Eye Of Lost Time

Eye Of Lost Time
© Surazeus
2025 01 31

To see whole oceans in one water drop 
while on his journey of authority, 
Feraldus picks spot by the lake to stop 
and cup water with curiosity, 
but all he perceives in eye of lost time 
is dream of angels evolving from slime. 

Arriving at his cottage by the elm, 
where his rational wife Savia bakes pies, 
Feraldus studies nature of the helm 
that sailors spin to navigate the skies, 
then daydreams of his childhood as soft chimes 
of freedom ring for revolutionary times. 

Determined to measure state of the mind 
reflected in mirror of the Self Pool, 
Feraldus strides in boots Bacchus designed 
for exploring basement of the seer school 
where demons haunt the hearts of lonely souls 
who spend all afternoon outlining goals. 

Watching her husband tramp in fields of wheat, 
Savia calculates what our nation needs 
to overcome mute anguish of defeat 
is how the country farmer sows hope seeds, 
based on conceptual tropes of social roles 
when lovers dance around flowered maypoles. 

While eating apple pie and mint ice cream, 
Feraldus ponders strange state of the land. 
"Castles once protected the royal dream 
where people lived under one guiding hand, 
but cannons destroy walls of paradise 
so now failed kings must be the sacrifice." 

Hundreds of people escaping from war 
when their castle is smashed by cannon balls, 
crowd hungry and frightened around their door, 
so they welcome refugees in safe halls, 
and organize how they work on the farm, 
who sing praises of Savia for her charm. 

Kneeling before children on the lake shore, 
Feraldus cups dirt in his hands and grins. 
"We are but dust and shadow, Horace sang, 
but we see the world in one grain of sand, 
Blake countered, for we are atoms of light 
swerving in the void on our spirit flight." 

When Angel of Death in long black robe 
appears from flash of lightning on the hill, 
Savia runs and finds Feraldus dead, 
struck in the heart by arrow of free will, 
so she buries him under the pear tree 
where his atoms become crows who fly free. 

Wild Forest Boy

Wild Forest Boy
© Surazeus
2025 01 31

When finches and sparrows in maple trees 
explain strange beauty of eternity, 
Caroline pauses somewhere off the trail 
to pick liberty cap mushroom from soil 
wet from late-afternoon rain of desire 
where the pond terrapin crawls over roots. 

Brushing pile of wet pine cones to the side, 
Caroline gasps to see wild forest boy 
who stares at her with eyes blue as the sea, 
so she reaches out her hand with lace glove 
and helps him stand on wobbly legs of hope, 
then smiles and asks, "What is your secret name?" 

"My name is Pinocchio," the wild boy grins, 
then does the fancy two-step dance and bows, 
but topples over on his side again, 
so she helps him stand again on frail legs, 
then places ripe pear in his floppy hand, 
so he eats till he gains strength from its juice. 

"I feel harsh winds of autumn blow cold fear 
so I must follow leaves along the river, 
blown anywhere my heart may long to go, 
but I lay frozen in beautiful snow 
for mindless flicker of eternity." 
Pinocchio stares with no tears in his eyes. 

Taken aback by his strange sudden song, 
Caroline turns away to find the trail, 
but the small wooden boy grasps at her skirt, 
and follows stumbling as she strides away, 
so she lifts him on her hip with soft grin, 
and walks in evening breeze that blows her hair. 

"Afloat in timeless beauty of this hour," 
Pinocchio sings like twitter of the finch, 
"we seek strange wisdom in the holy flower 
that blooms from corpse of God in dreamless rain 
till blossoms of dead trees have blown away, 
and we are mute with words we fear to say." 

Stepping through door in her cottage of stone, 
nestled against steep hillside by the lake, 
Caroline sets the boy beside the table, 
but when she turns he grabs the cutting knife 
and pushes her down to tear off her dress, 
and she lies stunned in shock flat on her back. 

When he gasps done and rolls onto his back, 
Caroline leaps up and tries to escape, 
but he drags her back, so she kicks him hard, 
which hurls him stumbling in the hot hearth fire 
where he writhes screaming in fierce roar of flames 
till he vanishes into pile of ash. 

Pregnant with child of the wild forest boy, 
Caroline cautiously hunts in the woods 
each day for mushrooms, berries, eggs, and nuts, 
but nothing sinister lurks in the shadows, 
so she sits by the sparkling creek and cries 
while something strange transforms inside her womb. 

When she births son of the wild forest boy 
Caroline bears him in her trembling arms 
as she wades into the lake with intent 
to drown him in the waters of salvation, 
but he gazes at her with silver eyes, 
so she baptizes him and names him Charles. 

Mindless God Eye

Mindless God Eye
© Surazeus
2025 01 31

Reluctant to acknowledge why Death laughs 
at fragile humans focused on their craft 
to create meaning from goops of soft mud, 
I build enormous castle of baked bricks 
to shelter refugees from mindless storm 
so we can sing love songs during the war. 

Confused by laughter of the river snake 
at serious intent of obedient folk 
to praise the warm sun for rising again, 
I bend steamed boards of wood with humble chant 
to build hull of my world-exploring ship 
so we can sail across abyss of hope. 

Disturbed by laughter of the apple tree 
at pious prayers of people traumatized 
by bombs depuzzling everything they love, 
I gather seeds from ruins of the church 
to plant herbs of compassion in the grave 
where corpse of god rots into wriggling worms. 

Excited by laughter of joyous goats 
who prance in meadow of camellias 
that blossom from cracked skulls of warriors, 
I gather lost souls on the signless road 
to form community of honest folk 
who help each other survive bitter days. 

Denied my civil rights to freely laugh 
at how I lose myself to find myself 
by hoarding syllables of naked thought, 
I choose to endure starvation of faith 
that sharpens sensations of ecstasy 
from which I spring to dance in tears of rain. 

Confounded by laughter of hope for love 
through mystic monolog of desert streams 
where thirsty angels crawl on hands and knees, 
I map every road that leads to my heart 
which is not center of the universe 
where mindless God Eye dreams itself in me. 

Concealed by veil of mist on Lone Tree Hill 
that laughs at haughty pride of the Moon Wolf 
who operates book shop on the ocean cliff, 
I write with blood of angels in blank book 
chronicle of my destiny I choose 
by swerving randomly on road of life. 

Erased by laughter of the empty sky 
at how immortal soul of genes designs 
this mortal body of my present life, 
I cannot see which face I wear today 
when I gaze in mirror of the forest pool 
till I fall and drown in my memories. 

Fall Of King Joculus

Fall Of King Joculus
© Surazeus
2025 01 31

With toot of horn and cackle of wild jest 
King Joculus arrives in Washington 
to trample on the blood-stained flag of pride 
and then defund your private psychic quest 
to map the multiverse for everyone 
who bears conceptual treasure they must hide. 

Tattooed with mental sigils of regret, 
King Joculus stands on the mountain top 
to chat with demon in the burning bush 
about how to reprogram our mindset 
so everyone believes that he is God 
though he scams his followers of their cash. 

Daring Jesus to play Russian roulette, 
King Joculus then swipes his Crown of Thorns 
and proclaims himself by legal command 
to be messiah of the alphabet, 
but Joshua suggests that we blow our horns 
which blows walls of his fortress into sand. 

Presiding over jousting tournament, 
King Joculus delights when bold knights clash 
in brutal combat to enforce his word 
as national law without precedent 
while tossing our Bill of Rights in the trash 
before he tries to shoot the mocking bird. 

Rewriting history of our nation-state 
so fake fables may glorify his deeds, 
King Joculus burns books of heretics 
who dare expose true nature of his fate 
when he demands we recite his false creeds 
because too many are fooled by his tricks. 

Aggrieved that prophet of the singing whale 
reveals corrupt state of his character, 
King Joculus hangs him on the phone pole 
to hide the fact his efforts always fail 
for he is more Bacchus than Jupiter, 
pretending tyranny is not his goal. 

Drunk on raw power as proud Head of State, 
King Joculus blames everything gone wrong 
on diverse persons opposed to his rule, 
but he cannot evade his tragic fate 
like Saddam and Muammar caught by the throng, 
though we realize he is Plutonian tool. 

After crushing everything we hold dear, 
King Joculus cannot escape his fall 
since tyranny is too hard to enforce 
for longer than apocalypse of fear, 
because Justice and Liberty for all 
will prevail through universal discourse. 

State Of White Privilege

State Of White Privilege
© Surazeus
2025 01 30

The white horse of social analysis 
gallops across the plain of singing ghosts 
so Hercules wrestles river of snakes 
to cleanse the American halls of power 
swamped by the greed of oligarchic clowns 
who steal keys to the kingdom from dead Christ. 

The white horse of conceptual innuendo 
likes to turn humans on to the starlight 
so we are awed by mystery of the Eye 
that always seems to watch us from the sky 
till we reverse the mask we choose to wear 
as mirror that reflects psychology. 

The white horse of the psychic manifesto 
presents the moon goddess in Silver Cloud, 
her starship she flies over city maze 
to beam up holy warriors of the heart 
who join her justice squad to fight the power 
that legislates regressive policies. 

The white horse of mental paralysis 
deals cards on the gambling table of faith 
to cheat the clown who thinks he owns the world 
by prancing on the stage with childish glee, 
distracting us so he can steal the key 
that opens pearly gates of paradise. 

The white horse from the lake of Tantalus 
gives fruit he stole from sacred Tree of Life 
to everyone who walks the signless road 
on quest to find the Ring of Zathamar 
which gives the bearer weird ability 
to perceive the whole flow of history. 

The white horse of the Queen of Mexico 
who tours along the Mississippi River 
describes how Mercury designed the lyre 
from rib cage of the haughty dinosaur 
who signs executive orders all day 
while helicopters and airplanes collide. 

The white horse of the golden piccolo, 
prancing down Champs-Elysees Avenue, 
considers why the theater is dead 
though Brecht and Ibsen live inside our head 
with tales of haunted heroines who fight 
for right to control their reproductive choices. 

The white horse of oneiric calculus 
casts wicked spell of multicultural rites 
which we gather at witching hour of night 
to perform against regime of King Midas 
whose greedy touch turns everything to junk 
that bankrupts the state of white privilege. 

Barons Of False Wealth

Barons Of False Wealth
© Surazeus
2025 01 30

"Old sun is not our pineapple of love," 
Garsenda sings while strumming taut lute strings, 
"yet when I gaze at blankness of Blue Sky 
I have to wonder why I feel no fear 
that Death possesses people everywhere 
though no one knows the answer except God." 

"I slip into the future of my mind," 
Garsenda tells small turtle in the rain, 
"so I can be in two places at once, 
because in land of arrogance and hate 
humility and kindness are the way 
we find our way to light of paradise." 

"With heartless ache of psychic agony," 
Garsenda whispers to the rolling stone, 
"I name dark beasts of social tyranny 
who eat the bread and drink the wine of faith 
so we who work are left with nothing real 
except gold idol of our Angry God." 

