Fruit Tree Of Untime © Surazeus 2026 09 30 I live beside the river of blind souls who dance around the fruit tree of untime, awake with arguments of lonely flowers while flapping crippled wings of honesty that flare against infinity of hope till we become new houses for our dead. I bury seeds of sorrow in wet Earth to nourish with tears fruit tree of untime that curls thirsty roots into my thick heart with passionate intensity of faith that startles me awake from wordless dream beneath the mirror sky of burning eyes. Forever down long winding road of thoughts I walk away to fruit tree of untime through endless loops of returning progress since I arrive back where I once began to find the beginning is now my end except I want to start the way again. With crowd of angels on high ziggurat, gathered around sprawling tree of untime, I hold high brass wand with emerald eye refracting beams of sunlight in rainbow that lights bright faces of ten billion souls who sing hymn to the glory of our globe. When God wakes in atoms of dreaming eyes that blossom ripe from fruit tree of untime, I feel glow in my body every soul who will ever live on every world globe in all the universe of swirling galaxies, so I transmit songs of their aching hearts. Like every tree that exists in Spacetime manifests perfect fruit tree of untime, so Jesus, Allah, Buddha, Vishnu, Zeus, and Odin manifest, as mortal men, perfect Tribe Leader who cares for the people who trust him to organize their lives well. Vibrating with eternal buzz of light that spirals out from fruit tree of untime, I declare with radial galactic voice that I am atoms which always exist for all things emanate from my God Mind through transient bodies of organic souls. As temporary being with conscious self, nourished with love by fruit tree of untime, I savor strangeness of this universe and treasure beauty of your radiant soul, so we embrace and generate new life who will live and sing long after we die.
Wednesday, September 30, 2026
Fruit Tree Of Untime
Beauty Of Her Cosmic Soul
Beauty Of Her Cosmic Soul © Surazeus 2026 09 30 Gold Key of Wisdom I forge from my heart opens doors of happiness to safe homes where ghosts of apples as organic beings share visions of their minds in songs of faith that shine as lamps to guide us on the road which we traverse to build new paradise. When I observe strange objects of this world that shimmer with light in vale of my heart, my mother Reitia writes words that she speaks as runes she carves on smooth tablets of wood, then teaches me how to cast magic spells as hex that projects vision of my mind. When I see pretty girl with long gold hair and blue eyes gleaming bright as valley lake, I grab her with my hands to kiss her mouth, but mother Reitia twists my arm and frowns, then teaches me to treat girls with respect, admiring beauty of her cosmic soul. Appointed to accompany Her Way, I guard sweet Artemis with magic wand as she attends duties of her routine, protecting her soul from monsters and men as she gathers fruit, berries, nuts, and eggs from eerie shadows of the mountain woods. Though I save her fertile body from harm, stopping men from enslaving her as wife, she saves me from blind selfishness of lust because I come to know her secret heart, as I attend her progress every day, when I focus true love on her, not me. When her mother contracts marriage of state for brave Artemis as obedient wife to manage household of the wealthy banker, I relinquish duty as her soul guard, then drift with broken heart in obscure woods to linger by her favorite turtle pool. As I convince myself to let her go and respect freedom of her private will to marry the wealthy man she may choose, Artemis appears in our secret grove, where I stare at reflection of my face, and calls my name with voice of genuine love. Attending mirror of her glowing eyes, I burst with joy at tenor of her words that she loves me because I love her soul, nursing her freedom to live as she will instead of striving to control her body, so we hold hands and stroll back into town.
Arthurian Code Of Conduct
Arthurian Code Of Conduct © Surazeus 2026 09 30 When hexagonal ice crystals refract spirit of the sun through sphere of my brain, I see crowd of red and black balls swirl wild in flashing spirals of electric coils that scatter into flocks of silver crows who gather in oak trees to sing my name. Because astonishing light of my being emanates from mortal frame of my flesh, I dream delusion of immortal life glowing from conscious system of my brain which tricks my mind to feel as if my soul exists long before it beams from my body. Contained within limiting bounds of being, my soul vibrates from waves of chemicals that interact to conjure glow of life through finite channels of time-woven space, designed by my ancestors so my genes construct this temporary self I am. Spurred to perform act of the noble soul by story of the tyrant who exploits bodies of people to increase his power, I journey road to the high mountain pass where statue of the goddess glows alive and commissions me to defeat the king. Inspired by her vision of global peace, I fight against every tyrant on Earth with passion of brave Cronus in my heart to cast cruel Uranus from throne of greed and free the hungry people of the world to operate farms with communal faith. Just like Saint Lucia asks Empress Maria, who asks Princess Beatrice for assistance, who sends Vergilius to guide Dante to Heaven, so Athena asks Apollo, who asks Mercurius, who sends Orpheus with lyre to guide my journey to the Promised Land. Thus wise Athena teaches me to see essential spirit in each human being so I may attend to their secret needs, and nurture innate talents into skills that allows them to create way of life fulfilling dreams of their ambitious hope. Wielding Sword of Justice in hand of faith, applied to my care by the Fairy Queen, I follow Arthurian Code of Conduct opposing tyrants, enslavers, and thieves, protecting farmers, herdsmen, and craftsmen, and protecting women who create life.
Tuesday, September 29, 2026
Far Side Of Reality
Far Side Of Reality © Surazeus 2026 09 29 Quick leap to far side of reality through oscillation of brave opposites connects the lonely island of my heart to lush continent of humanity as bridge of compassionate ardency which helps me find missing treasure of truth. Slow fall to far side of reality from transient twirling of excessive tries may channel frantic energy of faith in pulsing tunnels of my sponge-wet brain to motivate attention of my love laser-focused on dark needs of your heart. Grim trudge to far side of reality across dire waste land of the spotless mind reveals bold quality of strong friendships designed by manufacture fervid faith bonding hearts of strangers with calm words disguised as solemn hymns of potency. Deep swim to far side of reality in bottomless abyss of weird insight exposes monstrous demons of my heart who hunger to consume galactic fruit that shimmers so enticingly correct from twisted hands of sad demonic trees. High flight to far side of reality above gold clouds of crystal palaces lures thirsty angel of my bitter heart to hope for afterlife of pleasant bliss strolling with God in Garden of Delight where my doppelganger plays lyre of faith. Bright prance to far side of reality inside wide ring of tall emerald stones attracts shocked apparition of my brain to hope my spirit lives eternally before and after this organic frame contains assertive passion of success. Mad quest to far side of reality around Plutonian forest of wise crows tricks me to follow Golden Way of Weird where I assert prophetic state of mind because I see in vision of dream code events that never happen on this Earth. Brave strike to far side of reality against oppressive gang of psychic thieves compels me to rebel against false gods who reign on hill of skulls with holy word because this space of land around my head provides foundation for my sovereignty.
Trick The Algebraic Vain
Trick The Algebraic Vain © Surazeus 2026 09 29 Exquisite concept of the codicil, that supplements virtual world of my brain with legal formalities of false creeds, contrived to trick the algebraic vain into believing in the Afterlife, facilitates my quest to find the Grail. Though I was born to emulate the god who honors fabricated states of mind with brave expenditure of sordid faith, I strive to graduate from fairy school through evanescence of inglorious jokes that deal explicit codes of ardent grace. Assigned to play adjacent analyst through progress of attractive avenues, I claim my heart has been reauthorized to track essential functions of desire through formulas of courage birds invent by dancing in exotic episodes. Though self-contained by modular regret through optimal duty of honest leaps, despite elite membership of my brain in building framework for our new world view, I compile facts for divine currency concealed by mortgage of the covenant. Calm grandeur of incisions once revised, by calculating new visions of clouds, requires misspelled austerities of love to reassemble cracked puzzle of pride that glorifies deep beauty of true hearts, expunging envy through obsessive joy. Through fractal letter of soul maintenance, reversed by secret techniques of concern, we shop for shocking gossip at the church where angels store grain in bags of despair, till wooden robot of ethereal fear provides welfare for winners who still fail. Awake at aperture of dreamless domes, where haughty angels boast of bankruptcies, I balance catalogs of proofless facts with mental functions of the carnival because we must express impassioned creeds which polishes expanding scope of truth. Thus I will broadcast biblical welfare through wireless workshops of witless thieves who rank themselves pleasant entrepreneurs whose hearts are bound by rainbow allergies, or else we all will die from laughing bombs that disassemble our religious faith.
Lurid Hills Of Ithaka
Lurid Hills Of Ithaka © Surazeus 2026 09 29 Since Ithaka is always on my mind, forever just ahead in swirling mist toward which I journey by the starry map, I gather riches of sorrowful truth in my constructing hands so I can build safe haven for my children to grow wise. Through curtains of uncertainty I leap into frame of the sudden photograph where I hang frozen without angel wings till paper crinkles and dissolves to dust, then I fall into well of gravity to hold my loving spouse in gentle arms. Though brave heretics against holy thoughts emerge in flames from tomb of confidence, they cast all superstitions to the ground in challenge to the Gorgon of the church that lurks as faceless ghost of arrogance in twisted shadows of the broken house. Since travelers still ride their placid ways in cool shade of the nuclear missile bomb, we give each other tickets for the train that never takes to Heaven nameless soul who flocks around my passion-wired mind as loyal bride in tattered wedding dress. Because the yellow sea ghost of desire derides our plan derived from mordent leaves to follow blood-thick river of respect, I leap the lunar silences of fate while I record sweet music of the sand to prove that Heaven is our fantasy. If snow disfigures idols of our gods that stand by frozen brooks of travesty, I may decide to run with gentle wolves through evergreen forest of lonely vales far from the illness of my fractured mind so I become light of the afternoon. Now that my deconstructed soul of masks has been regenerated by the egg, my mother asks the spirit of her god to beam from stars and animate my mind with solemn honor of the upright creed, but I would somersault the laughing beach. With unconstraining voice of solitude I dare rejoice at rapture of my heart when I guard healing fountain with sharp eye that waters lurid hills of Ithaka with ghosts of heroes who give away names of their brave spirits to the world today.
