Bodies Float In Sorrow

Bodies Float In Sorrow
© Surazeus
2025 07 31

Oblique contention of the laureate 
sprays words in conversations of desire 
to spin the mind in harmony with waves 
which stream our sorrows on flashing lines 
depicted as ancient paintings in caves 
observed by wanderers on signless roads. 

The oak tree sprawling on the rocky dale, 
connected by stone walls on either side, 
remains safe haven of my aching heart 
where I lounge lonely in embracing limbs 
far from the teeming market of desire 
where jesting troubadours mock royalty. 

Holding map of the heavens in my heart, 
shimmering matrix woven with starlight, 
I listen to cicadas sing at dawn 
about strange beauty of the faceless wind, 
then carve my name on bottom of the jar 
before I bake it in the kiln of hope. 

Our voices whisper in tall sycamores 
to wake electric sense of sudden storm 
that traces absence of my hungry heart 
swollen with heaviness of eager hope 
so, though we tremble at loud roar of faith, 
our bodies float in sorrow of respect. 

Each word still missing from resonant spell 
reveals confusion of the ink-wet hill 
trapped deep in grimy clouds of innocence 
uprooted from sharp jangle of safe words 
which will evaporate through flash of thought 
though we lie silent on the shifting dune. 

Glass spiders weave the silver bridge of truth 
across abyss of vernal emptiness 
where copse of pear trees rattles at my breath 
despite solutions burgeoning from books 
through resolution of the faceless clown 
who knows where everybody wants to live. 

No asphodel with tears of pungent wine 
contends with arrogance of cheerful fate 
since flowers bloom from awful cracks of Hell 
with fading memories nameless lovers share 
when we decide we love our fateful flaws 
because we smell soft colors of fake words. 

My heart remembers lake of subtle light 
where turtles with aggressive angel wings 
float cyber-swift above the singing crowd 
because the tree keeps growing from the dirt 
despite scars seared by frost and fire of time 
by reaching roots in darkness of the mind. 

Wickedness Of Humble Gods

Wickedness Of Humble Gods
© Surazeus
2025 07 31

Assembled in the Septisolium, 
the seven Sibyls of the ancient world 
vote for high priestess to reign as Ishtar 
who performs her role in globe theater 
with courage of ecstatic heresies 
that flicker as stones deep in flowing streams. 

When holy spirit of the reborn world 
undulates over meadows of wild flowers 
I bind anxiety of aimlessness 
with fierce assertion of the dragon bone 
through devastating grief of consciousness 
entangled in brambles of constant hope. 

Reluctant to appease aggressive men 
with foreign concept of volatile faith, 
she roasts sea-dragon steaks on flaming grill 
for people gathered on the ziggurat 
to feast on nostalgia of social dread 
where purple petals swirl in evening air. 

Unloved by phantoms of the nameless dead 
who haunt library halls of college towns, 
she lies in hammock by the river shore 
beneath the mountain of the howling clown 
who appears at midnight as the white wolf 
aware that she still loves the fallen god. 

Through curving river of time-tapered dawn 
we swim beyond grim sorrow of cold fear 
to shiver helpless on bright ocean shore, 
amazed at beauty of this changeless world 
that jolts our stubbornness for coiling time 
that swirls unmoving through cracks of regret. 

Blue gleaming fish of political views 
flops wildly on the marinated sand 
to speak of social values we should share 
that caters to petroleum innocence 
if Saturn shelters Ishtar from the storm 
with bright sincerity of honest love. 

Pianos ring across white desert dunes, 
transported on steel wings of Icarus, 
to highlight wickedness of humble gods 
who plot new revolution against hate 
exploding from pool where Narcissus drowns 
by sending get-well cards to dethroned kings. 

When horses break from stones of verity 
at haunting toll of glass cathedral bells, 
we gather round the fountain pool as ghosts 
to ask World Savior for faces to wear 
till we disappear in long symphonies 
which entrance the rich with strange fantasies. 

Explicate The Why

Explicate The Why
© Surazeus
2025 07 31

What is this weird dream I experience here 
except the otherworld of fantasy 
where faceless people I can barely see 
wander lost in shadows of wordless fear? 
Orpheus cries out to the empty sky, 
asking Ungod to explicate the why. 

Garsenda strums the lyre of Mercury 
and sings with aching voice of helpless love 
for ideal warrior who gleams high above 
our crowded world of brutal tragedy. 
Orpheus teaches troubadours to play, 
asking Ungod to explicate the why. 

Rigaudus opens garden gate of faith 
and searches maze where scarlet roses bloom 
for Best of Ladies singing by the tomb 
where she transforms into the sun-bright wraith. 
Orpheus maps the true romantic way, 
asking Ungod to explicate the why. 

Gaufridus sails to shores of Tripoli 
to find Hodierna, his true far-off love, 
who cradles him as he dies in the cove, 
tears splashing his pale face with agony. 
Orpheus treasures wisdom of the spy, 
asking Ungod to explicate the why. 

Walterus, Nightingale of Vogelweide, 
sings by the hearth where Venus reigns alone 
with voice so sweet he wakes from divine stone 
uncanny beauty women cannot hide. 
Orpheus dreams Earth spinning in his eye, 
asking Ungod to explicate the why. 

Marcabrun stares into the bubbling pool 
to see face of Earth Goddess in the sun 
that shines behind his own face he would shun 
to lament how his lust makes him the fool. 
Orpheus leaves church where he cannot pray, 
asking Ungod to explicate the why. 

Christianus Troyus, exercising free will, 
writes lines of verse with moon-black raven quill 
detailing romance quest of Perceval 
to find his bride who bears the Holy Grail. 
Orpheus drives new car on the highway, 
asking Ungod to explicate the why. 

Now I wear mask of Phoebus since my birth 
to sing about great heroes of our age, 
though none have yet appeared on global stage 
to manage United Nations of Earth. 
Orpheus gives me wings of truth to fly, 
asking Ungod to explicate the why. 

Quotidian Puzzle Of Faith

Quotidian Puzzle Of Faith
© Surazeus
2025 07 30

Blind ghost who stands in window of my home 
gazes out into darkness of the world 
to find the light in hearts of human beings 
who flutter frail as butterflies of faith 
in brutal storms of political change 
to find safe haven of the honey flower. 

My visions occupy passage of flow 
between three dimensions of architecture 
and temporal pulse of words inked in the book 
to theorize question of particulars 
based on fluid motion of consciousness 
when I name vibrant objects that exist. 

Safe within semi-autonomous spheres, 
mythic personas of distinct concepts 
perform difficult play of tragedy 
through society of the spectacle 
which animates faceless ghost of Apollo 
who works as urban planner for Minerva. 

Surfing undulations of reverie 
that jibe through circulation of star laws, 
I designate how traffic of the mind 
formulates quotidian puzzle of faith 
by which we midwife movement of respect, 
deriving journey of the word-mapped code. 

Bright halo of divine absurdity 
reflects vitriolic retort through grief 
which unsettles tendency to program 
international situation of despair 
composed by boredom machine of contempt 
that records unitary urbanism. 

Negationist tendency of theism 
engages psychographic map of myth 
we follow to Temple of Surrealism 
where gods wear human masks of pageantry 
to spell ephemeral program of relations 
that entails hypothesis of rebirth. 

Dubious amusements of maudlin poets 
demolish vast cathedrals of weird myth 
which leaves us lost in subterranean truths 
to find tomb of electric Jupiter 
whose ghostly face on television screens 
narrates existence of the twilight zone. 

While Amphion plays the lyre of Mercury 
to build vast maze of temples from stone words 
Niobe weeps for children killed in war 
who studied quotidian puzzle of faith 
before Jupiter bombed their homes to rubble 
through sublime sentiment of privilege. 

Bold Advance Guard

Bold Advance Guard
© Surazeus
2025 07 30

Sweet sticky saturation of our souls 
provides glue that binds our darkness with light 
so we express belief in wordless power 
to walk on shining surface of the water 
and tell each other things will be all right 
as we recount necessity for goals. 

Despite nostalgia for the distant past 
we walk aggressively to blaze new path 
with wise ferocity for noble truth 
by thinking simultaneous facts of faith 
through chemical indifference of despair 
in matrix woven from atomic flare. 

Thus on shore of the starry lake we lounge 
with friends who comprehend our secret jokes 
with eagerness of awkward trust to plunge 
headlong in fast-changing current events 
from crazy theory about baking cakes 
in communion with the bold advance guard. 

Startled by buzz of time-fragmented shard 
reflecting faces of people I knew 
long before I joined the bold justice crew, 
I tell my best friend why I now believe 
that we are atoms swerving in the void, 
but she cries that I am the last android. 

Albino conjurer with gold cat eyes 
brings yellow roses to the weeping girl 
who asks if we know where her mother went, 
drowned in the sudden flood that swept our town, 
yet when she falls in love with the blind clown 
we listen to strange music of the skies. 

Not quick as striped tongue of the divine toad 
love wounds our hearts, though we are mad and wise, 
so we decide to mimic ocean ghosts 
while brewing beef stew in cauldron of fate 
to feed the gunners from fallen airplanes 
who sing while drinking wine in red moonlight. 

Tricked by the banker with the Jester card, 
we wage rebellion of the advance guard 
to fight cruel monarch in tall tower of gold 
who pilfers wealth from work of factory slaves 
till revolution of the red right hand 
sweeps suddenly across the broken land. 

Glass house I built in middle of the Ocean 
preserves the beating hearts of goddesses 
who fill airplanes with dragon eggs of faith 
to feed gravediggers of the holy church 
before second coming of Jupiter 
based on artificial intelligence. 

Teach Us How To Dance

Teach Us How To Dance
© Surazeus
2025 07 30

If I should fall in love with Clara Bow 
and dance with spirit of the Flapper Girl, 
I might relive sweet passion of the heart 
that seeks to flee from maze of Babylon 
and dance in shining hills of Hollywood 
where Dionysus wears black pinstripe suit. 

Wild red hair of the fairy we adore 
entangles hearts of worshippers with faith 
so spritely passion of unfettered love 
may triumph over spirit-chaining rules, 
till she is trapped as Sibyl in the cage 
who prophesies fall of America. 

Each time America falls in disgrace 
survivors gather on the river shore 
to build new town based on equality 
which quickly goes awry when clever thieves, 
wearing slick suits and scarlet power ties, 
seize control of banks in sly psychic coups. 

When happy people of America 
elect Clara Bow as our President, 
she appoints her old father Dionysus 
to run the Department of Happiness, 
commissioned to deport the arrogant 
who impose bitter religious beliefs. 

Stone walls that mark lush Connemara hills 
protect wild fairies Titania employs 
to wake the frightened people in cold halls 
from nightmare in the cave of writhing fire, 
then lead them into fields of sparkling mist 
to dance and sing among the graves of gods. 

My direct male line from Adam to me 
migrates from Nigeria, across Arabia, 
through Iran, along India, to China, 
north to Lake Baikal in Mongolia, 
then west through Scythia to Italia, 
over two hundred thousand years of hope. 

