Blinding Glamor Of Fame

Blinding Glamor Of Fame
© Surazeus
2025 09 30

Sad how weak men try to puff themselves up 
to appear strong in their terror of Death 
who lurks in shadows of their fragile souls 
cast by stark sunlight on indifferent Earth 
as they struggle against blinding despair 
while they strut arrogantly on skulls of gods. 

From shadows of their bodies demons rise 
on asphalt wings torn from conspiracies 
contrived by clowns who bluster fancy words 
to shield their battered hearts from claws of greed 
through frantic obsession for finding truth 
concealed by morbid jokes in holy books. 

Startled by flicker of sunlight on dirt 
that flashes through taut quiver of tree limbs, 
they stumble disgracefully in cold gloom 
while grasping feverishly at shining fruit 
with subterfuge to control fertile trees 
through hostile tactic hoarding ample wealth. 

While I attend my private enterprise 
extracting nutritious produce of health 
from verdant substance of generous Earth, 
weak men, too lazy to focus their work 
on harvesting material with crafty hands, 
attempt to filch wealth from my stock of goods. 

I ponder how I might protect my worth, 
which I produce through wealth-concocting craft, 
by framing legacy of consequence 
with conceptual products my hands design 
when I, with copyright of labeled sign, 
present effects of my attentive cause. 

Strong men on base of humble confidence 
construct from raw material of this world 
processed artifacts they design from ideas 
to fashion models from conceptual forms 
which provide assistance of easeful thought 
through strict formulations our brains conceive. 

Yet weak men trapped in labyrinth of lust 
steal useful products from hardworking men 
through crass deception of inherent dread 
which obfuscates with glamorous trickery 
honest creator inspired by vast love 
as creative source from whom great art springs. 

Though weak men trample original works, 
designed and created by adept artists 
who earn proficient mastery of creation, 
to plunder valor of productive pride, 
strong men avoid blinding glamor of fame 
by working alone with their galvanic Muse. 

Curved Trajectory Of Faith

Curved Trajectory Of Faith
© Surazeus
2025 09 29

I watch the shining crescent boat moon glide 
with stately grace above the ancient oaks 
where Venus stands in flowing gown of clouds 
holding high her lamp with the Morning Star 
above the prow to guide her journey west 
along the curved trajectory of faith. 

Through parabolic symmetry of time 
I somersault across the rolling hills 
to bend my body lithe in graceful leap 
by dancing balanced on taut wire of hope 
that we embrace with passion for the truth 
that fuels our journey to the Promised Land. 

She half-remembers parable of trees 
that knowledge is empty function of being 
preserved by zero sum philosophy 
that we contrive from humming wings of words 
upon returning to the lake of skulls 
which dissolve into sparkling sand of time. 

While Venus lounges in the last row house 
left standing on the street of leafless oaks, 
I slouch on cracked steps of eternity 
and watch cars rumble down the broken road 
till drones with cameras float overhead 
to record how our great empire will fall. 

Still stuck between the rock and the hard place, 
I hold snarling wolf of Rome by her ears 
before I decide to apologize 
for any inconvenience I may cause 
since I intuit feelings people hide 
through necessary indulgence of false pride. 

Through urgent bestowal of clemency, 
based on psychotic waiver of respect, 
I plot world revolution of the weird 
based on amazing grace of faceless clouds 
because the lonely prophet on the train 
calls out my name from in the hurricane. 

Reaching my arm up to the empty sky, 
I try to touch the mirror face of god 
who murmurs honey spells of tender fear 
in tangent with the burning sun of dawn 
when light creates the shadow of our souls 
by forming magic ladder to the moon. 

Wearing pink gown for the midnight ball, 
Venus walks in prairie of star-kissed wheat 
while holding folded-paper boat of hope 
to ask the demon of the jungle why 
we ache with sorrow for the souls who die 
with calm acceptance of the endless rain. 

Swirls Of Shining Words

Swirls Of Shining Words
© Surazeus
2025 09 28

When swirls of shining words from my dream book 
lift my body up at death to the sky 
and bear my conscious soul to ancient stars, 
I wake from morning dream to realize 
my brain invented this vision from hope 
that my memories may survive my death. 

The boy decides to float up in the sky 
and soar on his featherless outspread arms 
over houses where people sit in chairs 
while he swoops around loose telephone wires 
because nothing matters in this short life 
except we love the person we are with. 

We often think about the way time flows 
in similar fashion of tumbling chaos 
to how water swirls between banks of dirt 
bound by long twisting roots of thirsty trees 
that shout at us with silent arrogance 
from mocking dare to eat their healthful fruit. 

Great voice of the sky echoes between hills 
with tireless focus on polishing stones 
based on solemn conviction of the fooled 
that common sense will lead to destiny 
from stale perfume of never-expressed thoughts 
gleaming with luminous faith in romance. 

At moments when we are startled alive 
with grandiose vision of society, 
that functions to reveal shadow of fear 
in glaring light of wisdom from the sun 
which watches us as lidless Eye of God, 
we will sing well-rehearsed banalities. 

Or else we might regret the lost lament 
we hide in clam shell of the laughing toad 
that cracks foundation of theology 
on which we build world empire of fake wealth 
propped up by innocence of youthful faith 
that every person is equal in life. 

Though always the same in efficacy 
through power of action to transform the truth, 
Nature asserts indifferent laws of physics 
that spark intense emotions of desire 
which motivates our actions to create 
while we investigate crimes gods commit. 

Through positive distraction of the song 
that flashes from deep hollow of my heart 
I redirect contempt to grim respect 
when I refocus logic of my brain 
to mirror mental health in mocking hymns 
while shining words lift me up to the sky. 

Vision Of One Social Law

Vision Of One Social Law
© Surazeus
2025 09 27

Since the strong will always oppress the weak 
the weak unite their hearts in clever band 
inspired by wisdom of the holy man 
who wrestles demons in the desert land 
then preaches vision of one social law 
where we do what we will, if we harm none. 

When greedy tyrant terrified of truth 
seizes control over the social state 
and sends warriors with weapons of death 
to defy celestial mandate of fate 
by exploiting the people for his gain, 
the savior appears with sword of the law. 

Forged in the fires of bitter suffering 
that innocent people of Earth endure 
under oppression of the rich elite 
who enslave our bodies and minds for wealth, 
the savior rises high on wings of truth 
and wields the sword of justice with respect. 

When crowded nations of our spinning world 
languish under authoritarian greed 
of tyrants disguised as wise presidents, 
Ishtar appears on ziggurat of Ur 
and sends her prophets with angelic wings 
to free the people from dictatorships. 

Though I am one lone individual 
stuck in little cave of my world view 
somewhere in vastness of this spinning globe, 
I hear mysterious voice of Ishtar hum 
with frightened courage in my aching heart 
to be the savior of my private life. 

I cannot save anyone in this world 
except myself through choices I design 
as I perform role of my divine soul 
programmed by insight my ancestors learned 
as they survived vicissitudes of strife 
to generate new life before they died. 

Ishtar designed religions of mankind 
by gathering people in grand hall of dreams 
and teaching basic laws of decency, 
then sending prophets all around the world 
to organize tribes in thriving empires 
which fight within the framework of one power. 

United strong against dictatorship, 
we pledge allegiance to star-spangled banner 
that represents communal liberty 
based on equal justice for every person, 
forever vigilant with honest faith 
to preserve our global democracy. 

Mask That Fear Designed

Mask That Fear Designed
© Surazeus
2025 09 26

Too lazy to remember why I care 
about the sorrows of the suffering, 
I hide my sorrows in the river stone 
and savor suffering of my broken wing, 
pretending happiness comes when I share 
secret treasures I detect when alone. 

Mixed up about why love nurtures our souls 
with tender bitterness of strange routine, 
I choose to hide in shadows of my mind 
to study psychic gears of dream machine 
which programs how we play our social roles 
in tandem with the mask that fear designed. 

Untouchable by angst of hungry hope 
despite collapse of our civilized state, 
I publish broken hierarchies of faith 
to break obstructing wall of random fate 
so I maintain system I use to cope 
with global fame contrived by the star wraith. 

Despite my effort to find fulfillment 
through binding emotions in riddling spells, 
I free attentive thoughts as wingless birds 
that shriek in flames from disconcerting hells 
with courage to be more resilient 
as shameful feelings get trapped by brave words. 

When the moon is born from womb of the Earth 
through wrenching explosion of naked love, 
I wonder listlessly if I am good 
enough to earn key to the treasure trove 
so I can analyze what faith is worth 
while I run with horses in Apple Wood. 

Because I walk the low-tide beach at dawn 
to gather eggs of demons with my hand, 
I cannot steal what writhes inside my heart 
reflected by the variegated land 
that twists with angst of the innocent fawn 
who teaches me how to draw my star chart. 

Amazed at strange beauty of the orange moon 
dismembered by theology of lust, 
I gather eyes from animals in jars 
so I can study arrogance of trust 
with purpose to ascend the slippery dune 
before the world is heaped with rusting cars. 

If pearls record how humans fight for power 
deceived by shadows of glory and fame, 
I choose fall in love with Sylvia 
who grins at me and gives me secret name 
so I have right to climb her sacred tower 
and help her raise our daughter Pythia. 

King David Weeps

King David Weeps
© Surazeus
2025 09 25

Sitting on the street corner by the bank 
where cars and people stream by in sunlight, 
King David plays the psaltery on his lap 
and sings with eerie voice of aching hope, 
"the Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want," 
barely heard behind rumbling traffic noise. 

We live the strangeness of our mystery 
unsolved by magic-eyed sleuth of the moon 
who sells salvation to the gullible 
with certain agony of sweet contempt 
for ancient woman of the lonely field 
who scatters seeds of flowers in my heart. 

To penetrate the shadow of despair 
with words carved from the meteor of the mind 
King David bends steel beams with his bare hands 
through calcified regret of withered veins 
by measuring beauty on scales of desire 
despite unhappiness of wretched joy. 

Though everything is pulse of molecules 
that flash in boundless void of everywhere, 
we search for primal cause of all existence 
in hollow dream of everything we bought 
before the Devil tries to sell it all 
while we search oblivion for true love. 

In this brief moment called eternity, 
where we live in confusion of blind faith, 
King David draws weird vision of our hearts 
presenting cave homes on the river shore 
where we have lived for thirteen thousand years 
by carving laughter from heart-warming stone. 

Because the ocean drains into the sky 
in burnished waterfalls of restless words 
we scour clean blood-stained cathedral walls 
so spiders weave vast web of mirror eyes 
with obsolescent spells of ardent faith 
designed to make our lives more interesting. 

Though the sun fits inside his living room, 
which partitions time in fragments of dream, 
King David paints the American Crow 
as divine savior of our broken world 
that urges us to cherish obstacles 
which make us stronger as we strive to live. 

Nothing appears to be attainable 
as magic treasures of the talisman 
that alerts us to the treacherous trap 
when we build walls of paradise from lies 
to nest our homes in cavern by the sea 
where King David weeps for his lost Lenore. 