Crippled Wing Of Fire
Crippled Wing Of Fire © Surazeus 2026 09 29 Forbidden sorrow of the cherry tree reveals sweet nothingness of urgency that spurs my climb in tangled certainty from dissolution of the river flow that casts me paralyzed in comfort snow since love diminishes my anguished pain. Soft pink of dawn reveals my long-lost home en route to unconsoling ocean shore where I am shadow of my mute desire, face glowing rose from crippled wing of fire that concentrates my numbing loneliness as swan that glides on mirror of my mind. Unburdened kindness of the leafless tree that resurrects brave dinosaurs of love inspires strange wonder of my swollen mind to ponder shrieks of gulls in frantic breeze that flicker in wide circles of concern though children invent new systems of state. Red rabbit of my half-excited heart darts swift through endless maze of wordless prayers that young girls whisper in the doorless church while washing speckled hands in bowls of oil which they smear in black words on courtroom walls to indicate precisely what they mean. She hides her stories in the broken box beneath worn dresses on the attic shelf which then transform to zombies of desire that wander buzzing streets of afternoon where carpenters repair our broken homes while devils fix electric wires of faith. Through open window of her wounded heart she hears sad crickets of apocalypse sing all night long about the formula defining process of soul gravity that drives celestial bodies to transcend market stalls where angels sell lemonade. Through gaps of naked trees on hill of skulls the full moon shimmers with ten billion eyes because we see ourselves in how it smiles, distorting concept of the human soul that dissipates to nothing when we die because our atoms form bodies again. Alert to shocking insult of the stone, she stares at ocean waves of restless rage that sloshes inside porcelain teacup as she floats up in white-lace wedding dress and hovers with enormous angel wings above the world that feels her suffering.
Monday, September 28, 2026
Beauty Of My Changing Face
Beauty Of My Changing Face © Surazeus 2026 09 28 Remote as starlight in eyes of the dead, I gather yellow apples of the sun to sell for copper pennies of regret to lonely housewives in suburban zones whose children reincarnate ancient gods while angels paint roses on temple walls. To dwell in pale mirage of fractured homes, where healthy demons wear cute human masks, we blink as slow as stars in river waves and cast strange treasures on soft satin mud, though death projects our spirits at black clouds so words we speak could conjure cosmic minds. Since we are atoms flashing in the void, we are the cosmic mind of nothingness that beams from countless stars of swirling gas till we evolve from sloshing waves of hope and crawl with agony of gasping breath on muddy shore beneath the tree of fruit. Thus I rise up from gravity of fate to stand half-steady on this wobbling world, and reach with dizzy confidence of lust to grasp sweet fruit of frantic innocence, then eat with laughter of the falling leaf that fools us with the cycle of rebirth. Since I am gray with sleepiness of time while nodding by the fireless hearth of faith, I watch forgotten tales in ancient books transform to shadows of the nameless dead who weep for beauty of my changing face though I sell sorrows to the smirking toad. If love has fled across the mountain range with urgent mission of the messenger who scatters letters on numberless graves, I wake the pilgrim soul of ardent faith to travel nowhere on the signless road till I become the house where no one dwells. When I was new-born child of the dead king, old bearded wizard of the jagged cave received my body from wild ocean waves, and taught me how to improvise bold tales while strumming sacred lyre of Mercury, but I run bank to finance struggling farms. Gold rays of sunlight beam through stalks of wheat with timeless shimmer of transcendent truth that fills my heart with scope-expanding awe so wingless angels of this wicked world perceive weird beauty of my changing face in masks of god that pulse on temple walls.
War-Machine Of Fear
War-Machine Of Fear © Surazeus 2026 09 28 Our bodies, ground in war-machine of fear, transform from angels to demonic gods who fight for plot of land to plant fruit trees when greedy tyrant on the ziggurat demands obedience to him as sun lord so we pay taxes for his lazy guards. Hoping to escape war-machine of fear, we run across the swirling waves of fate to leap on angel wings into bright clouds, but plummet to grave Earth of broken hearts in crash that clears space in the Holy Land for us to build new empire of dead gods. Transformed to ghouls by war-machine of fear, we mortal bell-brains clanged by shouts of hate howl wild in chorus with electric wolves that prance through arch of triumph to pretend our savage slaughter of our enemies grants us rewards of noble gratitude. Confused by code in war-machine of fear, I walk through abacus of glowing trees to translate pungent scent of after-rain from shock of surging blood in twisted veins to hunger magic through imperatives that we exchange gifts with oppressive goons. Sun-dazzled fierce by war-machine of fear, I stumble lost in labyrinth of ghosts who fail to possess idols of dead kings based on transcendent nature of god eggs to dwell in yet-unrealized dreams of peace contingent on obedience to the king. To reinvent the war-machine of fear as faith-expansive gyroscope of love, I build wood bridge across abyss of death so angels may cross from their world to ours and give us treasures on the moon-gold night where laughing waterfalls preserve our thoughts. Paralyzed by the war-machine of fear that churns out greed-blind devils of the church, I wash my face in pool of Hippocrene which causes wings to sprout from my sponge brain so we pick vegetables in falling snow and eat hot soup around fire of despair. Concerned about the war-machine of fear by mining silver from deep Laurion caves, we build huge fleet of ships with billowed sails to fight great empire of the tyrant king and save our nation from enslaving chains so we may live and die with liberty.
Alive With Pleasant Pain
Alive With Pleasant Pain © Surazeus 2026 09 28 The dry sand of the desert teaches me the preciousness of water from the sky, so I pray thanks through humble orisons to the faceless Cloud Ghost who cannot hear, yet drenches me with cold indifferent rain that shivers me alive with pleasant pain. Soft purple shimmer of the morning sky, that shines with holy glimmers in our eyes, wakes tender bodies on soft flower beds so we rise up from graves of frantic dreams to sit in circle by the sparkling stream and eat sweet apples as we sing strange hymns. Though haughty angels of sharp mountain peaks mock frail flames of our conscious ardency, we stride against doomed sorrow of our fate that we all die from monsters or old age, for faceless Cloud Ghost haunts our sentient steps as blind death that swallows all life in gloom. Together working with our crafting hands we build long sturdy bridge of fallen trees to cross the gushing river of despair, so Death rewards our cleverness with gifts that trick the foolish with an early death yet reward the wise with creative life. The wet mud of the river teaches me the preciousness of warm light from the sun, so I carve wand of wisdom from tree branch, and sharpen stone I bind with vine of faith in spear I thrust to kill demonic hate, then fashion cloak that conceals me from Death. With diamond sphere refracting light of truth I lead my curious tribe on holy quest to map strange landscape of this spinning world through journey to explore the Promised Land where we build empire of the Watching Eye that rules our lives on ziggurat of faith. Once bravely young with passion to explore, I now stand aged with knowledge of the world, old as the twisted oak on hill of skulls where I hang, one-eyed, forty thousand years above the well of words where serpent runes morph me to wingless angel with star eyes. Strange beauty of this world inspires my heart with love for every living soul on Earth to see in constellations of bright stars clear chart that maps the fortune we create as destiny we choose with our free will to generate new life before we die.
Sunday, September 27, 2026
Ring Of Humming Stones
Ring Of Humming Stones © Surazeus 2026 09 27 While dancing inside ring of humming stones that refract sunlight into rainbow beams, Shimut transforms to eagle with broad wings when he twirls wand with sharpened diamond tip to drive fierce wolves into the wilderness as guard protecting souls in space of hope. Crowned with gold halo ring of jeweled light, Shimut stands guard on ten-foot ziggurat, protecting people in space of his strength who dwell safe inside ring of humming stones, eyes watching how they act through self-control to maintain rich commerce of give and take. When Manzat, Lady of the City Doors, who makes our city flourish with strict rules, assumes seat of judgment on ziggurat of far-watch, Shimut guards her soul from harm, enforcing verdicts of her sentences when she decrees how people should behave. Though star-eyed daughter of their fertile love, Tiranna, born from lightning flash of faith, feels overwhelmed by duties of her state as daughter of the Rainbow Queen of Truth, she dances laughing in the sudden rain, so she lights up the ring of humming stones. Descended from star goddess of the hills, I wake from dream of her attentive life eight thousand years since she gave birth to me, and taught me how to read future events in flashing constellations of the sky where Shimut guards Manzat with loyal love. While bright spirits of Shimut and Manzat vibrate in visions of my flashing brain, I ponder how to manage flow of love that surges through my body every hour with ache of wisdom to translate weird song of ocean waves to words humans can hear. Their spirits animate my body now with tense concern of voiceless prophecy to preach salvation with attentive zeal, achieved through dance in ring of humming stones, to billion souls of hungry urgency who gather to worship in halls of faith. Attentive focus of Shimut, to guard good citizens of Earth with ardent faith, still motivates my quest to organize chaotic passions of the human tribe encamped in nations fighting to survive as ghosts who dance in ring of humming stones.