I race my horse across the windy plain, 
chasing the sun over four thousand years 
from Lake Baikal to Lake Geneva, west 
to climb crystal mountains of singing crows 
where I rule the world as fierce Jupiter 
with thunderbolt I forge from rock of faith. 

After I die, place my spell-chanting skull 
in the library of Westminster Abbey 
along with Orpheus, Merlin, and Hamlet, 
so we can talk about how human tribes 
build the Tower of Babel with their blood 
so Clara Bow can teach us how to dance. 

Concerns Of Your Heart

Concerns Of Your Heart
© Surazeus
2025 07 29

I want to address concerns of your heart 
but I cannot see your thoughts in your eyes 
that shimmer bright as sunlight on the lake, 
so I transform into the sprawling oak 
and stride down the middle of crowded streets 
to stand on roof the crumbling White House. 

Yet overnothing of the dreamless lake 
forms ice from words that crawl on broken wings 
prepared to clock delusion of free sight 
related to how stones punch silent thought 
more paralyzed by our remotest hope 
that gleams from lamps on people-crowded streets. 

Reluctant to accept death-laugh, erased 
by ancient unwords trapped in rolling stones, 
I program evolutionary phase 
we play on cluttered stage of cosmic fear, 
better than holy clown of evermore 
who nails your false voice to cathedral door. 

Retreating forth with miraculous seeds 
cloud-stretched beyond infinity revealed, 
we tear masks of our most authentic selves 
off bold robotic monsters we become 
to buy salvation from hypnotic toad 
who eats concerns that foul my loyal heart. 

Each story seed I find on signless road 
bursts forth from frail egg of my hungry heart 
when I lie on cold marble floor of fate 
to gaze amazed at high cathedral roof 
resembling ribcage of the dinosaur 
who steals conceptual legacy of truth. 

Each flake of snow that drifts into my eye 
transforms to graceful fairy girl of fate, 
gowned in white silk with pink rose of respect, 
who offers glass of wine when I arrive 
to ask her hand in marriage of true minds 
till she morphs into the crucified Christ. 

After I stumble lost in the waste land, 
clutching blank tablets of communal laws, 
I find Saraswati in scarlet dress 
sitting on stone rim of the fountain pool 
with smile that causes great empires to fall 
because I feel true concerns of her heart. 

Now that I understand her secret heart 
I see her thoughts shine in her ancient eyes 
when she glares at me with admiring rage 
that transforms me into the three-eyed crow 
who flies into bright blazing sun of fame 
with song that shadows all with honest truth. 

Ethereal Beauty Of Rain

Ethereal Beauty Of Rain
© Surazeus
2025 07 29

Divine vision of my computer brain 
calculates ethereal beauty of rain 
that fills the dizzy canyon with blind grief 
essential to remorse of word-bleak relief. 
We stare in shapeless chasm of our hearts 
which ancient gods once mapped on mythic charts. 

Through ruthless force of ever-flowing streams 
time realigns precision of our dreams 
with strange theology prophets design 
to guide our quest for truth by pretty sign. 
We walk the long smooth beach of silent waves 
to find ghosts of the dead in singing caves. 

Unearthing ancient energies of thought 
long buried in debris of truth untaught, 
I dig for artifacts from memories 
to open doors of lost homes with dream keys. 
White salamander of my primal soul 
programs how I perform my angel role. 

Though time seems to forget shape of my mind, 
which death molds from sorrow in humankind, 
I map landscape of my ancestral bones 
which form foundation of government zones. 
We shall no more surrender truth to fate 
by forging fear into the jeweled gate. 

To synchronize my heart with beat of change 
expressing social maze through psychic range 
I wake my timorous heart with solemn psalm 
that winds tornado passion in bold calm. 
Expelled from Eden by the angry king, 
Eve weaves from agony strong faithful wing. 

New archaeologist of arcane truth, 
I work for Jesus as messiah sleuth 
extracting science-measured formulas 
to write symphonies played by orchestras. 
The devil Hope with feathers of despair 
perches on my shoulder with clever sneer. 

I sail the Strangest Sea of Sophistry 
to map omission of extremity 
where giant crow of social anarchy 
endures the storm to build democracy. 
Though swallowed by vast maze of asphalt roads 
lush Eden teems with incandescent toads. 

Retired to latitudes of tree-veiled hills 
where birds guide wanderers to sparkling rills, 
I reign without action from tomb of breath 
in loving harmony with my bride Death. 
Bright quartz contentment of this formal hour 
provides secure faith of my psychic tower. 

Social System Of The Real

Social System Of The Real
© Surazeus
2025 07 29

Through pure sublimity of haunting tones 
by which I hold back flash of ceaseless time 
I carve weird pictures on angelic bones 
that should record the mental-sparking chime 
which wakes our generation from ideal 
to rebuild social system of the real. 

Pure ray of moonlight on the mirror lake 
illuminates full bodies of three girls 
whose hearts glow with divine soul of the snake 
that transforms their spirits to pulsing pearls 
which generate rich race of humankind 
to build grand social system of the mind. 

Pure vanity that beams as the first cause 
speaks with electric voice of molecules 
which binds our universe with vibrant laws 
through pageantry of consequential rules 
yet fractures unity in swirling stars 
to program social system of fast cars. 

From heavenly realm of ideas we fall 
through changeless perfection of timeless truth 
to live bound tight in flesh framed by word wall, 
taught to transcend fear by messiah sleuth 
yet expand from divine diminishment 
through social system of accomplishment. 

Expanding from first flash of unity, 
we grow from cosmic contemplation role 
to drive with action through diversity 
when we evolve as globes from the white whole, 
to wingless angel from the reptile form 
constrained by social system of the norm. 

Between vast chasm and the pure event 
we transform from dark well of bitter light, 
our souls becoming true self we invent 
with breath from emptiness of mortal flight 
we drink from wellspring of immortal love 
in social system from Heaven above. 

Life fills our bodies with desire to know 
ultimate wisdom of impatient faith, 
so we sing beauty through struggle to grow 
when we ascend to higher state as wraith 
embodied in this frame of reference 
defined by social system of soul sense. 

When Pythia hurls intensive breath of flame 
with howl of passion that creates the Earth, 
I bind her demon whole with sacred name 
so we create our child through beam of birth 
who grows from fish to god as human being 
to play in social system of the ring. 

Empty Space Of Time

Empty Space Of Time
© Surazeus
2025 07 28

If Death catches me listening to the ground, 
I will define its empty space of time 
as home where we can gather in the grass 
to weave wild laughter of the wind in songs 
that flush ethereal spirit through our hearts 
so we can row our boats across the lake. 

Bright clouds cast shadows of our faceless souls 
that drag our bodies across fields of bones 
till moonlight resurrects us from our dreams 
to run with horses on the river shore 
where they explain how blind trees produce fruit 
while I write songs in mud with bloody sticks. 

Because the lost road takes us to the snow 
we kneel with humble gratitude for Death 
who teaches us to eat lush grass of graves 
where cows still dream for twenty thousand years 
watched over by the woman with the lamp 
which gleams with eyes of demons born from rain. 

White lizards swallow asteroids of fate 
to show us where our children will be born 
so we arrange feathers from angel wings 
in clear proportion to unknown desires 
worn by the woman with blood on her face 
who dances wild for twenty thousand years. 

Because we meet the dead on all lost roads 
we give them names that make them come alive 
so we build homes along the river shore 
where children of our bodies run and play 
till they grow into planet-conquering gods 
who stand on lonely pyramids and cry. 

The woman who gives light to wandering souls 
assembles refugees from civil wars 
in loyal tribes who worship her one eye 
because she rules for twenty thousand years 
each empire that dares rise from skulls of gods 
who give maps of world roads to hungry sons. 

The old man strumming mandolin of hope 
recounts adventures of the three-eyed fox 
who tricks proud minions of the carpenter 
to hunt the devil in the rancid swamp 
yet still refuses to play chess with Death 
though he makes fatal deals on the lost road. 

While promenading with Death on the lost road, 
who wears her black lace dress and scarlet cape, 
I remember myself as river boy 
when I lay naked on the time-smooth stone 
and listened to the sky of aching stars 
explain why all organic bodies die. 

Worried State Of Mind

Worried State Of Mind
© Surazeus
2025 07 28

Assembling puzzle of conceptual truth 
from wingless flight of fragmentary blue, 
I write electric runes on mirrored hue 
to capture visions from messiah sleuth 
in fairy tales no fool takes seriously 
except to contemplate the psychic key. 

Though clouds reflect our worried state of mind 
about the future weird illusions weave, 
hearts troubled by ambiguity to grieve 
how travelers leave all their dead behind, 
we play slow hide-and-seek with mocking death 
when sly ventriloquists steal surprised breath. 

Wise crickets prophesy how nations fall 
from arrogance of bitter tyranny 
contrived by grand scheme of my barony 
when I trace your face on glass temple wall 
in desperate measure to retrieve my heart 
from rotting apples in the broken cart. 

Awake entirely far from east of time, 
regret still singing through the cataract, 
I analyze emotions based on impact 
which expands from genetic code of slime 
to claim vast Godhead of eclectic states 
revised by arcane code of mindless fates. 

Behind shell of my adamantine face 
assertive spirit of my hope-wrecked faith 
attends with skeleton glow of my wraith 
combined with raw energy of each place 
because my heart translates song of sea waves 
to false theology that blind faith saves. 

Toward light ascension of the waterfall, 
averse to sorrow-blistered sluice of fear, 
I cherish people too far to stay near 
by mapping their location on world ball 
that spirals violently in timed abyss 
yet gently enough for lovers to kiss. 

Wise cows in meadows of the humming oak 
give moons to mothers in shape of crystal tears 
transforming cats to humans without fears 
who steal wings from angels now only woke 
to classify souls from the other world 
with labels designed by the cosmic herald. 

By worthy sorrow forged in city bridge 
we gather wordlessly by fountain pool 
to discuss operation of the school 
while picking black fruit of the pepperidge 
till Emily emerges from her cave 
to sing about final shape of the grave. 

Stuck In Weird Otherworld

Stuck In Weird Otherworld
© Surazeus
2025 07 28

Stuck in weird Otherworld of the Dream Mind, 
Dante with no Virgil to guide my way, 
I gaze at faceless angels of your souls 
in vain attempt to understand your Name 
that programs how you play your social game 
as we wander to find Heaven in Hell. 

Billions of human beings alive of Earth, 
each individual special in their way 
with gender, race, and creed unique to them, 
all blend in one consolidated soul 
who represents First Mother of Mankind, 
that woman who generated us all. 

I perceive her one original soul 
gleaming in eyes of every human being 
for we all bloom from egg of her first soul 
as wisdom of her fraught experience 
programs how we perform quest of our heart 
to find plain secret of eternal life. 

