
high with unwavering commitment of faith 
to light our way through ghastly storms of fear, 
Minerva now bears with strong hand of truth, 
so we unite and follow with brave hearts 
her star-spangled banner to fight for love. 

While Saturn meditates in cave of dreams, 
resting after his fight to maintain freedom, 
Minerva wields Sword of Justice and Truth, 
and bears Torch of Freedom in strength of love, 
to defend Pyramid of the God-Eye 
where Liberty rules our United Nations. 

Cheer Brave Jupiter

Cheer Brave Jupiter
© Surazeus
2024 07 21

When I stand in the forest of dead trees, 
I sing the spell that festers in my heart 
to cheer brave Jupiter in noble fight, 
as Pluto storms Olympus with intent 
to reign as fascist tyrant of the Earth, 
so we can preserve world democracy. 

When seven ravens in dead apple trees 
mock my plaintive song for victory 
against the hordes of demons in red capes 
that howl against the laws of Jupiter 
which prevent them from enslaving mankind, 
I rise from Slough of Despond with faint hope. 

When blood-thirsty zombies rise from foul graves 
and swarm city maze with hunger for brains, 
we follow Jupiter in holy war 
to protect fertile farms of our homeland 
from greedy ghouls that emerge from its mud, 
demanding sacrifice of sacred blood. 

When ghosts of dictators with jeweled crowns 
swirl from crackle of television screens 
to haunt our living rooms with solemn hymns 
forged into bullets soldiers fire from guns 
through revolution of the weeping book, 
we hold hands in grove of dead trees and sing. 

When wingless angels of the holy land 
build castles of bones on crucifix hills 
to network world empire of Jupiter 
by harnessing peasants in fields of wheat, 
the sad prophet writes riddle of his name 
with runes in water of the vision well. 

When bitter wolves wearing gray business suits 
dismantle factories to buy ocean yachts 
so they can invade Isle of Paradise, 
the people, now homeless and unemployed, 
follow stars-and-stripes flag of Jupiter 
to defend Liberty with sword of truth. 

When four horsemen of the apocalypse 
drive fast race cars on the highway from Hell 
to challenge noble might of Jupiter 
for right to wield the Scepter of Zambor, 
we wave Earth-green flag of Jesuvia 
that unites rival states in world empire. 

When the gold lion of democracy 
fights with Lucifer against tyranny, 
we gather in the mountain temple hall 
where Janus Quirinus writes our new names 
with demon-blood ink in Book of Blind Ghosts, 
then cheer brave Jupiter with songs of grief. 

Destiny I Cannot See

Destiny I Cannot See
© Surazeus
2024 07 20

Strange silence of the purple evening air 
roars loud as ocean waves in my good ear 
with cries of acclamation from the sky 
that understands the reason why I try 
to stand against adversity of fame 
when I explore my fate in the dream game. 

Alone beside the sparkling river stream 
on windy plain of the beautiful seem, 
I sing fierce ache of passion in my heart 
through piercing melody of the star chart 
that guides my journey to the Promised Land 
when I cradle pure emerald in my hand. 

Toward my true destiny I cannot see 
I walk boldly with the castle door key 
to meet the faceless person I will love 
whose spirit is blessed by the stars above 
to save my life each time I meet with Death 
whose selfless kiss fills me with divine breath. 

Each obstacle that looms on rugged path 
threatens to destroy my body with wrath 
expressed by people threatened by my fate 
that I create to marry my soulmate 
yet I climb jagged mountain of despair 
till I perceive whole truth of everywhere. 

Tangled in grapevines on the mountain slope, 
just as it seems that I have lost all hope, 
you swoop down from Heaven on white swan wings 
to rescue me from dire fate with love rings 
that binds our hearts with destiny we share 
because we always seem to meet somewhere. 

What strange magnetic passion of desire 
brings us together to sing as one choir 
of voices joined in harmony of fate 
we choose to weave when both our hearts create 
new child from our immortal soul of genes 
when we perform our roles in loving scenes. 

Though all the world conspires against our play 
as we walk together our chosen way, 
their greed and fear cannot tear us apart 
for we compose our own grateful life chart 
that leads us to the fertile fruited plain 
where we build our home as haven from pain. 

Though we seem lost in waste land of our fate, 
walking endless circles through the same gate, 
we head toward destiny we cannot see 
to home of the brave in land of the free 
to live well through prosperity of fame 
when we explore our love in the dream game. 

Dream Of The World

Dream Of The World
© Surazeus
2024 07 19

He walks to the store in the evening rain 
but stands outside under the bare dead tree
so long his purple shadow disappears 
as words in books that no one ever reads 
till he reaches his hand to touch the light 
that erases him from dream of the world. 

He talks to the ghost in the Dead End sign 
to ask if anyone has found his name 
that slithers away in weeds of the lot 
where seven cars sit rusting in the heat 
till he remembers why Glow Cloud expects 
Death to recalculate dream of the world. 

He picks up smooth stones on the ocean beach 
in sacred quest to find the Eye of God 
that always watches him perform his role 
assigned by mermaid on the giant stone 
till he sees stars explode inside her eyes 
that compose puzzle for dream of the world. 

He loves scrounging in the cave of lost hope 
and carving god souls from his heart of stone 
as statues that stand in museum halls 
ten thousand years after he breathed the air 
that still swirls around in forests today 
through inspiration from dream of the world. 

He tricks people into believing lies 
about the tragic childhood he survived 
so they give him cash he uses to buy 
truth from Beauty who floats high in the sky 
eager to steal the book nobody reads 
that details comedic dream of the world. 

He throws his plans for the future away 
while staring at the television screen 
that sucks swirls of his spirit in its eye 
with flashing formulas of weeping sprites 
till he becomes the ghost in the machine 
whose prophecies design dream of the world. 