Expose Brutal Crimes

Expose Brutal Crimes
© Surazeus
2025 09 24

The startled ice horse on the arctic shore 
considers why the white-haired sage of truth, 
half-morphed from red-furred mermaid state of mind, 
bears emerald lamp of ardent dragon eyes 
with foolish plan to expose brutal crimes 
committed by the king with small gold hands. 

Two slender hobbit brothers in brown cloaks, 
Gardo and Berto, sons of Rindo Tor, 
approach Minotaur in cardinal robe 
to ask if they can buy the crystal ball, 
but his snake-eyed daughter, wearing white veil, 
tosses bruised rose on the polished oak floor. 

When blind Artemis in white silk gown 
dances rigidly down long moon-lit hall, 
brave Gardo lifts two sapphire dragon eyes 
from velvet-lined chest of his secret heart 
and offers gift of light so she can see, 
but the red owl snatches her gems away. 

Once she accepts new pair of sapphire eyes, 
that gleam blue as the sea after noon storm, 
Artemis climbs the rugged hill of skulls 
till dryad oak-boy with butterfly wings 
grips her slender arms with tender care, 
so she turns and kisses him with sad faith. 

Holding triangle magnifying glass, 
red-feathered owl princess of Zathamar 
refracts light of the sacred avian star 
to design dynamic wings of the wren 
with pen attached to taut violin string 
that vibrates with concerto tune of faith. 

Pushing through tangled vines of misty woods, 
Berto searches for her lost violin 
which skitters away on six crooked legs, 
but pauses when he sees tall Artemis 
in black lace dress, holding large heart-shaped ruby 
that pulses with blood of angelic lust. 

Gripping ax of wisdom in her left hand, 
Artemis analyzes world affairs 
while giant cruise ship wrecked on barren shore 
shrouds the city skyline with choking smog, 
so Berto stands on stump of the oak tree 
and asks the ice horse if he understands. 

Still attempting to expose brutal crimes 
committed by the thief in golden suit, 
the hobbit brothers follow Artemis 
who leads ghost army to the pyramid 
where One Eye watches people of the world 
sit at global table of empty plates. 

Windy Beach Of Everywhere

Windy Beach Of Everywhere
© Surazeus
2025 09 24

Reborn from sorrow of the hungry sea, 
with wings designed by eager hope for truth, 
I wander windy beach of everywhere 
with sweet surprise that I am still alive 
since I have returned from the Otherworld 
with book of wisdom written in my blood. 

Attentive pain of mental suffering, 
that dissipates at echo of kind words, 
lurks somewhere close in shadow of my heart 
with hunger to devour my bitter ache 
so I become more hollow than the sky, 
awake in clockwork orange of divine dreams. 

Once I note the abyss gazing at me 
with monstrous visage of hungry desire, 
I hide my true demonic soul with mask 
I carve from Tree of Life my fear cuts down 
so no one will mistake me for the mad clown 
till I wake dark ghost sleeping in my heart. 

Embarrassed by fierce hunger of my heart, 
I build sprawling cathedral of grand halls 
from giant diamonds poking from the plains 
where the great dinosaur empress of Earth 
rules global empire for eight million years 
while singing heart-enchanting hymn of hope. 

In frantic stillness of the evening glow 
I hear soft eerie radiance of her voice 
beam from the radio tower on the hill 
through sane persona of her cat-black soul 
which flushes tight veins of my throbbing mind 
with weird ecstatic passion of lost faith. 

When I return from dungeon of my heart 
with writhing alligator in my hand, 
I channel spirit of Orpheus clear 
to navigate my journey through the maze 
compiling ruins of America 
in heap of old discarded principles. 

Across the field of angry goldenrods 
we build metropolis of pulsing graves 
based on weird architecture of dream code 
composed by nightgown ghost of honesty 
who wears mask of the woman I love most 
while eating cantaloupe by the fireplace. 

Far east of Eden we explore the world 
to find the mountain of the weeping girl 
who cultivates her soul ten thousand years 
to evolve from White Snake of Silver Lake 
through psychic phases of social respect 
when she creates new body for our souls. 

Eternal State Of Beauty

Eternal State Of Beauty
© Surazeus
2025 09 23

While Phoebus plucks soft melancholy tune 
on old guitar, his grandfather once built, 
beneath the college-campus willow tree, 
Fauna photographs flowers by brick walls, 
fascinated by the contrast in shape and color 
that represents humanity in nature. 

Strolling together in the alleyway 
that winds for miles between brick office buildings, 
Phoebus and Fauna chat about how art 
frames normal scenes of the everyday world 
with magic beauty of the focused eye, 
imbuing gloomy scenes with divine glow. 

Holding the camera before her face, 
Fauna perceives how frame of reference 
seems to transform the filthy alleyway 
of trashcans and poles entangled with wires 
from bleak hellscape to sacred paradise 
luminated with mystic fairy light. 

The way beams of light from the glaring sun 
slant through clouds to glow on the wretched brick, 
highlighting preternatural forms of desire 
with ghostly shimmer of nostalgic fear, 
enchants her heart with ennui of respect 
for beauty based on shadow of despair. 

Approaching large glass window of the bank, 
that reflects the delicate boat-shaped moon 
which gleams before dawn by the Morning Star, 
Phoebus and Fauna see ghosts of their souls, 
Phoebe and Faunus, gazing back at them, 
so they wave to their opposite-world selves. 

Since our genders are fluid as the sea, 
swirling with contradictory emotions 
that drive us to reproduce immortal genes 
in new organic packages of hope 
through which we humans evolve into God, 
we explore this planet with loving eyes. 

While Faunus inspects bright blue azurite, 
he pries from jagged cavern wall of Hell, 
Phoebe photographs Queen Persephone 
as she poses in long elegant gowns 
to capture essence of her goddess spirit 
because she radiates beauty of the heart. 

With every photograph she snaps with care 
Fauna chronicles our changing world 
with timeless images of sacred truth 
which preserves within frame of humble awe 
essential nature of our hungry hearts 
when we invent eternal state of beauty. 

Lake Of Screaming Masks

Lake Of Screaming Masks
© Surazeus
2025 09 23

Less intense that frozen waves of regret, 
Death grins at me with joyful nonchalance 
when I sit by the lake of screaming masks 
to savor silence of soft sunlit hills, 
because I dare not translate songs of toads 
to riddles jesters tell in court of faith. 

The old man who frees butterflies from stones 
explains strange magic of the radio 
to young boy sitting on the lonely horse 
who waves the broken stick of innocence 
and proclaims himself king of the scarecrows 
who march in revolution of the mind. 

Pages torn from history books flap in wind, 
snagged on humming telephone wires of fear, 
so the sad-eyed shepherd gathers them up 
and hands tattered stack of paper to God 
who burns them in the castle hearth of faith 
to erase record of his psychic crimes. 

Somewhere in endless maze of morbid myths 
Ophelia finds statue of Jupiter 
fallen over in the snow-bleak courtyard, 
so she crouches and stares at his stern face, 
and wonders what caused the fierce God of Thunder  
to freeze into stone of mute arrogance. 

When she returns home from working all night, 
mopping floors in the elementary school, 
Ophelia asks her mother in the kitchen 
why organic bodies decay and rot 
though we eat vegetables and exercise, 
but unwashed curtains flutter in the wind. 

Each time Janus opens the temple door 
another thousand years of changeless hope 
streaks stars across the sky of ardency, 
so he gives Ophelia Book of God Masks 
which she carries as catalog of souls 
to sell illusions of power to vain mortals. 

No one knows who we are before we die 
yet they gather in church to weep and pray 
after Death erases our souls from time, 
then everyone goes back to work and play 
while no one in Heaven eats apple pie 
as ghosts enchanted by the front-porch chime. 

After Gabriel falls down to the Earth 
Ophelia bears his body with care 
for Janus of the Dream Well to repair, 
but he explains with star-conceited words 
that we cannot return through second birth, 
so they make love in the meadow of skulls. 

Castle Door Of Power

Castle Door Of Power
© Surazeus
2025 09 22

When the young woman with lightbulbs for eyes 
begins to scrape her shadow off the wall, 
the farmer, hiding the mirror of time 
in his pocket, along with the glass moon, 
asks the innocent cow why people laugh 
though we become roses after we die. 

Let us consider the black albatross 
that perches on the shoulder of blind Thor 
who transforms happy children into moths 
despite how long the pink telephone screams 
at angels who torment government clerks 
with thoughts of beauty for the penniless. 

The woman decides not to fight the tree 
and walks away instead beyond the sky 
to harvest ginseng from the mountain slope 
where the man disguised as the sullen horse 
throws walnuts at her red car on the bridge 
till she folds his mask in her leather purse. 

Since I am interested in your mind, 
that pulses bright as purple mushroom brain, 
I design our parallel universe 
to mirror graceful body of the nymph 
who sews clothes for the lonely gatherers 
embarrassed by the need to fall in love. 

Born right near the cusp of Virgo and Libra, 
I worship Justice holding Scales of Truth 
who teaches humans to confirm our soul 
with self-control in framework of the law 
so effects from cause of our actions charge 
constructive progress of organic growth. 

The woman wearing wings of tattered novels 
encloses her soul in the rolling stone 
that gleams beneath the throne of splintered oak 
before she opens twenty thousand doors 
to find typewriter of the weeping clown 
so she can drink delicious can of oil. 

Ophelia watches romantic show 
on television forged from raven beaks 
so she can learn the secret key of fate 
we use to open castle door of power 
before rain falling on black city streets 
transforms her soul back into the Mermaid. 

If the young woman with lightbulbs for eyes 
attempts to play piano in red snow, 
Apollo may remember where we live 
and bring basket of persimmons to show 
he understands assignment of the hour 
to build world empire of Zarathia. 

Jester Mask Of Faith

Jester Mask Of Faith
© Surazeus
2025 09 22

Though day and night are equal in my heart 
at gentle turning of our verdant world 
I feel myself unbalanced without wings 
before virginal Justice holding scales 
by which she judges intent of the mind 
to analyze effects of good and evil. 

Eager to ascend tall Tower of Truth, 
I steal keys of the kingdom from Saint Peter 
with hope to see perspective of the world 
composed of Ideas that persist in Heaven, 
imbued with light and shadow that reveals 
beauty of every structure formed from atoms. 

Yet when I open portal to lost time 
for highest room in tall Tower of Truth, 
I find Cassandra, dressed in scarlet gown, 
gazing deep in gold crystal ball of fate 
who prophesies that I will rule the world, 
so I flee from role of the cosmic herald. 

Stumbling exhausted down the signless road 
on windy prairie where wordless winds blow 
east of the rocky Rainbow Mountain range, 
I find abandoned lyre of Mercury 
half-buried on Missouri River shore, 
so I extract it from corpse of my faith. 