Axiom Of Free Will
Axiom Of Free Will © Surazeus 2026 09 27 Driven to live by axiom of free will, we humans clash in wars to control air by twisting light of quick atomic lust into swift piston-powered time-machines so we race through expanding maze of dreams to catch ghost of wealth before we all die. I dare not pay this time its needful woe since grief, at thought that millions of sweet souls suffer and die in shocking agony through countless centuries of clockless change, twists my heart with helplessness of desire to protect the living from pain of fear. Our fragile bodies of bones bound with nerves, and muscles tense with terror of attack, vibrate with passion of powerful faith to fight against oppression of the strong as we secure safe haven from their greed in loyal union of communal creed. Through better act of purposes we play direct attention to commissioned faith that blinds our eyes to perceive what is real, since faith presents what we most hope is real, yet veils the real that pains our hearts to see, which leaves us stumbling against obstacles. We overcome through axiom of free will illusions of hard obstacles that block assertive progress of our psychic growth as we reprogram how our minds perceive complex process of social games we play through fraught interactions of give and take. I cry woe for brave people of this land who once thrived well to work daily routines constructing goods from raw material forms to produce wealth of our national pride, but now our free minds are enslaved by greed through sweet enchantments of commercial thieves. Deceived by outward show of businessmen, whose flashy wealth convinced our eager hearts that hard work will earn rich rewards of wealth, we clutch at tattered rainbow fantasy that money trickles down to callused hands, which we stretch empty to the godless sky. Inspired to work by axiom of free will, we sort through trash of treasures we obtain by plundering bounty of this generous globe, yet find no more than baubles of regret that clutter quaint suburban homes with junk which gleamed so bright in church of holy lies.
Bridge Of Broken Minds
Bridge Of Broken Minds © Surazeus 2026 09 27 I feel in my heart strange desire to sing but lie mute under shadow of the wing that presses me to center of the globe so I transform to nothing but blind lobe that pulses with compassion for the lost whose fate reveals what greedy hope has cost. While dream-biking on bridge of broken minds I stop to call the demon whose heart binds billions of human souls in web of pain though we assemble to laugh in cold rain that drenches waste land in our angel tears which cannot cleanse our bodies of harsh fears. That moment when you wake up from blind dread and see ghost of my name outside your head remember all the moments of our love we spent together in the starlit cave because the hot pulse of those memories will vanish bright as rain in thirsty seas. Look closely at wavering ghost of my soul and you will see the fragment of the whole as contradiction twisting what you feel, then you will know that I am always real while fears that haunt your wounded heart are fake as weird illusion your fraught desires make. Though wind blows weeds beside the country road I ride my bike past pond where moon-eyed toad reveals in wordless vision of my heart weird beauty of false faith in starless chart that glows as constellation of god stars which shimmers at the passing of glass cars. Your words of faith I hear on phone of trust dispel demonic anger of the ghost that follows me on endless road of fate so love for life blossoms from rotten hate as lotus bloom that weaves my tangled soul in psychic matrix of the cosmic whole. My bloody feet leave prints on signless road where I run from exploding bombs of God dropped by his angels from swift silver jets that transform into thirsty vampire bats, so I hold emptiness in mangled hands while I wander homeless on kingless lands. Ghost of my childhood flees from flashing bombs to hide from devils in abandoned tombs while planes of tyrants scream across the sky in howl of vain victory that drowns the cry of orphaned children who attempt to pray, then build new world order on the True Way.
Visible Wings Of Silence
Visible Wings Of Silence © Surazeus 2026 09 27 On visible wings of silence I dance outside enclosing walls of paradise so beaming scope of consciousness expands huge enough for my small mind to perceive vastness of this world on which we thrive, itself so small in whole expanse of stars. On visible wings of silence I leap beyond small valley where my soul was born to push through tangled veil of fencing vines in bold quest to explore the strange new world which I glimpse in dim dreams of eager hope where nameless people know not I exist. On visible wings of silence I soar far high above huge swirling clouds of hope to find the crystal halls of gleaming truth that form bright Heaven of my fantasies through longing ache to escape hard toil in fields of sour exhaustion under whips of greed. On visible wings of silence I glide with sly clandestine plan of calm respect to slip past guards with sharp spears of contempt and flee in shadowed woods of innocence far from the bitter whips of slavery since I got trapped in paradise of greed. On visible wings of silence I twirl high on broad stone of defiant disgust to fight slave-hunters rattling chains of fear in quick avoidance of their grasping hands intent on binding my free heart with greed that motivates my desperate fight to live. On visible wings of silence I turn back toward safe valley of my spirit birth, where my old mother must still cook for me, with swift assertion of my liberty through endless maze of sunlit mountain glades till I stumble in safe grove of my home. On visible wings of silence I flip over safe haven walls of paradise where I hide soul of frantic energy, then with assembled warriors of my tribe we ambush cruel slave-traders by the lake and kill them all to maintain liberty. On visible wings of silence I fall from clouds of Heaven on frail tattered wings so fantasies of utopian paradise dissipate in heat of long afternoons when I toil in fruit orchard of my heart that tastes sweet as my life in liberty.
Saturday, September 26, 2026
Fractured Sense Of Self
Fractured Sense Of Self © Surazeus 2026 09 26 If our remembered time of happiness lurks eyelessly about half-broken doors with dauntless urgency of naked thoughts, who would dare require cruel fate to relent his harsh decree that frail innocent souls should suffer turmoil of national change. No graceful spell of unspoken support, developed by assertive breath of fear, could reassemble fractured sense of self dispersed by mocking laughter of concern to scatter randomly in empty room where gentle sorrow understands the why. So we drive cars on endless road of hope with urgent message from the fruitless tree which curls roots under asphalt parking lots with dire compassion for the homeless souls who clamor to perform Shakespearean roles through pride in Theater of the Absurd. As ceaseless lackey to eternity, entranced by ghastly shadows of my soul, I should devise strange plots of social games to outwit mockery of the jester-king whose disrespect for values of the just shocks honest folk with paralyzed contempt. With easy steps of faithless honesty I wander landscape of state memories now cluttered with false idols of brave fools whose hateful missions of aggressive rage against lost homeless refugees from wars should smirch his soul with curse of bitter fear. Long did my fearful forefathers request miraculous aid from Heaven above clouds of glowing beauty with fervent faithfulness, but no voice spoke except in wordless cracks of horrifying thunder to provide divine guidance to their misguided quest. Undisciplined by nobleness of mind, their urgent mission to create on Earth utopian commune of the Promised Land failed to expand our conscious scope of faith beyond intense routine of crafting work transforming raw materials to machines. Now global revolution is at hand through jolting buzz of passionate desire, which deconstructs world view that furnished frame for noble actions of heroic souls, so we must spark as flame in fear-numb hearts brave resolution to rebuild our state.
Laughing Thief Of Grace
Laughing Thief Of Grace © Surazeus 2026 09 26 I wonder at life of absurdity where weak men crippled by arrogant faith gain power over honest carpenters by twisting moral numbers of concern to propagate false vision of their right contrived by Cloud Ghost to be sacred law. As honest fugitive from words of pride, that twist our language into holy prayer, I grin at keening sun of solitude to polish secrets of my brittle bones repaired by shocking miracle of lies that cannot soothe the sword blade in my heart. If I can stop the laughing thief of grace from chopping down the ancient Tree of Life that blooms in garden of the weeping bride, I might play role as Emperor of Earth too well for happy people to obey commands that we take care of this weird world. My crippled hand of brave euphoria may listen to harsh darkness in your heart to bless our tables with plates of fresh fruit that scents our doorless home of frantic wings with pungent memories of eventide on river shores where unnamed bodies float. She asks if I remember why she cries, but laughs at all my answers as cruel lies, so I reflect on each mistake I make while eating sorrow of her chocolate cake that teaches me to grieve all suffering too many people bear while angels sing. We treasure secret visions of ourselves that we preserve in books no one can read while tending wounds that only devils see though jewels, dusted with pollen of flowers, refract conceptual spirit of Star God through pulsing passion of our sponge-soft brains. Crippled by impotent hatreds from fear, which motivates our journey for the Book, we search for crystal halls where blind gods feast while they ignore the suffering of humans who kneel and pray in churches built from bones for salvation from laughing thief of grace. Thus when I deconstruct religious creeds I find they elevate dead mortal king as powerful god who creates all things, so I leave maze of money to ascend misty vales of Mount Takoma to merge my mortal soul with timeless light of truth.
Holy Word Of Arrogance
Holy Word Of Arrogance © Surazeus 2026 09 26 Surprised by holy word of arrogance that teaches him to understand the trees, Iapetus laughs while heaving stone of faith at gusts of storm winds blasting his frail hut where wife and children huddle in stark fear, so he builds fane to shield them with his heart. Inspired by holy word of arrogance that sparks strange fire of wisdom in his brain, Prometheus sets stones in ring of hope to well contain the writhing flame of light of flashing chaos inside frame of thought so he can manage power of the sky. Disturbed by holy word of arrogance that tricks him to look back down road of fate, Epimetheus subdues bear with sharp claws, then sews fur cloak for Pandora to wear as she holds precious box of secret truth when they walk in broad field of sparkling snow. Concerned by holy word of arrogance that presses stars down on our mortal heads, Atlas supports globe of Earth with brave trust when he constructs tall roof of pine-tree beams where his clever daughters, Hesperides, guard orchard of golden apples from thieves. Engorged by holy word of arrogance that drives him to oppose tyrants of greed, Menoetius declares with boastful voice that he crowns himself Emperor of Earth because his acts are the most beautiful, till Zeus strikes him down with his thunderbolt. Deceived by holy word of arrogance that highlights beauty of brave Helios, Clymene bears him son she names Phaethon who drives huge two-wheeled chariot of fire in noble battle against Uranus to free the world from tyranny of greed. Intrigued by holy word of arrogance that diverts focus of his searching eyes, Deucalion constructs huge ark of wood where he bears Pyrrha, loyal bride of trust, safe during flood that destroys world of men, to dwell on Mount Parnassus in fruit grove. Amazed by holy word of arrogance that shows indifference of Nature to Man, Cronus wields sharp blade of justice to fight violent Uranus in Temple of Truth, which Iapetus built to shield human souls, through war to cast cruel Titans into Hell.