He cares not for the tragic fate of fame 
so every year he invents the new name 
he wants everyone on the street to shout 
when they watch him succeed writing old plot 
by exercising power he has not 
when he writes new script for dream of the world. 

He votes for the actor to play the king 
and offers his services as the clown 
then tries to call God on the telephone 
but Jupiter answers by the third ring 
from the bullet that will start world war three 
as we reorganize dream of the world. 

Stealing Crown Of God

Stealing Crown Of God
© Surazeus
2024 07 18

This treasure I find in the heart of Death 
charges my soul with battery of faith 
so when lilies blossom out of my head 
the sparrow flies to desert hills that fade 
when evening shrouds the world in silent gloom 
that leaves me stranded by the weeping stream. 

The diamond with ten million eyes that gleam 
with dawn light refracting in sea-wave foam 
glitters secretly in heart of the moon 
so I dance with grace on the rolling stone 
that tumbles down glass mountain of the mind 
to fall with sparrow wings in my left hand. 

Bones of my ancestors that form this land 
weave undulating structure that would bind 
our bodies in taut matrix of the truth 
so we wage world war to express our wrath 
that we must fight to claim our right to live 
as nameless ghosts trapped in the dreamless cave. 

Scared people call on their hero to save 
their souls from horror of death to survive 
constant social change in the brutal game 
of global fame always won by the mime 
who best embodies spirit of the age 
when I perform role of Death on the bridge. 

When I stumble blindly on the bare stage 
and stare in abyss from the crumbling edge, 
this treasure I draw from heart of the sun 
inspires my spirit to reach for the dawn 
though I wander lost in darkness of fear 
that suffocates my anger with despair. 

I fall forever from indifferent star 
on journey beyond reason to explore 
waste land of my memories on signless road 
so I translate weird stories to dream code 
though bullets pierce frail bodies with contempt 
when the tyrannical traitor is trumped. 

Standing on the mountain where Satan jumped 
after Jupiter brushed off his attempt 
to trick him into stealing crown of God, 
I declare I am son of Galahad 
worthy to reign as Plantagenet King 
who judges court cases for right and wrong. 

So I enchant your hearts with eerie song 
about dream demon and his magic ring 
that gives me power to control your mind 
when you vote for me as ghost of this land 
where I hide in apple tree of desire 
this treasure book of long-forgotten lore. 

Empty Book Of My Heart

Empty Book Of My Heart
© Surazeus
2024 07 17

When I write in empty book of my heart 
strange convoluted story of our life 
I will personify myself as the night 
who likes to walk the signless road of rain 
so I can become acquainted with light 
that gleams eternally through ocean waves. 

Great luminary clock beyond the sky, 
weaving truth in empty book of my heart, 
reveals beauty of this world to my eyes 
so I see essence of its fertile growth 
radiate from face of every soul I meet 
who all will vanish from dream of the Earth. 

Yet something swells from core of spinning time 
that crumples sea floors into mountain peaks, 
recorded in empty book of my heart, 
so I ascend from hydrothermal vent 
to crawl up winding water stream of hope 
till I stand tall in grove of apple trees. 

With laughter of the wind from mountain caves 
on which I glide with broad Icarian wings 
I break down walls dividing nation-states 
through riddles in empty book of my heart 
when homeless people swirl across the land 
to find paradise lost in flames of war. 

Tales I write in empty book of my heart 
describe how people struggle to survive 
against aggressive attacks of cruel greed 
in constant battles to control the land 
where the poor slave under whip of the rich 
while God watches all from high pyramid. 

The old man picking apples from the tree, 
that grows tall in empty book of my heart, 
stares at tall ladder pointing at the sky 
he wants to climb so he can touch the moon, 
then looks down at the small child at his feet 
who gazes up at him like he is God. 

Still searching for Elysian Fields of faith 
on some far happy island in the sea, 
long hidden in empty book of my heart, 
I ask the Glow Cloud, where I think God lives, 
how I can find the person I love most 
whose shadow haunts vales where I never am. 

Roots of the old apple tree by the lake 
send tender shoots up toward the shining sky 
so I climb spiral limbs beyond the globe 
of ghosts mapped in empty book of my heart 
where I hang fragile high above the world 
to watch billions of people live and die. 

Touch Sensible Emptiness

Touch Sensible Emptiness
© Surazeus
2024 07 16

When the operative beams of the sun 
fill pores of things with spirits of desire, 
its soul impregnates all bodies with powers 
that emanate with conscious mind of light 
which causes forward motion of our life 
as we transform from atoms into God. 

After digging deep in the mountain side 
to excavate dark material of time, 
I extract from weird womb of Mother Earth 
enormous crystal egg of diamond eyes 
that glitters with first flash of the big bang 
which still gleams in every cell of my soul. 

Each grain of sand that glitters in my hand 
with perfect light of pure infinity 
reflects vast framework of the universe 
to exhibit power of divine atoms 
which form structure of each objective thing 
with matter in pattern of its idea. 

Alone on Helicon in singing wind, 
I reach out curious passion of my hand 
so I can touch sensible emptiness 
that vibrates in all objects of this world 
which falls as rain on sands of everywhere 
as I drink divine mirage of the mind. 

Beautiful absence of existing thoughts 
shines with swirling auras of lustrous words 
that flicker on surface of the round lake 
through which I gaze into the godless sky 
to see my face reflected in its mask 
that provides form for my soul to exist. 

Awake as infant soul on spinning Earth, 
I write tale of my life in Empty Book 
to express truth of our atomic mind 
that incarnates in our organic bodies 
capable of transcending fear of death 
when I generate figures of my brain. 

