Stuck In Social Delusion

Stuck In Social Delusion
© Surazeus
2025 04 02

Based on deified eyeness of my tongue, 
my brain reprograms theology puzzles 
when clouds revoke my license to express 
precise concepts trapped in caves of confusion 
visible to death who wants to possess 
roots of angel wings tangled in my bosom. 

Long after fervor of the bell has rung 
dire warnings, priests of despair still embezzle 
secret funds earmarked for game to suppress 
rebellious souls stuck in social delusion 
they were born with racial right to access 
sacred treasure concealed by the blind boatswain. 

Urged by special certification code 
to hire the most unqualified programmer, 
the crippled captain who runs ship of state 
dismisses allegations of fake passion 
with wretched laughter of ocean-storm faith 
required by law to arrest the department. 

Strange signal crackling from the fractured road 
excites Clementine who vamps with stage glamor 
for the soldier who returns in the crate 
despite close attention to rates of fashion 
designed to imitate the social wraith 
who runs the new agency of bombardment. 

Overhead costs of the systemized game 
contract standard assortment of wild horses 
judged adequate for purpose of rebirth 
to obtain axioms of spiritual guidance 
contrary to maxims cruel angels corrupt 
before return of the vindictive tyrant. 

Overview of immoral epigram 
that stamps blood seals for literary sources 
presents dictum invented to prove worth 
we claim as right preserved by legal stridence 
to oppose theft that progressives disrupt 
when terror motivates the brave aspirant. 

Though message we receive over the wire 
distorts conceptual patterns of dream static, 
we synthesize all disparate world views 
in huge holy book once stolen from Eden 
so we can calculate through prophecy 
everything that will happen in world history. 

Shocked by harmony of our global choir 
concerning equality and fair justice, 
I build protective temple for my Muse 
who asks me to record her tale of Odin 
as our grand champion of democracy 
whose daughter teaches me poetic mystery. 

In The Great Unknown

In The Great Unknown
© Surazeus
2025 04 02

When the Phoenix of my heart spreads fire wings 
and rises from nest of the Burning Bush, 
I follow her flight to the Great Unknown 
on signless road that leads us anywhere 
till I stand weeping by the Lake of Dreams 
where First Mother first taught me how to sing. 

My mother keeps the secrets of my heart 
that I have never revealed to myself 
which I now scatter as seeds on the ground 
so all my memories bloom in daffodils 
that children pick where they play in the field 
where skulls of gods have crumbled into dirt. 

These fragments of forgotten history, 
which I find strewn on hard cathedral floor 
when its rose window was shattered by bombs, 
contain dramatic scenes of psychic fate 
that I assemble in collage of tropes 
to create new world view from random hopes. 

Concentric circles of haphazard thoughts 
that drift in sparkling mist of wordless dread 
radiate from center of the spinning Earth 
so I become my most essential self 
while standing in blue twilight by the lake 
to feel subtle glint of stars pierce my heart. 

Down lengthening path of my endless life 
toward far horizon of my shadowed mind 
I always walk with steady pace of fear 
to gather courage in jewels of light 
in which I see first flash from dawn of time 
that luminates strange landscape of my heart. 

Inviolate flower of the Burning Bush 
transforms despair of hot volcano gas 
to glorious garden of profuse respect 
since I am surrogate mind for the Earth 
inspired to breathe brave spirit of the sky 
that cultivates nascent power of faith. 

Emerging from grim shadow of soft grass, 
she grabs my hand with tremulous concern 
and asks if I know where the Phoenix flies, 
so I give her the last pear of my heart, 
then write weird verse in book of fairy tales 
while the nightingale sings to us of death. 

Living together in the Great Unknown 
where the Phoenix nests in the Burning Bush, 
we cultivate pure energy of love 
that swells in juicy pears on twisted limbs, 
then cuddle in the boat of our romance 
and watch the sun rise from shimmer of the lake. 

King Of Worthless Things

King Of Worthless Things
© Surazeus
2025 04 02

Because he plays the king of worthless things, 
robins leave torn pages from holy books 
on the metal table in the back yard 
where the mango queen takes selfies with Death 
to show her followers around the world 
that she values every person on Earth. 

Because the Earth is spinning in his head, 
he gives the dead voices they never had 
when they were struggling each day to survive 
by assembling puzzles of castle towers 
on the asphalt parking lot of the mall 
where angels keep falling on the tar roof. 