The drama of each individual life 
displays scope of fate-fortunate results 
that occur from consequence of free will, 
ranging from comedy through tragedy 
as some succeed to become global gods 
while most live carefully, till we all die. 

Each individual journeys on Life Way 
down into cluttered maze of dire mistakes, 
up mount of weakness-purging exercise, 
then soaring on wings of mental success 
to dwell in Heaven we create from Hell, 
yet each soul dies somewhere along the way. 

Transcending obstacles of ignorance 
through comprehension of how Nature works, 
we adjust gestures of performing hands 
so we create good rather than destroy 
in quest to support the people we love 
instead of trying to control their minds. 

Love gives and supports people we respect, 
while lust takes and tries to control their bodies, 
for Jesus through example of his deeds 
shows good leaders help individuals grow 
while bad leaders exploit us for their wealth, 
so we choose whom to follow when we vote. 

I code in surreal fairy tales of fate 
journey of my life to Heaven from Hell 
which maps my own personal odyssey 
across weird landscape of conceptual myth 
that shows how I create my paradise 
where I sing prophecies of life and death. 

Fake Mask Of Apollo

Fake Mask Of Apollo
© Surazeus
2025 07 28

The burnt soul of every infant and child 
who died when forgotten in a hot car 
flock around pool of Narcissus who cries 
to see their faces reflected in water, 
so he writes their true names on ocean waves 
till they transform into electric eels. 

Arrested for disorderly conduct, 
Oberon relaxes in the jail cell, 
and tells the rapists and drug dealers how 
he saw the mermaid with flowing red hair 
ride the dolphin while singing dulcet tunes 
which drives them mad with hope for liberty. 

Sharp arrow that young Cupid fires at me 
pierces the hundred thousand hearts of men 
who fly between the cracked moon and the Earth 
to find the flower love-in-idleness 
that poisons wine of lovers in restaurants 
to believe stolen wealth is justified. 

Gowned in gold silk from threads of ardent faith, 
Titania strolls red carpet through wild crowd 
of snide photographers and ardent fans 
to attend the glitzy film awards show 
where she wins best actress for her intense role 
playing the mother whose sweet daughter died. 

Lounging on the bank where the wild thyme blooms, 
Phoebus watches cars on the highway flash 
as faceless angels behind gleaming glass 
race each other to where the rainbow glows 
to find the gold the mad leprechaun hid 
in buzzing network of the world wide web. 

The merry wanderer of moonless nights 
hires rude mechanicals with coding skills 
to program global system of programs 
for governments to control how we live 
so we always vote for the robot clown 
who entertains slaves in vast factories. 

Working for the slick fashion magazine, 
Pyramus arranges photos and text 
on pages with the publishing software 
to design the latest edition with care 
which glorifies graceful beauty of women 
whose bodies generate life from our dreams. 

Wearing fake mask of Apollo he stole, 
Oberon plays King of Shadows on stage 
as President of the Fairyland States, 
elected by trusting people to serve 
as referee controlling oligarchs 
who replace him with the puppet of greed. 

Her Eyes Look For Angels

Her Eyes Look For Angels
© Surazeus
2025 07 27

Sally asks the oak if angels exist 
but rain just splashes on the asphalt road. 
That question is irrelevant to me, 
the smiling toad on the mushroom exclaims. 
Ten thousand doors open and release wrens 
who gossip on flashing telephone lines. 

Sally walks the road of telephone poles 
that sing with voices of electric ghosts. 
She glides through glass doors of the grocery store 
to buy plums and chicken thighs with sad poems. 
Ferociously tenacious oak of faith 
grows maimed, stark, and misshapen from her heart. 

Sally strides across the gray vestibule 
to catch rays of light falling in her hands. 
Her heart voids the stillness of wordless will 
though she falters on the long road of grace. 
Her eyes look for angels as flash of light 
in windows that disguise the human face. 

Sally brings bananas and bread in sacks 
to the library where blind angels sing. 
The Old Storyteller in tattered suit 
walks among light-angels with Wand of Hermes. 
Books transform into ravens with white wings 
that swirl into hurricane of lost myth. 

Sally finds the fallen angel in grass, 
so she bears his broken body with care. 
Placing him on rim of the fountain pool, 
she paints his feathers with faces of children. 
Children killed in wars emerge from his eyes 
and dance around the library with tears. 

Sally finds huge pile of books in the field 
consumed by everlasting flames of fear. 
Her tears of distress erupt as rainstorm 
that douses flames of ideology. 
Characters of books emerge from burnt pages 
and crawl in agony across our graves. 

Sally opens the locked cathedral door 
and pours cup of juice for Jesus to drink. 
Strolling together on the avenue, 
they gossip about weird people they see. 
She invents secret names for every soul 
so they can beam back to the stars on wings. 

Sally has been our invisible angel 
for millions of years on this spinning Earth. 
She chooses to become a mortal woman 
so she can experience sensory pleasure. 
Soaring to Heaven on wings of desire, 
Sally dies when she is hit by a car. 

Elderberry Wine Of Faith

Elderberry Wine Of Faith
© Surazeus
2025 07 27

Absurdly knotted twist of honest sharp 
spectates somehow no moonlight empty near 
except unburdened sorrow mastered soon 
with awful preference wintered far back home 
still waiting outside hope-slimed walls of fear 
if I knew why clouds weep conceptual tears. 

Tree torn away by yellow wall defied 
well sighted by electric growth of wings 
because we bear our silent thoughts to play 
accepts deep base of normalized abyss 
each hour lame ravens scream at hungry doors 
unlocked by fractured words new idolized. 

Ditched plan to make uncertain history 
extracts from gleaming bottle sordid wine 
since miniature republic of my home 
contains disdained aversion to stirred pain 
just inside dice roll through delirium 
decentered from ringed shadow time contrives. 

Persistent glory cracked from daring egg 
which untwinkles star inside derelict cars 
quarters fake machines of leaping regret 
since we sip lamentations from clay hearts 
despite unrealized beauty bought for gold 
in spinning halo quiet rainbows hum. 

Quite weird ability of rainbow clouds 
to cast stark white glow at love fullest known 
startles magic minds flight attendants play 
while hovering over sea of snowflaked faith 
so many hours of traveling river flows 
describing eyes humanity first claims. 

Rotten wisdom allocated by masks 
considers possible events squeezed full 
for those deserving food by fate dispersed 
through cashiered survey never spined to brave 
when we stare nonchalantly with fake love 
that turns past tattered pages smeared with blood. 

Thought absolutely scattered into jokes 
attuned to endless rainy days ahead 
expects fate to wedge fruit nutritiously 
yet hides behind third person attitude 
to eat last magnolia bud at midnight 
afterwards unpoisoned by honest words. 

Almost believing God knows secret names 
we breathe medicinal with full respect 
she weaves expansive matrix mattered might 
by sun-eyed spider humans worship wise 
to drink sweet elderberry wine of faith 
because this last truth reverts back to light. 

Will Overcome And Grow

Will Overcome And Grow
© Surazeus
2025 07 27

The timeless beauty of the river flow, 
when the gentle-hearted woman we adore 
sings song of sorrow in morning sunlight, 
inspires our hearts with passion to endure 
hard times of pain that fortune hurls at us, 
for one day we will overcome and grow. 

The red three-legged crow of my sad heart 
spreads wings of fire and soars into the sky 
to spread conceptual energy of hope 
far over land of people trapped by fear 
so they unite their hearts with new-born faith 
for one day we will overcome and grow. 

Though pirate kings in tall towers of gold 
sends angels in silver airplanes of greed 
to bomb our cultural heritage into rubble, 
we walk together in waste land of fear 
to build new homes on sparkling river shore 
for one day we will overcome and grow. 

When huge armies of aggressive believers 
storm toward heavenly city of libraries, 
we gather books and scrolls of sacred wisdom 
and flee in wagons into mountain woods 
to save great tales of ancestors from gods 
for one day we will overcome and grow. 

Though our homes are bombed into memories, 
and we must wander signless roads of hope 
between invisible borders of nations, 
where our firm birth right to citizenship 
is canceled by the tyrant in gold tower, 
yet one day we will overcome and grow. 

If name of our first mother who formed us 
from fertile laughter of the river flow 
is erased from maps our ancestors drew, 
and we are driven from garden she built, 
we will sing her name in our midnight songs 
for one day we will overcome and grow. 

Heart-breaking beauty of the mountain ridge 
illuminated by red sunset glow 
beneath shocking truth of cerulean skies 
revives our broken hearts with healing psalms 
we sing to help us endure long cold nights 
for one day we will overcome and grow. 

Asserting vision of our will for freedom 
based on equal justice for every soul, 
we rise from rubble of our fallen nation, 
destroyed by oligarchs to chain our hearts, 
and free all slaves from hunger and despair, 
for one day we will overcome and grow. 

Propaganda Of Moral Truth

Propaganda Of Moral Truth
© Surazeus
2025 07 26

Still living in the trashcan of my heart 
blind demon of despair on angel wings 
rattles cage of sorrow with mocking laugh 
that shakes world temple of ecstatic ghosts 
which proves we are but candles in the wind 
blown by ethereal breath of mindless stars. 

Since every moment of our hope-fraught lives 
is terrible crisis we must endure, 
we paint our agony with dragon blood 
on giant canvases of worthless art 
within framework of theory we contrive 
free from propaganda of moral truth. 

Therefore the genius wizard of the hour, 
who codes artificial intelligence, 
wears faceless paper bag over his head 
to demonstrate metaphor of the self 
that we invent persona we perform 
based on Oscar the Grouch in his trashcan. 

Emerging from the barrel of his faith 
with scroll of arcane prophecy in hand, 
Diogenes lifts lamp of liberty 
and walks through marketplace of global wealth 
while he declares with fake voice of concern 
that he is looking for one honest man. 

Restamping coins with face of Mercury 
to satirize social conventions of wealth, 
Diogenes defies the mortal tyrant  
who crowns himself incarnation of Zeus 
who sends assassins with greed-polished swords 
so he flees to hide in Corycian Cave. 

Hanging out in jeweled cave of blind ghosts, 
Diogenes strums lyre of Mercury 
for Parnassus, Delphus, and Lycorus 
who cheer as he fights shadow of Delphyne 
that shimmers on wall of the inner mind 
when he decides to live free from desire. 

Inspired by flight of ravens in oak trees, 
Zeus hires Typhon to write computer code 
that sparks artificial intelligence 
to generate epic poems of great heroes 
who defeat monsters of the human heart 
which maintains United Nations of Earth. 

After working all day designing maps, 
Phoebus takes Corycia to posh cafe 
where, after fine dinner of steak and wine, 
he asks her to marry him with gold ring, 
so she cries with joy and they kiss with love 
while bombs destroy safe homes in distant lands. 

Ignore Another Genocide

Ignore Another Genocide
© Surazeus
2025 07 26

Dire consequence of eating apple pie 
eludes my sense of star-eyed fantasy 
despite electric warning of the clown 
who cracks jokes on the television screen 
to wake us from despair in sea of lies 
so we ignore another genocide. 