"Through passionate trust in the Evermore," 
Garsenda weeps beneath the willow tree, 
"my heart enwombs the savior of the world 
who bears book of the covenant with grace 
till mob of minions by the tyrant paid 
dare crucify King of the World at dawn." 

"Based on remorse for holy word of law," 
Garsenda shouts at divine hurricane, 
"I shrive cold anguish of the Eucharist 
to resurrect from death the anarchist 
who wrestles river from traditioned course 
to flush revolting barons of false wealth." 

"Now we shall raze all icons to the ground," 
Garsenda howls with laughter of the owl, 
"so we can build religion based on truth 
that we are atoms swerving in the void 
who incarnate immortal soul of genes 
in bodies of our children till we die." 

"So wake the scourger from tomb of despair," 
Garsenda preaches to the hungry choir, 
"who slits the throat of tyranny with hope 
that we can find in trash of fatal art 
arcane code to calculate the dream chart 
that leads us to the holy land of birth." 

"These lies I carve on Tablets of the Law," 
Garsenda croons to crowd of dancing lovers, 
"corrupt our mental programs with weird thoughts 
that everyone is equal in the law 
and no one should apply their privilege 
to lock the gates of paradise to all." 

Sea-Eyed Child Of Cetus

Sea-Eyed Child Of Cetus
© Surazeus
2025 01 30

Soft silver laughter of the waterfall 
washes regret of passion from her mind 
when Andromeda stretches on the rock 
with ache of loneliness to feel warm kiss 
of sunlight spark her heart to open wide 
and receive faithful whisper of the wind. 

Rising from depths of the sorrowful sea, 
Cetus shakes water off long tangled hair 
and strides across broad beach of pungent sand 
to show Andromeda large fish he caught, 
who blushes as she gazes in his eyes, 
then roasts it over fire she tends with care. 

Grasping twisted branch of the olive tree, 
Andromeda screams in heart-wrenching pain 
as she gives birth to sea-eyed child of Cetus 
who wriggles in his arms and cries aloud 
with roar of ocean waves whipped by wild wind, 
then cradles him beaming smile of joy. 

Cooing as she breastfeeds their new-born son, 
Andromeda gazes entranced with love 
in large eyes with green surrounded by blue 
like the island surrounded by the sea, 
so she names her child Nereus to honor 
her grandfather born from Pontus and Gaia. 

While Andromeda lounges in large cave, 
teaching Nereus how to express words 
that signify objects our eyes perceive, 
Cetus attacks sea monster with long neck, 
then roasts its meat on flat-type pyramid 
and wears dragon skull on his head as crown. 

While people dance around small pyramid 
to drink and sing with joyful reverie, 
Perseus appears with long wind-blown cape 
and declares with aggressive voice of pride 
he will marry Andromeda as wife 
and crown her queen to rule his olive farm. 

Twirling trident as he laughs with contempt, 
Cetus battles Perseus on the beach 
who cracks his skull with dominating blow 
because his brass wand with emerald tip 
breaks iron trident with contemptuous strikes, 
then howls in victory over corpse of Cetus. 

While Perseus drags Andromeda away, 
binding her hands tight with possessive rope, 
she weeps and calls out to her little son, 
so Nereus stands small among shocked crowd 
and cries with anguish for her to come back, 
then runs down to the sea to catch some fish. 

Justice Through The Law

Justice Through The Law
© Surazeus
2025 01 30

Standing before journalists with cameras 
on heightened steps before the House of Power, 
the Revolutionary Leader smiles 
to announce his surrender to the law 
since he succeeded in his noble goal 
to restore progress of democracy. 

Now that the tyrant has been overthrown, 
and democracy restored to our state, 
I declare the purpose of government 
is to protect individual citizens 
against all exploitation and abuse, 
not to assist business exploiting the people. 

Inspired by this principle of respect 
focused on funding programs that support 
the People to pursue their happiness, 
I lead this justice squad of honest men 
to remove the evil tyrant from power 
through necessary exertion of force. 

Contrary to this noble principle 
which should animate our democracy, 
this greedy businessman had seized control 
by suppressing votes that chose his opponent, 
and tried to impose fascist oligarchy 
that centralized control in his small hands. 

Compelled by necessity of armed force 
to answer clarion call of history, 
because the federal law failed to obstruct 
his fascist coup against our government, 
I lead this justice squad of honest men 
to remove this foul cancer from our land. 

Today I have removed cruel tyranny 
by exercising right of common men 
to arrest greedy oligarchic tyrants 
and restore function of our government, 
based on established precedent of right, 
to the legal successor to take power. 

The ancient law of power would allow 
the one who removes the king to be king, 
but I refuse to seize the crown of state 
for I would become the tyrant I removed, 
so, since the legal successor to power 
has been sworn in, I submit to the law. 

Though I had to fight to remove the tyrant, 
I had exercised violence to achieve 
this aim of preserving democracy, 
so you must now arrest me with respect, 
and sentence me with justice through the law, 
for I sacrificed myself to save our state. 

Dancing By The Lake

Dancing By The Lake
© Surazeus
2025 01 29

Through golden absolute of singing stars 
that weave our brains from pure atomic light, 
Anita paints conceptual platitudes 
as rugged mountain range that writhes with trees 
of graceful flames which dance in ecstasy 
while river current undulates blue eyes. 

Adjusting eye-phone in extended hands, 
Anita films while her best friend forever 
Shahida dances cutely in short skirt 
while singing with her favorite romance song 
about her unrequited love for Mike 
who pretends not to notice as she flirts. 

Giggling as they review her video, 
Shahida and Anita discuss how 
they can improve her choreographic style, 
then sip icecream floats with artistic pride 
as they watch count of views and likes increase 
when they load it on her tiktok account. 

Skipping together on the market street, 
they squeal pleased at its popularity, 
amazed so many people in the world 
express effusive praise of admiration 
for graceful style she performs with elan, 
then embrace and cry as they bid farewell. 

Annoyed she must leave land where she was born, 
Shahida gripes on plane to Pakistan 
that she was born and raised in Arkansas, 
then pouts when her father with cold stern voice 
demands that she obey Islamic law 
and behave with calm demure modesty. 

Feeling imprisoned in home of his birth, 
Shahida chafes against authority 
her father asserts with masculine pride, 
so she sips out and visits city park 
where she films herself dancing by the lake 
in sync with her favorite Taylor Swift song. 

Walking home as she gazes at her phone, 
excited by the many views and likes 
her dance video elicits from admirers, 
Shahida stumbles startled, and stops shocked 
when shadow of her angry father looms, 
and cries surprised when he shoots at her heart. 

"You are my father who created me 
and cherished me with love since I was small, 
allowing me to live free as I wish, 
so how could you eradicate my life 
to assuage your precious masculine ego 
fragile with toxic weakness of false pride?" 

Find Each Other Again

Find Each Other Again
© Surazeus
2025 01 29

Raising her hand with sudden flash of joy, 
Leudrada grasps when snow falls on her hair, 
shaken loose from pine limbs by the dark crow 
that glows as shadow in the sun-bright day, 
then grins amused when it flutters away, 
and caws at beauty of the frosted world. 

While cutting tufts of grass from snowy bank 
to feed his horse that had to walk all day, 
Answardus pauses with shock of surprise 
to hear sweet laughter echo in the woods, 
so he advances toward the fair voice, 
enchanted by perfection of her song. 

Answardus pauses while Leudrada sings. 
"When pale Phoebus glows in the eastern sky 
Aurora sheds ethereal light on Earth, 
so sunlight glitters on swollen sea waves 
as shadows flicker on the snowed hillslope." 
At sudden crack of twigs she twirls around. 

Blushing when the elegant blonde-haired girl 
stares at him fiercely with ice-morning eyes, 
Answardus steps forward with bold impulse 
and offers jar of pear wine he had brewed. 
"Accept gift of wine as apology 
for intruding on your calm solitude." 

Swiping jar from his hand with charming smirk, 
Leudrada drinks pear wine with gusty laugh, 
then grabs his hands and curtsies as he bows, 
so they perform the lively almain dance 
with graceful prance around tall stately pine, 
then laugh and smile as they exchange their names. 

"Though we just met on journeys of our lives," 
Leudrada squints at him with curious grin, 
"I feel connection bond our separate hearts 
to flash our strangeness with familiar glow 
as if we met each other long ago 
and spent years to find each other again." 

"My quick heart mirrors feelings you express 
and share your sense of familiar respect," 
Answardus replies while feeding his horse, 
"so I pledge troth of strong fidelity 
to honor you with loyalty of love, 
surmounting obstacles to marry you." 

Holding hands with new confident resolve, 
Leudrada and Answardus stride to town, 
discussing steps to formalize their love, 
then they pause and glance up into the pine 
to see the crow that brushed snow on her hair 
gazing at them with sparkle in her eyes. 

Forge Dream Keys

Forge Dream Keys
© Surazeus
2025 01 29

To forge dream keys that open doors of time, 
Gardwinus garden-friend digs rocks from cave, 
hauls minerals in two-wheeled wagon of hope, 
and melts them to liquid state with hot fire 
which he pours in clay molds of psychic faith, 
then cools conceptual curls in magic keys. 

Inserting Mirror Key in Door of Truth, 
Gardwinus grasps Pen of Authority 
firm in Oval Office of the White House, 
and signs into law compassionate bills 
that support women who raise children well 
to create not destroy in game of life. 

Inserting Shadow Key in Door of Lies, 
Gardwinus twirls gem-eyed Wand of Zambor 
to battle Serpent King with rainbow wings 
whose Plutonian mask hides his hateful lust, 
then chases Midas out of the White House 
where he grovels afraid in the waste land. 

Inserting Mending Key in Door of Pain, 
Gardwinus draws water from Odin Well 
to brew healing potions with herbs of love 
in faith-bubbling cauldron of Ceridwen 
who tends wounded refugees from cruel war 
so they can return to their bomb-out homes. 

Inserting Echo Key in Door of Thought, 
Gardwinus opens Book of Names and Deeds 
to record regime characters of men 
chosen by fate to perform role of Leader, 
whether they exploit people for their gain 
or help people develop their skill-set. 

Inserting Nowhere Key in Door of Grace, 
Gardwinus leaps the multiverse of worlds 
to weave all iterations of the Self 
in whole complexion of his divine mind 
that binds his heart to spinning globe of growth 
where humans multiply from one First Mother. 

Inserting Timeshift Key in Door of Birth, 
Gardwinus drives swift piston-engine car 
on signless road of social energy 
through ever-expanding maze of world myths 
till he arrives home in his neighborhood 
where his wife and kids embrace him with joy. 

To forge dream keys of psychic energy 
from memories inside bones of our ancestors, 
Gardwinus garden-friend tends Tree of Life 
and Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil 
that grow behind his house on river shore 
where his children play free in paradise. 

Phoenix Of Zarathia

Phoenix Of Zarathia
© Surazeus
2025 01 29

"After Midas destroys America," 
shouts Cassandra on the busy street corner, 
"we, the people, with freedom in our hearts, 
will build new nation of Zarathia 
based on justice and liberty for all." 
Everyone ignores the prophet in fear. 