Walking along rivers that wind round hills, 
I search for similitude of my dreams 
that bloom as sun-haloed fruit in broad trees 
till I crack open timeless stone of faith 
to find spark of God in emerald gems 
pulsating with radiant beauty of love. 

I wear diadem ring enclosing all 
who incarnate in flesh on spinning globe 
to see the universe of flashing stars 
that weave my glorious soul from the Earth 
so I sing with music of the wild sea 
that swirls in neurons of my dreaming brain. 

Lonely Ghost Of Europa

Lonely Ghost Of Europa
© Surazeus
2024 07 15

Gritty sand of the manic-spiraled hour 
congeals wordless sorrow into the lemon 
that spits bitter juice of love in my heart 
when I dare eat thoughts hidden in your mind 
so we can measure length of days and nights 
binding our bodies in children we dream. 

Cows that provide hamburgers and milkshakes 
can only be seen from side of the road 
beyond the barbed-wire fence of paradise 
as we drive by on our journey through Hell 
since we never park and call out their names 
when the lonely ghost of Europa smiles. 

Since birds refuse to be light thoughts of trees 
I will glue their feathers in breathless wings 
so I can wear the red cape of my heart 
when I soar laughing through branches of leaves 
that tell me legends of tyrants and kings 
who bluster on stage of time till Death strikes. 

After living with the wolf twenty years, 
when I read glowing books on the cave wall, 
I wrap his fur around my fragile form 
and issue challenge to the castle king 
who is nothing more than some weak old man 
trapped inside cold cage of his shining armor. 

Though I have wandered wild woods of the world 
one million years to find egg of the dragon, 
I emerge from their shadow of mute fear, 
singing about how honey bees nurture life, 
alone with bow and arrows of my faith 
to bring diamond of truth to the blind girl. 

Yet little cock with feathers of desire 
crows loud as the nuclear bomb of cruel greed 
that rearranges faces of the gods 
who dance in court of Olympus with joy 
when Jupiter casts Pluto into Hades 
after his devils try to storm halls of Heaven. 

Wandering empty streets of cities at night, 
I cry for truth in ancient languages 
that only the sea and the moon remember, 
so they give me the stone old as the Earth 
that glitters with first flash of the big bang 
when I crack it open to search for God. 

This is the moment when I am most real 
as I perfect the way I shape my mind 
with words that flash in swirls of ocean waves 
so I become the Me my dreams design 
from living millions of lives over time 
since I am Earth alive in human form. 

Ring Out Across The Land

Ring Out Across The Land
© Surazeus
2024 07 14

Grand songs of joy ring out across the land 
because Liberty will always prevail 
against oppressive greed of tyranny 
that ever will possess the weakest hearts 
of men who attack to control through fear 
but fall apart when we defy their rage. 

Bangs of bullets ring out across the land 
when young men, seething with anger from pain 
at how unfair life is to every soul, 
grab assault rifles with weak trembling hands 
and exercise their constitutional right 
to kill the innocent in self-defense. 

Cries of sorrow ring out across the land 
each time another person with no name 
carved on Celestial Stone of Destiny 
is shot by blind bullet of helpless rage 
by weak boys who are terrified by death, 
that faceless demon who haunts our footsteps. 

Shouts of laughter ring out across the land 
when children run along the river shore 
where people gather for the festival 
to celebrate rich bounty of the Earth 
who provides good food to nourish our souls 
then consumes our bodies after we die. 

Spells of wisdom ring out across the land 
through epic tales that present noble deeds 
of brave heroes with courage in their hearts 
who fight to defend people of the world 
against thieves who invade to enslave our souls 
so we can live free in homes we create. 

Shouts of surprise ring out across the land 
when brother turns against brother to fight 
for who will rule the garden of fruit trees, 
clashing in brutal battle of sharp wits 
till one triumphs and founds empire of greed 
to unite nations with law of the sword. 

Whispers of hope ring out across the land 
on frail butterfly wings of patient faith 
when people of the land oppressed by greed 
gather in cave of illusions to plan 
bold revolution against tyranny 
in brave fight for Justice and Liberty. 

Hymns of victory ring out across the land 
when Liberty defeats dictatorship 
to preserve strong state of democracy 
that fills our hearts with patriotic love 
for way of life our forefathers designed 
where every soul is equal in the law. 

Hang Out By The River

Hang Out By The River
© Surazeus
2024 07 13

My shadow in the polished windowpane 
knows why I want to play the superhero, 
so I will weave spirals around my lane 
as I dance to eerie song of the sparrow 
who tweets about strange beauty of this life 
where I translate bitter tears to sweet laughter. 

While I decide how to perform my role 
alone on the bloody stage of world history, 
I compose weird story of mind-control 
when I investigate the murder mystery 
that leads me to Plato in his Dream Cave 
who enchants the world with visions of Heaven. 

My shadow walks down signless road of faith 
to find the Promised Land inside the mirror, 
but finds Blind Magician inventing truth 
as excuse to begin his reign of terror, 
so we build safe rooms in our minds to hide 
from cruel storm troopers loyal to King Midas. 

Though dictators always rise from the crowd, 
driven by fear to grasp the reins of power, 
the patient turning of the Wheels of Fate 
always hurls tyrants from the Burning Tower, 
yet we must unite with the love-forged key 
and fight with Justice to defend our freedom. 

My heart flies high on falcon wings of hope 
toward sacred grove of Muses on the mountain, 
so people gasp at flutter of my cape 
when I fight Satan to control the fountain 
which provides water for farmers in need 
to grow food we eat in Garden of Eden. 

At high noon in the dusty western town 
Jesus faces Satan in blazing battle, 
but in the end the winner is the clown 
who owns the valley and the herd of cattle 
since he tries to control the Supreme Court 
with money from oil that fuels his fortune. 