Wandering far across America 
in countless towns from sea to shining sea, 
I play grunge folk songs on old rusty strings 
and sing dire prophecies Cassandra dreamed 
to prove that no one will believe the truth 
even as our empire crumbles to lies. 

I cannot remove jester mask of faith 
that hides identity of my fake self 
because King Midas, enraged by sharp jokes, 
sends blood-thirsty Furies to hunt me down 
and hang me from telephone pole of fear 
though I am Angelus whom Hera sent. 

Sprung from the dreamless eyes of cruel Cronus, 
three Furies race along crowded highways 
to catch me as I fly toward temple hall 
where wise Athena chants Kabbalic spells 
that channel psychic energy of stars 
to power my soul with visions of peace. 

When Ophelia dives in the River Styx 
she transforms into mermaid with gold scales, 
and swims down into silent sea of dreams 
to bear Orpheus with attentive care 
safe to lush shore of Chesapeake Bay 
where she crowns him King of Zarathia. 

Abandoned Ghosts Of Time

Abandoned Ghosts Of Time
© Surazeus
2025 09 21

Soft wind that ripples on the meadow pond 
cares nothing for the strife of politics, 
so I become the grass that drinks the rain 
and sings in harmony with cheerful birds, 
though every tweet is territorial, 
declaring how this space of light is mine. 

The crow that flaps her dark angelic wings 
swoops over meadow pond of silent faith, 
evanescent shape almost vanishing 
in gray shadow of undulating clouds, 
which sparks strange memory from my childhood 
when I would wait for Jesus to return. 

The black-cloaked preacher in the circus tent 
declares Jesus, king of the whole world, 
will soon return in blaze of flaming clouds 
as he descends on crystal wings of fire, 
so I sit by the meadow pond all day 
staring at gray clouds that silently swirl. 

So I decide the crow with Stygian wings, 
as devil that soars from the hand of Christ, 
presents itself as symbol of my heart 
that promises salvation of respect 
refracted through keen mind of intellect 
to calculate state of reality. 

Since no one hears in wilderness of ghosts 
dire prophecy that Cassandra proclaims, 
which echoes warning of social collapse, 
I sit on lush shore of the meadow pond 
to strum the lyre of Mercury and sing 
how no one descends from the empty sky. 

Though I sit alone by the meadow pond, 
surrounded by abandoned ghosts of time 
who ask me to give them faces and names, 
I feel divine energy of God glow 
bright in the boundless hollow of my heart 
as planet that now teems with conscious souls. 

I feel soul of messiah in my heart 
emanate beauty of the cosmic mind, 
so I transcend framed ideologies 
to merge all warring religions on Earth 
in one universal faith of mankind 
that unites opposing doctrines in myth. 

I row wood boat across the meadow pond 
and listen to wordless voice of the wind 
congregate all abandoned ghosts of time 
in global community of the lost 
who transform deserts into paradise 
by planting seeds of fruit trees in our graves. 

Clarion Call Of Liberty

Clarion Call Of Liberty
© Surazeus
2025 09 21

From inexhaustible stream of dark thoughts 
strange mysteries of my blood spring as light 
in dazzling fashion through innocent faith 
that warns my heart with claxon flash of hope 
compounding wild attention we exchange 
about unseen danger clouding my eyes. 

With psychic readiness of bleeding hearts 
I hurl assertive thoughts of liberty 
at sharp-eyed memory on taut hawk wings 
while sweeping temple porch of dusty fears, 
yet pause to touch electric beams of light 
that pierce my heart with arrogant despair. 

Based on hypothesis that death is final, 
I play the clueless jester of despair 
by prancing around idol of your god 
which glares with rage at hungry immigrants 
who bow before the holy mannequin 
and pray for shortcut to the Promised Land. 

I never forget who I want to be 
though I wander aimlessly on the beach 
to bury my feelings of hope and fear 
in wave-polished sand of the Anywhere 
which remain entrenched as mirror of fate 
that blinds my eyes to road I must advance. 

Every day seems like the last day of time 
when all that is real crumbles into sand 
and bright illusions of our nation-state 
dissipate into delusions of grandeur 
propagated by enchantment of hope 
that sucks our blood to fuel its oppression. 

Cruel lies, deceivers shout in stadiums 
filled with believers who scream in despair 
that all their long-cherished beliefs are false, 
vanish in searing flames of fragile pride 
when their world view collapses into fables 
and leaves them stumbling mute on storm-torn beach. 

When grand illusion of our noble nation 
collapses into fractured fantasy 
that blinds their eyes to harsh reality, 
those true believers who have lost their faith 
will hear the clarion call of Liberty 
and gather round her temple on the beach. 

Long after fever of nationalist rage, 
stoked by storm-blasting rhetoric of fear, 
dissipates in heart-calming breeze of faith, 
we will construct new world democracy 
that welcomes every breathing human home 
to share this globe that spins in void of light. 

Ancestral Streams Of Faith

Ancestral Streams Of Faith
© Surazeus
2025 09 20

The sea of my heart is waiting for you 
to sail ship of your fate across my space 
so we can join our bodies in one bond 
through strict concatenation of our goals 
involved as raindrops soaked by roots of trees 
that crack foundation of our empire state. 

The voice we share with citizens of hope 
flows over waters of our shared desires 
so we can navigate maze of events 
with large love that encompasses the Earth 
through passion for the nourishment of truth 
conceived by alphabets of innocence. 

While holding hands in seasons of delight 
we walk toward death with innocent respect 
for whistled chorus of the populous 
who carry bullets of unconscious fear 
till light anoints our bodies with esteem 
for shifting faces of regretful tears. 

We run with grace in forest of the wind 
through gates of paradise to chase the truth 
till we get lost in labyrinth of myth 
where statues of world gods we idolize 
dissolve into ancestral streams of faith 
that cleanse our cities with vain sacrifice. 

Our mothers wait as shadow of the door 
for us to bring weird treasures from deep caves 
returning home as humble puppeteers 
trained to mimic angels without wings 
who open visionary reptile eyes 
to read the memory of our silent fear. 

We ride stark thunder of our legacy 
to break free from cruel laws of slavery 
by leaping abyss of oppressive hate 
in noble battle to gain liberty 
based on brave justice as our principle 
which guides our journey to the Promised Land. 

Though lost in wilderness of bleak despair 
we gather round bright fire of liberty 
and chant to wake courage and strength within 
so we can change the social paradigm 
which frames equality of every soul 
as standard motivating how we live. 

Our enigmatic goddess with eight eyes 
creates the world of vision we perceive 
as virtual model mapping heart-born myth 
where all ancestral streams of faith flow free 
in sermon that reveals our love-lit world 
as pure mysterious spirit of the Earth. 

Vanishing Of Bitter Fate

Vanishing Of Bitter Fate
© Surazeus
2025 09 20

Your many voices chattering in sunlight 
radiate from countless television screens 
in waves of hope across the city maze 
where gleaming cars stream past buildings of brick 
through endless vanishing of bitter faith 
that leaves us lonely on the river shore. 

If I use love to build my mortal house 
out on the endless prairie of sad wind, 
despite my vain search for the Promised Land, 
I might almost escape hunger of hope 
to hide my plangent heart in grave of time 
from which will bloom the primal Tree of Life. 

The forlorn whippoorwill in cloistered woods 
discusses humble passion of the seer 
who leads grim-eager Pilgrims down through Hell 
before their bodies dissolve into dust 
through uncanny affection for the sky 
where water waits to fertilize the world. 

We fear most what we sense in our dark hearts 
so we should measure rainfall before dawn 
in solemn preparation for our death 
since we must improvise our social role 
with outrageous respect for humble souls 
who dare defy the tyrant in his tower. 

With Key of Wisdom burning in my hand 
I disassemble puzzle forged by fate, 
exposing greed of cruel ambitious men 
who attempt to reframe the narrative 
so they are always right in game of power 
till they exhaust their rage with bitter hate. 

When I meet the oxcart man on the road 
that winds around the mountain of mad ghosts 
he asks if I would like to buy his cart 
which he constructed from dinosaur bones 
so I steal tattered wings of Icarus 
and dance around the fire with shaman chants. 

When I transform into the Spotted Owl 
I flutter wings of laughter in moonlight 
and soar on the road my ancestors blazed 
ten thousand years Scythia to Oregon 
where I translate the ancient song of waves 
to verses humans fail to understand. 

When I arrive at the End of the World 
I stand beneath the Tower of Hercules 
to strum the ancient Lyre of Mercury 
and sing about fall of America 
from which we build world empire based on truth 
long after vanishing of bitter fate. 

Savor Force Of Life

Savor Force Of Life
© Surazeus
2025 09 20

I want to cancel my birthday this year 
so with assertion of puzzled respect 
I may arrest corruption of the flesh 
to float in psychic stasis of calm faith 
by tricking Death from noticing my age 
because I want savor force of life. 

I have wandered across the entire Earth 
two hundred thousand years to chase the sun, 
Africa east to China where time starts, 
back west to Scotland where the sun descends, 
and then across the sea to Oregon 
where I discover that our world is round. 

Now I wait in lush Appalachian hills 
in silent afternoon of timeless glow 
while all the fractured nations of our world 
vainly resist rise of one global state 
where every human who breathes air of hope 
shares progress of justice and liberty. 

Or so I wish to believe in my heart 
that we are all striving for one grand goal 
with common passion to improve our world 
so every person born from womb of hope 
has freedom to pursue their happiness, 
safe from cruel exploitation and abuse. 

I want to forge vision of paradise 
that inspires me with hope for future growth 
to structure framework with bold principles 
providing courage for each human being 
to work and play with equal honesty 
in social network of our global state. 

Though I am growing older by the day 
with each relentless turn of Earth in space, 
I feel comprehensive flow of history 
power attentive respect of my heart 
through efficient gears of honest response 
which motivates my quest for global peace. 

Yet dark storm clouds of national discharge 
crash thunderously with tides of social change 
that smash institutions of global power 
so I must surf tsunami of concern 
with progressive plan to transform my soul 
so I improve persona in response. 

I choose to remain at sixty years old, 
as Earth hurtles on in the godless void, 
to retain timeless state of mental being 
preserved in record of conceptual dreams 
with riddling code in verse of psychic play 
that you will not solve till it is too late. 

Terror Of Electric Birds

Terror Of Electric Birds
© Surazeus
2025 09 19

If my deceptive albatross requires 
imperfect pitch of never-spoken words 
I might decide to direct solemn choirs 
who sing from terror of electric birds 
that clamor with explosion of time bombs 
in symphony composed by ghost of Brahms. 

Enraged at how sly Rigoletto mocks 
his haughty arrogance with scathing jokes, 
King Midas orders jesters stoned with rocks, 
and screams their accusations are a hoax, 
then hippo-toddles in the putrid swamp 
to blaring trumpets of unroyal pomp. 

So Cathy snaps the television off 
just as brave David kills the haughty king 
because the woke adults begin to scoff, 
and skips along the empty road to sing 
about White Knight enchanted by weird spell 
that leads him lost through endless maze of Hell. 