"Before the Phoenix of Zarathia 
can rise from ruins of America," 
Cassandra weeps alone on river shore, 
"cruel tyrant will destroy all we hold dear 
when that son of the Scottish immigrant 
drives brown immigrants back to Mexico." 

"Where can I hide from goons of tyranny 
in Eden Garden of Serenity?" 
Cassandra whispers to the old blind crow, 
who drops red mushroom in her open hand, 
then flaps wings of desolation to perch 
indifferent on silent telephone lines. 

Clutching her broken guitar in despair, 
Cassandra hides in narrow alleyway. 
"I see terrible vision on the wall 
that shows the white towers of Ilium 
burning when the violent mob attacks 
to storm the citadel of righteousness." 

"If we allow Golden Boy to return, 
his father, who appointed himself king 
when he stormed grand halls of power with greed, 
will crown his son successor to his reign, 
then cast the angels who oppose his rule 
from Heaven when he fires them without cause." 

Taking his dazed girlfriend Cassandra home, 
Jake lies beside her in bed at midnight 
and wonders at the vision she describes. 
"So God and Lucifer in your weird tale 
stormed Heaven in revolt against King El, 
and then God crowned his son succeeding king?" 

"And in this religious myth of the past 
you see the present political state 
where the current president crowns himself 
monarch of the land, then fires rebel angels?" 
Jake grins when mute Cassandra nods her head 
with eyes wide from her visions of disaster. 

"Though his greed destroys our democracy 
to install oligarchy of the rich, 
like Ozymandias he will fall from pride 
when Sisyphus smashes idol with clay feet, 
and we will found new world of liberty 
through United States of Zarathia." 

America Singing Proud

America Singing Proud
© Surazeus
2025 01 28

"I can no longer hear," Cassandra gasps 
in fake shock, "America singing proud 
of its great democracy in the world 
in varied carols of the common folk 
with mouths closed against sad sarcastic songs." 
Winking, she puffs short cigarette and laughs. 

Twanging electric guitar on bar stage, 
Jake Kalinsky howls in the microphone. 
"I sing with voice of wild rebellious clown 
who tried to save Ophelia when she drowned 
though she was bitten by the Eden snake 
because we know how rich people are fake." 

Drinking old beer by the alleyway door, 
Cassandra and Jake talk about the ghost 
who haunts dark shadows of the open mind, 
then go back inside crowded smoky bar 
to scream another song into the void 
while everyone jumps up and down and screams. 

The mechanic shivers in the cold night, 
the carpenter hides from immigrant agents, 
the mason growls for contract work unpaid, 
the boatman drives the rumbling garbage truck, 
the shoemaker in China cuts her hand, 
and the mother cries for her autistic child. 

The programmer codes for seven days straight, 
the accountant conceals embezzlement, 
the stock broker scams eager amateurs, 
the marketer obfuscates product flaws, 
the hacker steals private medical data, 
and the senator hawks bribe-funded bills. 

"I can no longer hear America 
singing beautiful carols of their hearts," 
Cassandra sings with melancholy tune, 
"for every noble principle of law 
they trusted to enforce justice for all 
has been betrayed by greedy oligarchs." 

Five drunken frat boys on the football team 
throw beer bottles at Cassandra on stage, 
shouting, "How dare you insult our messiah, 
you evil woke witch lesbian liberal whore." 
Jake and his band of punk rockers attack 
and violent brawl spills out onto the street. 

After the police arrest everyone, 
Cassandra slouches in the empty bar 
and cries while clutching her broken guitar, 
then walks home alone in early dawn light 
where flags at half mast honor with sad sighs 
death of the last great honest president. 

Deep Voice Of Death

Deep Voice Of Death
© Surazeus
2025 01 28

Startled by pellucid beauty of time, 
Grannus pauses walking in field of grain 
and listens to the soft angelic voice 
of wind discuss strange mystery of the mind 
to analyze array of perceived facts 
and then assert holiness of its choice. 

While mowing wheat with the sharp honest scythe, 
Grannus hears faint cry slither in the grass 
of some woman in distress, so he runs 
to find Damona, fragile as swift deer, 
bruised and bleeding under the rowan tree, 
as seven men escape into the woods. 

Cradling young wounded woman in his arms, 
Grannus bears her to healing temple hall 
where Sirona heals her body with care, 
but Damona cries every day from pain, 
demanding justice for insulting crime 
committed by Borbanus and his sons. 

Giving him black robe, Sirona declares, 
"Grannus, guardian of justice and right, 
hunt down Borbanus and his evil sons 
for they violated her sacred right 
as woman to choose whose child she will bear, 
and punish them for their crime against love." 

While tending herd of cows on river plain, 
Borbanus lounges under huge oak tree 
to feast on roast steak and drink spicy wine, 
but chill of terror pierces his hard heart 
when he sees Death in long black flowing robe 
striding toward him with sharp scythe in his hand. 

Stumbling terrified and screaming for help, 
Borbanus races toward his hill-top fort 
where his sons and everybody in town 
watch as Death raises scythe with gleaming blade 
and slices off his head with graceful swipe, 
then holds his head up before the fort gate. 

Deep voice of Death bellows with divine law, 
"Now that Borbanus has paid for his crime 
of attempting to rape with selfish lust 
virgin woman he tried to make his wife, 
his sons who are accomplices in crime 
must also pay, so send them out to me." 

Pushed out the gate by people of the fort, 
six boys fall to their knees and cry for mercy 
as Death beheads the evil criminals, 
then Grannus strides away into the sunset 
to tell Damona justice has been served, 
who bakes him apple cake with gratitude. 

Plan To Save America

Plan To Save America
© Surazeus
2025 01 28

"Now who shall rally forth the Musketeers," 
Queen Mary cries on lonely hill of crows, 
"to fight against the wealthy puppeteers 
who lead conspiracy of techno-bros 
to incorporate through bank oligarchy 
our state that should secure our liberty?" 

Drunk in foul tavern on the river shore, 
Three Musketeers, who once bolstered the Crown, 
howl curses at grim shadow in the door, 
then leap into battle all over town 
when nineteen assassins with gleaming swords 
are all defeated by their witty words. 

Sneaking into the White House at midnight, 
on toes stealthy as fog-shadowy cats, 
Three Musketeers with goggles for night-sight, 
leap coils to dodge robotic bureaucrats 
while searching for evidence of the crime 
committed by King Midas to steal time. 

Finding ledger hidden inside the Bible 
that outlines their sinister fascist plan 
to crown him king and destroy every rival, 
supported by blue-suited Ku Klux Klan, 
Three Musketeers report with urgency 
in desperate hope to save democracy. 

Kneeling before Queen Mary in Star Cave, 
Three Musketeers report their evil plot, 
so she outlines her secret plan to save 
America from monarch on the yacht 
from which he means to hunt all rebels down 
who mock him as the sterile greedy clown. 

Removing gold mask of authority, 
Queen Mary reveals to Three Musketeers 
she is Minerva, Goddess Liberty, 
exalted by all roaming balladeers 
who sing in fairy-code wyrd prophecy 
that she will expand world democracy. 

Finding Sisyphus on Mount Zion peak, 
Three Musketeers help aim his rolling stone 
to smash idol of Midas with clay feet 
that knocks cruel traitor off the Judgment Throne 
which frees America from tyranny 
enforced by devil with the felony. 

Tending their wounds from fight to save the world, 
Minerva encourages them with faith, 
"Our fight will be hard, but the cosmic herald 
will appear with magic wand of the wraith 
to secure freedom and justice for all 
brave enough to heed my clarion call." 

Homeless In Urban Maze

Homeless In Urban Maze
© Surazeus
2025 01 28

Extensive passion of soul expertise, 
based on how well angel brains synthesize, 
rewards scarcity of acknowledged truth 
through strict abundance of collected facts 
when minds recognize patterns of blind faith 
to weave new visions from disparate dreams. 

When his shadow disappears from the world, 
though the sun shines brighter than ever before, 
he buries his thoughts and dreams in the Earth, 
then paves its grave with cement of despair 
to build foundation for philosophy 
that the world as we know it always ends. 

So when cement chunks fall from glowing clouds 
he suspects the old foundations of faith, 
on which palaces of Heaven are built, 
are starting to crumble and fall apart 
from anguish of doubts souls dare not express 
while they go about their daily routines. 

Though he escaped from cliff of punishment 
about two hundred fifty years ago, 
Prometheus still rattles chains of fear 
from cuffs clamped tight around his crippled hands 
that drag behind him on cold city streets 
when he wanders homeless in urban maze. 

Tall stone pagoda on the green lake shore 
writhes with serpentine grace of innocence 
when the White Snake Goddess of mortal love 
thrives from energy of unspent desire 
to buzz with hot electric hope of faith 
through revolution of the Divine Eye. 

Though we share amities of honest faith, 
supported well by intelligent wings 
to ebb with murmurous tides of the sea, 
each person stands on stone of solitude 
to measure transformation of the mind 
in patterns synchronized with moral laws. 

With brutal hatred of the wounded soul 
that drives too many people into Hell, 
we seek in darkness of the frightened heart 
fabulous beauty of unearthly trust 
contrived as treasure of the worthy one, 
homeless in urban maze of the world empire. 

Still searching for elusive liberty 
to break his hands free from conceptual chains, 
clamped on his wrists by oligarchic gods, 
Prometheus rattles gold White House gates 
and cries out to blind angels in the sky 
who never answer vain prayer of his heart. 

Driving In Their Cars

Driving In Their Cars
© Surazeus
2025 01 27

The old wizard whose face no one can see 
walks crooked highway of diamond-eyed skulls 
to preach salvation of the blooming flower 
to people driving in their cars to work 
who see nothing more than flicker of light 
flash briefly through drizzle of purple rain. 

Raising wand with emerald tip overhead 
to channel bright lightning of Jupiter, 
Zambor proclaims dire prophecy of doom 
to people driving in their cars to work 
who hear nothing more than thunderous crack 
that shakes the tower where oligarchs plot. 

With eyes that glare into the human soul 
through psychic anguish of the Holy Book 
Zambor unveils revelation of change 
to people driving in their cars to work 
who feel nothing more than impatient hope 
for wealth that always glimmers out of reach. 

Exposing stratagem of oligarchs 
to supervise Corporate America, 
Zambor cries warning with Cassandra voice 
to people driving in their cars to work 
who sense nothing more than vibe of unease 
shake foundation under empire of banks. 

Confused by numb indifference of their hearts 
diseased by outrage at false enemies, 
Zambor explains with logical discourse 
to people driving in their cars to work 
how they have been enslaved by unconcern 
to praise the tyrant as their new messiah. 

Leading spirits of warriors killed in war 
when they fought fascists for democracy, 
Zambor demonstrates before the White House 
to people driving in their cars to work 
in fight to oppose corporate billionaires 
but they fluff into snowflakes in the wind. 