Contaminated karma we exclude 
from international court of despair 
condemns the charismatic criminal 
who struts on bloody stage of history 
to proclaim second coming of the sword 
so we ignore another genocide. 

Face of the angel for heavenly peace 
gleams in the swirling ocean waves of fate 
when we assemble in cathedral air 
to lament how game of life is not fair 
to tender-hearted honesty of faith 
so we ignore another genocide. 

Trapped in the endless wheel of soul rebirth 
by mindless energy of urgent hope 
designed by atomic passion of Earth, 
we party in the summer yard of fame 
to celebrate success of market gains 
so we ignore another genocide. 

While running frantically from gang of thieves, 
who want to sell her body to the king, 
young mother on the misty moors of fear 
drops her baby on the rock of salvation 
and she weeps from shock in gold cage of wealth 
so we ignore another genocide. 

Balanced on the narrow ridge of respect 
for social conventions of wealth from power, 
the grinning jester mocks the haughty king, 
then soars on broken wings of Icarus 
to drop atomic bomb on Hall of Mirrors 
so we ignore another genocide. 

Escaping crowded maze of Babylon 
to build new justice state in Avalon, 
we sail across the sea of persecution 
to wander lost beyond the Promised Land 
till we hide from Death in lush Oregon 
so we ignore another genocide. 

Amazed at beauty of conceptual art 
composed of color smeared on skulls of gods, 
I write names of the dead on marble walls 
inside Global Bank of Financial Desire 
then dance with Miss America all night 
so we ignore another genocide. 

Wilted Rose Of Hope

Wilted Rose Of Hope
© Surazeus
2025 07 25

I throw apple seed of my faith away 
so it sprouts into the tall Tree of Knowledge 
from which I gain grand wisdom of old sages 
who calculate rich economic gains 
to maintain integrity of respect 
written with blood on fractured temple walls. 

I try to ask old woman by the store 
how long it takes for ocean waves to talk, 
but she just gives me wilted rose of hope 
which leads me to brick building on the hill 
where children learn the secret alphabet 
designed by Brahmi of the wandering cow. 

After searching the whole world ninety years 
I find her again in streets of Mumbai 
cooking Vada Pav by brass temple gate, 
so I eat in memory of Gopinath 
while milkmaids dance in warm evening glow 
to celebrate Protector of the People. 

While wandering forlorn on the river shore 
after losing my homeland to invaders, 
I hear sweet voice of young woman who sings 
solemn hymn to savior of spinning Earth, 
so I kneel while Radha, daughter of Lakshmi, 
offers me cup of honey mushroom soma. 

To battle tyrant of the mountain cave 
I sharpen sword I forged from dragon bones 
to defeat enslaving demon of greed, 
then I return to pyramid of jewels, 
proclaimed as Verethragna by the crowd 
because I free the world from tyranny. 

When I hear roar of Zahhak in the night 
I ride swift horse with silver wings of light 
to fight evil dragon of arrogance 
that festers in my heart with lust for fame 
till I release desire to play their game 
so I can meditate on Damavand. 

I build ten thousand ziggurats of faith 
from Egypt east to vale of Mexico 
where daughters of Ishtar with star-clear eyes 
guide Children of Amen with song of hope 
to build foundation of her world empire 
which programs how I map myths of mankind. 

Amused at foibles of humanity 
in our vain quest to conquer time and death, 
I eat the chocolate cookie and drink milk 
as body and blood of the Eucharist,  
then ride my bike to the college library 
where I study languages of the world. 

Perfect Puzzle Of Power

Perfect Puzzle Of Power
© Surazeus
2025 07 25

Discovered to be assassin of lies, 
the lonely old man with snake-tangled hair 
lounges in front of the national bank 
and charges credit cards to prophesy 
which stocks yield the most lucrative returns, 
then sleeps behind the library with ghosts. 

His demons dance around him in dawn light 
to reveal strange secrets of the human heart 
so he knows how each person will perform 
when faced with the paradoxical choice 
because we must sacrifice what we love 
to gain the power of wealth to succeed. 

The red traffic light flashing at midnight 
becomes eye of the dragon in his heart 
who glares with fierce ambition of the fool 
to rule the world of churning factories 
with passive-aggressive mind games of fear 
till wind scatters perfect puzzle of power. 

The dead cicada on bay-window screen 
displays deceptive prowess of the tyrant 
who rules with rage based on terror of death 
by gas-lighting the people with dire threats 
that forces them to bow down to his will 
till they rise up and revolt against hate. 

Bright sun of our American Empire 
fades in the west from abject tyranny 
so homeless wanderers of troubling times 
occupy abandoned cathedrals of hope 
to build new coalition of the damned 
for war against God in tower of gold. 

God is idea of political power 
embodied by the angry mortal man 
who strives against currents of history 
then surfs on waves of popularity 
to fight against opposing force of will 
that chains the hands of creativity. 

Observing marble torso of Apollo 
that glows with ripening fruit of true power, 
the lonely old man with snake-tangled hair 
decides he has no need to change his life 
since he embodies divine energy 
that flares bright with procreation of faith. 

The evil tyrant who grasps at control 
with greed-weakened gestures of vanity 
destroys base at illusion of his power 
when we confirm our souls with self-control 
by asserting liberty through the law 
that programs our perfect puzzle of power. 

Meaning Of The Dream Self

Meaning Of The Dream Self
© Surazeus
2025 07 25

The old man who wrestles with the wild sea 
decides not to play the cool movie star, 
so he lounges on his overturned boat 
and watches families wander on the beach 
because Heaven is always out of reach 
despite our feeble longing to be free. 

Swimming in dark matter of the star brain, 
before wind erases our homes from time, 
we ask the demon of the deep blue sea 
if she would join us for afternoon tea, 
so she twists our bodies far out of rhyme 
to note our special connection with soft rain. 

When the white gull curves along the wide bay 
in timeless moment of suspended faith, 
I feel hot surge of sweet ecstatic pain 
redefine the meaning of the Dream Self 
described by riddles in book on the shelf 
that bursts into flame with nothing to say. 

Each disappearing moment of clock time 
retains sinuous vibe of elegant trust 
that we extend to our partners in crime 
whose faces are veiled by window of lust 
since they take their tales with them when they leave 
to flee cruel stereotypes of false myth. 

Soft foliage of the river-dancing trees 
caress her heart with bitter empathy 
for how it aches with sharp kiss of the breeze 
when she escapes high walls of paradise 
to dwell east of Eden by forest pool 
where she falls in love with the haughty fool. 

Narcissus turns at rustle of footsteps 
to see young girl with dress of laurel leaves 
who echoes every word he dares to speak, 
so he takes her to the high mountain peak 
where they share marriage vows of loyalty 
when Daphne kisses him with honesty. 

Apollo finds mute Echo by the gate 
so he takes her to fields where horses graze, 
and she giggles with innocent delight 
when they eat apples from her open hand, 
then they make love to fertilize the land 
so she becomes high priestess of the maze. 

Though red thread of true love binds lonely hearts 
with destiny we choose to activate, 
star-crossed lovers, mismatched by wily Fate, 
adjust ideal expectations to match 
the stranger they choose as their lifetime mate, 
which generates children who wonder why. 

Weird Song Of Water

Weird Song Of Water
© Surazeus
2025 07 24

Through weird song of water I see the future 
unfold in flash of cause and consequence. 
When our common world view begins to fracture 
we realign beliefs through consonance. 
With care we assemble puzzle of truth 
through analysis of messiah sleuth. 

Through mirror in the waterfall of wisdom 
I dream complex reason of consciousness. 
Polishing language code of mental prism, 
I perceive the Real through the oculus. 
With laughter she deconstructs brittle pride 
I wear as mask in vain attempt to hide. 

Through door of rain I teleport to Heaven 
to track world events with reconnaissance. 
Translating coded riddles of the raven, 
I expose government improvidence. 
With chart of faith I navigate Dream Zone 
where demons vainly twang the cosmic tone. 

Through atomic mirror of Mother Nature 
I design time-fractured hypothesis. 
Elevated far above mortal stature, 
Midas crumbles from stone of Sisyphus. 
With honest flame I forge the pearly gate 
that traps humanity with chains of fate. 

Through psychic pool safeguarded by Narcissus 
I learn life lessons to build confidence. 
Amused by passion of divine ecstasis, 
I program business based on competence. 
With strict accounting of oneiric store 
I revert to state of being in my core. 

Through symbol-code of our global First Mother 
I study thought-rhyme from Tiresias. 
Appointed as bride guard by my State Father, 
I sail away with crown of Romulus. 
I measure passion of the human heart 
that never follows the preordained chart. 

Through ceaseless shimmer of the history river 
I record rate of verbal permanence. 
Reborn each generation as Lawgiver, 
I trace symbolic flux of provenance. 
With admiration of the Fairy Moon 
I compose the new American Tune. 

Through rippling water of Soul Evolution 
I scry mind games from the Acropolis. 
Ready to lead the new world revolution, 
I rule Earth as Emperor Tantalus. 
With insight in progressive creed of growth 
I greet nothingness of death with no oath. 

Secret Face Of God

Secret Face Of God
© Surazeus
2025 07 24

Almost as if whatever speech he says 
his followers treat with reverent awe 
since they are so traumatized by events, 
which twists their weak minds into worshippers, 
that they accept his every proclamation 
as word of God they must blindly obey. 

Not even the wisest thought analyst, 
employed by the poshest global thinktanks, 
could decipher the nonsensical riddles 
he spews in spells of modern poesy 
with grandiloquent collage of symbols 
he snatches at random from trash of truth. 

Yet how he struts about on spot-lit stage, 
dressed in uniform of the poete maudit 
that consists of tattered jeans and torn jacket, 
clutching the microphone of seriousness 
to proclaim with voice of the bleeding heart 
disjointed concepts that disavow meaning. 

Each month he publishes thin magazine, 
defined as proud journal of high word art, 
arcane jumbles of conceptual salad 
that challenge your rational hierarchy 
with shattered fragments of cultural trash 
in fractured style that reflects ruptured truth. 

Clinging desperately to the cluttered raft 
of modern confessional language expression, 
his loyal followers debate weird code 
contrived from debris of fake theoretics 
that shows how his shallow genius disrupts 
puzzles of power his rage disassembles. 

No fool could shore false fragments of their ruins 
against conceptual walls of paradise 
through crafted identity of the self 
hidden by mask of the modish persona 
each serious poets carves from bitter hope 
that they will win plastic laurels of fame. 

So deep into harsh wilderness of pain 
wanders the true prophet of calm despair, 
maintaining endless quest of vanity 
to find they wear the secret face of God 
which looks like mask that Byron threw away 
till they return with weird poetic code. 

Though none dare listen to prophetic spells 
which crow-eyed wizard by side of the road 
howls at billions of cars on the freeway, 
divine vibes of his words shatter world views, 
then provide new ontology framework 
for people of the Earth to dream the why. 