When Belle Dame without Mercy wakes from dream, 
while driving ghostly car on highway home, 
she deconstructs the cruel government scheme 
to reinvent the world empire of Rome, 
dismantling privilege of racial pride 
by flipping social concepts on their side. 

While wandering cheerful on the misty moors, 
Cathy finds Rigoletto bound by lies, 
so she helps him discover secret cures 
for foul diseases that blind human eyes 
which helps us see the truth of what is real 
so we stand for justice with noble zeal. 

Kwan Yin appears from empyrean beam 
as smiling woman on the mountain peak 
which illuminates delusions of seem 
as we accept the emptiness we seek 
on sacred quest to cultivate our souls 
when we prepare to play our special roles. 

Browsing antique shop in the country town, 
Cathy finds the lost Book of Liberty, 
so she trades it for Tarot of the Clown 
to lift humanity from poverty, 
but no one believes in her six-step plan 
though she supports crowning of Athelstan. 

I am not surprised when Cathy decides 
to marry grandson of the Fisherman 
who investigates brutal homicides 
till he gets trapped inside the Wicker Man, 
so King Midas becomes the sacrifice 
that cleanses our nation from civil strife. 

Cage Of Global Fame

Cage Of Global Fame
© Surazeus
2025 09 18

Awake in stillness of the timeless sea, 
I sing impatience of colliding thoughts 
to hear assertive voice of angry trees 
describe bold future of the fallen fruit 
that blooms into world empire of the mad 
trapped in brave rituals of worship and war. 

Two-blooded angel of the swirling mind 
plots ancestral line of kind arrogance 
to iterate through picture frame of faith 
ingenious solution Phoebus designs  
to trick the lonely people of the world 
with obvious riddle of the eglantine. 

I walk face-first in forest of respect 
to understand illusions forged by fate 
that stem from beauty of the perfect face 
which mirrors mental fortitude of fear 
employed by feral jesters to revise 
constitutional law that guides our game. 

Determined to construct my funeral bower 
from tinsel bones of honest dinosaurs, 
I chat with Death while strolling in the grove, 
where apples fall into reluctant hands, 
about how light escapes conceptual words 
that trap me in the cage of global fame. 

Assertive freedom of tactical speech 
confuses children of the blinking screen 
with artificial games of complex rules 
designed to obliterate prideful fools 
with soul-crushing facts of the dream machine 
which cares not how the hungry heart may feel. 

Yet I must wake from cruel complacency 
about the falling bombs of liberty 
which rearrange puzzle of history 
so tyrants appear as heroes of good, 
lauded for how well they exploit the poor 
who crawl exhausted in the shining church. 

Because the dead dance on fake monuments 
with earnest faith in capital success 
against relentless process of soul death 
we play fear-frantic game of hide and seek 
though we carry unpaid debts of the dead 
when we evacuate temple of faith. 

Involuntary plan to map the mind 
drives me to madness of the lucky laugh 
when I escape the cage of global fame 
to walk the signless road of everywhere 
before the second coming of the clown 
who watches downcast Ophelia drown. 

Blind Angel In The Cave

Blind Angel In The Cave
© Surazeus
2025 09 18

Though blind angel in the cave knows my name, 
I run away into the wilderness
to wear the mask she throws into the sky 
so I become weird image of the beast 
that lurks in heart of darkness with my face 
till I decide to return to my home. 

When blind angel in the cave shoots the stars 
that fracture into snowflakes of my mind, 
I build enormous snow idol of God 
to represent best of humanity 
as ideal symbol for how to behave 
with honest respect toward all human beings. 

Since blind angel in the cave surfs the waves 
of social change that sweep across the world, 
I follow her with mission to transform 
our fallen empire of colonial greed 
to democracy of justice and truth 
where we do what we will, if we harm none. 

If blind angel in the cave forges crown 
from golden hearts of people lost in Hell 
to trap my spirit with the chains of fame, 
I twirl on spiral wings of flaming joy 
to escape that cage of hypocrisy 
so I can dance free by the lake of dreams. 

Where blind angel in the cave finds the grail 
based in transcendent world of virtual faith, 
I wait with abject patience of the saint 
who appears pregnant with child of my seed 
that rises from crystal egg of her heart 
to rule our new world through technology. 

How blind angel in the cave describes fate 
to billions of faithful around the world 
inspires my heart to oppose tyranny 
though stuck in haze of absence without lamp 
that Diogenes gave me before he died 
till I find broken gates of paradise. 

While blind angel in the cave maps dream quests 
with artificial code through language tricks, 
I weave conceptual tragedy of hope 
from tangled skein of weird global events 
so I can record progress of mankind 
becoming United Nations of Earth. 

Why blind angel in the cave photographs 
faces of people all over the world 
confounds my well-framed ideology 
through undulating swirl of frantic words 
blasted from the cannon of haughty hope 
each time the crazy world cleanses itself. 

Rule Land Of The Free

Rule Land Of The Free
© Surazeus
2025 09 17

Despite strange controversy of the heart 
concerning fractured cycle of the cart, 
I run frantically along the cliff edge, 
flapping wings with theological pledge 
to fall from Heaven and splash in the sea 
in failed attempt to rule Land of the Free. 

Before catalysis of psychic change 
transforms our world view too far out of range, 
I try to rein swift flow of history 
with tangled lines of hostile prophecy 
by excavating crimes of haughty gods 
whose arrogance the greedy monarch lauds. 

Since no one in the sky is watching us 
preen with grace so we look ridiculous, 
I build enormous walls for paradise 
because my lizard brain accepts the price 
we pay for safety is loss of free speech 
in hard-earned lessons hungry devils teach. 

Though we are nothing but atoms of faith 
in bodies composed by the radio wraith, 
I wander lazily around the lake 
to find the social treasure angels take 
which helps me measure centuries of growth 
encoded in genes of the sacred oath. 

Surprised by beauty of the sun at dawn 
that reveals I am nothing but some pawn, 
I perform my role in national play 
as holy martyr who forgets to pray 
in solemn ceremony of the dead 
who rattle about in book of my head. 

Regret for how our empire falls apart 
in synchronized gears of our starless chart 
compels my plan to sit alone and fish 
while everyone else gambles on their wish 
to justify aggressive fight for power 
till our bodies are devoured by the flower. 

Around omphalos of our spinning world 
as Pythian serpent of the cosmic herald, 
I dance with wild abandon of the fool 
and chant magic spells of the psychic tool 
to cleanse our nation of its bitter hate 
when Apollo calculates our new fate. 

Blind in the rubble of our crushed world view, 
designed as puzzle of truth from each clue, 
I kiss the Earth as Mother of Mankind 
who crowns me prophet with mission to find 
the Holy Grail of genetic rebirth 
from which I drink love with my natural mirth. 

Fabulous Treasure Of Faith

Fabulous Treasure Of Faith
© Surazeus
2025 09 16

I read the book that never could exist 
while stuck in dreary store of creeping fog 
that dares my heart to honor obscure sage 
who lurks in hollow church of loneliness 
with confusing script of the tragic play 
about the nameless king no one remembers. 

Awake on eve of my great journey home, 
I steal the fabulous treasure of faith 
concealed inside exotic book of lies 
with strange letters impossible to read 
because they conceal true image of God 
that proves my cherished beliefs are illusions. 

Proficient in the art of painting ghosts 
that hide in uncarved blocks of marble hope, 
I vow to exonerate the mad king 
who never admits what he does is wrong 
while slouching in dark corner of dire fate 
despite the entertaining schemes of jesters. 

My mother rushes to the edge of town 
to claim inheritance from the blind clown 
who tries to move great mountain of lost faith 
with seismic laughter of the two-faced wraith 
because my father slams his fist in rage 
that she dares to enter the beauty pageant. 

Through blooming jasmine of the shadowed past 
she walks with brisk assertion of despair 
toward grotto veiled with tangled skeins of thought 
where timeless now of everywhere glows clear 
with evanescent passion of true love, 
though stolen fruit of fate has become rotten. 

She decides to not fall into the sea 
because she understands the sound of blue 
that echoes deep in nothingness of time 
by changing special paradigm of trust 
which traps our bodies in the Nevermore 
mapped by the voyager who knows his demon. 

Chained by concept of unreality, 
unreferenced by complex feelings denied, 
she programs system of new precedence 
concealing weird illusions of fake words 
to translate sacred wisdom of dark birds 
to fractured language used by the Decider. 

Partaking of the midnight eucharist 
described in tabloids of prurient faith, 
Minerva chooses to aver weird truth 
staged as symbolic gestures angels trade, 
so I read the book that may not exist 
except in dream library up in Heaven. 

Eyeless Man Of Fate

Eyeless Man Of Fate
© Surazeus
2025 09 16

The young woman with flowers in her hair 
searches for her heart that lurks in the sand, 
but the blue horse galloping on the hill 
lures her away to forest of the owl 
whose eyes refract starlight into her mind 
so she can see the eyeless man of fate. 

Waiting in the apple tree by the lake 
where lonely people walk the signless road, 
Zarath plucks untuned strings of the spruce lyre 
to call the eyeless man from the glass sky, 
but he wanders crowded streets of vast cities, 
giving loaves of bread to the hungry folk. 

Alone by face pool in the moonless vale, 
Zarath gathers puzzle pieces of fate 
scattered by large hand of the eyeless man 
who announces code of the mirror eye 
so she can place them in her book of tales 
arranged according to their tragic ends. 

When she arrives at the old apple tree 
where the eyeless man has waited all day, 
she kisses him with joy of selfless love, 
then takes him sailing in boat of her heart 
that glides on endless sea of everywhere 
while they calculate weird progress of fate. 

Angry that Zarath blocks his plans to steal 
land from poor people to make himself rich, 
the Jealous Jester finds her in the crowd, 
who worship Ishtar in Temple of Skulls, 
and tries to stab with his bitter blade, 
but the eyeless man shields her with his heart. 

Stabbed in the heart by the arrogant king, 
the eyeless man of fate lies on his back, 
while Zarath cradles him with loving arms, 
and tries to tell her Secret of the Name, 
but all his words dissolve into mute blood 
that stains her hands as she weeps in despair. 

After wandering the Earth ten thousand years, 
Zarath arrives at the great lake of star eyes, 
where she was born from river stone of truth, 
and sets skull of the eyeless man on hearth 
where he chants prophecies to all who ask 
in return for butterfly wings of love. 

She hides in Garden of Zarathium 
with her children, sired by the eyeless man, 
who build angel-winged airplanes with bold hands 
based on blueprints that Icarus designed, 
then flies above metropolitan maze 
to find the Owl of Wisdom in her heart. 

Window Glass Of Faith

Window Glass Of Faith
© Surazeus
2025 09 15

If we touch each other with solemn words 
to prove we are alive with ocean breath, 
we might earn certificate of respect 
by selling pleasure to the laughing tree 
which eats corpse of the turtle with disgust 
while God pretends to guide us with the wind. 