Eyeless Agony Of Faith
Eyeless Agony Of Faith © Surazeus 2026 09 26 Nothing explodes from glass page of the book writhing with tongueless ghosts of long-dead gods, so Albert walks past hundred thousand doors to find the person who reflects his soul with comprehensive formulas of faith that weave their bodies from demonic genes. Bearing gold wand with curling snake of hope, Adonis strides on brittle bridge of blame while hawk of justice leaps from his bold hand and strikes face of the tyrant on the throne who screams in eyeless agony of faith when his son takes jeweled crown of regret. Concerned about electric memory translating all our dreams to lurid myths, Adonijah declares himself World King and strides with courage in grand temple hall where David clutches broken lyre of power while chanting psalms to praise the Shepherd God. Appointed Chief Happiness Officer by Aphrodite with long golden hair, Adam woos her with basket of fresh fruit he stole from Tree of Knowledge at midnight, then builds enormous palace of glass masks from bones of dragons killed by meteors. Reigning as God over River of Time, Achelous son of Elus stands alert on Bridge of Farsight as Guardian of Life, but when he sees gold-eyed Perimede, he wrestles Hercules to win her heart, though she hides in Cave of Castalia. Born from song of the Ocean before dawn, Abassi floats above the crowded world on silver wings of laughter forged from fear, then wakes and drives to work constructing homes, till immigrant agents wearing black masks lock him in sprawling deportation camp. After his analyst job at the state bank is replaced by robot with angel eyes powered by artificial intelligence, Ares drinks beer at the old country bar, then sings cowboy songs on stage every night and sleeps in his truck behind some garage. Inspired to run for President Earth with plan to unite all nations in one, Apollo campaigns sea to shining sea till Pluto tries to shoot him in the head, so Dream-Enchanter eats the nuclear bomb and retires to work on the Family Farm.
Friday, September 25, 2026
Electric Curl Of Words
Electric Curl Of Words © Surazeus 2026 09 25 Unfrightened by electric curl of words, Mayari glides backward up blue glass stairs and scatters large mango seeds on dry sand of endless desert where snakes slither slow, then waters waste land with her tears of hope so they sprout into lush forest of trees. Unbalanced by excessive thoughts of love, Bathala extends both hands to retrieve glass mask of the moon that reveals weird soul that shy Mayari hides behind broad leaves rustled by cool breeze from silver sea waves preserving secrets in whispers of faith. Gliding gracefully in long woven skirt, Mayari notes disk of first quarter moon that shimmers in early afternoon sky above mango trees where red-eyed pungaws sing koo-oo with compassion for lost souls who wander on Cagayan River shore. Driving motorbike along winding road of eager ambition to achieve wealth, Bathala stops beside young graceful girl, whose long black hair shimmers thick down her back, and offers ride to Scarecrow Festival to celebrate Bambati Guardianship. Transforming into pungaw with black wings, Mayari soars up to bright flashing clouds in silver airplane forged from angel wings to land in Idaho far across the sea where she falls in love with the bank accountant who funds her folk art painting forest scenes. Bearing sphere of the sunset in her heart, Mayari in red dress strolls in wheat field, then sits and dangles feet in flowing stream while watching white birds flock across the sky across the snowy Sawtooth Mountains peaks as ribbon in her hair flutters in wind. Inventing new language of innocence, Phoebus weaves silence between minds of strangers in sweet romance that blossoms from their hearts when they hold hands and listen to the wind explain how sunlight sparks life in all things so we become one with the universe. Nursing their new-born daughter at her breast, Mayari hums lullaby about Leron who climbs papaya tree with bamboo basket to gather fruit from sacred tree of knowledge, preserving treasure, though the long branch breaks, which he gives to wife and child of his heart.
Crafting Hands Of Hope
Crafting Hands Of Hope © Surazeus 2026 09 25 Through lyrical expression of my thoughts in undulating waves of rhythmic verse I feel this timeless moment crystalize in momentary vision of insight that lifts my mind on bold attentive wings outside conceptual frame of changing time. Apollo glances up from plucking strings at sudden pang of sorrow in his heart, and stares with sigh of ennui at the crowd of housewives browsing full vegetable stands, and wonders if heroic tale of courage he longs to express would inspire their souls. When Hadad threatens Dagon with sharp knife, demanding that he compensate his loss for rotten fish he sold him yesterday, Atargatis attempts to mediate, with soothing words to calm their tempers down, but storm-hearted man cuts her on the arm. Just as Apollo stands up to respond with attentive aid to wound on her arm, Mithras leaps down from ten-foot pyramid with sword unsheathed to guard the market queen, placing his body as protective shield, so Hadad plunges knife blade in his chest. As Mithras falls in arms of Atargatis, who tends his wound with cloth to staunch blood flow, Hadad attempts to flee through milling crowd, but Apollo leaps up small pyramid and shoots sharp arrow straight into his thigh which causes storm god to fall on his face. After six Seraphim arrest Hadad and drag him for judgement in Hall of Zeus, Apollo strums lyre of Mercurius and sings short lyric to express his thoughts that praise wise Atargatis with clear eyes for just management of the marketplace. "We create with our crafting hands of hope useful utensils from material forms through skill from stringent training we receive, so every person plays their talent role to maintain our food-production system, then gains reward from selling crafts of love." People who assemble to hear him sing toss coins stamped with face of Mercurius in wood bowl set before his pedestal, so Apollo counts profit of his art, then Atargatis asks if he will play in Temple of Zeus for the evening feast.
Continue Our Daily Routines
Continue Our Daily Routines © Surazeus 2026 09 25 Not sure what he may find among small stones smoothed by ten million years of ocean waves, Cronus wanders along margin of fate to gather clams in leather bag of hope, and ponders how some invisible force moves everything in motions of exchange. Through repeated patterns in swirls of time waves surge against broad beach of gleaming sand with calm aggressiveness of natural grace, so Cronus stops and looks back on his path to see imprints of his feet in long line that curves across landscape of glowing thoughts. Sharp voice that pierces silent wind of fear alerts his heart to vision of her face, so Cronus turns against obstructing wind to see lithe Themis by the mossy cave, which sparks assertive passion in his heart that causes him to fly on leaps of faith. When Cronus reaches Themis by her cave, gold eyes gleaming with ardent flash of dawn, he offers bag of clams that clank with hope, so she leads him in safe cave of her heart when he pries shells open with diamond blade and she roasts them over small crackling fire. After they feast on clams and apple sauce, that she crushes with stones in wooden bowl, Cronus and Themis embrace with desire to merge their bodies in warm glow of love, writhing with pleasure of exploding stars, then cuddle with soft song of ocean waves. This timeless memory, programmed in my brain by my ancestors thirty thousand years before hour of my birth in Oregon, powers progress of my daily routine with vision of attentive love for life that motivates my mission to create. Though Zeus in palace of Olympus struts with haughty pride of aggrandizing greed, and blusters to inflate his vanity with vainglorious conceit of arrogance, billions of people on this spinning globe eat with their friends at harvest festivals. Men who falsely amplify with big boasts importance of their being in game of life will fall from cliff of hubris when they leap on wings of delusion, and break on truth, so we continue our daily routines in safe homes with our precious families.
Thursday, September 24, 2026
Smiles Of Fractured Fantasy
Smiles Of Fractured Fantasy © Surazeus 2026 09 24 Startled by smiles of fractured fantasy, that strangers in the crowded streets of time beam at my heart with stark intensity, I ride ghost horse of swift perplexity to find the mad king on the windy plain who eats grass from cracked television screens. Unnerved by smiles of fractured fantasy, that devils dancing in cathedral halls disguise as hunger to deceive my heart, I wear mask Phoebus lost on road of eggs to raise grand army of ten thousand sons who build empire from sea to shining sea. Distressed by smiles of fractured fantasy, that angels screaming on huge hill of skulls forge from star stones that smash temples of gods, I transform from angel to iron man and soar to mountains of exploding plums where Adam and Eve laugh in soaking rain. Annoyed by smiles of fractured fantasy, that pastors tearing dreams from holy books plaster on crumbling walls of paradise, I play messiah on the tragic stage to save Rapunzel from the beauty pageant so she can work as nurse in bombed-out towns. Surprised by smiles of fractured fantasy, that vampires banging pianos of glass employ to trick brave farmers in the dell, I balance oscillation of despair with frantic ecstasy of weird insight on quest to challenge Death to game of chess. Dismayed by smiles of fractured fantasy, that zombies whispering prayers to Father God wear to conceal lust for psychotic brains, I find safe shelter in haven of tales where fairies teach my children how to sing dark spells that conjure angels from my heart. Alarmed by smiles of fractured fantasy, that painters smearing ghosts on factory walls present as answers to ills of our world, I wander vast halls of computer banks with lantern of lost hope Jesus sold me to woo Shepherdess with sincerity. Amused by smiles of fractured fantasy, that nurses healing wounded hearts with truth paste on our faces with fake dollar bills, I sing about these dark times we endure because this universe of glowing light remains indifferent to our suffering.