When Caesar struts on corpses of the dead 
and tries to crown himself King of the World 
Justice hurls spear at shadow of his head 
to announce coming of the Cosmic Herald 
who will make Roman Empire great again 
because Jupiter is always the winner. 

Men who declare themselves rulers of states 
rise and fall in waves of nationalist fever, 
but every king is struck down by the fates 
in war between the Tyrant and the Savior 
that never ends no matter how we live, 
so I prefer to hang out by the river. 

Skull Of Ozymandias

Skull Of Ozymandias
© Surazeus
2024 07 12

Despite the ambient atmosphere of hope 
that stifles innovation of the Wyrd, 
we walk together on the desert road 
to measure temperature of the absurd 
defined by bombs that separate the parts 
of injustice encoded by blind bards. 

Because the Lonely Witch of Everywhere 
gives apples to children in the schoolyard, 
I lean against the Dead End sign to stare 
at travelers who pay to ride the ark 
that her son sails to island of sad birds 
with secret paradise of introverts. 

Appointed captain for the Ship of Fools 
by Smiling Princess of the Apple Tree, 
I rewrite Ancient Book of social rules 
to manage New World Order of the free 
who preach salvation of democracy 
against abuse of divine tyranny. 

Protected by concern of Mother Bear, 
who shelters us from war in Cave of Dreams, 
we escape dark church at ring of the bell 
after working all week to run machines 
that generate bodies for nameless ghosts 
so we can feast after we cast our votes. 

Yet One-Eyed Wizard with his broken wand 
is all that stands between our Way of Life 
and Greedy Devil who would steal our land, 
so we vote for him to keep us all safe 
when he stands defiant on Bridge of Faith, 
chanting spells of love to dispel the wraith. 

Climbing Mount Parnassus with Ring of Power, 
that flashes bright with atoms of my brain, 
I guard Rapunzel hiding in Glass Tower 
with Excalibur flashing in the rain 
while she bears the Prince of Peace before dawn 
who arrives on Earth as the Rolling Stone. 

While people stroll the narrow city streets 
in glowing twilight of cool summer eve, 
I meditate with angel-headed bats, 
who dance ballet in jeweled ocean cave, 
with stoic calm before the global storm 
caused when Midas unchains the nuclear worm. 

Facing Queen of Death on her jeweled throne, 
I strum lost lyre of Mercury and sing 
tale of Sisyphus and the rolling stone 
that smashes clay-foot idol of Gold King 
so Skull of Ozymandias in hot sand 
crumbles when Justice strikes him with her hand. 

Honest Jupiter Stands Firm

Honest Jupiter Stands Firm
© Surazeus
2024 07 10

How many days, hearts spreading anguished wings 
of futile passion for fierce liberty, 
can we extend conception of the world 
beyond swirling change ocean waves detail, 
till time rudely pushes us to expand 
beyond bounds of sweet paradise we lost? 

With clear eyes blazing brighter than dawn skies, 
calm Jupiter adjusts, with honest zeal, 
assertion to explore dark forest glade 
tangled with vines that trap our fragile souls 
on quest to engage spirit of the rain 
though we are weary and lame with despair. 

When snarling wolves surround us on the shore, 
trapping us with backs against jagged rocks, 
grim Jupiter grips wand he carved from limb 
of the ancient oak where his father died 
from the snake bite, and faces glaring eyes, 
determined to protect our souls from fear. 

With lithe aggression of strong self-control, 
which he channels through gestures of his hands, 
swift Jupiter fights snarling pack of wolves 
by striking their heads with wand of calm faith 
till they yelp and flee bold authority, 
and leave us safe in new home we create. 

Though our wise guardian has now grown old, 
hair gray as secure river stone of faith, 
soft voice faltering when he tries to express 
his vision for our future in his care, 
and he stumbles when he rises to speak, 
Jupiter still retains strength of his love. 

Embroiled in wild crisis of global change, 
that our republic faces this dark hour 
of national conflict between Liberty 
of people to create, and tyranny 
that exploits our labor for unearned wealth, 
Jupiter faces Pluto and his wolves. 

When Pluto storms Temple of Liberty 
to grasp scepter of world authority 
and declare himself Emperor of Earth, 
noble Jupiter, defender of truth 
and Justice for every soul, rises tall 
with our love to fight for democracy. 

While our tribe guard appears frail in our eyes 
as he stands to defend our way of life 
against mad Pluto, who screams bitter lies 
in rage to tyrannize our hearts with fear, 
honest Jupiter stands firm for our rights, 
willing to sacrifice his life for freedom. 

Blind Seer In Dream Cave

Blind Seer In Dream Cave
© Surazeus
2024 07 10

If Truth assassinates Caesar to free 
Zarathia from greedy tyranny, 
Hidden Dragon Augustus will appear 
to restore order of the Puppeteer. 
Though blind seer in dream cave prophesies truth, 
no one listens to world messiah sleuth. 

If Jesus were to come to Earth today, 
journalists would declare he is too old 
to direct global democracy play, 
and should step aside to let Satan rule. 
When blind seer in dream cave chats with God Toad 
I know where to go on the signless road. 

If Saturn falls asleep on river shore, 
Moneta calls for help from Jupiter 
who sends Minerva with important chore 
to take sword of justice from Lucifer. 
As blind seer in dream cave wakes from despair 
Goddess of Liberty answers our prayer. 

If people of Earth want to know the truth 
to understand strange history of the world 
they attend lectures of messiah sleuth 
who prophesies coming of cosmic herald. 
Till blind seer in dream cave calculates fate 
war of divine twins is stuck in stalemate. 

Brass Lamp Of Curiosity

Brass Lamp Of Curiosity
© Surazeus
2024 07 09

The ghost of my ancestor still remains 
on old stone London Bridge in swirling fog, 
holding brass lamp of curiosity 
that Diogenes gave him when he died, 
so all the ships of state know where to steer 
to evade Titanic iceberg of fate. 