Love gives me power of dangerous hope 
to change shape of my body with stark words 
by breaking iron egg of arrogance 
from which white butterfly of God escapes 
through ardent navigation of the maze 
where children search for dreams they leave behind. 

If crickets hibernate in violins 
with outstretched wings of vapid turbulence, 
we might emerge from window glass of faith 
by eating bread and cheese with sips of wine 
while yawning under blankets of warm trust, 
since alphabets bleed from opulent eyes. 

Humility appears as watchful lynx 
on grassy lawn behind deserted church, 
concerned by absence of fraught bitterness 
when children imagine storms of the sea 
frail as white rose the ballerina bears 
while dancing how the heart is ruled by fear. 

Reformulation of our pristine world 
by sprawling features of the burning map 
resorts to eerie melodies crows hurl 
when claiming territory snows erase 
till settlers arrive in wagons of lust 
to build new homes with window glass of faith. 

Tricked by desire to earn my global fame, 
I tear blank pages from the book of lies 
and scatter them on floors of senate halls 
with reverential disdain for deceivers 
who claim they are right about everything 
while eating beautiful words of frog ponds. 

Based on conservation of energy, 
required by government agents of faith, 
we drive abandoned cars of faith back home 
though roofs of our houses have fallen in 
from frantic gravity of civil strife 
between nationalists and globalists. 

Imminent prayer for everlasting doubt 
writhes with elegant disdain for lost faith, 
prefers to chronicle our false mistakes 
that we decide to offer with stiff hands 
insignificant meaning clowns exchange, 
and tricks the simple to believe in death. 

Secret Voice Of Earth

Secret Voice Of Earth
© Surazeus
2025 09 15

After rain of my hope evaporates 
and tree leaves glisten with indifference 
of nature, I stretch my hand to the moon 
to hold shell of its hollow beauty firm, 
then analyze vicissitude of fate 
that charms my heart with agony of faith. 

I loop my heart on wild angelic wings 
far out into the world of nameless forms 
to translate song of waves to truth I bear 
with casual eagerness of my fierce heart 
that hangs as apples from the tree of faith 
where the wren tells me why we are alive. 

Therefore I chase the black butterfly home 
past grove of apple trees on the lake shore 
to catch sad song of vanished languages 
which leads me to the anvil of my heart 
where I forge sword of faith from bleak despair 
so I can save the world from tyranny. 

With bones of ancient gods I build my home 
far from centers of political power 
so I can hear the secret voice of Earth 
bloom through flowers on high mountain slopes 
and flash in rivers tumbling over stones 
when I become wrens flocking in the clouds. 

Surprised by topaz shimmer of the sky 
while stumbling clumsy in cathedral woods, 
I listen for the deer that knows my name 
to learn strange art of the ventriloquist 
so I can perform my role in world play 
without weeping for stirred beauty of the sea. 

Shocked at how often dreaming creatures die, 
I wrap jagged shadows of twisted limbs 
around frail tremor of my apple heart 
to gnaw on bleeding fruit of morbid faith 
through celebration in wild rites of spring, 
pungent with passion for vegetable soup. 

Death strikes my heart with light rays of the moon 
so I remember how to analyze 
aggressive actions of terrified souls 
who thrash with anguish in tangle of words 
because they cannot express how they feel 
in struggle to survive another day. 

Yet star-eyed owl on bent branch of the tree 
shakes dust of dead souls on my golden path 
so I grasp stone of confidence with dread 
to blaze my path beyond hard walls of power 
till I become clear slanting beams of dawn 
that weave my body from songs of the dead. 

Safe In Boat Of Faith

Safe In Boat Of Faith
© Surazeus
2025 09 14

When you appear before me in the wind, 
face glowing with achievement of your faith, 
my heart reframes weird concept of your name 
with untamed light of innocent disdain 
so we become one shadow of true love 
resoftened by embrace of thought we share. 

Catastrophically aware through attrition 
that I might not be real as river stones, 
I leave excessive thoughts designed by light 
to squirm assertively through radiant mud 
with thrashing attitude for laughing joy, 
naked in cold darkness of everywhere. 

Each time I open bold door of my car 
I feel electric storm of calm respect 
flash bright across brute mirror of my mind 
that snatches vastness of the holy sky
so flames of solitude entwine my body 
with tangled sentences of coded words. 

She almost knows that hope could break my heart 
despite how sparks of soul connectedness 
combine our pulsing eyes with silent fear 
since battle to control our wordless thoughts 
may never happen in the sun-blind noon 
though we float awkwardly beneath the ground. 

Regret confuses swarms of buzzing ghosts 
who plunge with fierce desire in sea of eyes 
to show me path of opportunity 
that I should follow on my quest for wealth 
if I would rule this undulating space 
where masks of my lost selves sink in the lake. 

I leave fake feelings on the cement road 
with fractured glasses of divine insight 
crushed by the rubber tires of capital 
which gives me power to buy factored faith 
when I go out with lanterns of bright doubt 
to find the idol that reflects my soul. 

To find your spirit faint among bright stars 
I gaze through telescope of loyal trust 
where you glide gracefully on angel wings 
in imitation of Corvus the Clown 
who scatters diamonds on the bloody ground 
which cleanses Earth of endless civil wars. 

You vanish every time I look for you 
with mocking laughter at the social clue 
which I attempt to buy with magic beans 
so I can hear the spirit of the times 
explain where tide of history will flow 
to bear my family safe in boat of faith. 

Blankness Of All Time

Blankness Of All Time
© Surazeus
2025 09 14

Waking up from the blankness of all time, 
eyes bulging with undreamed memories of hope, 
I stand in shady glade of apple trees, 
still wet from endless sorrow of green rain, 
and shiver with tweets of birds in my bones 
till wordless melody swirls from my breast. 

Stepping cautiously among twisted trees, 
where gold-eyed snakes with flashing rainbow scales 
slither hissing among apples that gleam 
from crystal rays of sunlight, I approach 
faceless apparition of pulsing angst 
who vanishes in blankness of all time. 

Weird voice of passionate faith penetrates 
squirming anguish of my volatile heart 
hazardous from arrogant ecstasy 
that spurs through hedonistic heresy 
my mission to extract from festering fear 
meticulous monster of my seized mind. 

Slightly skeptical of sociable skits 
we are required to perform with sly trust, 
I spook the spineless spirit of my heart 
with spectral motion of spontaneous faith 
against the better judgment of my conscience, 
attuned to slothful slander gods deny. 

Residual puzzles, from resurgent faith 
that dissipates through rhetorical tricks, 
confound those ebullient loyalists 
who sing effusive praises of respect 
before gold idol of elaborate code, 
trapped in cartesian framework of the world. 

Chromatic concept of the holy book, 
encouraging capricious cannibals 
to devour decadent theologies 
contrary to deterministic facts, 
opens wide devotional wings of hope 
that frees my soul from diabolic jokes. 

Shocked awake by Delphic diaphonies 
through discordant measures of numbered tones, 
I dispel deceitful spells of despair 
to activate diligent rites of passage 
with dexterous gestures of relevant riddles 
that could restore the world view I compose. 

Rabid rivalry of sordid respect 
traps our souls in conflict of interest 
between free will and predetermined fate 
from which I leap through blankness of all time 
to stand retired on beach of humming sand 
and catch the rain with shadow of my hand. 

I Hear Crickets Singing

I Hear Crickets Singing
© Surazeus
2025 09 13

Now that the soul-shooter has been revealed 
to be the vampire shadow of their fear 
they should apologize to everyone 
they demonized as being responsible, 
for we are innocent of their vile charge, 
yet they would rather eat dirt and spit wind. 

I hear crickets singing in the grim night 
when all is quiet in my neighborhood 
where ravens gather in tall creaking oaks 
to chat about fierce wars that humans fight 
over who has the inalienable right 
to live without harassment in this land. 

Their shadows gleam among indifferent trees, 
the people forced to flee land of their birth, 
as they wander lost in the wilderness 
far from the garden where they mothers sang 
before their bodies crumbled into dust 
that feeds the fruit trees blooming in sunlight. 

When hungry gang of thieves ambush Du Fu 
and run away with bags of food he bought, 
he cries out to the cold indifferent sky 
that sends wind to batter his fragile home 
so his young children have nothing to eat 
while the king feasts well in palace of power. 

Though nationalists declare this land is theirs 
because they conquered it centuries ago, 
and try to chase all newcomers away, 
they will exhaust themselves screaming in hate 
till their bitterness dissolves into misery 
so the rest of us can live on in peace. 

People from every land across the sea 
gather together in land of the free 
to share stories of their tortuous quests 
how they escape fascist dictatorships 
and join their hearts in democratic cause 
where every person lives through liberty. 

Our Goddess of Liberty still stands tall 
with Lamp of Truth shining bright in the gloom 
to luminate laws of equality 
providing framework for constructive deeds 
so we confirm our soul with self-control 
that sustains liberty within the law. 

We all dwell together in this great land, 
united in cause of justice for all 
as we fight against exploiters and thieves 
to protect each other through empathy 
so every person breathing air of truth 
may thrive with faith in dignity and love. 

Tick Of My Clockwork Heart

Tick Of My Clockwork Heart
© Surazeus
2025 09 13

If you hear sharp tick of my clockwork heart 
echo in ancient forest of stone trees, 
wrap your sinuous arms around my chest 
and embrace wordless anguish of desire 
that sparks pleasure when our bodies entwine 
with nonchalant excess of perfumed faith. 

Languorous in sensuous sea of flesh, 
we writhe with agony in dazzling dream 
of sailboats voyaging across wild waves 
with bodies open to the glorious sky 
that shimmers with eternal heat of hope 
as we emerge from shadows of lost time. 

Shadows of the unveiled invisible 
reveal electric spirit of my brain 
sparked by imperishable swirls of truth 
that reflect hallucinations of hope 
which lure me far across the rain-wet field 
through horror of derision and despair. 

Disheveled tresses of the pretty ghost, 
who holds ticking clock of my vibrant heart 
with languorous fascination of the mad, 
veil atrocious cavern of my vast mind 
where I chase rainbow of progressive fear 
to cracked fountain where I drink blood of faith. 

Bold mother of memories utters prayers 
illumed by glow of coals in fractured heart 
with divine attention of lightning strikes 
that open pure door of momentous fright 
when I give infinite kisses of trust 
which rejuvenates the sun in my brain. 

Hunched on enormous boulder of respect, 
I gaze from mountain slope in frantic wind 
at wordless shimmer of the boundless sea 
where beautiful hawks glide above the world 
with proper privilege of sudden faith, 
invisible yet everywhere alive. 

Yet when I pause in shadowed atrium 
and listen to soft burble of the stream, 
weird howl of silver clouds above the sea 
refracts strange memory of the muddy path 
where she appears in flash of sudden light 
with eyes that understand the why of death. 