Proton Quickening Of Dream
Proton Quickening Of Dream © Surazeus 2026 09 24 Through delirious disregard for discourse regarding boundaries of the Bleeding Heart, Hercules experiments with strange forms of tangled words in the grand feast of language to measure proton quickening of dream against ambient laughter of the grim tortoise. Through jocular regard for provocation that deconstructs religious faith of fools, Hercules comments with fatuous proverbs disguising social privilege of the strong through tragic drama fraught with mortal dread for patent absurdity of grand claims. Through corporate brand of mental harmony with mordent appetite for eating snow, Hercules keeps clandestine company with Caliban throughout the live-long day by betting on the fastest crippled horse with open sadism of innocence. Through stark exaggeration of contempt for mountain ghosts who howl at humble wind, Hercules considers treatise of falsehoods contrived by bankers eating plastic toast that stifles voices of the faceless people who wander margins of society. Through incandescent friendship of the blind who pursue objective of fallen gods, Hercules steals lies from philosophers to scam old people in the countryside who tell their stories with enormous pride as he sails yachts with money they provide. Through limitless supply of anecdotes that bleed from eyes of wartime refugees, Hercules heckles actors on the stage who declaim monologues that angels write against weird conservative governments who always fall asleep in the front row. Through politics of student occupation in movement for anti-austerity, Hercules documents fascist regimes that stifle satire voices of the press who buy ice cream for their Sahara trip where chemistry professors capture genies. Through song and dance on stage of tyranny before he exits global tragedy, Hercules trolls the university for teaching sociology of rights that brave people claim is inalienable except when swimming against ocean tides.
One With Star Ungod
One With Star Ungod © Surazeus 2026 09 24 My weird delusions drive me to compose sacred scripture for curious explorers investigating natural world of atoms to organize dynamic energies of social forces to generate food on quest to become one with Star Ungod. Though I am shipwrecked on the wine-black sea, cling to wreckage of religious beliefs while tossed about on waves of urgent faith, then stumble on shore of this brave new world, no cute blushing Nausicaa welcomes me, nor Circe to enchant my wounded heart. While stumbling lost in Massachusetts woods I find no Calypso in red silk gown who lures me to dwell in her paradise with salubrious peach from the Tree of Knowledge, nor has Hermes demanded my liberty so I return home to lost Avalon. Reborn in rain forest of Oregon, where Oberon teaches me magic spells, I race to stop Multnomah from her mission to sacrifice herself to save her tribe, but she dives into sorrow of the heart and drowns to save humanity from fear. My weird delusions drive me to transcend childhood programming of religious creed, so I see Jesus as brave mortal man whose children with wise Mary Magdalene rule Gothinian kingdoms two thousand years till my soul becomes one with Star Ungod. Though social war of opposing world views, that still plays between Asura and Deva, tangles nations in conflict over truth, ancient spirit of Zeus wakes in my heart so I am born from oscillating powers to become Surazeus Astarius. Ishtar on ziggurat of Star Ungod sends Abraham and Sarah to the west, and Brahma and Saraswati to the east, to spread religious rites of social growth that forms our United Nations of Earth on world faith of Astarianity. Together refugees from every land will build from ruins of America new global empire of Zarathia that highlights sameness in our differences so every nation thrives on fertile Earth on quest to become one with Star Ungod.
Wednesday, September 23, 2026
Hope To Visit Shadowland
Hope To Visit Shadowland © Surazeus 2026 09 23 If I should hope to visit Shadowland, where ghosts of all the nameless people sing hymns to the fallen god of thunderstorms, I may have to purchase tickets with love to watch myth of the Dream Kingdom dissolve to pages in old books devoured by Time. Alone with ancient Lyre of Mercury, I sit beneath the old fruit-laden Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, heart pulsing with compassion for the world, and sing hymns that depict in secret verse life of every person who ever lives. Since Death is searching for light of my soul that glimmers faintly in vast gloom of fate, with plan to snuff flame of my humming mind, I sing strange visions flashing in my eyes, composed of memories my ancestors dream through sparkling nodes in network of my brain. My conscious soul of self-aware insight glows bright with passion of mortal desire as radiant emanation from my brain, fueled by conceptual chemicals of faith, with delusion of immortality conjured from my ancestral memories. This sense that I have lived since dawn of time is powered by dreams programmed in my brain from three billion ancestors who designed my body to this state of clumsy grace, evolving four hundred million years to me, but I shall vanish to nothing at death. Since I will sink deep in dark senseless sea, and atoms of my body dissipate from fragile frame of flesh that constitutes organic being of chemical respect, I breathe celestial spirit of our world and sing in orchard of my solitude. When functions of my body cease to flash with hot atomic ardency of faith, I want roots from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil to reintegrate deconstructed molecules of my soul so I become fruit yet-born souls will eat. Earth will recycle molecules that form my soul to basic elements of thought, so I become gusts of the curious wind, and I become drops of the fertile rain, so atoms forming me in my short life will form bodies of billions more to come.
Evicted From Their Homes
Evicted From Their Homes © Surazeus 2026 09 23 After he climbs down from Mount Helicon, still clutching broken lyre of honesty, Devus crawls through back window of his house and lies on soft grammar of loyalty to calculate the flow of capital that might dissolve chemical bonds of oaths. Eager to map out rival charts of value to inherited forms of thought control, Devus weaves lines of credit from despair, which renders unbearable flash of being light as wingless ghosts tangled in oak limbs whose cries shock him awake just at midnight. Almost shocked awake from delirium at time-tangled arrogance of regret, Devus leaps from frenzy of mocking jest in darker fields of imperial concern for imposing amazement of comedy on various cultures infesting the world. Trapped by Pax Americana through greed to build towers of glass on rainless moons, Devus looks back down at our lonely globe where faceless people hunger for new hope, dominated by capital compromise to live in gardens of rubbish from games. Clutching fragments of war atrocities, decontextualized by the evening news, Devus visits pastures of wounded souls where refugees, evicted from their homes, search for sacred books lost in empty tombs to paint churches white with national pride. Tricked by bland concealment of uniforms to accommodate unvoiced victimhood, Devus prepares bread and wine for the ghost who screams with smoke of rage that he is king, but no one notes his bond of care annulled by sentimental laughter of the dead. Through bodies dismembered by heartless laws as ten commandments of the Fire-Cloud Ghost, Devus channels souls of the suffering through television shows on the dream screen that people watch before they go to bed so they can conquer the world before dawn. Because he now has nothing to his name as claim to fame in anthem of our land, Devus scatters credit cards on town squares where millions of people stare at war tanks that crush idols of their gods to smithereens, then they laugh and become stuffed animals.
His Star-Eyed Child
His Star-Eyed Child © Surazeus 2026 09 23 The angel in the stone cottage perceives how the hill swells up to the swirling sky with changeless solitude of hungry trees that always seem to know what he desires before he can express it in soft wind that tangles his heart with branches of hope. Alert to song of sparrows among leaves that argue about who best understands miscalculations of fate through how clouds contradict design on grand temple walls, the angel ponders why things fall straight down, then whistles nonchalantly when death laughs. When nameless Goddess of Fertility appears with new-born baby in her arms, the angel with three eyes provides goat milk after he buries her among red tulips, then wonders what to name his star-eyed child who always climbs in trees to shout at clouds. Smoothing mud in wood frame with gentle hands, the angel without wings carves pictograms relating how the child came from the sky, and leads great army of wild homeless boys on quest to unite all nations of men in glorious empire of the singing sparrow. While boiling apples in cauldron of faith, the angel with stone heart remembers why fame rises from trickling stream in the ditch, then invites the bold bearded king to eat rye bread he bakes in oven of his heart, smeared with honey from rotten tree of truth. When the bold bearded king with jeweled crown kneels before him in early morning light, he peers close enough to see beaming face of his star-eyed child he forgot to name, so he laughs with delight and hugs him close while generals and soldiers stare in surprise. When the child inside the bold bearded king asks him if he had fallen from the sky, the angel takes him to the unmarked grave where his mother lies under tulip blooms, so the glorious emperor of the world kneels and weeps that he never saw her face. Pointing to young woman beside the king, the angel with three eyes smiles with calm joy, and tells bold bearded king that he can see face of his mother in face of his daughter whose eyes gleam bright as lightning in the storm, so she gives her grandfather egg of time.
Tuesday, September 22, 2026
Hymn To Save The World
Hymn To Save The World © Surazeus 2026 09 22 If I could sing the hymn to save the world with soft mercurial voice of wounded pride, I would rise from stone bed of my cold tomb and walk the crowded streets of everywhere to recite endless tales of tragic heroes when people tune in every afternoon. I will show you where the dragon lies curled in peaceful slumber, since blind tyrants hide treasures they steal from Tellurian womb, though Gandalf experiments in glass lair with computer pulses through ones and zeroes that compose solemn American tune. No one explains what emotions are called that shelter me safe when I feign to brood about sacrifice of the haughty lamb so I forge key of wisdom from star core which beams excessive proverbs of fake sorrows since library truth has become my bane. Engine of my Pegasus heart has stalled during flight to fortress of solitude were I learn to write spells from Abraham who assigns me to manage the bookstore while he digs for jewels in mist-veiled barrows because no one wants to stay in their lane. Minerva teaches me how to be bold because everything I create will fade and disappear at brutal curse of fame that she observes as omen of star that pierces hearts of children with faith arrows when Jesus descends in hot-air balloon. As Castle Skald it is my job to scold shocked artists who refuse to escalade assault of justice to expand the frame of social progress when I drive my car to escort grandchildren of divine pharaohs who operate world empire of the commune. Though I sign petition to save the wild from development of the psychic mode, I annul despair with the solar term Apollo gives me so I play the seer mapping dreams to navigate weird tomorrows which I program to run my brain machine. Long after the fake report has been filed about homeless angels on the world road, I partner with Zeus to found new law firm so we can profit from conceptual fear based on importance of rain-glazed wheelbarrows though Earth is united by Melusine.