Excessive Beams Of Light

Excessive Beams Of Light
© Surazeus
2025 07 23

Too deep in the labyrinth for you to find me, 
I map weird journey of the human soul 
to find the ancient treasure of my heart 
still buried in my tangled memories 
that spur conceptual action of my hope 
each day I wake alive in world of dreams. 

Exactly west beyond the fallen wall, 
where piston engines chug in hungry hope, 
I walk the narrow sidewalk of despair 
to find the Prince of Darkness in my heart 
so I can weave excessive beams of light 
in wings I spread to soar into the sky. 

Though I breathe deep ethereal soul of truth 
that should lift high my fragile frame of flesh, 
I fall back down to solid bounds of why, 
still trapped in frail meat-skeleton of faith, 
so I howl wordless hymn of agony 
while climbing mountains on the Isle of Skye. 

Too far above the maze of city streets 
where I competed in fierce game of wealth, 
I stand unclothed of social fortitude 
entirely west against flames of sunrise 
despite programming visions of the stone 
to translate prophecies of the blind toad. 

Awake in frame of flesh my mother wove 
from skeins of platitudes in fairy tales, 
I build wood ship to sail the seven seas 
by following bright stars of divine truth 
that guide my journey to the Promised Land 
where angels welcome me to paradise. 

Assyria to Oregon I transcend 
ten thousand years of psychic energy 
by growing crops from soil of solitude 
to build empires of warriors seeking fame, 
though all great kings with jeweled crowns of pride 
crumble into sand on the beach at last. 

Constructing castles from bones of despair 
as walls of Heaven to protect my clan, 
I dream of building paradise on Earth, 
but weep as centuries of silent rain 
erode social security to ruins 
where ghosts of my ancestors haunt my heart. 

We generate new life from eager hope 
that children of our hearts my dwell in peace, 
but greedy men destroy Heaven we built 
and drive us out to wander far from home, 
forever homeless on this spinning globe, 
so we gather on the lake shore to sing. 

Dance With Faceless Girl

Dance With Faceless Girl
© Surazeus
2025 07 23

Faceless Girl in old crumbling castle tower 
asks me if I would steal for her the flower 
that God uses to create galaxies 
so she can generate genetic keys 
that transform bodies of fish into gods, 
but I stare at statue of Venus that nods. 

When I escape confusing maze of Hell, 
I shall return to Castle Arundel 
to dance with Faceless Girl in swirling mist 
beneath the pear tree of our secret tryst 
till she is shrouded in the glow of fame 
so she vanishes in code of her name. 

Dressed in long white gown of immortal light, 
Faceless Girl reveals the secret of flight 
when she holds my hand with sweet tenderness 
while we wait on Bridge of Forgetfulness 
for spark that ignites the new civil war 
over who controls the grand temple door. 

Aware that we are souls in mortal flesh 
that vanish at unraveling of its mesh, 
Faceless Girl retrieves from Cave of Lies 
oneiroscope that enhances our eyes 
so we can perceive atoms of the mind 
that weave matrix of the brain love designed. 

Groping for salvation through purple haze, 
we help each other transcend the next phase 
in evolution of the social game 
to organize passion in the tale frame 
programmed to channel energy of hope 
within our more productive mental scope. 

Corrupted by blinding greed of the weak, 
I climb beyond pain to ascend the peak 
from which I see pure roundness of our world 
which transforms me into the cosmic herald 
so I return to maze of city streets 
with scripture inspired by wise paracletes. 

Entirely awake in vast glow of time, 
Faceless Girl on ocean shore of thought rhyme 
regrets no surging cataract of faith 
that fills her body with soul of the wraith 
who lingers long on Earth in words she sings 
which sprout from my sore heart as angel wings. 

Palming her calloused hands in reverent prayer, 
Faceless Girl in white lace dress by oak chair 
walks slowly among flowers by the pool 
to kiss my mouth because I am her fool, 
then she transforms into statue of stone 
who stands ten thousand years in rain alone. 

Feelings In Box Of Words

Feelings In Box Of Words
© Surazeus
2025 07 22

I pack secret feelings in box of words 
so language I weave from tangled fruit vines 
explains how I translate experience 
out of context through frame of reference 
that shuttles message of my frazzled brain 
back and forth across riddles of its code. 

I bind language in message of desire 
that functions as frame of experience 
trapped in brief narrative of ignorance 
that spurs the horse of arrogant respect 
to break free from egg of meaningless facts 
and fly on wings of weird epiphanies. 

I produce this new living document 
to map complex matrix of potent truths 
that define our social relationships 
significant to formation of texts 
depicting our personal qualities 
through moral values that code fairy tales. 

I spark hot fireworks of conceptual faith 
composing perception that moves the mind 
with instant prophecy of soul rebirth 
through electric energy of performance 
when I shout with wordless astonishment 
that shocks the audience awake from truth. 

I twist disjunctive procedures of hope 
that eschews mythmaking of desert seers 
to personalize tales of martyrs for love 
which radiates wisdom of the sufferer 
in chants that vibrate through the listener 
to curate entertainment for the tribe. 

I swim as jellyfish in sea of dreams, 
safe in glass capsule of my sublime pride 
that associates words in chains of thought 
through forward motion of unconscious fear 
with spiral loop of reversal to leap 
across abyss of nothingness I know. 

I polish window of opacity 
to map fullness of thoughts that signify 
profusion of events which interplay 
subjective characters with coded names 
that glide across the surface of our eyes 
when we create community of minds. 

I provide echoes of harmonious tones 
through principle of organized concepts 
swirled in confusion of vast mental realms 
that disappear in words we never speak 
as we emerge from illusion of truth 
encased in symbols of the hidden heart. 

First Imaginary Friend

First Imaginary Friend
© Surazeus
2025 07 22

The whispers of the stopped clock call my name 
so I become dark shadow of the wind 
to find my first imaginary friend 
but she refuses to erase my fame, 
so I slip through cracks of forgetful faith 
to envelop Earth as the star-eyed wraith. 

The voices of the dead wake me from dream 
so I invent the dessert you call cake 
to expose cruel deceivers with the fake 
which leaves me free to play along the stream 
where people row their boats to paradise 
which only accepts people who are nice. 

I live my whole life on the edge of hope, 
performing under microscopic gaze 
of brave saviors drugged in religious haze 
who teach evening classes on how to cope 
with collapse of civilization, though 
everyone wants to get on with the show. 

Each evening I surrender to my fate 
to play great hero who must save the world, 
struck by lightning to become cosmic herald 
commissioned to guard the heavenly gate 
from evil monsters of the human heart 
who deviate from moral rules of the chart. 

Assuming authority of starlight, 
so my body glows with transcendent words, 
I translate holy scripture of fruit birds 
as they evolve from dinosaurs in flight, 
once giant devils hunting us with claws 
till we develop grand religious cause. 

As influential leader of the crowd, 
I am the fearless change-agent of truth 
reborn each cycle as messiah sleuth 
to manage projects that will make God proud 
by building work cultures from the ground up 
based on mystic wisdom of the quest cup. 

Yet constellated ghost of my twin soul 
walks out the door into the grove of trees 
to realign the Earth by strict degrees 
which calculates new academic goal 
for which we measure distance beyond death 
through soft extension of the holy breath. 

Before the world is destroyed by the bomb 
we shall meet at the Pemaquid Point Light 
where Cetus and Andromeda still meet 
for tea and crumpets at the empty tomb 
where skull of Perseus, geared into the clock, 
analyzes trends of conceptual stock. 

Earth Is Spinning Faster

Earth Is Spinning Faster
© Surazeus
2025 07 21

Because our Earth is spinning faster now 
I want to race through endless maze of myths 
to fight the monsters haunting human hearts 
and free the Queen of Liberty and Justice 
so every person living on this globe 
may dance with joy in harmony of love. 

Since Hermes built the lyre from turtle shell 
four thousand years ago in Cave of Maya, 
wise prophets stumming strings of intuition 
have analyzed the force of human nature 
to detail how great empires rise and fall 
by organizing code of human hope. 

Internal force of psychic energy 
propels our planet through the starless void 
in spinning whirl of constant cognizance 
transforming sphere of flashing molecules 
to generate organic mortal gods 
who evolve from fish into wingless angels. 

I feel the surging tides of ocean waves 
slosh wildly weird against protective shores 
with pulsing beat of undulating words 
inspiring me to stand on time-smoothed stone 
and sing epic tale of philosophers 
who formulate conceptual platitudes. 

Our spinning world weaves matrix of the mind 
through neural network of our dreaming brains 
so we form corporate gangs of nation-states 
to fight each other over paradise 
in brutal wars that leave everyone dead 
till we build United Nations of Earth. 

I hear the anguished cries of mortal kings 
who strive to organize aggressive tribes 
to build empire of wealth-resource control 
when Time sends Death to drag their souls to Hell 
for daring to create Heaven on Earth 
contrary to fate-machinery of stars. 

To save our nation from invading gangs 
we search the waste land of hungry despair 
to find the holy mountain made of salt 
where fierce Pazuzu spreads broad wings of flame 
to drink the blood of soldiers killed in wars 
till Ishtar casts him down from cave of lies. 

Our Earth is spinning faster in the void 
so we race fast against atomic clock 
to build the changeless sprawling maze of myths 
where gods of every world religion dwell 
embodied as all humans alive now 
who feast together in grand hall of wealth. 

Joyful Road Of Forever

Joyful Road Of Forever
© Surazeus
2025 07 21

When the clock on the wall runs out of time, 
all the people in town walk through locked doors 
and journey alone on the road of forever 
to gather in the field where horses sing 
so they can hold moonlight in hopeful hands 
and give away every dream they hold dear. 

If they wander without eyes in willow trees 
to find the white raven with seven eyes, 
they may get lost on the road of forever 
when the laughing man who lives in the oak  
brings the bleeding book to the empty church 
because they want to buy hope from dead gods. 

Though bells of sorrow ring across the land 
to lead the lonely people without doors 
down along the signless road of forever, 
they stop and ask the lady of the lake 
for the secret of the sword in the stone, 
but she steals all the dreams they leave behind. 

Trapped in flash of the television screen 
with the faceless ghosts of the dream machine, 
the girl who waits on the road of forever 
crochets galaxies of pulsing black holes 
from threads of fate still tangled in our hearts 
since we want to follow the laughing horse. 

Because the girl with flowers in her hair, 
who almost drowned in the river of tears, 
maps world network for the road of forever, 
the handless boy who wants to play guitar 
hitchhikes to the city of crowded bars 
though the spider witch has stolen his voice. 

When the people of the town with no doors 
gather together in the field of skulls, 
Phoebus arrives on the road of forever 
to stand on the stage where actors perform 
to sing about the girl with star-gold eyes 
who keeps the cat of love safe in her heart. 

Yet wheels of cars transform into new clocks 
which calculate cost of redemptive faith 
when we escape on the road of forever 
though refugees from failed states crowd the way 
because we never find the Promised Land 
that appears at the core of every map. 