Though you hear soft tick of my clockwork heart 
that vibes in harmony with ocean waves, 
teach me to focus on the here and now 
with clear perceptive eyes of fragile faith 
accepting how flowers bloom from my brain 
when I try to regenerate the dead. 

Womb Of Our Singing Sea

Womb Of Our Singing Sea
© Surazeus
2025 09 12

Humanity has no future in space 
for we are singing spirits of the Earth, 
though we have longed to soar on angel wings 
above cluttered messiness of desire 
to dwell in heavenly Realm of Ideas 
where God the Craftsmen molds eternal forms. 

That perfect Heaven, paradise of peace 
and soul-soothing pleasure, does not exist 
except as fantasy of endless joy 
through virtual world inside our dreaming brains 
programmed by priests for two millennia 
to believe their lie of the Afterlife. 

I prefer rich messiness of real life 
that gleams rough as diamond of timeless truth 
inside dream-flashing network of my brain 
which I designed one hundred thousand years 
running with wolves in vast Caucasian woods 
that flourish around our Hyrkanian Sea. 

Instead of gliding on angelic wings, 
soaring high in propeller-driven planes, 
or blasting rockets into outer space 
with ridiculous fantasies of Heaven 
or planets thousands of lightyears away, 
I treasure complex weirdness of our Earth. 

Humanity should learn to live on Earth, 
satisfied with paradise this globe offers 
to us hairless monkeys who lost our tails 
then started building empires of farm fields 
ruled over by gods in pyramid temples 
for we spring from womb of our singing sea. 

Because we humans are stuck on this globe, 
which spins relentlessly through empty void 
as cluster of atoms sparkling with life 
through psychoactive chemicals of lust, 
I celebrate intense shimmer of love 
that animates my fragile shell of bones. 

Programmed by billions of ancestral lives, 
whose memories design the virtual world 
that glows as functions of my dreaming brain, 
I journey on the signless road of life 
to find the secret of the Holy Grail 
in womb of woman who creates new life. 

Reborn from womb of every mother soul 
life after life four hundred million years, 
I know myself as complicated human 
evolving through each quadruped, from fish 
to newt to mouse to cat to ape to man, 
as I strive to become concept of God. 

Clock Of My Slick Heart

Clock Of My Slick Heart
© Surazeus
2025 09 12

The graceful gazelle of my lonely heart 
leaps swiftly in the forest of mad ghosts 
then grazes on rainbow-flashing mushrooms 
which animate fractured stone in my soul 
to laugh with delight at cycle of change 
which transforms my illusion of the world. 

The crafty devil of my wicked heart 
emerges from bright pool of honey slime 
with pulsing passion of fierce eagerness 
to taste intensity of writhing bones 
when we mold our pliant bodies in shape 
jittery with pleasure of shared despair. 

The voyeuristic clock of my slick heart 
grants frantic fantasy of sated faith 
through cloyed confession of treacly excess 
with satisfaction of the charming kiss 
from serendipity of shocked desire 
despite inflexible logic of love. 

The hungry ghoul of my capricious heart 
rotates regressive head of lucky lust 
corrupt with escalating howl of hope 
resembling dazed mortician of my muse 
who stimulates my brain with hurricane 
more legendary than my fight with death. 

The ardent raven of my filthy heart 
sprays sweet perfume to hide the stench of hope 
detected by bold courage I disguise 
as gruesome contempt for beautiful truth 
which I attempt to market in the church, 
giving lost refugees purpose to die. 

The fractured diamond of my selfless heart 
extracts repulsive wisdom from deep graves 
to summon greedy angels trapped in flesh 
with glorious boon of unindentured gods 
who swallow pithy gratitude of grief 
against harsh laughter of the empty home. 

The weightless burden of my hungry heart 
sinks ocean liners with addictive tricks 
compiled as puzzles by grim kitchen cooks 
who seal our screaming souls of unlocked brains 
in glass time capsule designed to conceal 
treasonous plot of the attractive angel. 

The fake prize of my sentimental heart 
leads immigrants exiled from Fairy Land 
to conquer grotesque paradise with faith 
through vulgar prayers for native privilege 
contracting terror of abandoned children 
who throw singing skulls in the wishing well. 

Garden Of The Laughing Tree

Garden Of The Laughing Tree
© Surazeus
2025 09 11

The normal day the sun decides to rise 
from swamp of my heart to illuminate 
endless rows of houses where children wake, 
I walk in garden of the laughing tree 
and ask if anyone knows we are free 
since each choice we assert designs our fate. 

Though green explodes from seed of energy 
to blanket the waste land of humming sand 
in fruit trees heavy with solemnity, 
I dance in garden of the laughing tree 
and scatter words of riddles on the land 
which grow into tower of the glass skull. 

Despite succession of the holy seer 
to reign as wizard of the thinking stone 
from which humanity will spring at dawn, 
I crawl in garden of the laughing tree 
beneath the twisted gate of gleaming pearls 
to give fresh apples to the lonely horse. 

Since we can never return to the past 
and cling with passion to what may not last 
yet shimmers potently in eager hearts, 
I pray in garden of the laughing tree 
for health and long life of people I love 
which includes every soul alive on Earth. 

If lost ship of my heart still sails away 
ten thousand years back to the age of gods 
who wear gold crowns with jewels of compassion, 
I lurk in garden of the laughing tree 
with bold perfection of electric eyes 
which helps me see weird truth of everything. 

Since tangled string of memory fate weaves 
preserves strange stories of our hungry hearts 
encoded in false fairy tales of trust, 
I wait in garden of the laughing tree 
for mad Orpheus with his broken lyre 
to number our homes on the signless road. 

The way smoke billows from the fallen towers 
to write the moral of our tragic tale 
on fractured mirror of the boundless sky, 
I howl in garden of the laughing tree 
to watch how Icarus falls from the window 
as if he thinks humanity can fly. 

While Tethys wanders on the grassy beach 
with jar of apple cider in her hand 
from which she drinks to ease heartache at death, 
I sing in garden of the laughing tree 
to lure her heart back from the sea of fear 
so I cuddle her in my loving arms. 

Safe Way Through Hell

Safe Way Through Hell
© Surazeus
2025 09 11

When darkness of the world consumes my heart 
with aching sadness of the swirling sea, 
I sit beside the sparkling mountain stream 
and watch faceless ghosts of people I love 
go about their daily routines of work 
amid the ruins of our paradise. 

If I go back home to Romania 
to walk again high misty mountain vales 
I may escape to my lost paradise 
to dwell safe far from madness of the world 
when gangs of rich men hiding in glass towers 
change the rules so they can exploit the people. 

When demon of depression grasps my heart 
with fear-sharpened claws of bitter despair, 
I hibernate in dark cave of blind faith 
that evil people will all kill each other 
and leave good people to get on with life 
tending apple trees and singing at dusk. 

Wading knee-deep in snow-cold gushing stream, 
bare feet gripping the smooth slippery stones, 
I catch the wriggling fish with hungry hands 
then hold it up to slanting rays of light 
and ponder how it symbolizes truth 
that we must catch and consume to grow wise. 

I watch bright flicker of my inner thoughts 
flash gold on surface of the flowing stream 
to analyze long journey of my life 
when I explore strange vastness of our globe 
filled with people fighting wars to control 
fertile production of children and food. 

Amazed at beauty of the natural world, 
I try to ignore with nonchalant gaze 
vast sprawl of the metropolitan maze 
that teems with messy volatility 
of humans striving to achieve success 
through brutal battle of fate till we die. 

Brave adoration of the human soul, 
which animates heart of the common folk 
who struggle to survive hostile conflicts, 
inspires my mind to analyze weird laws 
that frame process of social dynamism 
essential to growth of civilization. 

Because Romania is too far away 
for me to return to my ancient home 
where my ancestors lived ten thousand years, 
I map the crazy messiness of life 
to organize features in grand world view 
so we can navigate safe way through Hell. 

Exploding Eye Of Truth

Exploding Eye Of Truth
© Surazeus
2025 09 10

Plum periwinkle of her aching heart 
contains electric moonlight of the mind 
beside the winding path of solitude 
that leads her down edge of the world sea 
where faceless angels float above the waves 
and laugh with joy at beauty of the Earth. 

Weird jingle-jangle of the tambourine 
rings out across the beach of gratitude 
where children of the moon share secret names 
as they prance wildly among twisted trees 
that reach for crazy sorrow of red clouds 
which resonate with voices of the dead. 

Startled by curious vision of her eyes, 
young woman stops and stares out at the sea 
as beat of dreams and cries of anguished hope 
fade into background of the sparkling sky 
till she sees shadow of the night descend 
on wings of flame that split the mirror mind. 

She ducks as meteor plunges at the cliff 
in flaming streak of terror from the sky, 
and screams alarm to people on the beach 
that star of wisdom plummets at the Earth 
and blooms in bright exploding eye of truth 
which realigns conceptual rules of fate. 

Clutching sheafs of grain in unsettled shock, 
young Shala floats in daze of writhing flames, 
then gasps for breath and opens wide her eyes 
to see star of heaven smoldering on sand, 
so she approaches glowing stone of faith 
with cautious curiosity for truth. 

Turning to face the meteor-frightened crowd, 
Shala declares with voice of certitude 
that Hadad, guardian of their fishing tribe, 
ascended to the stars on demon wings, 
then pried the star of wisdom from cold death 
and hurled its precious treasure to the Earth. 

Beating hot metal with hammer of hope, 
Hadad forges meteor into gold crown 
studded with emeralds, rubies, and sapphires, 
then places halo of the holy spirit 
on head of Shala to illuminate 
timeless beauty of her fructuous soul. 

Parading through large crowd of worshippers, 
Shala reigns on twenty-foot pyramid 
so every soul may see her divine state 
as she prays for rain to nurture their crops, 
then sits at table of the ritual feast 
and weeps when she remembers periwinkles. 

Our Stone Woman

Our Stone Woman
© Surazeus
2025 09 10

The star-eyed woman born from the white stone 
inhales ethereal breath of countless souls, 
then sings enchanting song of solitude 
that weaves all our hearts in matrix of dreams 
so we see her stand tall on beach of light 
as she creates our bodies from the Earth. 

Through grave hypothesis of vibrant blood, 
that streams from fountain of her pulsing heart, 
Stone Woman generates bodies of flesh 
that glow with energy of timeless stars 
to emanate the mortal conscious soul 
which animates our passion to create. 

Headlong through liquid flash of ecstasy 
Stone Woman flings infinitesimal eggs 
across the fertile landscape of our hearts 
that sprout into teeming tribes of desire 
who roll on wheel of fortune with fear 
around the world in waves of dancing souls. 

Alone on vast shore of eternity, 
clutching demonic fish of the wild sea, 
Stone Woman cries against fierce storm of rain 
financial account of productive faith 
through desecration of our fecund flesh 
to sing conceptual song of endless love. 

Anticipation through rattle of rage 
thumping inside her breast with anguished laugh, 
Stone Woman hurls spear of hunger to kill 
fleet-footed deer that tumbles at her feet, 
then roasts hot steaks on pyramid of skulls 
so worshippers praise her generous heart. 