Heart Clock of Limerence
Heart Clock of Limerence © Surazeus 2026 09 22 Energized by heart clock of limerence to prove with anguish of my wounded heart that I am loyal to Persephone, I count each snowflake swirling at my face from mirror mask of her innocent moon as if they symbolize our mortal souls. Excited by heart clock of limerence to find the Emerald Tablet of Untime, I follow moon-bright horse of tragic love across vast Manitoba to the lake where murdered lovers dance in Raven Wood with bonds unbroken by cruel jealousy. Vitalized by heart clock of limerence to channel radio signals through my brain, I chat with Manipogo about faith that animates our bodies with desire to live free from oppression of the state by writing screenplay for our chosen fate. Elated by heart clock of limerence to study lives of creatures in the woods, I dislodge holy word of arrogance from pulsing monster of my hungry heart that drives me to wade deep in lake of ghosts where faces of blind strangers stare at me. Enfranchised by heart clock of limerence to clamber over river-polished stones, I listen to relentless Water Song discuss strange silence of obsessive pines that dare me to hang blinking lights on them, so I stack stones in walls of paradise. Astounded by heart clock of limerence to misinterpret songs mad angels sing, I steal electric cows of brittleness to bargain with Persephone for wealth who commissions me to legislate love since I contrive new tales from ancient lies. Authorized by heart clock of limerence to rebuild Herculaneum in glass, I follow sweet Persephone through Hell where she reveals strange mysteries of truth about how atoms function to program weird dreams that flash across my scattered mind. Actualized by heart clock of limerence to wield Voice of Vajra with honest hand, I twirl bright thunderbolt with diamond eye to battle demon of cathedral truth who tries to crush my mind with clear insight, but I laugh from in my tomb of tangled words.
Muffled By Sly Zephyrus
Muffled By Sly Zephyrus © Surazeus 2026 09 22 Bright rill of water fills up skull of God with tears of children killed in global wars, so Sibyl strings cracked lyre of Mercury with threads of memories from rotting brains that weave our myths in Terran tapestry which traps me in persona I design. Blind ghost in doorway of abandoned home decides to open window of the egg so Sibyl hears soft whisper of the snake explain how purpose causes us to bloom from seed of sorrow sparked by tear of hope so I feel essence of my body glow. What we ignore is what we value most, Sibyl decrees with holy voice of wind that blasts sharp jagged peaks of mountain minds so we transform from farmers in wet fields to analysts at computers in towers who calculate how soon great gods will die. Blind seers with old guitars on city streets provide support with hungry songs of hope to people who must work in factories to build the infrastructure of our world so every brave community depends on clowns for survival of truthfulness. Weird books that summer-sleepy Dryads write provide new paradigm for global faith that highlight zealous deeds of fabulists who strive to conquer Earth for their Cloud God whose priestess floats in deep Leucadian grave to sing our sorrows in calm hurricanes. No hidden harvest of luxurious time wakes stricken spirits of our frantic age from strange dream of aggressive tyranny that rises huge as Cetus from our hearts in this tumultuous year of social change when Sibyl writes our tales on scrolls of blood. Since she is now our global gardener, who cultivates strange flowers from our hearts, brave Sibyl nurtures warriors in shy souls who vow to Proserpine with honest tears to build new nation of Zarathia from shattered ruins of America. Since my immortal soul of genes has sprung as curious Orpheus from Niobean womb, I join wise Sibyl with sharp-shooter eyes to wage clandestine war of honest faith against harsh tyranny of gold-hand thief whose voice is muffled by sly Zephyrus.
Monday, September 21, 2026
Mountain Of Divine Grace
Mountain Of Divine Grace © Surazeus 2026 09 21 Reluctant to descend on signless road to misty underworld of faceless ghosts who whisper stories of their suffering, I linger at the twisted iron gate, and pluck at strings on broken lyre of truth while memorizing scenes of their disgrace. Purged by obsessive anguish of despair that writhes from wounded hearts of mortal souls, killed in ten thousand wars of thought control, I wander blithely down the signless road to cavern of illusions stuffed with souls who beg me to record their bitter lives. Heart numb from endless scream of suffering, I stare mute at their twisted souls of rage and try to understand their wordless howls, but they just blast past me as ocean wind that pierces to my bones with blades of ice, so I shiver with horror at bleak death. Bones stretched too rubber-taut in agony at unjust death of body-searing pain that billions of mortal humans endure, I swell into enormous cloud of rage that flashes with memories of harsh death till I condense to iron core of Earth. Up steep obstructing slope of bitterness, I struggle to assert each rage-weighed step of heavy horror oppressing my heart against blast of grim angelic contempt to climb massive mountain of divine grace in futile search for cleansing clemency. Alone without witty word-smith as guide, who could steer my faltering steps of fear safe through rage-tangled limbs of screaming trees, I stumble blindly toward the Promised Land that gleams too faintly in Tower of Hope for me to see its Flame of Liberty. Exhausted from my ten-million-year quest to seek salvation on the mountain top, I randomly arrive at peak of truth where I watch empires of men rise and fall countless centuries of wars to play God, laughing as I float up in empty sky. Bouncing against planets in timeless void, I flail wildly in erratic progress as I careen up nine celestial spheres to tumble awkwardly in Paradise where no Beatrice scolds me for my vice, so I sit by Tree of Knowledge and eat.
Nowhere Road Of Hope
Nowhere Road Of Hope © Surazeus 2026 09 21 If I get lost on nowhere road of hope while searching endless maze of fractured dreams for flourishing garden of your wild heart that blooms somewhere far from the Promised Land, I will listen for voice of your Star Soul that hums in winds and waves of everywhere. I find my ghosts on nowhere road of hope which multiply from each stage of my life so all my past selves wander nowhere now without this body that conjures my soul for I progress beyond phase of my dream as I evolve to become Faceless God. I catch raindrops on nowhere road of hope to fill deep rifts with ever-flowing streams that swirl in lakes where children play and sing as we become new people we invent on journey to become god self of faith till we all dissolve in vast sea of souls. When I find you on nowhere road of hope as beam of light your life has left behind, I gather glowing ashes of dead stars and mold them into idol of your soul to capture vibrant essence of your mind so I remember you long after death. Though I am not on nowhere road of hope where we leave masks of our sorrows behind, I search for potent shadow of your mind that dances among trees from beams of light so we embrace with joyful trust to know essential spirit of our strange homeland. Since I become our nowhere road of hope, I build from aching sorrow of my loss safe haven from stones of enduring faith to shelter your frail soul of wounded pride with watchful shield of my attentive heart so you may thrive in refuge of my trust. We walk enjoined on nowhere road of hope as separate angels bound by one brave wing for we glow with whole light of sacred faith to warm each other during storms of fear and shine as light that guides the other home with loyal love vast as our galaxy. So we emerge from nowhere road of hope that leads our quest to everywhere on Earth for we all sing in harmony with light and dance in sync with ocean waves of truth as we merge in global family of ghosts composed of lonely souls who find their way.
Star Mind Of Our Universe
Star Mind Of Our Universe © Surazeus 2026 09 21 The way we rise from passion of the Earth on wings we weave from crippled words of hope reveals pure cosmic energy of light that beams through our frail bodies as desire to transcend limits of our mortal being so song of love glows long after we die. The way you rise from sorrow of the sea on wings of light that angels weave for you inspires my wounded heart with balm of love to help lost people find their way back home so I lay flowers, picked beside the road, on grave where you dream one with the Star Mind. The way we rise from rubble of our dreams in swirls of gray smoke battered by harsh winds exposes suffering humans must endure, whether we extract strength of hope or not, to carry on and build from what we lost new garden flourishing with trees of fruit. The way you rise from tangled words of fear by strapping language on your weary arms expresses vital confidence you bear to transcend sorrow of this crowded world beyond sight of blind jealousy from greed so you find haven of peace where you grow. The way we rise on ocean waves of faith through intense pulse of love powered by moons that form our souls from mystery of light frames how we grow from verdant trail of change as we expand to fill vast space of life with routine duties of necessity. The way you rise from fractured house of sighs to scatter mercy on lost wanderers who follow bright light of your ardent love inspires my heart to break free from hard chains and walk again with balanced honesty this globe that wobbles through eternity. The way I rise from wisdom of your words that shows how I may build world view from truth maps complex journey of the human soul evolving shape from fish to singing god so I glow with each atom in my brain refracting Star Mind of our universe. The way we rise from mourning of despair to reassemble puzzle of our hearts spells universal myth of human courage that programs how we overcome our fears so we join hands and celebrate this life at feast that honors souls we love who die.
Sunday, September 20, 2026
Savior In The Sycamore
Savior In The Sycamore © Surazeus 2026 09 20 Skipping in the autumn evening rainstorm is how we can find out we are still real even though events in our mirror world spiral out of fictionalized control that transform people into hungry gulls who search for Heaven in the wilderness. In the field of flowers blooming from graves I am more than the absence of the field, though I am missing from puzzle of truth where I walk as air in the empty space filled with the wholeness of the long-dead souls who animate my body with desire. I should not trouble younger hearts with hope that fractured strangeness of our social game will readjust our world view where we play noble heroes in dramatic events, watched by the savior in the sycamore who bids us farewell as he flies away. Since silence is impossible this year, demanding that we howl with principle against relentless anger of cruel men blind with rage that story of our state is based on exploitation of the poor, then we shall gather by the moon and hum. If we sink deep in shifting sands of change by laughing at forbidden laws of love, then we shall grow flowers from wounded hearts so we can write new universal laws for every person in the world to live free from delusions of religious creeds. When snowflakes flutter from the faceless sky to prove God is delusion of despair, I gaze in windows of suburban homes where they share meals at tables of respect beside the pine that blinks with fairy eyes, then wander past to sleep in Raven Wood. Since Shamash lives as flame inside my heart that widens cope of my subconscious vibe, I gather force of psychic energy from millions of minds frantic with surprise that world view we have shared for eighty years collapses into gibberish of lies. Retrieving it from mirror of my eye, I slip my soul back in its secret place, but it remains as twinkling star of faith that quivers bright in vastness of deep space since light of atoms flashing in my brain remains dream key to my infinity.