Inspired by noble heart of Liberty 
who shelters refugees from holy wars, 
Zambor legislates equal rights for all 
to people driving in their cars to work 
who assert privilege of the master race 
to exploit labor of the working poor. 

Preaching liberty and justice for all 
while holding banner dripping stripes of blood, 
Zambor founds new state of Zarathia 
for people driving in their cars to work 
who wander through ruins of America, 
searching for their dreams that crumble to dust. 

War-Rubbled Road

War-Rubbled Road
© Surazeus
2025 01 27

Through readjustment of the homeward sign 
the crow from fractured television screen 
soars laughing over maze of crowded streets 
to scatter demon seeds as psychic baits 
that trap conceptual minds in Wonderland 
for which cruel Cinderella is so fond. 

"Sit down with me on park bench of despair 
and let me pluck crow feathers from your hair 
while I tell story of the fallen god 
who was famous till exposed as the fraud 
for scamming people of money and dreams 
by casting sweet erotic spells of seems." 

Except for migrants on war-rubbled road 
who wander waste land of the mocking toad 
we drive to work each day to do the thing 
that keeps us bound with psychedelic ring 
to bull economy of our great state 
because nobody can escape their fate. 

Whacking the raven on its fragile head, 
Cinderella wonders if God is dead, 
because nobody ever answers prayers 
despite her analysis of deep layers 
composing matrix of the human brain 
that programs memories of the shrieking train. 

Clutching her head as she rocks on the lawn, 
Cinderella wonders why it is dawn 
thirteen thousand years after she was born 
so she chomps with hunger on bitter corn 
and shouts at shadows hiding in the bank 
who refuse to pay after her yacht sank. 

Twisted by confusing government rules 
which create prisons out of public schools, 
Cinderella rides white horse of false pride 
to parade down empty streets where ghosts hide 
in books that run with foxes in the woods 
to record events in poor neighborhoods. 

Because nothing in world of images 
is like anything in dreams of hostages, 
Cinderella calls Jesus on the phone 
but he tells her he wants to be alone, 
so she rides the merry-go-round in tears 
to explore the world for ten thousand years. 

Though chimes of freedom ring across the land 
at sudden strike of the divine god-hand, 
Cinderella extends umbrella heart 
to shelter people getting torn apart, 
but millions of the disenfranchised cry 
as bloody tears flow from her wounded eye. 

Naiad Of The Water Well

Naiad Of The Water Well
© Surazeus
2025 01 27

Falling leaves clutter meadow of her heart 
with shadowy fears of terrible danger 
so Appias crouches in ring of stones 
which she erects to camouflage her soul, 
then digs small pool to drink from shining spring 
while alert for monsters lurking outside. 

Startled awake at gleam of chilly dawn, 
Appias finds herself neck-deep in water 
because ring of stones she built now contains 
spring water sparkling up to its high brim, 
so she emerges dripping from her well 
and sits in grass to dry off in sunlight. 

Surprised to see the sturdy ring of stones, 
that forms hollow well, captures pool of water, 
Appias dips hands in clear liquid blueness 
and drinks sweet liquor springing from the Earth, 
then eats purple figs hanging from long limbs 
and listens to the golden oriole sing. 

When wild gang of boys muddy from their hunt 
swarm her secret grove, trampling violets, 
Appias shouts and twirls sturdy oak wand 
to prevent them soiling pool of her spring 
that shimmers over brim of her stone well, 
so they back away and obey her words. 

Kneeling with reverence at her command, 
gang of wolf boys patiently wait their turn 
as she dips turtle shell in sparkling water 
and pours it over their heads to baptize 
their bodies clean with spirit of the Earth, 
then holds the shell so each boy drinks his fill. 

Performing cleansing ritual every evening, 
Appias keeps gang of twelve wolf boys clean, 
and they erect twelve poles around her grove 
to form wood fort protecting her from harm 
where they stand guard as she hosts travelers 
who kneel and pray as she baptizes them. 

Erecting pointed roof over twelve pillars, 
Romulus directs wolf boys to construct 
temple to protect Appias and her well 
where she performs the rite of cleansing souls 
each afternoon for crowds of worshippers 
who praise generosity of her heart. 

When Appias dies after sixty years 
reigning as Naiad of the Water Well, 
Romulus places laurel wreath of power 
on head of Roma, daughter of his seed 
whom Appias bore under the full moon, 
so she strews violet blooms on her mother. 

Huldah Glides Gracefully

Huldah Glides Gracefully
© Surazeus
2025 01 27

Aware she feels nothing like anxious hope, 
that other people hide behind nice smiles, 
Huldah glides gracefully in teeming crowd 
of women shopping in the marketplace, 
then pauses to gaze at the ziggurat 
where the faceless man rules over the world. 

"We humans must appear as small as ants 
to eye of the god-man who rules on high, 
but each individual soul in mortal flesh 
contains divine spirit of energy 
which emanates the same from every soul, 
no less divine than that arrogant man." 

Purchasing loaf of rye bread from Keres, 
who accepts coin stamped with face of Shamash, 
Huldah returns to mud house by the river 
where Hadad fills basket with mangar fish, 
lounges in shade of the date-laden palm, 
and watches flock of egrets in the reeds. 

"Heavy as sun-baked bricks in heat of noon, 
my heart buzzes with nameless anxious fear 
as if some terrible thing will appear 
and destroy this tranquil state of calm peace, 
and this dark fear urges me to perform 
dramatic deed to save myself from death." 

Animated by terror in her heart, 
Huldah races through crowded market streets, 
past dozens of ziggurats with estates, 
and up steep steps past startled guards with spears 
into grand court hall where God Shamash reigns 
just as Kingu shoots arrow at his heart. 

Leaping forward with compassionate cry, 
Huldah throws herself in front of the arrow 
that pierces her shoulder with tearing pain 
so she falls back in strong arms of Shamash 
who gazes deep in her eyes with surprise 
while guards stab Kingu with spears till he dies. 

Caressing her cheek as she lies in bed 
after healers clean and bandage her wound, 
Shamash smiles, "Ever since we were small wolves 
running wild along the river each day, 
you have saved me from harm, and taught me well 
to treat every soul with equal respect." 

Shamash cries, "Perform role of Queen Ishtar, 
and bear children who will reign after us." 
Smiling and kissing his cheek with respect, 
Huldah leaves and descends ziggurat steps, 
then returns home on the gold river shore 
where she eats roast fish with bread and grape wine. 

Ennui Of The Crocodile

Ennui Of The Crocodile
© Surazeus
2025 01 26

Aching with ennui of the crocodile, 
detached from stark lessons of history, 
Faustus draws sigil in the parking lot 
to summon Zepar from cavern of hell, 
but Zaleos appears in flash of light 
to make him love Titus Andronicus. 

Sending Zaleos to the grocery store 
to buy six pack of beer and cigarettes, 
Faustus flips channels on the television 
that opens portal into Naraka 
which allows thousands of monster-faced demons 
to escape and form motorcycle gangs. 

Deep inside roar of cars on the highway 
just outside Dallas on the Texas plain, 
strange haunting music curls up from the sea 
to penetrate his heart with ache for love, 
so Faustus opens sliding door to gaze 
astonished at the blaze of flashing lights. 

Enormous saucer-shaped starship floats low 
above tops of oak trees by the highway, 
and from bright pulsing beam he sees descend 
Lan Caihe, graceful woman with long hair 
who plays enchanting melody of hope 
on white jade flute carved from mountain of ghosts. 

Moon-black eyes beam micro-rays of starlight 
that spray purple haze in his dreamless brain 
so Faustus embraces delicate girl 
whose silky hanfu gown envelops him 
in fluttering swirls of sweet hypnotic hope 
as she carries him up into her ship. 

When Zaleos returns with beer and pizza, 
he sees fairy goddess with diamond eyes 
abduct his master in crystal starship, 
so he transforms into enormous dragon 
and roars to rescue him, but she plays flute 
that traps his spirit in dilithium crystal. 

Zooming starship from Earth to outers pace, 
Lan Caihe lands on planet Jupiter 
where she leads Faustus gently by the hand 
to ride turtle-shell boat on honey river 
past tangerine trees on marmalade hills 
where they make love by the fountain of ghosts. 

Waking bleary-eyed in apartment room, 
Faustus opens curtains to blink in sunlight, 
then sits on the bed to smoke cigarette 
while the Chinese girl he met at the bar 
hugs his waist and smiles, "Now that we are married, 
you can work at the bank my father owns." 

Free Will Of Faithful Love

Free Will Of Faithful Love
© Surazeus
2025 01 26

His heart far out on blue bay watershine, 
Azrael floats over reeds like cool breeze 
that ruffles hair of children catching fish 
who follow Elasah on winding path 
back to village of huts among oak trees 
where their mothers roast fish over small fires. 

Walking back down to shore of the bright bay, 
Elasah confronts the angel of death. 
"Azrael, why are you following me? 
Did my father Eloh in his dark cave 
discover Jedidah will be my wife? 
He should respect her choice to marry me." 

Emerging from chilly shadow of fear, 
Azrael grips throat of the young shipwright. 
"You and your father with your privilege 
of wealth and ownership of all this land 
take everything, and leave nothing for us." 
Growling with angst, he lets Elasah go. 

"Before I joined angelic host of Eloh, 
and trained for combat with weapons of death, 
I met Jedidah with her emerald eyes 
while we both worked in Eden Apple Orchard, 
and we pledged to marry that harvest moon, 
but Eloh took her for his concubine." 

Slouching on wave-smooth boulder by the bay, 
Azrael growls, "I am not mad at you, 
for I am grateful that you rescued her, 
and freed her from selfish grasp of your father, 
but my heart aches with sorrow of despair 
because she chose you now instead of me." 

Young graceful girl from tree shadow appears 
and Jedidah kneels on the sandy beach. 
"Azrael, my heart will always be yours. 
I want to marry you as we had pledged, 
but I fear you will reject me as wife 
because I am no longer clean and pure." 

Kneeling before her in sand as she weeps, 
Azrael grasps her shoulders with sharp cry. 
"Intention of your heart to marry me 
because you love me and nobody else 
imbues your heart and soul with purity, 
so I accept you if you choose me first." 

After Jedidah and Azrael embrace 
and kiss with passionate pledge of true love, 
Elasah binds their hands with eglantine 
and declares, "With free will of faithful love 
your two hearts are bound as one mind in faith, 
so I rejoice at your union in marriage." 

Houses Of Our Bones

Houses Of Our Bones
© Surazeus
2025 01 26

We make beautiful houses of our bones 
so we can hide from mental predators 
in shelters camouflaged with broken limbs 
that fall from the Tree of Knowledge at dawn 
cracked by mocking storm of arrogant lies 
till we all get jobs as government spies. 

We are the only people in the world 
hiding wings in our lungs with special care, 
safe in grass of Mount Moriah with goats 
who teach us how to talk about our souls 
discarded with trash in the wordless wells 
stuck in dictionaries our pastor sells. 