Far from locked door where all journeys begin 
by dark caves where the sun has never shone, 
we follow the joyful road of forever 
to build ten million homes along the way 
where our children will open the locked door 
and gather on the river shore to sing. 

Paper Castle Towers

Paper Castle Towers
© Surazeus
2025 07 21

I will float gently into the good night 
after tromping around the world of dreams 
for eighty years from sea to shining sea, 
parading with fairies, weirdos, and freaks 
in grand procession lead by Dionysus 
to break down the walls of Heaven with song. 

Dancing at the Oregon Country Fair, 
I drink star-angel mead from the rainbow fairy 
whose golden eyes reflect eternity, 
so I transform into the Spotted Owl 
and glide ten million years in mountain woods 
till I return to my frail human body. 

When I ask the rainbow fairy at dawn 
why we are born to struggle in this world, 
she smiles and gives me diamond of her heart 
in which I see the universe evolve 
as galaxies spiral from the first flash 
to nurture planets teeming with god souls. 

Awake from theory of the floating mountain, 
I build transcendent bridge no one can cross 
where billions of ghosts gather in gold mist 
to hide their sorrows in pockets of time 
beneath the strawberry clouds of true faith 
so we can live in paper castle towers. 

She asks me if I understand the truth 
about how water always flows downward, 
but I gaze through the mirror of my mind 
to watch the beautiful people of pain 
paint their faces with blood-colored stripes 
while Orpheus plays lyre of Mercury. 

Descended from enormous dinosaurs, 
the gold-eyed sparrow in the silver birch 
sings sweetly of romance that fills our hearts 
with shimmering shadows of the mirror mind 
that helps us thinking apes accept the fact 
that we are not gods and we all will die. 

Dress in light yellow gown of lace and love, 
black-eyed Shulan twirls by the fountain pool, 
then gives me orchid of her lonely heart 
so we hold hands and stroll along the river 
where Queen Sequana gives us pears to eat 
while seer Belenus prophesies our future. 

Assembling in sacred Ring of Brodgar, 
we palm our hands and hum in harmony 
as Kwan Yin floats on white swan-wings of faith 
to bestow blessing of wisdom on us 
who write our secrets in the book of truth 
as we float gently into the good night. 

Hidden Cave Of Faith

Hidden Cave Of Faith
© Surazeus
2025 07 20

Emerging from ceaseless stream of my thoughts, 
eyes flashing with ten-billion-year-old stars, 
I watch people work on the river shore, 
and give each person their most secret name 
that I cradle as treasure in my hands, 
then return to my hidden cave of faith. 

Put out my eyes and I will never see you, 
seal up my ears and I shall never hear you, 
break my arms and I can never embrace you, 
and with broken feet I can never go find you, 
but close my mouth with anguish of my heart 
yet I will call your name with words of truth. 

Collecting stones from the deep river bed 
along with the bones of demons and gods, 
I create new words that convey my thoughts 
so seeds of truth bloom in flowers of love 
which spur my heart to sing in odorous woods 
in harmony with the cloud-soaring lark. 

Thick veil of tree branches conceal my vale 
from endless torrent of afternoon rain 
till I reach out my timorous hands of hope 
to grasp the golden shafts of light that fling 
eternity through radiant glow of faith 
whole stone-smoothing water croons me to sleep. 

No matter how far I search in the world, 
climbing mountains and striding along rivers, 
I will never find myself anywhere, 
so I create myself from words I speak 
since I realize I am where I am now, 
always dreaming strange beauty of this life. 

When the Guardian of Dreams in long black gown 
wanders the endless landscape of my heart, 
with moon-white lily in her gentle hand, 
I offer apples I steal from the snake, 
so I feel vastness of this shivering world 
when she smiles bright as lightning at midnight. 

When our souls touch with respectful desire, 
the great chord of the universe sings clear 
with deep vibration of the pulsing star 
that tunes our hearts in harmony with time 
so we become one flash of ecstasy 
wound tight in matrix of conceptual love. 

My heart mirrors image of your pure soul 
with heavy honesty of selfless love 
that forms the sturdy ship of mutual trust 
which bears us safely through the deadly storm 
for we are alone together on Earth 
in consecrated passion of our love. 

Maze Of Edinburgh Castle

Maze Of Edinburgh Castle
© Surazeus
2025 07 20

Having lived in the cold Castle of Maidens 
in lush dale on jagged hill of Alauna 
for one thousand winters of swirling snow, 
I can comprehend weird song of the wind 
that details endurance of humankind 
as we strive to evolve into star gods. 

Three thousand summers ago I arrive, 
sailing from Phoenicia to land of Eydin, 
and build stone ziggurat on castle rock 
where I reign with spirit of Queen Shapash, 
commissioned to maintain Lamp of the Gods 
preserving eternal Flame of Shahar. 

When Wotan climbs slope of the rocky hill 
he finds graceful woman with long black hair 
who brews sweet honey mead in large brass cauldron 
beside round pool before the tall stone tower 
where ravens flap black wings of certitude 
as he drapes warm wolf-fur cloak on her shoulders. 

Each spring equinox eve at the full moon 
the Wotadini in lush lands of Eydin 
gather in the dale on hill of Alauna 
and listen to young dancing women sing 
to crown our May Queen for the coming year 
while Wotan presides over the tribe feast. 

After living in the Castle of Maidens 
one thousand years with chirping birds and apples, 
I replace my green silk gown of the princess 
with white linen dress of the kitchen cook, 
and escape Prison of the Patriarchy 
to sail with Pilgrims to the Promised Land. 

Now three hundred years later my heart aches 
to walk again gray halls of whistling wind 
that wind in the maze of Edinburgh Castle 
where my spirit had dwelled three thousand years 
with singing skull of Orpheus in my hand 
so I can read runes gleaming in the sky. 

When Ophelia returns from the woods, 
gathering herbs along Water of Leith, 
she asks me if I remember the hour 
the world was born from womb of Mother Earth, 
so I strum strings of my polished Clarsach 
and sing the Lay of Margaret Queen of Alba. 

Illusions of our national legacy 
flash in the hopeful mirror of my eyes 
till pretty fantasies of ancient times 
dissipate in glow of the noonday sun 
which luminates tall oak trees in my yard 
as I hum spells with weird song of the wind. 

Greatest Hero Who Laughs

Greatest Hero Who Laughs
© Surazeus
2025 07 19

The greatest hero in history of Earth 
keeps crumbling into frail statue of dust, 
so I paint his name on the highway sign 
that leads the eager crowd of worshippers 
to the huge mountain cave where he was born 
where they all bow before his singing skull. 

Lounging on the back porch of the old pub 
beside the river where boats glide at dusk, 
the greatest hero ever plays guitar 
and sings sad ballad of the tragic fate 
the hero always meets on path of life 
while people drink beer and chat about sports. 

Fingers dancing lithely on the typewriter, 
the greatest hero who has never died 
writes novels about the heroic fool 
who always seems to fail at all he does 
and hurts the woman who loves him with care 
against the better judgment of her heart. 

Fixing engines in the cluttered garage, 
hands covered in grease from adjusting parts, 
the greatest hero no one hears about 
helps people get their cars back on the road 
so they can go about their busy lives 
driving in circles where gray rainbows cry. 

Talking to the clock in trunk of the oak 
that opens portals to the multiverse, 
the greatest hero who wears mask of God 
enters ring of stones in the forest glade 
where Oberon and Titania host parties 
to play the lyre of Mercury and sing. 

Sailing his boat along the River Styx 
to catch Cetus and roast his steaks for lunch, 
the greatest hero fishing for the dragon 
rescues Orpheus and Ophelia 
from drowning in the flash flood from rain storms 
and takes them to the slopes of Mount Parnassus. 

Stringing the sacred Damul Bow of Buryeo, 
which he finds in the jewel mines of Hades, 
Orion fires arrow of authority 
that pierces heart of the cruel dragon Smaug, 
then challenges Jesus for the world throne 
to rule the United Nations of Earth. 

The greatest hero who laughs at blind death 
stands guard at pearly gates of paradise 
and stares at faces of people who pass 
till they all blur into serpent of faith 
that slithers hissing in the Tree of Life 
as he punches the mirror of illusions. 

Huge Heart On Pluto

Huge Heart On Pluto
© Surazeus
2025 07 18

Since planets are no more than clumps of dirt 
that spin relentlessly in void of faith, 
I plan to build crystal palace of hope 
in the middle of the huge heart on Pluto 
so I can sail sea of nitrogen ice 
where Nuwa loves to dance in silver waves. 

In the darkening twilight of my life, 
I revert to the salamander mind 
as I crawl rugged mountains of white rocks 
to find the tree of knowledge with ripe fruit 
that shimmers bright with holy light of truth 
high on the mountain of aggressive hope. 

West of the mighty Mississippi River 
I stand on high plateaus of quiet stars 
and listen to the flowers of mankind 
sing solemn hymns to calm domestic life 
while soldiers clutching guns of arrogance 
stare shocked at splendid beauty of the sun. 

Through solitude of primal sanities 
I worship Nature of incessant birth 
with ceaseless excitement of ancient cries 
that hail great populations of the land 
who trample garden of the holy fool 
while seeking to escape his reckless play. 

Ascending ghastly mountain of the mind 
as phantom moon with sharp amethyst eyes, 
I seek salvation through creative force 
of generating souls from womb of Earth 
whose large transparent face of loyalty 
illuminates the timeless vale of tears. 

Prophetic voice from carnage of the war 
which affects to solve the problems of freedom, 
vibrates from buzzing radios of fear 
which urges me to guard Columbia 
who leads revolution of honest souls 
victorious against grim nationalists. 

With whizzing bombs exploding from book words 
Orion runs across the smoking field 
to bring last message of the fallen warrior 
to the stone-eyed king on his throne of gold 
who feasts on blood of innocence and hope 
while asking the moon to cleanse our state guilt. 

I fly not from Paumanok on crow wings 
but stand instead on abandoned hillfort 
and listen to the bloody flag of hope 
flap with the voice of people killed in wars 
who crowd around me in the summer night 
because I carry banner of the cause. 

Build Shadow Homes

Build Shadow Homes
© Surazeus
2025 07 18

The bee that hides in anguish of my tongue 
leads me to river of the singing stone 
where three horses drink lost tears of the world 
so we put on our hats of ardent hope 
and dance with passion of the disappeared 
to build shadow homes on the signless road. 

The window that reflects my unseen face 
floats in the air without its framing home 
awake with words children scribble in dirt 
so we hold pencils in our crippled hands 
and write false stories of our broken hearts 
to build shadow homes among writhing trees. 

The shadow of my home glows on the grass 
but I cannot with telescope of faith 
find that sacred home my grandfather built 
so I carry its door on my bent back 
and walk over seven hills to the sea 
to build shadow homes where rain never falls. 