Girl With The Cloud Heart
Girl With The Cloud Heart © Surazeus 2026 09 20 Bright girl with the cloud heart knows my true name when her black eyes see essence of my soul, so I lie flat on spinning Earth of fate and feel cool kisses of refreshing rain wake my immortal soul of genes from dream, so I attend needs of her hungry mind. Fierce girl with the cloud heart writes writhing words of wisdom on soft parchment of my skin with sharp-tipped quill of angel-feathered faith that finds subconscious sorrows my mind hides in thirty Cupids with adoring eyes that flock around her head on cloudy wings. Sad girl with the cloud heart swirls ocean waves with vision-crafting hands of ardent faith to mold my body from mud of lost time, then breathes ethereal spirit of Shamash inside frail frame of my aggressive flesh so I provide assistance to her dream. Lithe girl with the cloud heart dances ballet on phonelines that connect ten billion homes in flashing web of individual minds bound in whole matrix of her dreaming brain because she is first mother of our world whose memories program how we perform. Brave girl with the cloud heart lies on soft bed, dressed in long velvet gown of stoic dread, and cradles wounded swan of urgent fear with gentle embrace of thought-healing truth while I chop wood in swirls of voiceless snow to treasure her existence with concern. Mute girl with the cloud heart in crumbling house, alert in polished chair by glowing window, watches turtles float in pool of green tears while record player vibrates with weird spell revealing lost road to the Promised Land, so I give her glass of moon wine to drink. Blind girl with the cloud heart grips hard seashell to hear song of the ocean in my heart, then types blood-lettered verses on blank pages which I arrange to pave long road of faith to secret garden where she hides my key which I forged from core of our spinning globe. Deaf girl with the cloud heart in black-lace dress explains with voice of wind how eyeless stars flash dreams of our romance in my brain cells till Moon Raven emerges from her breast and gives me jeweled ring of psychic power so I crown her as Empress of the Earth.
Renegade Star Of Fate
Renegade Star Of Fate © Surazeus 2026 09 20 While strolling down the busy city street past shiny stores filled with trinkets and clothes, I feel ancient spirit of Shamash glow from tangled turmoil of my pungent heart, so I organize our corporate empire, inspired by my renegade star of fate. Through fractured porcelain mask of plain beauty, I gaze at spotted pear of innocence to program formula from moral law which binds intense emotions of despair with time-unspooling grace of self-control, confused by my renegade star of fate. Paused in forgotten graveyard of sad ghosts, Ishtar lingers among rain-streaked tombstones from which all names and dates time has erased, then gazes up at tall trees of her faith to ask if I could record their lost tales, deterred by my renegade star of fate. Heart floating in breath of the misty moor as wordless thoughts she wishes were not hers, Ninhursag gestures magic of her hands that causes fruit to bloom from trees and hills then strolls with her lion to Eden Lake, defined by my renegade star of fate. While sweet Ninhursag bakes hot loaves of bread and Enki patrols Ocean of Tiamat, I climb Mount Dilmun to the Cave of Stars to contemplate political events that began when Marduk built new world state, contained by my renegade star of fate. For ten thousand years of our spinning globe I meditate on ziggurat of stars while watching empires rise and fall in waves of men fighting to write the narrative though all our stories crumble into dust, destroyed by my renegade star of fate. While Zeus plays chess with Anu over lands where humans cultivate gold wheat of faith, Adonis searches forest of pear trees, but finds Britannia bathing in the pool, so she bears his daughter, America, driven by my renegade star of fate. As Shamash reborn in this present life, I sing ten thousand years of memories that codify in moral tragedies universal laws of human respect that program how we fight the next world war, refined by my renegade star of fate.
Dream Puzzle Of Truth
Dream Puzzle Of Truth © Surazeus 2026 09 20 Since I assemble dream puzzle of truth from fractured memories of forgotten days that you discard on endless road of time, I feel no guilt when I sell them to you as holy book in church of solemn faith that guides you as light you forgot you have. Expelled from valley of lush apple trees by gangs of thieves sent out by castle lords, we wander on the nowhere road of hope with no direction to survive and thrive, till I assemble dream puzzle of truth in goal that shines as city on the hill. Assembled in warm hall of glowing hearths, we feast on fruit from labor of our hands, while I sit on high judgment throne of faith to organize our homeless family in company of honest citizens based on our secret dream puzzle of truth. Turmoil of social change in seething crowds of hungry people clamoring at the gates sweeps us along vast tides of global growth that smashes ancient kingdoms into dust so we build new world order of respect from principles in dream puzzle of truth. Albert drives horse-drawn wagon into town where he sells bags of grain for silver coins, then buys new copper pan and rolls of cloth for Catherine to sew elegant gowns for their three daughters with long shining hair to attend balls in dream puzzle of truth. Raising sword toward gold clouds with lofty pride, Albert declares the Coming of the Lord, then leads brave cannoneers to fire lead balls that smash hard stone walls of cruel tyranny, then kneels before World King on jeweled throne whose face shimmers in dream puzzle of truth. Now he has come to see the Christian faith is political party that insists descendants of Jesus, God of the Sun, have divine right to rule nations of men, driven to conquer the world for their Christ whose ghost weaves their whole dream puzzle of truth. I disassemble dream puzzle of truth from basic principle on which it builds that states function on hierarchy of men controlling land where workers produce food and bodies of women that generate children lost in strange dream puzzle of truth.
Saturday, September 19, 2026
God We Strive To Be
God We Strive To Be © Surazeus 2026 09 19 Now is the hour to readjust my brain so I perceive electric soul of time that laughs with shimmer of the waterfall about sad suffering of the human soul who kneels and prays to empty sky of blue at sudden sorrow of the swirling snow. I wonder if my mother is alive, safe in walled haven of her wounded heart, because I find words scattered on the floor that she was just arranging with her mind in ever-changing puzzle of false faith defined by strangest questions children ask. Through random splats of red paint on the wall, which accidentally form math formulas our brains employ to calculate how far we wander lost in wilderness of lies, my eyes assert new meaning of old truth by weaving constellations from bright tears. Now that the long-established way of things, that formed foundation of our politics collapses into crimes of haughty pride, we gather in large crowd of shocked surprise to reassert faith in grand principles that govern how we should cooperate. Or else time may unclock our firm beliefs that we held sacred since the dawn of time at slow unravelling of solemn scenes when wingless angels wearing jeweled crowns shall deconstruct assumptions we hold dear to prove that ocean waves know how hearts feel. Dispersed by humble wind of bitter fame, our tight-knit tribe of honest carpenters sails ships of sorrow to the Promised Land where we build empire of the nuclear bomb that causes lizard of the sunless sea to rise as Godzilla, new god of Earth. Each Sunday at flash of the rising sun we gather on the ocean shore of faith to sing hymns to fierce monster of the deep till hungry dinosaur evolves its form to clucking chicken that provides fresh eggs we eat for breakfast with orange juice and toast. If I succeed in program of respect to readjust perception of my brain, I may see face of God in silver clouds that glimmer with divine agility which emanates from every human heart so we become the God we strive to be.
Embodied Monster Of Fear
Embodied Monster Of Fear © Surazeus 2026 09 19 Rain falls on head of every conscious soul who wanders maze of dreams on spinning globe alike with bland indifference of fate so all our love and hate dissolve to tears when we seek shelter under apple trees till we transform into angels of light. Because the moon howls at my aching heart with laughter that would banish from my mind mute agony at haunting doom of death, I camouflage my fear with helpless love that transforms into courage of despair as I glide cautiously in shadowed woods. Strange visions of ancestral memories flash bright in cold awareness of my brain as pattern that guides how I might perform evasive actions of attentive care to preserve structure of my pulsing soul when I face embodied monster of fear. Alert to sudden danger of fierce death, I fight against aggressive grasp of rage through lithe evasion of destructive strikes when I oppose demonic arrogance and kill the monster with intense respect as stark necessity to preserve life. Awake with effervescent nonchalance at hard-won victory against hungry rage, I mediate on hillock by the sea to feel soft murmur of star-sparkling waves soothe aching horror of my wounded heart so I bloom bright in shadowland of faith. If water lily in black lake of fear unclocks time back to primal state of faith, I may achieve secure respect of fame that curses my frail soul with ardent hope, which all disperse to meaningless unthought when I build temples from bones of dead gods. White sheet of wisdom on taut wire of faith escapes my back yard on angelic wings and flies to crystal palace where God plays harp of eternal truth that weaves my brain with memories of survival against death, programmed by my ancestors to be me. If I hear you call me in fog of dawn, I will turn mask of my psychotic ghost to answer your inquiry with bright smile for we are brave companions on the road of progress bound with loyal sign of love to translate song of rain to earnest poems.