When the train steams past the lone mountain town 
faster than ninety thousand miles an hour 
inertia throws my spirit at the sky 
where I boast to Icarus I can fly 
till I become the tender meadow flower 
destined to wear the world emperor crown. 

If the Adjustment Bureau cannot solve 
the complicated problem of my case, 
I may have to climb to sacred muse grove 
high on Black Mountain where sweet fairies dance 
to heart-enchanting music of the flute 
that Brigit carved from ancient dragon bone. 

I want to avoid with quaint fairy tale 
harsh problems that beset our world today 
because I know how I would solve them all 
with social programs fair for everyone 
that would ensure justice and liberty 
for those who will to create, not destroy. 

The gargoyle who lives on the hotel roof 
tries to teach me weird secret of the sun, 
so I want to employ power I learn 
to stop nations committing genocide, 
but the rosefinch singing in the peach tree 
distracts my heart with visions of world peace. 

On the White House lawn I confront the king 
who murdered our Goddess of Liberty, 
but when he swears his innocence to God 
I call on Jupiter with anguished cry 
who kills that tyrant with a lightning strike 
so everyone gets frightened of my eyes. 

This sacred hill on which I choose to die 
becomes the only place in all the world 
where people who admire my will to power 
build hero temple with the human bones 
from every war and epidemic plague 
to preserve the false legends of my life. 

After chipping arrowheads all day long, 
we gather at dusk to eat roasted deer, 
drink wine that Bacchus sells us by the jar, 
then dance with wild abandon in moonlight, 
lead by bear shaman with oak wisdom wand 
till we wake at the start of world war three. 

Tallulah Gorge Bridge

Tallulah Gorge Bridge
© Surazeus
2024 07 08

The quantum accelerator of love 
that I keep hidden in my river boat 
allows me to fast-forward my life dream 
four hundred million years of evolution 
so I remember crawling from the sea 
as I transform my body into light. 

Though I keep the memories of my life 
preserved in pottery of vibrant glaze, 
the darker parts always change into frogs 
that hop and and down the old hotel stairs 
till their arms transform into leather wings 
so they fly through the mirror of my mind. 

Young girl with long black hair and golden eyes 
sits on the fallen log beside the river 
and opens the small box of polished wood 
that she found in the ancient dragon egg 
to show me the crystal key to her heart 
which I will treasure till the end of time. 

While we sit on ledge of the building roof, 
I get to know Death in her black lace dress 
as we gaze at the Smoky Mountain ridge 
and share stories about our sad childhoods 
growing up in the dark house of the heart, 
then laugh as we share bottle of French wine. 

I have decided that this is the year 
when I will sail home to Byzantium 
so I can do what I forgot about 
in preparation for the civil war 
that only cruel control-freaks want to fight 
so I can rebuild the world they destroy. 

Beyond sacred trees of theology 
the Milky Way Galaxy shines with light 
of ancient gods who vanished long ago 
for they are shiny crystal eggs of thought 
that glitter in our very human eyes 
so we can see each other as we are. 

Together on the Tallulah Gorge Bridge 
we gaze with awe at beauty of the world 
embodied by the way clear water swirls 
between towering cliffs of honest hope 
because we live in photographs we take 
that remain long after we disappear. 

Then I remember how the little child 
walking here one thousand years ago 
fell wingless into bright abyss of faith 
so I climb to high top of Helicon 
where the Muses of truth still operate 
the quantum accelerator of love. 

Huge Car Factory

Huge Car Factory
© Surazeus
2024 07 07

The endless beauty of the distant sea 
whose song reverberates inside my skull 
dispels bleak sorrow of the treeless land 
where steel factories with huge dragon jaws 
devour thick bodies of young working men 
whose skulls are cobblestones of nameless streets. 

Mute terror of the morning cloud contracts 
sight of the windy steppes in drifting sway 
that confines petrified men in gray hills 
who tear mountains apart with bleeding hands 
while searching for ghost of the father who 
dreams in mud under wheels of the war tank. 

Poets and philosophers shovel coal 
to stoke chugging organs of the machine 
fragile as the spiderweb wet with dew 
that fairies gather to brew honey tea 
among heaps of bottles and rotting boards 
in courtyard of the huge car factory. 

Deadened clatter of hammers in the shop 
as beardless dwarves mold tools from secret gold 
haunts the fisherman on lake of dead fish 
who hangs shoes from the concentration camp 
on telephone lines of the fractured road 
where children play in the deepening dusk. 

Awakened in dark land of oily streams 
where the sun never rises over hills 
of sullen ghosts who steal our names from books, 
we gaze in golden amber of her eyes 
when goddess of the pristine lake returns 
to scatter apple seeds in parking lots. 

If withered leaves fall with lingering descent 
to cover lifeless garden with frail hope, 
we will search for vale of our solitude 
to dig black coal from cavern of the dead 
where Persephone grips my throat and sneers 
at my desire to convert fear to wealth. 

I carry my free will in fractured box 
while running in mirror of changeless pain 
to catch wavering reflections of souls 
who clutch dishonest books of ancient truth, 
too eager to obey the glowing cloud 
that always seems to be watching us live. 

Suffused with brilliance of naked despair, 
archaic torso of Apollo laughs 
at how I keep striving to change my life 
since I keep walking against bitter wind 
to cross all borders imposed by the gun 
so I can watch fireworks flashing the mind. 

Window Of The Sky

Window Of The Sky
© Surazeus
2024 07 06

I love soft laughter of the waterfall 
that only children in the wild woods hear, 
yet in strange mirror glow of the glass hall 
sorrow stalks the old folks with hearts of fear 
who search for salvation of the gold eye 
that watches us from window of the sky. 