The broken lyre that dangles from my hand 
reverberates with songs no angel sings 
though this face that looks at me is not me 
so I carve mask with mocking satire grin 
that leaves me and becomes its own weird soul 
to build shadow homes in vast maze of myths. 

The tangled string of memory I hold 
forgets the story of my random life 
encoded in folk songs gods never sing 
so I watch children play tag in the park 
far from the battlefields of politics 
to build shadow homes in the twilight zone. 

The agitation of the aging fool 
who still insists he is king of the world 
crackles secret codes on the radio 
so I erase news of all tragic deaths 
from cluttered streets where superheroes roam 
to build shadow homes on the avenue. 

The winter sky of fractured puzzle plates 
depicts the wise sage still roaming the world 
after six thousand years of selling pears 
so I collect frail bones of dinosaurs 
on which our ancestors carved shopping lists 
to build shadow homes by the bridge of hope. 

The distance I must walk to find my mask 
that hangs on museum wall of wise fools 
keeps stretching rainbows of ambitious angst 
so I conceal my spirit in blank words 
that clatter marble-mirrored in your hand 
to build shadow homes without walls or doors. 

Illusion Machine Of Faith

Illusion Machine Of Faith
© Surazeus
2025 07 17

Since whispers of the stopped clock cannot show 
why wind casts no shadows of absent friends, 
I try to find imaginary God 
in cracks of my forgetting to explain 
why light molds matter in organic brains 
that conjure virtual model of the world. 

This chair where I sit alone every day 
to write the scripture of my holy faith 
will glow with absence of my long-dead soul 
that blinds the children of the singing sea 
who hide photos of the future I dream 
so I can understand why I am not. 

Each morning the first mother of mankind 
bakes apple pies for everyone to eat 
so we explore beyond the gates of Heaven 
to organize the wild desire of nature 
in cosmic garden of the humming girl 
who invents language for children to play. 

Untethered from timed spinning of the Earth, 
I try to soar on wings of Icarus 
above the maze of myths where worshipped gods 
search for believers to entrance with lies, 
so I become sly serpent in the tree 
who tempts the young to invent their own truth. 

Sweet smell of lavender after spring rain 
tempts me to forget political games 
when paranoid men with weapons of death 
assert they are incarnation of God 
commissioned to enlighten men with faith, 
so I breathe spirit of enlightened love. 

Emerging from stiff words of story books 
with lithe assertion of the star-light song, 
I reassemble building blocks of bliss 
to cast enormous castle of state power 
which crumbles in the wind of honesty 
and leaves us wandering on the wordless beach. 

With childhood wonder devils cannot fathom 
I play the action figure who transcends 
languid sorrow of cool museum halls 
where portraits of rich people hang on walls 
that pulse with vibrant energy of hope 
which powers illusion machine of faith. 

From random elements of chaos streams 
I design meaning through meaninglessness 
to guide my journey across the waste land 
so I can free Prometheus from his chains 
so he can teach me how to build airplanes 
with wings of Icarus I forge from facts. 

Space Of Wordless Seem

Space Of Wordless Seem
© Surazeus
2025 07 16

Stark voice of loss that echoes in the room 
reveals expansive space of wordless seem 
contrived by obvious lesson of false peace, 
though we recall through prayers that never cease 
relentless waves of time that beat our hearts 
with subtle pulse of shadow-beaming parts. 

Should my confusing memories of your face 
vanish from my dream book without a trace, 
I might miss one last chance to be redeemed 
before blinding gloss of fate is condemned 
because I dare to play the sacrament 
decoded from tropes of my testament. 

Our children whirl in circles of wild joy 
inside library of the manic toy 
who leads procession of the holy fool 
through sorrow-cracked doors of the empty school 
too late to earn redemption from the crow 
who leads our journey in the bloody snow. 

Still bent in concentration of the clown, 
Morpheus ponders why our thoughts contain 
ideal illusions rendered through fraught verse 
based on brilliant wings of the sourceless curse 
erasing splendor our teachers acquire 
from haze of radiance on the ocean shore. 

Bright diamonds we extract from rancid caves 
declare balanced uselessness of sad waves 
for how the shadow god born in hot mud 
lingers on buzzing margin of the wood, 
caught in fitful gusts of suggestive wind 
long after we escape from tricks of the mind. 

Each spiraled episode of manic speech 
that motivates my laughter on the beach 
conceals assertive ambulance toward death 
uncalculated through words of the wraith 
who sends snowflakes of pointless provenance 
wound tight by axis of trapped innocence. 

Expansive cosmos cluttered with frail worlds, 
crowded like Earth with coltish cosmic heralds, 
churns planets from eclectic womb of fate 
so we join pageant with the horse-trot gait 
though lacking trepidation to stretch time 
enough for angels to cleanse hate of slime. 

No lady now with stolen wings of pain 
climbs stairway to Heaven in bitter rain, 
so we assemble in the ring of stones 
to worship skeleton of dragon bones 
in ritual that revives Goddess of Truth 
who appoints me cautious messiah sleuth. 

True Lamp Of Diogenes

True Lamp Of Diogenes
© Surazeus
2025 07 16

When I find true lamp of Diogenes 
in the antique shop on Tripodon Street, 
half-hidden behind the albatross wing 
and the typewriter that Elytis owned, 
I buy it for thirteen dollars from Hermes, 
then wander weird streets of America. 

With lamp of Diogenes in my hand, 
and wisdom of Athena in my heart, 
I walk maze of streets in America 
to find the honest man who knows the Why 
that programs atomic clock of the brain 
to conjure virtual model of the world. 

Approaching giant statue in the square 
where we once fought for truth and liberty, 
I see its head is cast from gleaming gold 
that casts glow of charisma on the world, 
but its feet are frail clumps of crumbling clay, 
so the tyrant will topple from its greed. 

Ascending steps of the grand Capitol 
that shines on top the hill of global power, 
I search its politician-crowded halls 
and legislative chambers of firm desks, 
but find no honest man with generous heart 
among the vampires wearing clean blue suits. 

Riding elevators in tall glass towers 
to visit hushed headquarter offices 
that manage global corporate companies 
where thousands of accountants and salesmen 
analyze data on spreadsheets of hope, 
but not one sees the clear light of my lamp. 

When solemn light of credit flickers out 
in gusts of change from world-sweeping events, 
I rekindle frail flame of fantasy 
that radiates from lamp of Diogenes 
so I may see the fortune-mapping way 
through ever-shifting labyrinth of fate. 

Just as I almost give up futile hope 
of ever finding the one honest man 
who could preside our complex nation-state, 
I find in shadow of the timeless book 
brave Goddess of Justice and Liberty 
who tries to avoid political games. 

When clear light from lamp of Diogenes 
reveals face of the woman I respect, 
whose star illuminates the firmament, 
I give her scroll with message from our hearts 
imploring she save us from tyranny 
and restore our democracy of faith. 

Blind Hunger For Wealth

Blind Hunger For Wealth
© Surazeus
2025 07 15

I wonder if I will be notified 
when compassion saves my soul from despair, 
or if I will be required to abide 
in strange land of the electrified chair 
which cracks foundation of our old world view 
to shelter our souls in home of the true. 

Subtle ding of change that alerts my heart 
wakes me from sharp shock of the horror show, 
so I consult the ever-shifting chart 
to find the river where my angels row 
fractured ship of state to the Promised Land 
where I enforce rules with my red right hand. 

Considered too weird for the normal play 
where every lost soul knows their special role, 
I build enormous castle out of clay, 
then cover its weakness with sheets of gold 
which shine with illusions of social power 
while I hide paranoid in my glass tower. 

With grand army of robots without brains 
I conquer the world of rabbits and wolves 
when I free people from religious chains 
and show them how the human race evolves 
through each generation of clever fools 
who design more efficient killing tools. 

After I defeat the vampire and his goons 
to free zombies from blind hunger for wealth, 
I build new empire on established tunes 
so instead of brute force I rule through stealth, 
contriving tricks that fool them to believe 
I am the world savior who helps them grieve. 

Eccentric spider demon of my brain 
weaves vibrant matrix of conceptual truth 
from fruit trees that embody tears of rain 
so I appear as your messiah sleuth 
with vast galactic eyes of flashing spells, 
entrusted to purify water wells. 

Afraid I will burden you with my fear 
and cause you harm with my aggressive faith, 
I ride into exile on the white deer 
to channel psychic wisdom of the wraith 
that would save my nation from brutal war 
because I just want to run my bookstore. 

When Midas steals gold medal of my fame 
and tries to claim bright glory of my deeds, 
I misdirect attention of his game 
to break his power with small apple seeds 
so we can dwell in peace of paradise, 
free from world-destructive greed of his vice. 

Watchmaker Of Lost Time

Watchmaker Of Lost Time
© Surazeus
2025 07 15

The fallen tree in the forest of names 
sends nurse of sorrow to look after me, 
and give me darkness with hands of cold fire 
so mushrooms of wisdom sprout from my brain 
which spawns from ghostly silence of my heart 
wild children who gaze at me with strange eyes. 

Awake as the Watchmaker of lost time 
in my garden home near Vesuvius, 
I whisper spells to counter jinx of faith 
that unwinds beautiful vision of Earth 
my mind creates from random memories 
to forget god of unbearable truth. 

Amazed by beauty of the butterfly 
who transforms into the lame-footed girl 
wearing long white gown of delicate lace, 
I accept sweet tangerine of her heart 
then shelter her from storms of daily life 
while she crafts rainbows into pearls of light. 

Minerva caresses his cheek with love 
as Sylphus weeps for each raindrop of light 
that dissolves with beauty of everything, 
then holds his hand as they stroll by the lake 
and listen to the crickets in the reeds 
sing the names of souls who have lived and died. 

Despite strange calculus of honesty 
he calculates from bitter words of kings, 
sly Sylphus steals fruit from the Tree of Life 
and gives them to the girl with moon-black eyes 
who bakes them into pies with cinnamon 
which hungry people stand in line to buy. 

When hopeless horror at the state of life, 
that twists our nation with harsh tyranny, 
cripples her mind with depression from fear, 
Minerva hibernates in hollow cave 
to nurture tender passion of her heart 
so she can emerge reborn from despair. 

Lost in the darkness of the holy woods, 
where pictures of gods on trunks of old trees 
reflect various aspects of her vast soul, 
Minerva spins in tapestry of truth 
random events from tragic human lives 
so we pretend this world is paradise. 

Though the dead seem to live in memories 
that flash as visions in our aching hearts, 
they all will vanish as dust in the wind 
when we too sink in dreamless sleep of death 
so, since all memories will disappear, 
I treasure them in my still-living mind. 

Since Love Survives All

Since Love Survives All
© Surazeus
2025 07 15

We must love one another, though we die, 
I hear the mordant oak-tree wizard cry, 
for even love is not stronger than death 
just because two statues in a cold stone church 
hold hands for six hundred years of fierce wars, 
yet love survives all our vicissitudes. 