Elegant grace of her arrogant dance 
enchants hearts of wanderers to assemble 
solemnly in circle of star-bright stones 
to listen as she sings weird melodies 
that project visions in their dreaming eyes 
depicting how she creates human souls. 

Angered that her vision of paradise 
lures his followers to her thriving camp, 
the mad king leaps onto the pyramid 
and thrusts sharp spear to penetrate her heart, 
but Stone Woman twirls with elegant grace 
to hurl his broken body to the Earth. 

Our Stone Woman with eyes of flashing stars 
proclaims salvation through wise loyalty, 
so we spread out from pyramid of eyes 
to colonize the world with great empires 
born from First Mother on the hill of trees 
where she gives apples to all wanderers. 

Before The Bombs Fall

Before The Bombs Fall
© Surazeus
2025 09 09

The goat leaps from the moon onto the hill 
then hangs around in the gas station yard 
all day eating grass while cars fly away 
to soar on angel wings among the clouds 
that crumble into words in story books 
for children to read before the bombs fall. 

When Faunus skips down suburban sidewalks 
he scatters apple seeds in cement cracks 
so saplings sprout from rotting corpse of God 
to consume the sprawling city landscape 
as their roots crack open bank safes of gold 
for people to steal before the bombs fall. 

Despite clear glow of sun on cement walls, 
Juturna pauses on her way to work 
on fourteenth floor of Conceptual Insurance 
at sudden awful feeling in her gut, 
and wonders if terrible things occur 
to honest people before the bombs fall. 

Driving white truck along suburban roads, 
Mercury puts mail in boxes of hope 
that might contain clever method to cope 
when gangsters take over the government 
and take away inalienable rights 
from good citizens before the bombs fall. 

Fuming with anger that his cute girlfriend, 
Venus, is now secretly dating Vulcan, 
Mars buys assault rifle from the gun shop, 
then storms headquarters of their company 
and shoots ten thousand people in the heart 
who beam to Heaven before the bombs fall. 

Amused that Tower of Rapunzel falls 
bankrupt from slow embezzlement of funds, 
Neptune relaxes in glass fishing boat 
and contemplates the weird meaning of life 
that we invent with purpose of the plan 
to build cathedrals before the bombs fall. 

Searching for the oldest woman on Earth, 
Cupid wanders endless suburban maze 
with key that opens door of every home 
till he finds Hera sitting in the park 
where she feeds voices to innocent ghosts 
who steal human masks before the bombs fall. 

Awake in Garden of Mortality, 
Caelus asks Fortuna to marry him, 
so they invite everyone to the feast 
but only Buddha comes with Saraswati 
who plays haunting songs of love on the veena 
for children who cry after the bombs fall. 

Angel With Silver Wings

Angel With Silver Wings
© Surazeus
2025 09 09

If my foot-shadow treads the broken ground 
with eager curiosity to know 
undulating shape of our puzzling world, 
I may feel fruit tree blossom in my heart 
to offer shelter of empathic joy 
where the broken may find haven to heal. 

Ardith leans against the telephone pole 
and puffs the cigarette with nonchalance 
as wind blows yellow skirt around her knees 
while she watches black cars glide down the street 
that weave around horse-dragon wagons with bales, 
and ignores her intense desire to sing. 

Turning toward airplane hangar in the field, 
Ardith strides straight to the vanishing point 
that gleams at still point of the universe 
bright as absolute zero of the sun 
deep inside flashing core of the white whole 
that spirals into zillions of galaxies. 

Waving to her husband by his airplane, 
Ardith gives him beef steak sandwich and beer, 
so he wipes engine grease of callused hands 
and eats while she sits by him in the wind 
and reads his favorite story from the Bible 
about the shepherd who defeats the tyrant. 

Pressing yellow hat with ribbons and lace 
firm on her head in fierce propeller gusts, 
Ardith waves as Richard soars into clouds, 
and grins as she pictures him in her mind 
as Earendil, angel with silver wings 
who bears the scroll with message for mankind. 

Though stars look very different tonight, 
as Richard flies fragile tin can with wings 
more than ten thousand miles around the Earth, 
he dreams about the hour he will return home 
for Ardith shines as his beacon of hope, 
glowing brightly through gloomy smoke of war. 

After dropping bombs on tank factories 
so sprawling complex of buildings explode 
in scarlet bloom delicate as the rose, 
Richard flies silver plane across the sea 
where the White Ship crashed in the Norman rock 
so William Adelin drowned in state power. 

Old ghosts of her ancestors haunt her steps 
as Ardith walks through the shadowy house 
where her doll with curls rode the oakwood horse, 
so she bakes apple pie she eats alone 
as angel-winged airplane falls from Heaven 
and crashes burning in the howling sea. 

Wild Thoughts Of Energy

Wild Thoughts Of Energy
© Surazeus
2025 09 08

Consolation at brevity of life 
consumes my heart with anguish of respect 
for magnificent beauty of the sky 
when I eat bread and drink water of faith 
that plants splendor in my attentive heart 
to channel rebellious passion for truth. 

While I wander lost in world maze of myths 
in quest to find the exit gate of death, 
I sit on mushroom of the humming toad 
and meditate on endlessness of hope 
to realize at flash of the morning star 
that the true maze unwinds within my heart. 

Wounded by aggressive hunger of fate, 
I float out of touch with the trembling world, 
inert as cracked stone on the river shore, 
as I listen to trees debate the truth 
with uncontrollable love for the moon 
that shrinks and swells with mysterious proof. 

Should I bear witness to sharp suddenness 
that death asserts to claim my fragile heart, 
dark nature of my hungry heart transcends 
strange mystery of death no human can solve 
when I climb holy mountain of the mind 
to find wrecked ship my grandfather once built. 

I never notice strange beauty of trees 
till the woman with four eyes takes my hand 
and gasps with awe at shimmer of green leaves 
that whisper how our intense happiness 
proves to be the weakness we fear most, 
so we eat at the table by the sea. 

Immersed in archive of her pretty smile 
which conveys strange tales of humanity, 
I decide I love every human being 
who breathes ethereal consciousness of light 
with solemn passion to create the good 
against contrivance of self-serving greed. 

Entangled in wild thoughts of energy 
from delirious wisdom to change truth, 
I climb the desperate ladder of respect, 
reciting catechism devils code, 
with brave performance of convenient love 
through solipsistic game of stygian spells. 

Since we have not long to love in this life, 
we stay with light that weaves our lonely souls 
with communal bonds of intimate faith 
as I reach out my open arms of hope 
to hold your spirit, so alive with heat, 
and savor love as we wither and bloom. 

Angelic Soul Of Flight

Angelic Soul Of Flight
© Surazeus
2025 09 08

Connection of my soul to wondrous glow 
of writhing flames that dance with lithe desire 
expands my heavy body with hot air 
so I float randomly around the fire 
to mock mute nothingness of anguished death 
that tries to drag me down in bleak despair. 

If I can keep my failures organized 
by sitting at lame desk of demon bones, 
because the frantic thoughts I will not speak 
clutter into blocking wall of regret, 
I might escape the endless maze of myths 
by flapping tattered wings of arrogance. 

I fail to sing psalm free of suffering 
when I reach down in dark bottomless well 
to grasp divine light of projective breath 
when my frail body lies porous in gloom 
so alien words of faceless strangers seep 
in exhausted heart of fake liberty. 

Frantic to escape sharp voice of despair 
that lashes my heart with bloody disgust, 
I run unleashed in wilderness of lies, 
fueled by terror of unspoken truth 
which tethers my angelic soul of flight 
with heavy anguish of visceral joy. 

Yet when I stagger in dry field of skulls 
with divining rod that buzzes with hope, 
I trust voice of the star-blazed oracle 
that blooms inside fertile womb of weird faith 
swollen huge with grief of the Pythian howl 
trapped in tangled words of the bitter book. 

Cracking alphabet stone of mute contempt, 
I shout wordless horror of seed rebirth 
with shuddering beauty of the god-mouthed clown 
translating prayers of clock-encrusted trees 
as I decipher unsayable truths 
with blinding instinct of the fallen fool. 

Losing track of time on the mountain trail 
that loops back through relentless time of fear, 
I dream about unborn children of light 
who crawl on sparkling sand beside the sea 
through slippery shadow of sweet innocence 
to transform incomprehensible respect. 

With slight reversal of conceptual thoughts, 
disoriented by trauma constrained, 
I upend virtual world of obvious lies 
with overwhelming laughter forged from tears 
to dance among disordered facts of death, 
then rise reborn from cleansing waves of love. 

Church On The Seventh Day

Church On The Seventh Day
© Surazeus
2025 09 07

On the seventh day till the end of time 
the woman in the window calls my name, 
so I walk alone down the signless road 
to find glass church of the hypnotic toad 
who preaches salvation of dreamless trance 
since nobody deserves a second chance. 

Young woman in her cozy living room 
cuddles her large furry cat of bright gloom 
while smiling at the ghost of everywhere 
who stands on his head on the fragile chair 
till she asks him why people suffer pain 
so he runs out and laughs in the wild rain. 

Dressed in pink gown that flutters in the wind, 
she smirks at the man with computer mind 
who calculates how frail butterflies fly 
since she weeps silently at his cruel lie, 
but then she saunters on the river shore 
to paint magic sigils on every door. 

Amused at how people with fractured eyes 
pray for eternal life in golden skies, 
Ophelia explains with logical code 
that every conscious creature in the world 
will die and vanish into gleaming light, 
fizzled with enormous clockwork of fate. 

Untroubled by the loneliness of truth 
which she formulates with psychotic math, 
young woman, wearing pink gown sewn from wings 
of angels trapped in spiral clock of rings, 
describes strange beauty of this world we love 
to war refugees gathered in the cave. 

While eating apples stolen from the Tree 
that Adam planted by the oil-slicked sea, 
war refugees share photographs of homes 
before they were blasted by holy bombs, 
then conspire to overthrow the mad king 
who stole their memories to which they cling. 

Clutching soft sand with insensitive rage, 
gentle girl in pink dress on empty stage 
splits rays of light in curling threads of hope 
that weave our brains with lies that help us cope 
with naked truth that every soul will die, 
euphemized through proverbs of Adonai. 

Baking loaves of bread in the grocery store, 
Ophelia ponders secret of the core 
that spins at center of our pear-shaped globe 
mapped by laser beams of the psychic probe 
which records weird wishes that people pray 
when they attend church on the seventh day. 

Temple Of Your Heart

Temple Of Your Heart
© Surazeus
2025 09 07

If I lie back on soft excessive grass 
to contemplate process of growing love, 
I might discover absence of your ghost 
beside me under canopy of hope 
because we walk together on one road 
going the same direction throughout life. 

Though love begins with passion of desire, 
and cools at reality of shared needs, 
we achieve solidarity through trust 
as we work together gathering food 
to share rich treasures garnered from the Earth 
when we protect each other every day. 