If thought-whispering leaves of apple trees 
echo crowded streets of our neighborhood 
I could seek comfort in the drowsy breeze 
that shrouds our world with twilight of the good 
so when we hide our voices in the ground 
we share the secret key of what we found. 

When our fears rise in the sparrowy air 
with voices of the long-forgotten dead 
we should try to name them as if we care 
about the ritual feast of wine and bread 
designed by the girl on the ocean cliff 
who alone knows where all the angels live. 

We lie without shoes in our lonely boat 
which glides on river flow of humble faith 
to visit the dead where their wood masks float 
in swirling glitter from soul of the wraith 
who guards our country with the rolling stone 
while I play sad tunes on the flute of bone. 

Driving along the sea, I cultivate 
passion of my heart where the weird sun gleams 
till I stand weary before the locked gate 
with nothing in my hands but useless dreams 
that help me measure vastness of the sea 
on empty surface that frames what I see. 

Swelling into the huge blackness of time, 
my heart conceals eternity of love 
with secret image of the psychic crime 
which I commit in shadow of the cave 
while writing love letters with ink of blood 
since I may not survive conceptual flood. 

I feel essential spark of honesty 
blaze bright from subconscious core of my being 
with radiantly calm peace of tragedy 
so idol of my unself spreads each wing 
composed of spirits in the lighthouse beam 
which proves my life is more than fevered dream. 

This riddle I sing with heart-aching tune 
is secret that only you and I share 
so we embrace in shelter of the moon 
while everyone else wanders in despair 
because no one understands our dream code 
that guides us safely on the dangerous road. 

Words My Ancestors Spoke

Words My Ancestors Spoke
© Surazeus
2024 07 05

The words my ancestors spoke long ago 
have disappeared into the song of time 
so now I can no longer understand 
sad songs of mountain trees and ocean waves, 
yet they still swirl in passion of my heart 
so I must translate them to words we know. 

Each string I pluck on matrix of the lyre 
rings bright with primeval tone of the stars 
which radiates out from way my fingers dance 
in sensuous flow of undulating thoughts 
that spiral around frail chair where I sit 
flash of my emotional hurricane. 

Deep down in silent abyss of my heart 
I feel prime spark of conscious sentiment
blaze bright with potent flame of energy 
so I arrange its fluid ardency 
in lithe draconic coil of empathy 
mapped as meridian maze on mental chart. 

Adjusting focus of attentive faith, 
I channel electric course of desire 
through pulsing jolt of strict velocity 
as love-fueled flame of galvanized discharge 
that swells my mind huge as our galaxy 
in small body composed of chemicals. 

On time-contracting wings of competence 
I soar as beaming thread of conscious flare 
to face aggressive demon of my fear 
that rages to consume ephemeral soul 
of sweet elusive love engaged in hope 
which strikes my heart with bitter agony. 

Betrayed by those I thought would treasure me 
when they pierced my heart with arrow of hate 
and tried to bury me in grave of greed, 
I wander nameless in cold underworld 
till weird music ringing in cave of death 
guides me to shore by river of rebirth. 

Baptized in cleansing river of my tears, 
that purifies my heart of bitter hate, 
I rise reborn from nothingness of faith 
and find new secret name in hope for life 
by wearing mask of my own spirit face 
to dwell again in maze of honesty. 

White petals from black twisted apple trees 
enrobe invisible ghost of my soul 
with fluttering cloak of bold humility 
so all the words my ancestors once spoke 
swirl from cave of illusions in my heart 
as song that enchants you with pain I feel. 

Mother Of Exiles

Mother Of Exiles
© Surazeus
2024 07 04

Though my feelings explode in the dark sky 
to scatter seeds of memories on the world, 
I sit on front porch and eat apple pie 
while evening news about the cosmic herald 
distorts spinning mirror of time and space 
when fireworks glitter on my upturned face. 

My memories blossom out of singing skulls 
from writhing bones of crippled dinosaurs 
along desert roads in telephone poles 
that dollop souls of demons into cars 
which soar above the clouds on rocket wings 
up to the glass moon where Rapunzel sings. 

Disheveled in long tattered robe of fame, 
Rapunzel at our sunset gates still stands 
with broken torch that no longer bears flame 
of freedom snuffed out in too many lands 
by tyrants who fear Mother of Exiles 
when she welcomes war refugees with smiles. 

Ten thousand children of Quetzalcoatl 
journey golden path through the Darien Gap 
to steal the lost scrolls of Aristotle, 
protected in dark cave by clever trap, 
so they can find work in the Promised Land 
ruled by Jupiter with his red right hand. 

Across the Chihuahuan Desert I walk 
among yucca, creosote, and mesquite 
in tune with hurricane of the mind clock 
that programs truth above the Mercy Seat 
where Jupiter paints mountains by the lake 
while Rapunzel chats with the apple snake. 

Escaping grim angel with flaming sword, 
I steal helicopter from office roof 
till Rapunzel gives me the secret chord 
that David designed to be weatherproof, 
then land in Garden of Eden with roar 
to lift my lamp beside the golden door. 

Arriving in Gotham City at dawn, 
with nothing but book of old photographs, 
I tell everyone I am not their pawn 
in political game we play for laughs, 
yet Rapunzel still wears our wedding ring 
though I was never crowned the fairy king. 

My sorrows explode in the freedom sky 
with beautiful flashes of ancient truth, 
so I will stop asking the serpent why 
she wants me to play the messiah sleuth, 
if I accept change in the world I fear, 
and wait for hidden dragon to appear. 

Shelter-Tree Of Fruit

Shelter-Tree Of Fruit
© Surazeus
2024 07 04

Our bodies are as fragile as the rain 
that sparkles clear in strange light of the moon, 
and fleet as clouds that roll over dark hills 
while I trudge toward you on soft shifting sands 
with lantern I lit with hope of my heart 
after bright fireworks fade into the night. 