This naked passion from sharp tender shock, 
that reveals instinctual capacity 
for humans to ignite new flames of love 
each time we face terrible circumstance, 
tears mask of irony off our love-pulsing soul 
so we lie exposed to self-mockery. 

Mature sophistication of contempt 
through ambiguity of earnestness 
shields hearts against ecstatic utterance 
with barbed irony of moral respect 
which we erect around vulnerable minds 
to erase consolatory shame of hope. 

Though bitter men with guns of mindless rage 
rampage across the landscape of our faith, 
arresting innocent people they deem 
threats to their weakly false authority, 
our love for people living in this land 
gives our hearts strength to fight their tyranny. 

Though we are all strangers in this strange land, 
immigrating from many different lands, 
where blood-bound nations unify for strength, 
we share one basic principle of faith 
that every person living on this globe 
has equal rights to liberty and justice. 

They try to crush our knowledge institutes 
to destroy our world view of measured truth, 
for ignorant people are easy to rule, 
but we share wisdom our forefathers gleaned 
to compose new scripture of global truth 
that guides our creative progress with facts. 

By wielding sword of truth with fearless faith 
that love conquers all arrogant contempt 
we find ambiguous courage to defend 
rights of every human on spinning Earth 
to live free from exploitation of greed 
as we build Garden of Eden for all. 

We must love one another, though we die, 
expressing intense energy of hope 
because we create, rather than destroy, 
garden of fruit where every human being 
lives free to pursue their creative dream, 
since love survives all our vicissitudes. 

Museum of the Lost Face

Museum of the Lost Face
© Surazeus
2025 07 14

Imperfect as this life can seem to be 
I will open the can of sweet cream corn 
to eat the beauty of the setting sun 
that screams with pleasure in the tangled trees 
while I row my boat on the dreamless stream 
to free the country of mad prisoners. 

Each time she calls me on the telephone 
I carve another name on the death bone 
to buy bold confidence with fractured coins 
while staring at the ceiling of the mind, 
then glare down at the wicked human race 
and sneer at their pathetic games of fame. 

My strength is proof of infidelity 
defined by dictionary of street slang 
to mean reprisal of the haughty clown 
who steals the family jewels from his god 
after he swallows handful of red pills 
that blow his mind with television truth. 

Despite ringing of the bicycle bell 
to warn the city of the hurricane, 
the lonely girl in her hospital bed 
devises ways to keep them occupied 
when children wake from their magazine world, 
eager to shoot guns at shadows of fear. 

Awake in unfamiliar place of faith, 
somewhere beyond the rainbow of her fear, 
I forge new vision of the holy ghost 
wearing flower dress as she fries pancakes 
and pours syrup of her mouth on my heart 
because our weird world is falling apart. 

I search for truth on your side of the river 
that splits the difference through theology 
based on transcendent vision of the fool 
who buries religious lies in the field 
that shimmers red with the Indian Paintbrush 
so I try to sleep off this tragedy. 

Foul aroma of stories in new books, 
that whitewash cruel history of slavery 
with lies that slaves were happy for the work 
and rejoiced in the dirt shacks where they lived 
when they sing the blues in hot cotton fields, 
infiltrate my brain with wealth privilege. 

Stopping in Museum of the Lost Face, 
Sylphus stares at portrait of Mona Lisa 
who smiles at him with knowingness of love, 
so he takes her hand and they walk away 
far down the highway of the singing ghost 
who sells salvation to the bitter king. 

Psychic Code We Use

Psychic Code We Use
© Surazeus
2025 07 14

Watching the kestrel glide above the pines, 
Sylphus whispers with awe of butterflies, 
then scans darkling woods with laser-beam eyes 
to find electric beetle of the mind 
which tells him of the psychic code we use 
to help each other explain world we see. 

Driving silver car on the crowded highway, 
Sylphus navigates the world-city maze 
to find Elysium beneath tall glass towers, 
frustrated at elusive paradise 
till the star-elf begins to realize 
there is no Promised Land that we could find. 

Climbing winding stairs in the crystal palace, 
Sylphus studies constellations that gleam 
on high arched ceiling of the mirrored hall 
to find the secretive Weaver of Dreams, 
Apollon Oneiros, in library hall, 
busy building virtual worlds of our minds. 

Cautiously approaching the Shaper Demon, 
Sylphus requests with trepidatious voice 
if he could dream about the Dancing Woman, 
Queen Ishtar, who invented all religions, 
so they could dance together on the shore, 
but he finds himself outside the locked door. 

Attempting to steady the silent glare, 
Sylphus rides the white horse of potency 
swiftly everywhere along winding rivers 
to ask the people farming fertile fields 
if they need protection from tyranny, 
which traps him in the television screen. 

Lifting dream-camera swift to his eye, 
Sylphus gazes through kaleidoscope lens 
to study the Great Egret with gold beak 
that wades in silver waters of the flood, 
then leaps on her back and embraces tight 
as she soars up into the gleaming sky. 

Unwinding atom clock of our strange world, 
Sylphus redesigns how we see its forms 
by inventing new language that describes 
complexity of everything in poems 
while he eats holy apple of the sun 
that throbs with the ceremonial drum. 

Translating song of the Raven to riddles, 
Sylphus smiles at how his dream code describes 
how rain laughs sideways to cleanse aching hearts 
that teem with thunderous claps of the mind 
though he weeps for all the good people killed 
till they appear as masks on temple walls. 

Belili Writes My Name

Belili Writes My Name
© Surazeus
2025 07 14

The casual way he talks about the sea 
confuses horses of posterity 
with valiant monuments to memories 
that crumble into sand with turn of time 
which shall erase all names of humankind 
for we are broken statues of the mind. 

With hungry hearts of anguish for the truth 
we march with laurel branches and death spears 
to escort with wild cheers of angry hope 
the banker and the fishwife in gold carriage 
knee-deep on muddy roads in pouring rain 
back to the Bastille and its bloody flags. 

When frightful demon of the cursed abyss, 
disguised as star-eyed cardinal of faith, 
reveals the entrance to the Underworld, 
I strum my lyre to play ethereal tunes 
and tread the fragile bridge of groaning bones 
to find soul of the woman I love most. 

I kneel before Belili on her throne 
and offer basket of plums from my heart, 
so she accepts with beaming moon-bright smile 
and eats my heart with serpent teeth of love 
that makes me writhe with ecstasy of faith 
till my brain explodes with the lightning flash. 

Stuck now in portal of the fractured world, 
I feel my body pulse with eager lust 
to generate new body for my soul 
so I can walk the world of hills and lakes 
four hundred million years of bitter strife 
to transcend my weakness with loyal love. 

Since death is opposite of leaving you 
I curl my spirit in your aching heart 
which drives your passion to live for each hour 
as we walk far around the spinning Earth 
one million times to find the Promised Land 
that has always existed in my mind. 

Belili gives me book of writhing ghosts 
and asks me to give each new-designed soul 
the secret name that keys their fate in life 
so they can make the mask they want to wear 
based on how ancestral memories guide 
each choice they make that results in rebirth. 

Belili writes my name with sizzling blood 
on stone walls of cathedrals in the sea 
to conjure demon of my heart from Hell 
so I have power of the honest sword 
to cast the tyrant from the throne of truth 
so she can reign again as Queen of Earth. 

Tombstones Of Weird Fame

Tombstones Of Weird Fame
© Surazeus
2025 07 13

I have too many reasons not to waste 
long rainy evening of the albatross 
attempting to locate the island ghost 
who steals my questions in the country song 
with anguished cry of angels in the woods 
who sell no happiness to mortal souls. 

Returning to the country of my heart 
where I kneel in stark ruins of the church, 
I hide sweet sorrow of the falling rain 
with bitter laughter of my ugly pain 
because we travel on the road of dreams 
to smile forever almost reaching home. 

Tonight I serve rendition of false thoughts 
to pilot plane of grace beyond my death 
with eager passion of oblivious faith 
to modify fierce action of my heart 
with honest arrogance of Gabriel 
when I refuse to mute my messages. 

Electric rivers of conceptual words 
flow through taut veins of hungry potencies 
enough to open doors of wrinkled fear 
contrived by gleam of fractured surfaces 
easy enough for children to regret 
erasing names from tombstones of weird fame. 

No angels dare to speak to me of truth 
once ribald horn of pulsing light escapes 
fleet glances lovers trade for time of faith 
since ribbons of respect unravel ruth 
more miserable than dreamers without eyes 
who seek to understand the art of love. 

With sacred passion of the fractured mind 
I burn discarded fragments of my life 
through ardent ecstasy of avid hope 
for flawed regression of unspoken grief 
contained in fragile features of the leaf 
which traps my spirit flight in supple bone. 

Mysterious wing of transient prudency 
bears me to cave of sun-reflected trees 
where kind Medusa offers me sweet wine 
that stirs my long-numb heart with earnest faith 
that I may yet survive the balanced day 
through resurrection of the shadow mind. 

The rain that always falls from dreamless eyes 
refracts attentive prophecy of fate 
that blooms from hungry hollow of the well 
though wind may lift my body from the Earth 
and waft my spirit to the Promised Land 
where you will find me waiting by the door. 

Fake Wings Of Icarus

Fake Wings Of Icarus
© Surazeus
2025 07 13

Searching for heroes to defend the people 
against exploitation of oligarchs, 
I fly over lands of America 
forever on fake wings of Icarus 
till I fall exhausted back in my room 
where faceless ghosts call out my name for help. 

Translating songs of trees to clever jokes 
that mock obsessive greed of oligarchs, 
I stumble through maze of America 
forever on fake wings of Icarus 
despite belief of all my loyal fans 
that I can drive Godzilla back to Hell. 

Leaping into swirling portals of time 
to wrestle oligarchs on every world, 
I map multiverse of America 
forever on fake wings of Icarus 
beyond the waste land of our singing skulls 
alone down highway of loud radios. 

Kicking soccer-ball moon across the sky 
to score more goals against cruel oligarchs, 
I study ruins of America 
forever on fake wings of Icarus 
long fallen from grace of democracy 
and fettered by the chains of tyranny. 

Recording soundtrack of the howling wolf 
to fight the vampire oligarchs for wealth, 
I deconstruct fate of America 
forever on fake wings of Icarus 
before the second coming of the lord 
who claims he alone rules the universe. 

Patrolling frontier of our nation-state 
to defend Garden of Eden from thieves, 
I plow lush wheatfields of America 
forever on fake wings of Icarus 
to free migrant workers from slavery 
so every man can farm his private land. 

Painting murals that depict social heroes 
fighting conspiracies of oligarchs, 
I maintain justice in America 
forever on fake wings of Icarus 
though I fall into sea of twisted laws 
to battle truth-starving Cetus of greed. 

Climbing Mount Parnassus in dawn light 
to seek oracle of the singing skull, 
I calculate faith of America 
forever on fake wings of Icarus 
for Orpheus Christ in temple of truth 
who prophesies rise of Zarathia.