We build tables from tombstones of dead gods 
so we can feast on fruits our labor yields 
in middle of the city where Death waits 
for everyone to leave church after noon 
where Gorgon asks Perseus on a date 
so he decides to go along with fate. 

We refuse to howl at the end of time, 
stuck in the chapel by the lake of fish, 
yet sing in harmony with whistling trains 
that make the world shudder when they pass by 
the cemetery where corpses emerge, 
resurrected through the government purge. 

We give each other presents filled with air 
so we appreciate the nothing of death 
based on treasures in attic of the mind 
we find and sell to strangers passing by 
while lounging on the front porch of our home 
and ponder this urge to go out and roam. 

We splinter our souls against wall of pride, 
attempting to assimilate our souls 
with strangers in the land of laughing clowns 
who walk their dogs in river parks all day 
as bombs destroy the homes where we once played 
and disassemble brains of those who stayed. 

We cook our memories at the barbecue 
inside the palace of one thousand rooms 
to worship idol of the noble boy 
who sacrificed himself to save the world 
which leaves him hanging on electric pole 
because anybody can play his role. 

We discover many ways to perceive 
multiple aspects of one spinning globe 
since there are many ways to analyze 
secret meaning of most common events 
which code the blues to cure our loneliness 
for all must cross Bridge of Forgetfulness. 

Maze Of Banging Doors

Maze Of Banging Doors
© Surazeus
2025 01 26

Setting tarot cards on table of truth, 
the fortune-teller with ten thousand eyes 
explains his future to the angry man 
that he will become the wolf without teeth 
whose words become wild swarm of stinging bees 
so he slouches by the river and cries. 

Attempting to escape the circus tent, 
the trapeze lady sprouts eight sparrow wings 
and flies through tear in the fabric of time 
to fly across the maze of banging doors 
because the moon wails in her burning brain 
fractured into ten thousand languages.

Dancing on the old wood theater stage, 
the ballerina hiding angel wings 
falls in love with the arrogant buffoon 
who makes her quit her job to stay at home 
and cook spaghetti for his gang of wolves 
but she works as typist at the garage. 

Startled from reverie by eerie cry, 
Cinderella hears mercurial voice 
of Icarus above the factory roof, 
so she abandons the assembly line 
and runs outside into cold swirling snow 
to find him hanging on electric lines. 

Gathering with her on the deserted road, 
the fortune-teller with the trapeze lady, 
and the ballerina clutching her gun, 
discuss how to disentangle from wires 
the wingless angel hanging upside down 
who smiles and pretends that he is all right. 

Crawling from ruins of his burned-down house, 
Cassandrus joins them on the lone highway 
to tell them the situation is dire 
because China and Russia will unite 
to divide America east and west 
by fooling them Midas is their messiah. 

Organizing effort with unique roles, 
Cinderella and the Witches of Oz 
rescue Icarus and repair his wings, 
so they walk together in the waste land, 
discussing signs of the apocalypse 
while Cassandrus follows behind and pouts. 

Placing hand on his shoulder with a grin, 
Cinderella tells Cassandrus, "Though we 
believe your prophecies of global doom, 
we cannot panic or despair with hate, 
for we must work together to rebuild 
democracy from ruins of tyranny." 

Sacred Scroll Of Law

Sacred Scroll Of Law
© Surazeus
2025 01 25

When he hears thunder rumble in the sky 
that shakes his faith in honor of mankind, 
some spirit deep inside his startled heart 
advises him to map the end of time 
that he should stay alert with cautious hope, 
aware of doom that stalks the frightened world. 

Scratching at cold hard dirt with bleeding hands, 
Hilkiah digs under ruins of stone walls 
with desperate anguish of the raven cry 
till he finds long brass tube inscribed with glyphs 
that glitters in winter sunlight of hope 
as he pries ancient treasure from the Earth. 

"Commissioned by Josiah, King of Judah, 
to repair temple of Jerusalem," 
Hilkiah proclaims with solemn dignity, 
"I feel that celestial spirit of Eloh 
guided me to this corner of the ruins 
so I would find this treasure from the past." 

Uncapping brass tube with aggressive faith, 
Hilkiah retrieves thick scroll of leather skin 
to unroll it on half-toppled stone wall, 
and gazes with awe at delicate lines 
which record the law that Moses composed 
with blood of angels in Mount Sinai cave. 

"These words awake strange vision in my mind 
that conjures through virtual model of light 
architectural design of structured rites 
that guide behavior humans may perform 
to enhance bright energy of the soul 
so we perceive truth basic to our world. 

Striding swiftly across the bleak waste land, 
Hilkiah cradles brass tube with sacred scroll, 
leaping over scorpions, dodging swift hawks, 
and battling fierce wolves with serpentine rod 
handed down to him from Aaron through Shallum, 
but falls exhausted in the wilderness. 

Placing brass tube with sacred scroll of law 
in hands of Shaphan, his faithful assistant, 
Hilkiah begs, "Take this scroll Moses composed 
safely to hands of Josiah, our king, 
then return to escort me with kind courage 
to rebuild grand Temple of Solomon." 

Accepting sacred treasure of the law, 
Shaphan travels around wind-blasted hills 
to kneel before Josiah on wood throne 
who caresses ancient scroll in brass tube 
with reverent awe, then stands before the crowd 
to read words of Yahweh to his lost people. 

Sweet Silence Of Time

Sweet Silence Of Time
© Surazeus
2025 01 25

Listening to rain splatter on maple leaves 
on the mountain slope by the rocky stream, 
Kuro stares blindly in the moonless night. 
Holding the warm black stone in his left hand, 
he hears kerplash in the old silent pond 
when the frog leaps into silence of time. 

After writing poem on paper of his heart 
that describes wind blowing in leafless trees, 
Kuro eats persimmon sweet as lost hope. 
Though cicadas cry near the river shore, 
wrens noiselessly hop in the wind-blown grass 
and swallow their song in silence of time. 

"My life is brief as the cold moonless night," 
Kuro whispers to the wren on the sill, 
but I will wait till the moon shines again." 
When gold sun rises over hills of pine, 
he sees face of his father in the pond 
that shimmers with breath in silence of time. 

Red shadows of autumn evening transform 
into three men with swords that glint with fear 
as stars appear bright in the window frame. 
When the hawk descends from high mountain pine, 
Kuro twirls and swipes blade of courage quick 
that gleams drops of blood in silence of time. 

On sweet plum blossoms splattered with red blood 
dawn sun of hope shines with sudden surprise, 
exposing footprints on the mountain path. 
Thin layers of mist swirl slowly in pines 
as red plum blossoms fall on dark still lake, 
concealing sorrow in silence of time. 

Reaching out his hand with cautious intent, 
Kuro catches water from morning rain 
that spills from cup of the camellia. 
Gazing at the ripe plum cold in his hand, 
he listens to blue rain talk about home 
composed of blossoms from silence of time. 

When bush-warbler on handle of the hoe 
sings in plum-tree village by the field fence, 
children crowd around hut where Kuro sits. 
Bamboo-grass shadows on thin sliding doors 
flicker while he plays shakuhachi flute 
which enchants their hearts in silence of time. 

Voice of the river increases soft roar 
as Izumi climbs mountain trail of hope, 
wild-cherry blossoms spotting her black hair. 
White butterfly returns to thin plum branch 
as Kuro embraces his wife and cries, 
and they kiss to seal sweet silence of time. 

Beauty Of Her Hidden Pain

Beauty Of Her Hidden Pain
© Surazeus
2025 01 25

Holding the cracked stone of her wounded heart, 
Zixuan asks the tall willow by the lake 
why people ache with sorrow of the moon 
that seems to crumble into crystal snow 
swirling around her fragile flame of soul 
to erase all the ugliness of life. 

When the willow transforms into slim boy 
Zixuan offers cracked stone of her heart, 
so he accepts dark emptiness of pain 
and, kneeling by the silver lake of eyes, 
dips corrupted oval stone of despair 
to cleanse throbbing matrix of its frail frame. 

Dissolving into millions of small fish, 
the cracked stone of her heart releases flash 
of anguished passion on butterfly wings 
that flutter around her in restless swirls, 
so Zixuan reaches out both hands with awe, 
amazed at beauty of her hidden pain. 

Waking up at dawn to the alarm ring, 
Zixuan dresses and hurries out the door 
to catch the bus trundling down city streets, 
where she ponders meaning of the strange dream, 
then runs from elevator to her desk 
where she sits down just in time to begin. 

While typing numbers in spreadsheet of costs 
to calculate rate of profit and loss, 
Zixuan feels weird glow of transcendent faith 
radiate from center of the universe 
so she floats on fairy wings of desire 
to fly through maze of ever-winding time. 

"So how can I touch your time on my way 
to destiny hidden in cave of love 
where every soul who ever lived on Earth 
floats faceless in diamond eyes of my heart?" 
Zixuan softly sings as she enters values, 
and peers around to make sure no one hears. 

Sudden hear-wrenching screams of abject terror 
shock her and everyone around from work, 
so, when Zixuan sees the man fired last week 
stabbing people as he runs down the aisle, 
she grabs large accounting book with both hands 
and whacks his face so hard he falls back stunned. 

Shaking with surprise as she drops the book, 
Zixuan cries while police swarm into the office, 
then sits and catches her breath to gain calm 
when young police woman records her statement. 
Walking down to the ancient lake of eyes, 
she finds turtle of her heart healed with love. 

But One Small Creature

But One Small Creature
© Surazeus
2025 01 25

Because she can imagine in her mind 
so many possible futures of life 
unfolding before her hesitant feet 
that lead to unknown outcomes, good or bad, 
Florence stands till under the rowan tree 
and listens to the robin sing instead. 

Narrow scope of her vision at her feet 
expands forever wider from her spot 
to enclose valley of river and trees 
with vibrant wholeness now round as her eye 
till sense of vastness overwhelms her heart 
and she feels her smallness on the huge Earth. 

"How large is this Earth of mountains and vales?" 
Florence asks the robins with sense of awe, 
but they keep chirping in their little world. 
"Just as the tree is the world to the bird, 
this vale consists of everything I know, 
but I cannot see beyond far dark hills." 

"Just as the bird is small in its huge tree, 
I am but one small creature on this Earth, 
so I can stand here alone on my spot, 
safe in this meadow of familiar trees 
where I have lived my entire span of life, 
or I can explore beyond my own world." 

Staring at the river sparkling with sunlight, 
Florence ponders which direction to start. 
"The river always flows one certain way, 
so I will go with the flow of its bright dream, 
and see how far it goes until it ends, 
most likely in the world-enclosing sea." 

She follows curvaceous flow of the river 
that winds among hills in thick crowded woods, 
where she treads lightly with cautious alertness, 
then onto broad open plain of hard winds, 
where she strides quickly into glowing haze, 
stopping to eat and rest each afternoon. 

Sliding down steep grassy slope to the beach, 
Florence marches out to edge of the world 
and stands imbued with wonder of wild joy 
to see boundless waves of the swirling sea. 
"The Earth is so much bigger than I thought, 
enormous globe that floats in sea of stars." 