Sometimes we travel back and forth through time 
in constant loops of spiral-wound respect 
that binds our hearts with rich coincidence 
as we perform characteristic roles 
refining persona masks through which 
we express secret energy of love. 

Each day when I emerge from mist of dream 
I think about strange beauty of your face 
which radiates from loyal core of your heart 
as spirit-warming glow of honesty 
when we give each other constructive gifts 
on which we build safe haven of our love. 

Whenever you are absent from my sight 
while you venture beyond scope of my eyes, 
my heart aches with courteous anxiety 
that flashes vivid visions in my mind 
depicting ways you suffer harm from fate 
so I breathe deep to ease dramatic fear. 

Sharp dazzle of bright sunlight on the lake 
lures my wild heart in timeless trance of trust 
to stage assertive ritual of insight 
based on principles of constructive force 
through strict attention to ingenious plans 
for feeding people with fresh food I bring. 

Thus I have built this sturdy shelf from oak 
with broad solidity of stocky strength 
where you can organize your cooking ware, 
made of bowls, plates, utensils, pots, and pans, 
to support functions of your kitchen work 
where you prepare meals for the dining hall. 

To aid intensive labor of your hands 
preparing nutritious meals of respect, 
I attend creative acts you perform 
with quick assistance of my steady love 
to bring articles for items you need 
so all feast well in temple of your heart. 

Mad Ghost Of Truth

Mad Ghost Of Truth
© Surazeus
2025 09 06

The meadows of sorrow are full of owls 
who talk about unfolding spell of hope 
that leads the wanderers of broken doors 
forever lost in valley of glass skulls 
that transform into cameras of lust 
with which we photograph mad ghost of truth. 

Tall wheat that shimmers in the field of lies 
decides not to be baked into whole bread 
which feeds five million refugees of war 
who flee from mocking laughter of the gun 
to conquer wilderness of fallen gods 
with great army lead by mad ghost of truth. 

At revelation of the shattered moon 
love worries about children without eyes 
who gather in the city park at dawn 
to throw chess pieces in the river mud 
till God accepts their newest testament 
as binding contract from mad ghost of truth. 

The old woman selling small apple pies 
tells everyone to be kind to themselves 
but they all run randomly on highways 
where empty semitrucks race to the moon 
to find the chicken god with thirty wings 
deep-fried and consumed by mad ghost of truth. 

On head of fallen Colossus we stand 
to pledge allegiance to the starless flag 
which angels follow to conquer the world 
till every protestor against the king 
has been stomped into silence of despair 
despite futile prayers to mad ghost of truth. 

Preaching exegesis through fairytales 
that depict how the good men always lose, 
Orpheus declares with confident bluff 
that every man must kneel before the sky 
to accept their fate decreed by the stars, 
defied with courage by mad ghost of truth. 

Each new fool who joins the Argonaut Team 
brings secret treasure of their darkest heart 
as sacrifice they must offer to gain 
admittance to the weird society 
which rules the world with arcane code of hymns 
programmed from our dreams by mad ghost of truth. 

Because he risks his life for amnesty 
embodied by faith of the flying fish, 
Orpheus rows frail boat across the sea 
to climb rugged hills on gold Isle of Skye 
where Skythe roasts fish in her secret cave 
with respect to honor mad ghost of truth. 

Virtual World Of Faith

Virtual World Of Faith
© Surazeus
2025 09 05

Startled by laughter of the river stone, 
Orpheus looks up at the fractured sky 
and ponders why men grasp for social power 
to enforce illusion of their vain beliefs 
so other people obey their commands 
till we all crumble into wind-blown sand. 

Eating gingerbread cookie with big eyes, 
Orpheus climbs holy mountain that gleams 
gold from arrogant rays of stark sunlight 
which illustrates meaninglessness of life, 
and gazes at peak of Yosemite 
that reflects ancient beauty of this world. 

If it were so easy to reprogram 
eccentric spirit of the holy ghost, 
I would eat the terrible dread of hope 
that fuels assertive project of my heart 
to map complete history of human tribes 
fighting each other for whose god is real. 

Poisoned stone of compassion in my heart 
tricks me into singing the morning song 
that guides our journey to the Promised Land 
till we get lost somewhere along the way 
and spend the next thousand years of regret 
expanding our village into an empire. 

Rehearsing to perform my tragic role 
on stage of wisdom in the temple hall, 
I plan each clever quip and snarky spell, 
but all that affectation falls away 
when I take off the false mask of my soul, 
and play the person hidden in my heart. 

Twisted by sorrow of losing to death 
precious people of my fierce family, 
I walk the entire length of the Great Wall 
till I arrive at other side of Earth 
where my eyes are shining in the huge cave 
glistening with visions of global peace. 

Sweet fragrance from the moon of naked words 
swirls in gold clouds over pine-bristling hills 
that veils the endless city of glass towers 
where millions of people in secret rooms 
interact as personalized avatars 
forever young in virtual world of faith. 

Amazed when thousands of people appear 
with real human faces and public names, 
Orpheus strums the lyre of Mercury 
and sings bold epic of philosophers 
recounting growth of academia 
which energizes world democracy. 

Morbid Princess Of The Sea

Morbid Princess Of The Sea
© Surazeus
2025 09 05

Mask of the sad princess floats in the air 
because Phoebus weeps in front of the portrait 
of Mona Lisa on the cavern wall 
which still reflects dynamic disks of shadows 
exposing portals to the multiverse 
where detectives and ballerinas kiss. 

Dipping his hands in the cold river flow, 
Phoebus asks morbid princess of the sea 
to ponder relationships as spirals 
obscuring endless swirls of vibrant waves 
which unravel bitterness of emotions 
entangling puzzles of fraught marriages. 

Wild children leap through space with mental blades 
to fall asleep in bright maze of rose bushes 
where Fear sells comic books as holy scripture 
to astronauts who challenge thunder gods 
for domination of the empty skies 
till we all fall to Earth with crippled wings. 

Strange names Adam invents to symbolize 
personality traits as animals 
reveal eccentric grace of Jupiter 
who recites laws for Noah to record 
since God creates the virtual universe 
by naming objects as formal ideas. 

Gathering lavender from dew-wet fields, 
Phoebus wanders lost through Elysium 
with plan to ask Emzara in her bower 
to marry him before the towers fall, 
but she hurtles her glass tablet computer 
which shatters on the tombstone of her father. 

To study weird physics of global fame, 
grim black-haired daughter of Odin explores 
ghost-haunted forest of the laughing crow 
to evade grand popularity parade, 
but the more she repels insidious pride 
they more it magnets to her iron heart. 

Gripping hammer of Thor with eager hope, 
Phoebus forges the law-sharp sword of justice 
from meteor stone that blazed from the heavens, 
then leads grand army of the free republic 
to overthrow the tyrant on gold throne 
and free financial slaves from psychic debt. 

Though rotary phone on the kitchen wall 
never rings in asylum of the mind, 
Phoebus sits at the table of false dreams 
to arrange fragments of history facts 
with code that shows how empires rise and fall, 
framed by analysis of private jokes. 

Wisdom Of World-Wondering

Wisdom Of World-Wondering
© Surazeus
2025 09 04

Cold wind from off the sea tells me the truth 
that hides in swirling mist of nothing new. 
Uncanny cry of Moon Crow in the pine 
startles me while I drink electric wine. 
I will not know when I vanish in death 
but till then I will only love the true. 

Mask of my face shimmers bright as the sun 
when I contemplate beauty of the weird. 
Yet beauty dazzles me with holy angst 
when I brood about God in mindless trance. 
My view of God is ideal character 
toward which I strive till my reward is won. 

If I become human brooding on God 
I might rein fierce desire to rule the world. 
My heart is dazzled by soul of the sky 
who teaches me to analyze the Why. 
I love the pensive Goddess by the pool 
who shows me how to sing my sacred thought. 

The long signless road from Heaven to Hell 
is terrible for mortal men to walk. 
Though weird code alters dreamworld of my brain 
I breathe in trance to transcend mental pain. 
God is bright mirror programmed by love spell 
refracting virtual vision through my talk. 

Flung down to Earth on wings of suffering, 
I grasp at flash of light in storm-tossed tree. 
I rein excessive passion of my soul 
to bind puzzles in game of self-control. 
My bones bleed wisdom of world-wondering 
with urgent need to steal fruit from the tree. 

Fate sparks my brain to wake from dreamless gloom 
so I rise up to touch the touchless sky. 
Fear motivates my project to explore 
strange world of shadowed light beyond the door. 
Pressed firm against the solid ground of try, 
I measure vastness of the unwalled room. 

Faith drives my feet to climb the winding stair 
so I float far above the changeless globe. 
Step by step of motion fueled by desire, 
I climb attentive mountain with my lyre. 
I sing in chorus of the counter-turn 
to stand idol-still on the errant slope. 

My heart is dazzled by eternity 
of pure unmeasured time constrained by light. 
My body casts long shadow on the Earth 
that weaves my spirit for the game of worth. 
Touched by the woman with ten thousand eyes, 
I figure out strange puzzle of the Why. 

Absurdity Of World Fame

Absurdity Of World Fame
© Surazeus
2025 09 04

I leave my body on the ocean shore 
drowsing in eerie glow of the gold sun, 
done with electric passion of the soul 
that pulses in my breast with eager hope 
for bold confidence about what to think 
when I dust the crown that tumbles to Earth. 

Because the garment mirror knows my face 
and pulls me close to silence of the night, 
I drift in quietness of bitter calm 
to rest in shadow and rejoice in rain 
with no more doubt entangling my free soul 
in astonishing beauty of the Earth. 

On the subject of assurance I draw 
birds on painted walls of the empty church 
where special visitors from alien worlds 
walk on stilts in snow of the fervent wish 
to translate language of the silent cold 
that molds the body as its empty shell. 

Alive in rare convergence of distrust, 
I fling my sun-starved body at the sea 
to dance with sensual brandishment of Now 
on crooked bridge of collective regret 
from commodified collapse of our state 
through subtle embrace of the Eden Fall. 

Still trapped in corporate machine of greed, 
driven to crave vacation from hard work, 
I protest dire injustice of the king 
who exploits the people of our great land 
for his own gain against laws of the sky 
so I climb the tower of faith and cry. 

Abandoned factory on the river shore, 
where workers once canned tomatoes and corn, 
welcomes lost refugees from civil wars 
to worship prophet in the sycamore 
who puppeteers the greedy president 
with blighted angst of the treasonous clown. 

With raucous prayer of the engine-beat heart 
the holy savior of the plastic god 
bestows foul blessings on blind followers 
who follow him off the cliff of despair 
when great empire of America falls 
so Zarathia may rise from its ruins. 

Evading divine light of the doubting heart, 
I return to Garden of Eden at dawn 
to find the origin of world empires 
who fight against hegemony of power 
till all cities transform into the flower 
that blooms from absurdity of world fame.