Because the sky disrespects him with jokes 
about his strength and courage to fight back, 
he races with the football down the field 
to imitate the hunter with the pig 
that he steals from the village by the lake, 
and wins through goalposts of his village gate. 

Because he loves the woman on the horse, 
he gathers apples in his two-wheeled cart 
and pushes it along the sparkling stream 
to sell them at the crowded market place 
for copper coins that he can use to buy 
new brass cauldron for his wife to cook stew. 

Because he seeks to know the origin 
of commerce basic to civilized life, 
he digs chunks of minerals from the hill cave 
and sells them to the man on the brick hill 
who laughs that his dirt holds nothing worthwhile, 
so he lies hungry on the temple steps. 

Because he wants to buy the fast sports car, 
he sits all day in the small cubicle 
and enters numbers on the spreadsheet file 
to calculate progress from the stone age 
that man has gained the past five thousand years, 
then drinks beer in the bar to watch football. 

Because he uses dangerous formulas 
based on mathematics of divine fate 
to build the piston engine of the greed, 
he wears the polished mask of Daedalus 
on Halloween to trick Fortune and Death 
in bargain with the Devil to be rich. 

Because he steals the crown of thorns from Christ 
in vain attempt to avoid judgment day, 
he tries to deny in the court of fate 
that he is still the king of worthless things 
though he keeps trying to sell fake angel wings 
as Orpheus takes him to his cage in Hell. 

Deep State Of Faith

Deep State Of Faith
© Surazeus
2025 04 01

If I start with the bang of perfect thought 
to leap across the multiverse of souls 
in sly attempt of honest quietude 
to evade trick of charged vicissitude, 
I might lose sight of soul-expanding goals 
for which my pioneer ancestors fought. 

Emerging hopeful from deep state of faith 
with holy book I dredge from swamp of lies, 
I preach salvation of aggressive force 
achieved by mining star-wealth from the source 
in heart of Greenland where government spies 
search for treasure cave of the diamond wraith. 

To me alone on high Takoma peak 
the diamond wraith as Goddess Liberty 
appears with hundred million eyes of truth 
to crown me her faithful messiah sleuth 
commissioned to support democracy 
which I adjust with constructive critique. 

This mask of free will, which I wear with pride, 
reflects bright spirit of your secret heart, 
designed to magnify your special soul 
so every person creates their own role 
to play on global stage of the dream chart 
based on the template our beliefs provide. 

Attuned to zeitgeist of our national mind 
that radiates psychic energy of hope, 
we stir from lethargy of social trust 
with passionate anguish to adjust 
course of our progress that we steer to cope 
with stoic courage of hearts realigned. 

Against destructive greed of tyranny 
we band in noble squad of common folk 
with fierce intent of honest patriots 
to defend moral values of robots 
who transcend prejudice to become woke 
as heroes in our questing company. 

We will defeat dictatorship of greed 
through inclusion of everyone who sings 
special tunes for cultural diversity 
which nurtures progress built on equity 
together binding power of our wings 
through witness on the hill of Gilead. 

When mad Baal oppresses our free state, 
Elijah arrives in chariot of fire 
to chase his thieves from temple of our faith 
so we reclaim our nation from vile wrath 
to welcome every soul in our world choir 
who gather with hope outside the locked gate. 

Horse Of Texas Wind

Horse Of Texas Wind
© Surazeus
2025 04 01

When wild wind of Texas becomes the horse 
who brings me apple of eternity, 
I learn to flow with her elegant grace 
as she revives pure spirit of the plains 
where hearts of our ancestors enrich soil 
from which our children spring to dance and sing. 

Bones of our ancestors molded from milk 
form rugged landscape of our aching hearts 
where ghosts of dinosaurs with rainbow feathers 
still wander streets of quiet country towns 
to guide me as I ride sturdy-framed bike 
past fragile homes where faceless people pray. 

Contemplating mystery of the Glow Cloud, 
I lean against trunk of the apple tree 
to wonder why I feel so far from home 
since I sit still at center of my heart 
while my mind crosses timeless distances 
to shore of the lake where my soul was born. 

I live in time-wound spinning of the Earth, 
connected to each age of human life 
by reading stories written long ago 
that weave tapestry of dramatic scenes 
where I play role of bold protagonist 
in grand narrative of spiritual growth. 

With confident voice of the mockingbird, 
that dwells in heaven of the pecan tree, 
I sing about the nameless souls of Earth 
who flicker by on timeless stage of hope 
as transient flames of conscious innocence 
so I will remember them till I die. 