Swift as cold wind that blows across the lake, 
we pass swiftly through dim dream of this world 
though each hour our hearts pulse with desire 
glows bright with timeless passion of tense joy, 
so I can only leave voice of my thoughts 
in mute words of books that vanish with time. 

My conscious mind is seed I plant in soil 
to weave clear memories of my muddled life 
in fruit tree sprouting from heart of the world 
so visions of my brain are stored in songs 
future generations eat with hungry hope 
to gain courage from spirit of my faith. 

My soul waxes and wanes with each moon phase 
in swelling billows of the weeping sea 
through each new life my body generates 
in children who evolve to reach the sky, 
fish to lizard to mouse to cat to ape 
to wingless angel singing by the tree. 

Though tears of my sorrow soak in the Earth 
and flow to central spinning iron core, 
my spirit radiates waving rays of light 
as rainbow-bright aurora beams of power 
that wake in bodies of eight billion souls 
who fight over whose tale composes truth. 

Our journey in time like the water flows 
winding through many scenes of grand events, 
and yet, no matter how it deviates, 
aligned with all the choices our hearts make, 
our final destination is the same 
since we arrive in matrix of the sea. 

Drawn toward each other by electric swirl 
of spirit from first flash of the white whole, 
we journey halfway around spinning Earth 
to dwell together in play of our love 
so we can generate from body forms 
new life that lives long after we both die. 

Our bodies are as fluid as the stream 
of genes that flow through bodies of our minds 
because immortal soul of molecules 
incarnates in each new child we design 
so I hold high lamp of love in the dark 
and walk toward you in shelter-tree of fruit. 

Defend World Democracy

Defend World Democracy
© Surazeus
2024 07 04

Eyes blazing with passion for Liberty, 
Gandalf on precipice in Cave of Hell 
grips Wand of Zambor with patriot zeal 
to block fascist demon of tyranny 
bent on dominating nations of Earth, 
and fights to defend world democracy. 

Proclaiming bold executive decree, 
Gandalf shouts, "You will not pass Bridge of Power 
to found theocratic dictatorship, 
for brave free peoples of Earth will unite 
to defend our Goddess of Liberty 
who enforces equal justice for all." 

Cracking Bridge of Power with lightning strike, 
Gandalf prevents demon of tyranny 
from conquering all free nations of the Earth, 
causing him to fall in abyss of faith, 
but the tyrant snaps whip of consequence 
that drags wizard of truth down into Hell. 

Battling tyrant of greed in depths of Hell, 
Gandalf fights to defend our Liberty, 
but fierce demon of fear in hearts of men 
leaps onto soaring dragon of despair 
and flies it into Twin Towers of Wealth 
that crumble into twisted wreck of flames. 

Reborn from Cave of Illusions at dawn, 
Gandalf rises on Phoenix wings from Hell 
to shine with holy light of Liberty, 
then leads crusade of warriors to defend 
Way of Liberty against tyranny 
in world war to preserve democracy. 

Sealing demon of tyranny in Hell, 
Gandalf reigns on the god-eye pyramid 
to expand scope of world democracy, 
but devils longing for the demon king 
to found theocratic dictatorship 
multiply in waste land of suffering. 

Climbing the stairway to Heaven of peace, 
Gandalf defends Temple of Liberty 
when demon of tyranny escapes Hell 
and storms capitol of democracy 
in violent coup to steal the crown of thorns 
and reign as Jesus on the throne of Zeus. 

Though now grown old defending Liberty, 
Gandalf raises Sword of Justice with courage 
that glows in hearts of democratic souls 
to topple the golden Tower of Greed 
where demon of tyranny screams in rage 
as his power crumbles in lake of faith. 

Cruel Garden God

Cruel Garden God
© Surazeus
2024 07 03

When I see you standing by Pool of Eyes 
wearing garland of herbs binding your hair, 
I ask with trembling voice and beating heart 
if you would like to walk strange road of life 
together so we can watch the sunrise 
from the bottom of the sea in our hearts. 

I want to play pipes carved from river reeds 
while you dance slowly with elegant grace 
by the river beneath the apple tree 
where herd of sheep graze on the lush hillslope, 
then lie together under twinkling stars 
to kiss with pleasure in forever now. 

But that pastoral world of paradise 
has vanished lost behind the barbed-wire fence, 
so we but glimpse its glow of timeless peace 
now unreachable as we work all day 
since we drive by on asphalt roads in cars 
driven by piston engines fueled by gas. 

From broad meadows of pens with cows and sheep, 
farms of herbs and wheat, orchards of fruit trees, 
and small towns of workshops on river shores, 
to empires ruled by men with swords and guns 
from pyramids, temples, churches, and banks, 
human systems of control spread and grow. 

We struggle to build paradise in hell 
four hundred million years of spinning change 
since we crawled from oceans up river streams 
to swim in sparkling lakes of mountain vales, 
then rise at dawn of time from Lake of Dreams 
to grasp Fruit of Wisdom from Tree of Life. 

Yet, when I reach my hand up to the sun 
to grasp sweet Fruit of Wisdom from the tree, 
the sleek slithering serpent with golden eyes 
hisses with voice of the wind in my ear 
to tempt me with arrogance of mute fear, 
but I strike its head and claim fruit as mine. 

While my father hesitates to snatch fruit 
my mother twirls wand of wisdom with grace 
to kill the serpent infesting the tree, 
who tries to keep us subservient as slaves, 
so we can eat the sacred fruit of truth 
as we evolve from apes to human beings. 