Startled by sight of sturdy wooden boat 
that slides onto sand, Florence greets the man 
with silver eyes who steps boldly on shore 
with net of wriggling fish and shouts with joy. 
Roasting fish on the fire as the sun sets, 
Florence and Reynard eat and sing with love. 

If David Had Failed

If David Had Failed
© Surazeus
2025 01 24

The lark sparrow hops in the grassy pond 
beside marble statue half-sunk in mud 
depicting David that Bernini carved. 
Eating ripe apple in the Texas field, 
Marie imagines if David had failed, 
killed by Goliath who unstrung his harp. 

The pond is lonely for her honesty, 
wounded by rubber tires of travesty 
so Marie throws apple core at the sky 
who wakes with grumpiness to ask her why, 
but when she points at statue of the king 
the Sky God gives her his favorite ring. 

Fierce horseman approaches on dusty plain, 
hands grasping at wavery wisps of rain, 
so Marie mirrors to the Hungry Man 
true nature of his avaricious mind, 
"You take from people, but give nothing back, 
because kind decency is what you lack." 

Dragging statue of David from the mud, 
the Hungry Man smears the land with our blood, 
then erects idol of the Shepherd King 
killing the tyrant with his humble sling 
in the center of the Capitol Dome 
to imitate the proud Caesars of Rome. 

Standing at podium of the President, 
the Hungry Man defames the Seer of Kent. 
"David was a loser, and malcontent 
because his ego became turgescent 
and swollen with hatred, and arrogant, 
and nasty when he refused to pay rent." 

Raising her hand at the press conference, 
Marie presents several skulls of dead kings. 
"Jesus, Augustus, Krishna, Jupiter, 
Napoleon, Hitler, and Lucifer. 
These men all reigned over mankind with power 
but now they are food for the tree and flower." 

Staring in shock at the Mother of God, 
the Hungry Man hurls sharp spear at her heart, 
but she snatches it in her hand and grins. 
"Have mercy on the people in our country 
who are scared now of the hatred you bear, 
for we are all equal in sight of God." 

"Your hunger will destroy the world we love, 
so though you now possess the Golden Bough 
you will play scapegoat of the sacrifice 
that will cleanse the world with blood of the lamb." 
The Hungry Man flees in the wilderness 
where the Shepherd King defeats him with love. 

How Beautiful I Was

How Beautiful I Was
© Surazeus
2025 01 24

When the old woman in faded green dress 
asks Peter what he is doing, he sneers, 
"I am hanging out till the end of time." 
He gasps surprised when she gives a beer 
and slyly grins, "It will help to be drunk 
when the devils tear everything apart." 

Sitting together on splintered park bench, 
Peter and the old woman with gray hair 
say nothing at all while he drinks the beer. 
She laughs, "I met my husband on this bench 
just after I escaped from Buchenwald 
and sailed to England in small fishing boat." 

Staring sideways at her old wrinkled face, 
Peter chuckles and pulls down tattered sleeve 
to hide swastika tattoo on his arm. 
"My mother works at the national bank 
and I just dress like this to make her mad." 
She reaches up and tugs his spiked mohawk. 

"You are no real Nazi, you cute little putz," 
she snickers and twaddles ring in his nose, 
then leans head on his shoulder with a sigh. 
"When I was fourteen at my house in Munich, 
six Nazis broke in and beat up my father 
because he taught philosophy at Ludwig." 

Caressing his cheek as he stares surprised, 
the old woman with long scar on her face 
hugs him tightly then sighs, "They made me cook 
schnitzels and spaetzle, then each took their turn 
pretending I was his cute faithful wife, 
dressed in white lace dress with ribbons and bows." 

Clutching his left hand with bright cheerful smile, 
she makes him caress the scar on her face. 
"And on the seventh day they cut my face, 
and left me for dead, all bloodied and bruised, 
on steps of my synagogue they burned down. 
You should have seen how beautiful I was." 

Wrenching himself with horror from her grasp, 
Peter runs home and upstairs to his room 
where he shaves the mohawk with razor blade, 
scrubs the fake tattoo clean off of his soul, 
and washes in the shower for two hours, 
then dresses in his sunday suit with tie. 

Staring in shock when he walks in her office, 
Sharon mutely nods her head when her son 
applies to work as accountant or clerk, 
then cries with wonder to see him apply 
serious attention to finance spreadsheets 
that calculate fall of the British Empire. 

Noble Deeds Of Good

Noble Deeds Of Good
© Surazeus
2025 01 24

Staring into empty well of his mind, 
Zarthus focuses attention of hope 
on ghost of his ancestors who stare back 
with intense contempt of indifferent Nature 
who emerges from shadow of his faith 
as serpent woman with seductive eyes. 

Wearing mask of young police officer 
named Michael Adams, son of the town banker, 
Zarthus patrols the streets of Somewhere City 
to capture criminals, rapists, and thieves, 
who respect not the rights of other people 
to pursue happiness through liberty. 

When his father, Bank President James Adams, 
calls him on the telephone in his car 
to evict James Dunn and his family 
from their old house by the car factory 
for failing to keep up with mortgage payments, 
he knocks in their door with sad trepidation. 

Standing beside Zarthus, who wears disguise 
as good police officer who upholds justice, 
James explains, "Arnold Patterson the Third, 
best friends with your father, fired me last week 
because I am black so he can hire whites, 
so that is the reason I cannot pay." 

"You and me, we went to high school together," 
James smiles, "and played on the same football team, 
winning the championship our senior year, 
so I hope you would help me to convince 
your father to suspend payments for now 
till I can find another paying job." 

Analyzing level of social morals, 
Zarthus, Angel of Justice under Raguel, 
whispers as voice of conscience in the heart 
of Officer Michael Adams that justice 
demands he arrest the real criminals, 
the Banker and the greedy Factory Owner. 

Casting Angel of Justice from his heart, 
Officer Adams evicts the Dunn family, 
James and Rachel with their five hungry children, 
forcing them to leave the old run-down house 
with nothing but one suitcase with some clothes, 
then reports to his father at the bank. 

Deserting the promising officer 
who would have performed noble deeds of good, 
Zarthus watches him run and win election 
as Attorney General of Bannassaw, 
where he protects bankers and factory owners 
who exploit poor people for fiscal gain. 

Words Make Her Invisible

Words Make Her Invisible
© Surazeus
2025 01 24

Her words disturb the silence of the world 
so Mary puts them in the secret box 
till someone asks where she has disappeared to 
though she is standing right in front of them, 
because her words make her invisible 
except to ghosts in the mirror of love. 

Through cryptographic message of her name, 
which no one ever hears spoken aloud, 
she warns them how illusions of their world 
cannot shield their souls from reality, 
so she becomes absence that haunts their days, 
always mute in dim shadows of their fears. 

Down by the creek in endless purple rain 
where she discusses politics with frogs 
the crowd assembles from unspoken fear 
to berate her with hate of broken tongues 
the shocking fact that trees will never care 
till she assures them the sun has not died. 

Yet when the Gift Giver, dressed in red cloak, 
appears with bags of presents for them all, 
they beat him up and steal concepts of wealth 
which they find are nothing but plastic toys 
so they chase him out of town with pitchforks 
which they never use to harvest the grain. 

While she stands in the wet field by the oak, 
watching for signs of change in the still sky, 
she writes no lessons for people to learn 
in the blank book that quivers in her hand 
till it transforms into the hungry crow 
who waits patiently on the red stop sing. 

When she tries to explain to the church ghosts 
that the chandelier of famous glass masks 
has fallen from the weird celestial realm, 
they laugh and walk across the broken bridge 
to throw their sorrows in the frozen stream 
as smooth stones that clatter and roll away. 

Awake with startled curiosity, 
she gazes through the global telescope 
which lets her see grand monuments of state, 
but she adjusts the settings with the dial 
to see faces of people in each land 
but finds their names carved in their eyes with pain. 

Hoping to understand what motivates 
their casual performance of long-dead gods, 
she asks each person she meets on the road 
if they remember when the star-eyed man 
walked among them with diamonds in his hand, 
but they shake their heads, and she cries alone. 

Puzzle Of Your Heart

Puzzle Of Your Heart
© Surazeus
2025 01 23

"If I could solve the puzzle of your heart," 
Martin frowns at portrait of Jennifer 
on the living room wall by her piano, 
"then I could see whole frame of reference 
by which you play your role of well-loved star!" 
then scatters puzzle pieces on the floor. 

"If I could hear the music of your soul," 
Jennifer smiles while her delicate fingers 
dance with elegant grace on ivory keys, 
"then I could hear andante of your hope 
so I can play in harmony of trust 
with intense sonata of your desires." 

"If they could readjust their attitudes," 
Sarah groans, lounging lazy on her bed 
and listening to songs of Taylor Swift, 
"then they could learn to communicate love 
by aligning thoughts with one metaphor 
to connect their hearts with credulous trust." 

"Stuck in tense drama of their busy lives," 
the old homeless man on their front stoop sighs 
while eating black beans from old rusty can, 
"these crazy rich people, safe in their home 
of precious art that feeds the hungry soul, 
cannot perceive the treasure of their hearts." 

Sight-reading melody of lonely angst 
in sad sonata Jennifer composed, 
Martin hears lacrimoso of her hope 
that she expressed with sweet gleam in her eyes 
the first time they strolled on the river shore 
and kissed with affettuoso by the elm. 

Assembling scherzando notes of desire 
in pastoral puzzle scene Martin designed, 
Jennifer perceives romantic respect 
that he expressed with gestures of his hands 
when she birthed their daughter in the sea cave 
during their vacation on the sail boat. 

Spying her parents dance by candlelight, 
Sarah grins at game of passionate love 
while mouthing new lyrics for the love song, 
"Autumn leaves fall like pieces into place, 
so I picture it after all these days 
how magic is back like wind in my hair." 

"I never heard the music of her heart, 
and she never solved weird puzzle of mine," 
the old homeless man mumbles in the night, 
"so I got lost in labyrinth of despair 
and cannot find my way back to her garden 
where she must be happy without me now." 

Muse Of Misty Moors

Muse Of Misty Moors
© Surazeus
2025 01 23

His breath contains strange music of the world 
when Mike breathes air of our souls in bone flute 
which arouses from graves of rattling bones 
every ghost who has ever lived on Earth, 
who swirl around him on the spotlit stage 
and haunt the audience with horror of hope. 

His hands light candles in deserted church 
as Mike prays to his muse of misty moors, 
Our Sad-Eyed Lady of One Thousand Doors, 
who whispers secret name of every soul 
alive somewhere on spinning globe of time 
who feel flame of her heart light up their eyes. 

His knees ache with decades of farming fields 
when Mike crouches to toss log in the hearth 
that crackles with seed of the sun-conceived 
at cry of shore birds on the mussel reefs, 
then cradles new-born baby in his arms 
and welcomes her to this mystical world. 