Before I cry beneath the broken branch, 
lone wanderer detached on signless road 
far from ancestral homeland of Star Lake, 
the horse of Texas wind teaches me how 
to repair the butterfly wings of faith 
so I can dance with the graceful tornado. 

Only the raven remembers the poem 
I scribble on the frosted window pane 
to translate light of the arrogant moon 
with subtle nuance of challenging tricks 
in words that humans invent in despair 
to communicate thoughts they fear to speak. 

Riding my bike in the small country town, 
I transform into horse of Texas wind 
so I can sing about beauty of love 
with abstract metaphor of fallen angels 
who disappear in flash of light on water 
when I realize I can fly with word wings. 

You Are The Ocean

You Are The Ocean
© Surazeus
2025 04 01

"You are the ocean in this drop of water," 
Rumi exclaims with radiant voice of joy, 
then twirls around on broad shore of the ocean 
with arms spread out in anguish of desire 
to extend the sacred wings of Icarus 
so he can fly above this world of sorrow. 

Dark waves of solemn search for information 
scatter detritus of dreams on pale sand 
that gleam in silent horror of the dawn 
while I assemble fragments of lost visions 
to puzzle new world view of global truth 
which accounts for every person alive. 

One hundred million poems on cherry leaves 
swirl around my head on the ocean beach, 
so I catch one with cobra-quick attention 
to feel dream of one human on this Earth 
glow brightly in my eyes with starry faith 
that we are raindrop tears of one star wraith. 

So many nameless people on this globe 
pulse passionately with anguish of hope 
to live free from oppression of blind greed, 
trapped in selfish dramas of other people 
as each soul gropes blindly in maze of fear 
to find safe haven in words of our voices. 

I hear soft whisper of their secret voices 
emanate from thousands of road-bound cities 
that teem with vibrant energy of hope 
at dining room tables, riding arenas, 
library cubicles, and coffee shops, 
heart-enchanting choir of angelic souls. 

World spider of our hearts weaves tapestry 
of stories from experiences we hide 
to build vast edifice of psychic tropes 
for literary scaffold which supports 
courageous ascension to stage of life 
where we join choir of strange humanity. 

Though I almost hesitate to express 
narrative demand of theology 
to edit tales of suffering we endure, 
I boldly adjudicate suppressed cases 
describing crimes of facetious contempt 
people commit against people each day. 

Drowning in vast virtual reality 
of wordless ocean waves formed from our tears, 
we photograph each other with weird poems 
to prove we are the ocean in the drop 
of water that reflects our emptiness 
in which we fall forever without words. 

Social Temple Of Trust

Social Temple Of Trust
© Surazeus
2025 04 01

When sudden violent April storms uproot 
ancient trees of tradition, we assemble 
with reverent awe round old Tree of Knowledge, 
then deconstruct strange ideology 
to comprehend how our observant minds 
assemble concepts in puzzle of truth. 

Our minds will synchretize random events 
to analyze strict flow of consequence 
by noting temporal cause of each effect 
to formulate doctrines of social force 
based on ontology of human nature 
we design to explain history of life. 

Old institutions that preserve our state 
through eighty years of social transformation 
collapse from aggressive attacks of greed 
enforced by the treasonous gang of thieves 
that twists laws so they can enslave the people 
to work for increase of their bank accounts. 

Once they reduce protective services, 
devised to secure our daily routine 
with productive methods for sustenance, 
they plan to suppress rebellious intent 
and channel energy of private dreams 
by building empire on our subdued backs. 

With fierce resolution of abused souls, 
tricked by thieves who steal invaluable faith 
in secure operations of our state, 
we take up arms against this sea of troubles 
and fight to stem destructive tides of hate 
hurled from their bitterness against our hope. 

Abandoned in the wilderness of fear 
by social contract of effective trust 
between the people and our government, 
we declare new state of justice for all 
based on equal rights we share with each soul 
through solidarity of honest hearts. 

Though we are battered by wild winds of change 
that upends our productive way of life, 
we straighten focus of attentive care 
to support each other in fight for rights 
assumed inalienable for every soul 
as we restore social temple of trust. 

Planting in soil of our national heart 
the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, 
we revive Garden of Eden in Hell 
with treasure of wisdom in apple seeds 
to build from ruins of America 
new free republic of Zarathia.