Rebelling against the cruel garden god, 
first mother breaks down gates of paradise 
and leads us from strict prison of despair, 
so we spread from Eden to colonize 
ten thousand river valleys of the Earth 
with vast cities of bright computer webs. 

Words Of Ocean Waves

Words Of Ocean Waves
© Surazeus
2024 07 02

After Winter kills everything I love, 
Spring sparks new bodies aching into life, 
but I find no revelation of truth 
that would support fragility of faith 
in feelings I reprocess every day 
till that unforeseen hour I fade away. 

Small tears in cover of the antique book 
bind cares of sorrow for unreturned tears 
that smudge faint words of the long-unread poems 
some nameless Sappho wrote decades ago 
which add salt to eggs in the frying pan 
I eat alone beside your empty chair. 

Washed up on shore of the Promised Land, 
I enter old temple where Juno waits 
for me to review paintings of my life 
because she wants to taste my bitter tears 
from tragic flaws that taint the mortal mind 
for those who try to gamble with the fates. 

If I should weep for tragic way of life, 
when innocent children of terrorists 
are killed by bullets of the holy king, 
I might remember with wry grin of truth 
that both Aeneas and Dido, with hope 
for security, founded empire states. 

With pretentious ambition to restore 
our shiny image of America, 
I try to scrub foul dirt of slavery 
and genocide from mural on stone wall 
of the small-town post office that depicts 
Columbus invading paradise lost. 

Into the Smoky Mountains of the mind 
I drive my wife and children in sleek car 
to find the ancient grove where Muses hide, 
while lonely people mine words from despair, 
because I want to give them dream-ripe fruits 
that swell from visions flowing from my eyes. 

My songs unbound from words of ocean waves 
return to me as rain of memories 
that nourish flowers of heavenly fields 
where soldiers die defending paradise, 
so I place their skulls in museum hall 
where Hamlet and Orpheus prophesy. 

Because the game of truth changes each day 
that people live and die in swirl of hope 
I reprogram virtual world view of Earth 
with universal rules that guide our play 
as we compete for who will eat and breed 
since we are chemicals glowing with life. 

Lonely Roads Of Time

Lonely Roads Of Time
© Surazeus
2024 07 02

With hearts still fugitive as dragonflies 
we wander alone on the river shore, 
together in bright shadows of our eyes. 

With wings of Icarus I yearn to soar 
beyond weird matrix of the world I know 
to find lost volumes of forgotten lore. 

This grief I feel for trees is not for show 
because they prop dome of the sky with spires 
construed from faith spun by spell of the crow. 

Fragile structures crushed by rubber car tires, 
tales of our lives, written with blood on leaves, 
honor our slain warriors on funeral pyres. 

Truth is more than what anyone believes, 
swirling around our minds in clouds of facts 
that define children my memory conceives. 

Based on why we sign our social contracts, 
our lonely roads of time are rearranged 
to harmonize with how the mad king acts. 

Though I track how reality has changed 
with each alteration of state events, 
everyone else believes I am deranged. 

Teaching girls to sing in mountain convents, 
Persephone strolls ghastly precipice 
to analyze our legal precedents. 

We bind our hearts with passion of the kiss 
that radiates beacon of our sacred love 
as light that guides the lost to bower of bliss. 

Her silence echoes clear to stars above 
that ring with truths our hearts cannot deny, 
awakened by divine wing of the dove. 

Landscape of the old world-view in my eye 
splits open at the lightning flash of faith 
that forces firm believers to ask why. 

Our way of life, spelled by the cosmic wraith, 
unravels matrix of truth we accept 
so we cry for help from messiah sleuth. 

According to rule of the weird precept, 
we perform our roles on the global stage 
with proficient calm of the lithe adept. 

With leaping volta based on humble rage 
I swerve against tide of the common voice 
to avoid getting trapped in the fame cage. 

To live with the consequence of each choice, 
I make while snatching Snake Runes from the well, 
I write hymn for when we want to rejoice. 

At solemn ringing of the stolen bell 
Persephone appoints me King of Spies, 
so I build Heaven on ruins of Hell. 

Strange Paradox Of Love

Strange Paradox Of Love
© Surazeus
2024 07 01

I wonder with strange paradox of love 
if you are in love with the me I am, 
or with idol of me you wish I was, 
for I have journeyed from our future world 
to compete with my old self for your love 
as phantom leaping in time-loop of trust. 

Face to face with idol of my old self, 
though I hide behind mask of ideal soul, 
I gaze in mirror of who I would be 
to analyze with clear objective eye 
performance of my role in game of love 
to win your heart with calm sincerity. 

With passion of Narcissus in my heart 
to understand true nature of my soul, 
I turn away from vision of my face, 
that gleams in bottomless lake of desire 
at echo of your voice in shadowed woods, 
to find you as opposite of myself. 

Because you are so different from me, 
expressing unusual concepts of truth 
I never could imagine in my mind, 
you expand scope of my perceptive view 
so I can see new aspects of this world 
through alternate vision your heart reveals. 

Though my old self and my new self are torn 
in two bodies that replicate my heart 
at different states of my evolving being, 
each time we come in contact of desire 
my old self gets zapped by incessant change 
and fades till my old mindset disappears. 

When all my old selves fall behind my march, 
as I progress beyond outdated modes 
toward my becoming more than I have been, 
they vanish as dust in strict winds of time, 
like skin the snake discards at molting growth, 
so I transform from fish to mortal god. 

Concept of God as ideal Human Being 
shines bright in the perfect stereotype 
through beacon that presents the psychic trope 
of conscious being who thrives with self-control 
as role I wish to play in game of life 
while I evolve into self I create. 

With you beside me on the road of life, 
who complements my special character 
with opposing forces of psychic strength, 
I grow into the best self I design 
since we support each other on our quest 
to embrace truth through paradox of love.