Grand Temple Of Apollo
Grand Temple Of Apollo © Surazeus 2026 09 19 Resounding sorrow of silent sea waves vibrates from engines in one million cars so wingless angels rise from flashing screens to gather close in crowd of broken hearts around Temple of Apollo that glows on eastern bank of the Potomac River. King Midas with his gang of greedy thieves attempts to smash with hammers of contempt glorious temple of that shining god, bright-eyed Apollo of the Emerald Isle, who wrestled Python of demonic hate to save Earth from dire nuclear holocaust. Emerging alarmed from cave of illusions, Minerva leads with Lamp of Liberty the reverent people of America to save Temple of Apollo from harm, and stands with Sword of Justice in her hand to guard grand Hall of Muses from his greed. When brave Apollo, reckless warrior, sailed Argo far across Marawa Sea to stop cruel demon Otakemaru on his wild rampage to destroy the world, that monster smashed his ship with spear of hate, but he clung to his lyre with ardent heart. Helped by Nareau, star-eyed spider of truth, swift Pegasus swooped down from clouds of hope and bore Apollo safe to Helicon where Aphrodite healed wound of his heart, then wise Minerva crowned him King of Earth for saving mankind from Python of hate. After jealous Pluto, snarling in rage that our beautiful sun god reigns in peace, shoots bullet of contempt from grassy knoll as he rides chariot by Tower of Books, Minerva builds marble temple of faith to preserve memory of his noble deeds. With reverence for deeds of his victory, musicians from lands all around the Earth, invited by Calliope to play, appear on stage in Temple of Apollo where they perform with solemn dignity that swells our hearts with faith in honesty. Though mad King Midas, jealous of Apollo, whose divine light shines in each honest heart, fumes in rage that we worship that sun god as representative of our great spirit, we will remember beauty of his song that glows from lush land of America.
Wander With Bohemian Heart
Wander With Bohemian Heart © Surazeus 2026 09 19 Now that we have, for eighty stringent years, passed our souls through the thousand darknesses of death-bringing talk by oppressive thieves, we sing again with radioactive faith by leaping on Icarian wings of joy to fall with grace of humble dignity. With analytic pliers of respect, which I forged from contempt for trickery, I sing about the tragic fate of men who live by principles of honesty so I may wander with Bohemian heart as minstrel transgressing borders of words. Still stranded in imperium of the past, lost immigrants from many diverse lands dwell peacefully as one great tribe of souls within expansive paradise of love, so many languages of babbling hope merge into universal tongue of faith. We shall not mortgage time without death-pledge against collapse of social boundaries which trap our bodies in addressless homes in vast suburban maze of fear-locked doors where endless saga of death from despair beats against windows that frame flashing trees. When tyrant in crumbling castle of pride obliterates borders of social rules, he tries to absorb dramas of our lives from family home to prison of the state when he preaches sermon of our great land through faceless voice on the harsh radio. Annexed to system of the social game, brave sovereignty of my body is bound by legal liens of state identity when grim enforcers of cruel tyranny violate personal space of wounded hearts through psychic domination of contempt. Though libertarian impulse of our minds are all assimilated in grand state, ruled by huge invisible cloud god who wields nuclear missiles as thunderbolts, we hide as blind ghosts in our House of Being, shrouded by smoke of never-spoken words. Obsessive guilt of my heart-tortured tongue transforms into fierce dragon of respect escaping murky pool of wordless rage when bitter tyrant strutting in contempt destroys grand temple of the shining god whose ghost fades into stark light of the moon.
Friday, September 18, 2026
Atomic Flash Of Being
Atomic Flash Of Being © Surazeus 2026 09 18 Awake from mindless dream before my birth, I sing to beam atomic flash of being that spirals wide as halo of sunlight around frail shell of my god-conscious brain, so I walk humming in lush field of flowers where wingless angels dwell in crystal towers. My sponge brain, forged by hungry waves of light, floats high on vast continuum of love, though tangled with taut tendrils of despair, so I write formulas of faith in sand, then dance as seething mass of molecules, intense with passion of vast galaxies. Dressed in white gown of holy innocence, young woman glides with graceful elegance in rain-wet field of flowers that bloom thick from corpses of ten thousand warriors whose ghosts flock round her on gossamer wings when she recites their names with gentle smile. She loves the lake of eyes that glimmer gold through eerie glory of the silver moon with aching sorrow of her bitter heart that longs for ghost of her love to return though he has vanished in mute swirls of dust, yet sighs escape her heart as melodies. Her song lures me through angel-haunted hills because I beam atomic flash of being contained behind my grotesque mask of faith that shocks sad wanderers with secret truth designed to guide our feet to welcome halls where Death waits for us all with bloody wing. Amazed at shocking beauty of this world, she holds her breath in timeless ecstasy while hummingbird of frantic fantasy floats just before her face on beating wings that slow down to unclock eternity so we become one mind of tender love. Unlike concern for fraught ontology contained in pulsing seeds of energy, our bodies, which are molecule machines, urge us to hunt in battle to consume organic bodies of innocent souls that writhe in agony on flames of faith. Expanding scope of pungent ardency contains vast multitudes of buzzing souls who each feel glow of God inside their minds so we loop threads of stellar fervency through hollow hearts to balance ballet pride that blossoms from atomic flash of being.
Feast of Apple Hope
Feast of Apple Hope © Surazeus 2026 09 18 When the gray sky tells her she is not real, Rayanne explains to Brownie in the hearth that our brains are molecular machines which temporarily glow with conscious soul who feels they are immortal from old dreams programmed by our ancestors in our genes. When the gold sunrays tell her she is real, Rayanne invites everybody she knows to come and share her apple feast of hope, but sits alone at table in the glade till they appear as ravens from the moon and mock her with sly laughter of the doomed. When the blue raindrops of arrogant faith spark life again in mud-corpse of her mind, Rayanne walks to the forest pool of ghosts where sad Narcissus weeps with longing ache for Echo to return again from Hell, so she walks to Helicon with his mask. When the purple mountain majesties bulge enormously against skin of her breast, Rayanne learns to sing through dream synthesis based on recursive process of desire that links sounds to concepts when she invents language for wingless angels to trick death. When the white lightning strike her mirror eyes with endless visions of atomic swirls, Rayanne replaces her young childhood self with new mature self forged by suffering that crowns her World Goddess of Liberty who leads the People against tyranny. When the red code of socialist ideal resurrects hippie Jesus from the dead, Rayanne campaigns to reign as President with scepter of Ishtar in her right hand though Mary Magdalene wins far more votes, so she kisses Hansel while Gretel laughs. When the black cloud of spiritual concern deconstructs religious world view of faith, Rayanne designs new dream puzzle of truth from scientific formulas of facts that better help us navigate the world so we build Heaven from ruins of Hell. When the green tree weaves sparkle of her soul in matrix of our cosmic tapestry, Rayanne performs role her heart executes so brave love initiates kintsugi-weave that generates new god soul in her womb who is born as her wild unruly son.
Wordless Wind Of Why
Wordless Wind Of Why © Surazeus 2026 09 18 To invest in emotional regrowth when flocks of ravens search for tree of faith, I follow river-flow of innocence to understand abandonment by wind each morning I cross vast liminal space to hide my soul with temporary face. To listen to the dreams of birds at dawn before sunlight reveals grave of my heart, I ponder why I wanted to be born through brave attention of romantic hope that drives our bodies to generate life in struggle to transcend mute nothingness. To live as reaper and sower of truth by cultivating myths from dreams of gods, I pray through clumsy strife against despair to laugh and cry through cycle of rebirth till I float blind in grief of pleasant joy that morphs my body to symbol of faith. To swell beyond limits of time and space on frantic wings of fierce angelic lust, I build small church of stone on river shore to shelter homeless refugees from war who gather for the Feast of Apple Hope in shining presence of the eyeless sun. To analyze the fall of Icarus who wears the broken mask of Lucifer, I calculate new route through maze of Hell to gather treasures from tombs of dead gods which I deliver to the Queen of Life who reigns on ziggurat of singing skulls. To sail away from hills of Ithaca long after endless journey to my home, I study constellations of the heart providing safe road to the Promised Land where old bearded man by the Burning Bush insists Jehovah speaks in flames of awe. To redesign view of our universe that represents its true reality, we hang out in lush field of confused ghosts with pamphlets that explain the Afterlife because our conscious sense of Special Self will vanish in the wordless wind of why. To become one with Infinite Eye of Light that beams through every atom of my soul, I swim in sea of demons to explore uncanny wisdom of subconscious realms where all my ancestors dream in my cells so I remember evolving through love.
Thursday, September 17, 2026
Eyeless Clock Of Wisdom
Eyeless Clock Of Wisdom © Surazeus 2026 09 17 At the glass piano she finds his ghost alphabets of unattainable faith expressing by wild finger-dance to trace through writhing matrix of their pristine minds cluttered junk of dreams he discards with hope that eyeless clock of wisdom will teach why. Yet backward up reversed play they regress, alert to scams of mocking telephones by sorrow undeterred since twist of fate considers why fools gamble treasures lost since they decide to question with soft voice how eyeless clock of wisdom knows their names. Startled when Minerva opens his door, Isaiah hides half-finished scroll of prophecies behind his back while cheeks blush apple-red, so she grins softly with adoring glance at lily in his tweed jacket lapel since eyeless clock of wisdom chimes their love. Noting how lily of his heart blooms white to preserve one galaxy in its grail, Minerva weighs his brain on scale of faith, then gives him pair of scissors as her gift to celebrate his birthday before dawn when eyeless clock of wisdom reshapes time. Once Isaiah and Minerva accept bonds of love weave their lonely souls in one, they stroll together to the grocery store where she buys new piano keys of fate so he can play Starlight Sonata Eight which eyeless clock of wisdom still records. Shocked by delusions of the hungry crowd who wait for Jupiter in quick starship, because he promised to return to Earth and found new kingdom of the laughing crow, Minerva gives Isaiah harp of gold though eyeless clock of wisdom puffs the flame. When strange song of the nightingale transfers psychic code, advertised by human brains, to computer banks of authorized truth, Minerva wanders in garden of skulls where fairies dance around the fountain pool till eyeless clock of wisdom burns their wings. Hired as political analyst by Zeus to prophesy fall of America, Isaiah runs through twisting maze of myths till he finds Jesus on the motorbike, ready to broadcast his late evening show, if eyeless clock of wisdom programs hope.
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