His fingers pluck dew-wet herbs from the garden 
as Mike collects eggs and berries in baskets, 
then grins to see the fluffy leveret hop 
with leaves of the fuchsia crunched by her teeth, 
then pats the tractor half-lurched in cold mud 
to enter cottage by the dragon sea. 

His eyes peer at the spinning compass arrow 
that always points the right way to perform 
role of the patriot in occupied land, 
yet Mike sets it carefully in the box 
with medals and photos of long-dead men 
shot by careless soldiers of the blind crown. 

His tongue is parched to taste delicious tea, 
so Mike fills crock with snow water of faith, 
then boils it on respectful flames to steep 
leaves of Cloud Mist Tea with just the right flow 
of sparkling water from the mountain peak, 
then sips sweet nectar of transcendent gods. 

His feet snuggle warm blanket by the hearth 
when Mike relaxes on cold wintry night 
to muse with snarky rustic grin, "My home 
is hollow between restless waves of time," 
then sips hot tea of cosmic confidence 
in his small town lit by the Milky Way. 

His hair swirls wild in morning wind of trust 
as Mike and Edna walk up stony path 
to pause among the fairy rings of friendship 
where he sings melody of faithful love 
while sitting with his wife on chilly stone 
for fifty years beside the windy pond. 

Pot Of Water

Pot Of Water
© Surazeus
2025 01 23

Face down in dirt of abject verity, 
Geb asks the cold lake rock how to make fire, 
till the hare of loneliness sniffs his nose, 
so he touches soft tip of the wheat shoot, 
and remembers spilling grains in this spot, 
so he sits up and sees wheat all around. 

Arranging stones in circle on the shore, 
Geb explains his reasoning to the hare. 
"Last time I sparked fire by clashing two stones 
those hot flames escaped control of my hands, 
but I noticed that stones limit their scope, 
so the stone circle may contain its force." 

Tending flames that crackle in evening dusk, 
Geb savors thick scent of water and mud, 
then glances up at sudden flash of light 
when crescent moon emerges from the sea, 
and floats on waves with shimmer of delight 
before ascending to the starry sky. 

Drawn by sweet scent of flowers in her hair, 
Geb watches Nut with curious intent 
as she molds thick red clay to imitate 
shape of the turtle shell that she once used 
to carry water from the sparkling stream, 
but now leaks because of some tiny cracks. 

Setting shell-shaped clay pot beside hot fire, 
Nut slowly turns it till it hardens dry, 
covers coals with rocks that glow red with heat, 
places pot hollow downward on hot rocks, 
then stacks firewood around it pointing up, 
which erupts in flames to bake the pot hard. 

After scraping ash and dust off her pot, 
Nut grins and places it flat on her head 
then walks down to the clear blue sparkling stream 
and fills it full with water to its brim, 
then, bearing it carefully on her head, 
she brings it back to their small four-pole hut. 

Setting pot of water on large flat stone 
on ring of stones above the crackling flames, 
Nut waits till water boils with bubbling pops, 
then fills it with fresh vegetables and herbs, 
topping it with yolk from six cracked egg shells, 
and hums will stirring hot stew for their meal. 

Peeling skin off the hare he cuts with blade 
of sharpened stone, Geb drops chunks in the stew, 
and smiles when they take turns lifting the pot 
to drink sweet memories of the fertile Earth, 
soft meat warming their hearts as cold rain falls, 
splattering on leaf roof that shelters their souls. 

Holy Land Earth

Holy Land Earth
© Surazeus
2025 01 23

The way we travel forward over land 
becomes ideal concept of the Road 
which functions as straight progress to our goal 
through empty space where trees no longer grow, 
so we signify with names of the dead 
advancement of our journey in our head. 

Bearing basket of berries, nuts, and eggs 
that dangles on her arm with casual joy, 
Gearthe strolls across the meadow of flowers 
from her home in small cave on the hill slope 
to the apple woods where the river flows 
so many times her feet blaze road of hope. 

Entranced by elegant grace of her being 
as she glides with confidence on her way, 
Wulfgard sits nonchalantly by large stone 
halfway between the river and her home, 
hoping to catch attention of her eyes 
by lounging as he strums the harp and sings. 

Enchanted by harmony of his voice 
that beams vision of love with charming words, 
Gearthe visits with Wulfgard by the stone 
each day after they walk along her road, 
and she cooks meals with produce he provides, 
eating together at dawn, noon, and eve. 

Bearing three children from seed of his love, 
Gearthe teaches them to explore her way 
along the roads her curious nature blazed, 
gathering food and water from apple woods, 
then weave flower wreaths in the evening glow 
as they drink cider and sing in her cave. 

Lured from their homestead by swift running deer, 
Wulfgard faces through the woods many miles, 
then bears it back to roast and smoke its meat, 
but finds their children weeping in the cave 
because three men dragged their mother away, 
so he follows the trail to find his wife. 

Approaching castle of stone on high hill, 
Wulfgard demands they free his honest bride, 
so tall man wearing gold crown with long sword 
fights contest over who will wed the girl, 
but when Wulfgard defeats the haughty king 
he pushes her out window of the tower. 

Bearing dying Gearthe home in his arms, 
Wulfgard lays her broken soul by the stone 
where she sang ballads while he strummed the harp, 
and declares, "I name this holy land Earth, 
and our children I call Gerthmanians," 
then kisses her soul as she fades away. 

Cute Haloed Cherub

Cute Haloed Cherub
© Surazeus
2025 01 22

Cute haloed cherub of my shadow mind 
dances as candle flame of my desire, 
brave protector of our world languages 
so everyone can understand true love 
where two people do not have to wear masks 
when they walk together on road of life. 

Cute haloed cherub of the ticking clock 
scatters seeds of revolution for truth 
in fertile soil of fate-embittered minds 
that sprout into gangsters with blasting guns 
who fight against the corporate government 
till their godfather invades the White House. 

Cute haloed cherub of chemical lust 
binds hearts of strangers with red thread of love 
who gamble with fate of the falling star 
by selling bodies to angel of wealth 
so they can build new quaint suburban home 
with television and a backyard pool. 

Cute haloed cherub of stark nothingness 
maps maze of myths in vast metropolis 
where people gather in the church of hope 
to pray for coming of the star-eyed king 
who founds world empire on the laughing skull 
where they may slave in factories of faith. 

Cute haloed cherub of the bleeding moon 
gives oranges to young lovers in the park 
who split each other open with sweet words 
to eat their juicy hearts with thirsty tongues 
till they transform into strange characters 
who star in television sitcom shows. 

Cute haloed cherub of the empty sky 
offers to fly us up to paradise 
so we board the airplane of progressive code 
that soars above Glow Cloud where no gods sing, 
then crash-lands lost on Isle of Avalon 
where we build a socialist society. 

Cute haloed cherub of the viking ship 
leads refugees from the holy crusade 
across wild ocean of the howling ghost 
on endless quest to find the Promised Land 
where we build empire of the hungry snake, 
now lost in the haunted amusement park. 

Cute haloed cherub of paradise lost 
gives me cracked mask of Lucifer to wear, 
so, high on pyramid of the one eye, 
I rule world empire of Zarathia 
based on liberty and justice for all 
who fight each other for the ring of power. 

Gulf Of Mexico

Gulf Of Mexico
© Surazeus
2025 01 22

With every wave that washes on the shore 
as laughing gulls circle our open door 
our hearts rejoice at paradise we share 
to watch free ships glide where wild angels fare. 
We sing sweet beauty of the sunrise glow 
that shimmers on the Gulf of Mexico. 

Though thieves take control in the House of Power 
to worship Golden Calf in the high tower, 
our hearts hunger to sacrifice their bull 
and feast on roast beef till our souls are full. 
We lounge together in the sunrise glow 
that shimmers on the Gulf of Mexico. 

If our star-spangled banner may still wave 
over paradise lost we cannot save, 
our hearts hail Light of Liberty that shines 
through gloom of tyranny veiling name signs. 
We huddle and wait for the sunrise glow 
that shimmers on the Gulf of Mexico. 

Amazed by beauty of our spacious skies 
above fruited plains paved over by lies, 
our hearts confirm our soul with self-control, 
fair liberty in law our common goal. 
We join hands at flash of the sunrise glow 
that shimmers on the Gulf of Mexico. 

Eager to work for our new Golden Age 
where everyone plays on the social stage, 
our hearts as one heed the clarion call 
to build liberty through justice for all. 
We march forth as one with the sunrise glow 
that shimmers on the Gulf of Mexico. 

To mourn tragic fall of America 
by following Corn Goddess Onatah, 
our hearts join brave plan of Columbia 
who guides us to found free Zarathia. 
We work together in the sunrise glow 
that shimmers on the Gulf of Mexico. 

Opposed to white nationalist tyranny, 
supporting rainbow world democracy, 
our hearts embrace every human on Earth 
who breathe ethereal soul of divine worth. 
We hold hands and dance at the sunrise glow 
that shimmers on the Gulf of Mexico. 

Awake with compassion for every soul 
who seeks to live their individual role, 
our hearts incorporate in nation of faith 
every person born from one Mother Wraith. 
We feast with free will in the sunrise glow 
that shimmers on the Gulf of Mexico. 

Golden Age Of Rome

Golden Age Of Rome
© Surazeus
2025 01 22

To enjoy avarice of happiness, 
Robert clutches hands of the ticking clock, 
vainly attempting to stop flow of change, 
and roots himself in jagged Earth of hope, 
but time drags his soul beyond history 
and throws him in the saurian grave of fame. 

To savor delirium of vain sureness, 
Robert knots heart with innocent guile 
to press knife-edge of faith against the future 
who mocks his anguish of splintered contempt, 
hopeless about saving his wife and child 
from trash fire of the new fascist regime. 

To raise the cross of the Crucified King, 
Robert attempts to analyze despair, 
ripping pages from holy book of lies, 
compulsory healing upending truth 
when priests declare him the mad heretic 
who builds barbwire fence around his death chapel. 

To study the lizard breathing foul smog, 
Robert declares himself, with puffing throat, 
to be the Great Lord of this universe 
where prophets sit on cliffs and swing their feet 
while watching vultures rule in the White House 
till Melusine devours them to save Earth. 

To walk in glazed moonlight of honest rage, 
Robert journeys into dark maple woods 
where herds of cows graze over graves of gods, 
drawn by unlimited desire to know 
truth about lust humans hide in their hearts 
by wearing Christian mask of charity. 

To understand lessons of history, 
Robert watches old films where Hitler shouts, 
"Make America great again over all!" 
then salutes the Fasces ax with twelve spears 
that honors this new Golden Age of Rome, 
where Red Cross soldiers trample everyone. 

To grasp beautiful fragile light of life, 
Robert intermeshes limbs of his flesh 
to incarnate fierce soul of Lucifer 
in bold rebellion against King of Greed 
who sends sycophantic minions to fight 
holy crusade against the southern horde. 

To express avarice of loneliness, 
Robert wanders across vast field of snow 
where ravens in oak trees give him mushrooms 
so he can eat the broken hearts of gods 
and wake from delirious womb of Earth 
to laugh because cruel tyrants always fall. 

Good Hero Guards

Good Hero Guards
© Surazeus
2025 01 22

Behind this social mask of my true face 
I am the emptiness of time and space, 
yet pure immortal light of our Sun God 
gleams divine consciousness in my soul pod, 
so I will shine while I am still alive, 
recording dreams that glow after I die. 

My soul is beacon of conceptual dreams 
that guides my journey along winding streams 
as I climb over obstacles of fear 
to find gem of truth in hand of the seer 
who meditates in misty mountain cave 
to translate timeless wisdom of the wave. 

Alone on mountain peak of inner sight, 
I measure city maze with moral light 
to analyze progress of human culture 
from food production to religious rapture, 
concerned when our vibrant democracy 
is crushed under greedy autocracy. 

Descending from mountain of cosmic vision, 
I return to mess of our teeming nation 
split now in two factions of civil strife 
that argue nature of the mother-wife, 
whether goddess nurtured with social care 
or oppressed house-servant that weak men fear. 

Strong men confident in their potent virtue 
treat women with respect of good purview, 
for Hero is the man who guards his wife, 
protecting her from harm with his own life, 
commissioned by Hera to honor her rights 
to live as she will, free from parasites. 

Men who try to control women are weak, 
and will never find the true love they seek, 
while men who help women grow strong with care 
will find paradise with her anywhere, 
for women generate life from our hearts 
when lovers calculate their fortune charts. 

My world view is political with hope 
that men will focus love with moral scope 
attentive to support dreams their wives cherish 
so their happy homes bloom rather than perish 
when they teach their children to live with grace 
that beams with divine beauty in their face. 

Good Hero guards his wife with honest faith 
to nurture radiance of her psychic wraith, 
so I build walls of paradise with love 
to secure our home with light from above 
when I strive to embody God in me 
as ideal spirit that sets my heart free. 

Secretary Of Fate

Secretary Of Fate
© Surazeus
2025 01 21

Reluctant to accept the death of hope, 
Elphaba talks to the sad antelope 
who just wants to play on the river shore, 
but angry dwarves keep shutting the red door 
which indicates their haughty attitude 
displayed toward those trapped in their fortitude. 

Considered too old to teach at the school, 
Elphaba invents new conceptual tool 
that children can use to measure the mind 
which many people argue was designed 
though she admires how she just seems to know 
ancient secrets recorded by the crow. 

Startled by how fast time seems to advance, 
Elphaba gives herself another chance 
to program how her brain perceives the world 
in grand narrative of the cosmic herald 
who appoints her Secretary of Fate 
responsible for dispelling all hate. 

Acknowledged by the people of the land, 
Elphaba decides it is time to stand 
with honest faith against the hurricane 
that devastates her home in Aquitaine, 
so she rebuilds glass church from dragon bones 
to safely house maidens, mothers, and crones. 

Contracted to paint portrait of the king 
on roof of chapel with the Broken Wing, 
Elphaba ponders the grand narrative 
that highlights reign of the executive 
who walks market streets in humble attire 
and plays guitar at the evening campfire. 

Confused by formulas of politics 
that empower the greedy with big sticks, 
Elphaba preaches socialist precepts 
based on justice and freedom as concepts 
where everyone is equal in the law, 
even those in Greenland and Panama. 

Blinded by the light of God, Truth, and Right, 
Elphaba writes weird dream code on the kite 
that flutters wings of Icarus on high, 
while she wanders lush meadows with a sigh 
that our land is controlled by criminals 
who operate through different principles. 

Wicked with energy of honest love, 
Elphaba takes me to the moon above 
where we picnic under the Tree of Truth, 
then she appoints me new messiah sleuth 
commissioned to rebuild democracy 
against corruption of autocracy. 

Retribution Of Hate

Retribution Of Hate
© Surazeus
2025 01 21

To the beautiful elegant robots 
who all adore his intellectual thoughts, 
Donald sends roses from garden of ghouls 
to show how much he despises fools 
who believe whatever the old man says 
though he always seem to flunk every quiz. 

Exercising right to party till death 
in close conjunction with the shibboleth, 
Donald stars on the television show 
where angels watch his character grow 
from comic capers of rebellious youth 
to noble gestures of messiah sleuth. 

Ascending pyramid of the mad clown 
who owns everything in the whole damned town, 
Donald wrestles fierce angel of the Lord 
till he stabs Raguel with bloody sword, 
who teaches him secret of alchemy 
so he founds new grifter academy. 

To help Lydmila rebuild her bombed home 
after she escapes invasion to roam 
random highways with no diamonds on them, 
Donald gives her lost empress diadem 
so she can reign over Russia as queen 
since she is granddaughter of Melusine. 

Reluctant to accept with honored faith 
results of election for the World Wraith, 
Donald tears doors off farmhouses and stores 
till Melusine makes him do the house chores 
as punishment for his rebellion 
in trying to be more Machiavellian. 

Humor moistens dry hearts with humid hope 
so we become humble learning to cope 
with constant disasters of fires and wars, 
which inspires Donald to settle old scores 
deep in debt to the American dream 
which he beats and strangles by desert stream. 

Sold to the highest bidder with cash, 
the Holy Book he then threw in the trash 
fools Donald into thinking with bold faith 
that he was appointed by the God Wraith 
to make America bankrupt again 
because only he is allowed to win. 

Declaring now is the new Golden Age 
of America from the global stage, 
Donald decrees retribution of hate 
against everybody who runs the state 
with intention to destroy courts of law 
so he can exploit the poor with gold claw. 

Grief They Cannot Name

Grief They Cannot Name
© Surazeus
2025 01 21

No doors of hope lead them to paradise, 
yet they walk alone on the signless road 
so when they arrive from country of fear 
they have nothing in their hands but mute death 
to give anyone who asks them for their tale, 
except arrogant grief they cannot name. 

They rise again from dust of anywhere 
when their homes are destroyed by unheard words, 
so they carry the dust of empty graves 
and spread it along the road where they walk 
forever nowhere with their loneliness 
because they leave their faces on lost doors. 

No gardens of hopes tilled by ancestral hands 
wait for them to return from nowhere else, 
but hours of sorrow are stuck in their mouths, 
so numb from anguish they cannot feel rage, 
yet they look in through windows of solitude 
to see the blame they refuse to accept. 

They try to measure how much angry air 
billows between them and the infinite sky, 
yet they never speak to anyone else 
who wander around in shadows of fear 
for their power is small as the glass bowl 
that cannot hold the tears they never shed. 

No pungent orange of juicy innocence 
exudes perfume of bodies on the ground 
that rot from hunger of exploding bombs 
because they never escape happiness 
bound inside sadness of wordless despair 
which they erect from broken bones of faith. 

They search for the city of honest peace 
but carry the broken city they lost 
in clutter rattling in bag of their hearts 
for they become the city they escape 
which haunts the bitter words they never speak 
to deny they live in exile from home. 

No beautiful bravery of tender hearts 
can still be found in blank eyes of the dead 
for their trusting faith stains alien ground 
all along their endless road of exile 
where only their shadows search for new home 
though they breathe for the sake of painful breath. 

They shelter in strange curiosity 
wherever they wake from death of the sun 
to hide their rage in new library books 
as graves that record grief they cannot name 
till their tragic lives become mournful songs 
that someone will sing on the dim-lit stage. 

Army Of The Just

Army Of The Just
© Surazeus
2025 01 21

Though her house likes to read old magazines 
about geography of distant lands 
that detail types of houses people build, 
Tammy is concerned about human rights, 
hoping to fight for the marginalized 
when she goes to join army of the just. 

Since his van likes to hang out on the beach 
and surf the gnarly waves of cyberspace 
while revving its hotrod engine with pride, 
Danny works for the First National Bank 
on secret cybersecurity team 
so he supports world army of the just. 

While his books generate conceptual worlds 
where wizards and dragons battle for truth 
till Melusine saves the world from their lust, 
Michael patrols rugged hills where terrorists hide 
as tank commander in the oil-rich land 
to play his part in army of the just. 

Since her bakery welcomes work refugees 
to safely eat hot soup and bread for lunch 
within cozy walls of her warm embrace, 
Carol packs food, clothing, and medicine 
for care packages shipped across the sea, 
eager to help feed army of the just. 

In spite of how clocks embedded in oaks 
store her memories in sad fairy tales 
that calculate disbursement of state funds, 
Karen teaches her kindergarten class 
social justice of Huckleberry Finn, 
training them to join army of the just. 

Before his piano dances on dunes 
with faith-arrogant wings of Lucifer 
for concert he plays at the Parthenon, 
Lucien visits children in hospitals 
stricken with cancer, and raises more funds 
to help resurrect army of the just. 

After his church flies on propeller wings 
to drop Bibles on jungle villages 
that explode when children find them in fields, 
Marco adjusts values on the spreadsheet 
to analyze profit and loss each year, 
hoping to evade army of the just. 

Though the crucifix boasts with humble pride 
that God chose him to start the Golden Age 
by giving him the bull of Mount Sinai, 
Brigit herds sheep on meadow by the sea 
to sing elegies for slain warriors 
who disappear from army of the just. 

New Country Of The Free

New Country Of The Free
© Surazeus
2025 01 20

If walls of all our institutions crack 
from constant earthquakes of world social change, 
the Nowhere might extinguish our vain dreams 
and hurl us surprised on the signless road 
where we may wander across the waste land, 
striving to build new country of the free. 

Though this country is composed of its land, 
mountains of fear and valleys of joy, 
deserts of sorrow and plains of desire, 
the people who walk its landscape of dreams 
emanate spirit of its timeless faith, 
so the people are the country alive. 

When the rich, afraid of equality, 
erect walls of hate to build paradise 
excluding millions of the desperate poor 
from opportunities to live content, 
we become our own country of the lost, 
fighting for our right to breathe the fresh air. 

We create our homeland from broken hearts 
by sharing fruit we steal from Tree of Knowledge, 
inventing new prayers when the countless stars 
bleed from our flag to fill the empty sky 
with tears of children searching for their hopes 
stolen by cruel god on the Golden Bull. 

We populate our new-named country vale 
with refugees from bankrupt businesses 
and neighborhoods erased by bombs of greed 
to build new homes from our ancestral bones 
that beam with holy light of charity 
in cracks that splinter long-locked doors of trust. 

Still the fresh Lotus of Democracy 
blooms from foul mud of suffering we share 
when we transcend boundaries of contempt 
to expand citizenship for all who sing, 
united through vision of Liberty 
who promises justice under fair law. 

Gathered on hilltop of the Humble Fool 
who sacrificed his life to save us all, 
we cast fake statue of the Golden Bull 
from crumbling pedestal of his false pride 
to free the country from the wealthy few 
where everyone tends fruited Tree of Life. 

Because harsh tyranny always requires 
excessive energy to sustain power, 
it burns itself out, consumed by its hate, 
releasing fertile land of honest faith 
for us to build new country of the free 
based on liberty and justice for all.