Star-World Of Your Eyes

Star-World Of Your Eyes
© Surazeus
2024 05 02

When I look deep in star-world of your eyes 
I feel vibrant essence of how you feel, 
so I sail bark of my aspirant heart 
across wild wordless sea of arduous faith 
to find safe haven of your precious heart 
on quest to bring you treasure of your hope. 

Shipwrecked on island of confusing thoughts, 
I crawl jagged rocks of uncertainty, 
pummeled by passionate waves of desire 
that toss me back and forth on angry fear 
till you throw rope of considerate love 
so I can transcend high cliff of despair. 

Lured forward by dulcet tone of your voice 
that flutters in dark forest of concern, 
I follow Mercurian wail of lost faith 
to blaze new trail in tangled vines of lust 
each time I pause to listen with clear trust 
till I find you by pool of eager love. 

Asserting purpose of romantic hope, 
I climb from sea strand of uncertain waves, 
through shadowy forest of mocking doubt, 
to climb steep trail of surreptitious clues 
that hint at your clandestine hope for love 
which motivates my quest to find your grove. 

Approaching covert gate of paradise 
with furtive foray of agile pursuit, 
I pluck sharp thorn of anguish from my heart, 
long forged by flames of passion with design 
from painful bane to key of honest faith 
to open locked doors of your secret soul. 

By giving treasures of my heart to you 
without expecting any in return 
through careful attention to all your needs, 
which I provide with calm alacrity, 
I hope to open fear-locked heart with love 
in tune with bold sincerity of truth. 

Yet when I penetrate grove of your heart 
and find myself in walls of your safe home, 
I hesitate for fear of hurting you, 
till gaze of starlight from your gentle eyes 
fills me with soothing calm of ecstasy 
so I relax at harbinger of trust. 

I look all day in star-world of your eyes 
with bold security of honest trust 
that you accept love beaming from my heart 
because you bloom with smiles of laughing joy 
when we together tend fruit trees of faith, 
and generate new life with kiss of hope. 

Bodies Of The Innocent

Bodies Of The Innocent
© Surazeus
2024 05 02

Gray reality of the pristine mind, 
encoded in fairy tales of the blind, 
present strange world I do not recognize 
on television screen of spider eyes, 
so I walk nowhere on the signless road 
to map new universe of the God Toad. 

When students gather on the college quad, 
declaring mission of the Justice Squad 
to protest genocide in distant lands 
with mottoes on signs in their feisty hands, 
the three-eyed jester of the holy book 
walks desert waste land to find the soul hook. 

Since people in the small refugee state, 
surrounded by huge nations seething hate, 
fight to preserve their lives against attack 
by killing, their actions incite harsh flack 
bursting in fireworks of aggressive hope, 
inspired by tales of those who learn to cope. 

Old bearded prophet at the pearly gates 
hesitates in sermon against cruel Fates, 
and stares at bodies of the innocent 
on both sides massacred by accident, 
then calls for coming of messiah sleuth 
whose will could unite both sides with hard truth. 

But, like Cassandra warning of world war, 
he finds his words ignored behind locked door, 
though he wanders the busy avenue 
mumbling insights from his global world view 
where he hopes for new cultural rebirth 
that nurtures United Nations of Earth. 

Rather than perform role in rites of fame 
that traps his spirit in stereotyped name, 
the half-blind bard, who maps world history 
in cave of dreams, codes the illusory 
with riddles that conceal fate of the world 
till second coming of the cosmic herald. 

Though rival nations fighting over land 
kill each other with tyrannical hand, 
their children marry and produce new tribe 
who lives together with communal vibe 
once new messiah unites their world views, 
inspired by love of the heaven-born Muse. 

World empires rise and fall in waves of power, 
designed and controlled by ghost in the tower, 
but lovers always share romantic tryst 
by apple tree where Adam and Eve kissed 
till Lilith drove them out of paradise 
to conjure new myth of self-sacrifice. 

Forum Of The Dead

Forum Of The Dead
© Surazeus
2024 05 01

Wet in the windy meadows of blind stars, 
weird warrior wearing feathers of the crow 
explores deep valley of the laughing cow 
to crown smiling corpses of enemies 
with thorny wreaths of coiled blackberry vines, 
then preaches jokes in forum of the dead. 

White horse of mist with eyes of burning coal 
drifts over midnight Earth with happy hope 
to find typewriter of the holy fish 
that walks on robot legs of arrogance 
because he earned the highest score of all 
while carving masks in forum of the dead. 

Absurd conception of fake metaphors 
conceals strange riddle of the mocking clown 
who walks in glass cathedral without pride 
to aim assault rifle at the sad ghost 
who teaches children how to program code 
while dancing nude in forum of the dead. 

Disturbed by calm reflection of locked doors, 
wired with copper circuits of blind instinct, 
the summer fairy wearing silk chemise 
drives army tank in scarlet poppy field 
to weep for fallen angel in the pool 
who would play chess in forum of the dead. 

Excessive bravery of the loyal son 
who waves false flags of dire conspiracies 
declares his vote for tyrant in the tower 
who presents himself savior of the world 
though he is hollow idol of fake gold 
who steals my crowns in forum of the dead. 

When corpses of brave soldiers in the field 
rise from plastic tomb of the unknown knight, 
old proud commanders of the ocean fleet 
proclaim new revolution of the kind 
who pray for King Jesus to rule the Earth 
though he is stuck in forum of the dead. 

To play our game of world war with pizzazz 
we draw new borders for our nation-states 
on grade school maps taped to the cement wall 
where Ozymandias orders each attack 
in secret control center of his greed, 
hidden deep beneath forum of the dead. 

Ark of the Covenant cracks on the ground 
when priestly bearers wearing long white robes 
are shot by bullets of the angry king 
who fires ten thousand rockets at the moon 
so he can build grand villa on the beach 
where Jonah fasts by forum of the dead. 

We Decide Our Fate

We Decide Our Fate
© Surazeus
2024 05 01

The Liberty we gain as human beings 
through the cognitive function of our brains, 
which analyze things we perceive as ideas, 
provides freedom of our hope-driven minds 
to experience wide range of psychic states 
so we choose to become angels or demons. 

Though we are bound to matrix of this world 
as quick organic entities of atoms, 
constrained by physical laws of proaction, 
we might exercise strict freedom of choice 
once we understand wide variable range 
of possible actions we can perform. 

Our universe of stars and worlds is formed 
of atoms swerving in the boundless void, 
which congregate into quick molecules, 
so chemicals compose organic beings 
whose brains dream virtual model of the world  
as they seek how to generate new life. 

Our universe is vast structure of atoms 
woven by electrons in rings of power 
that spiral into coils of active genes 
which bloom into bodies of conscious beings 
who see process of action and reaction 
which construct or destruct structures of things. 

Though physical laws of nature define 
how chemicals construct and destruct things 
with patterns that control how matter flows, 
we can steer journey our bodies enforce 
to slightly evade predetermined fate 
through free choice to swerve along way of change. 

Through measurement of form-exploring minds 
we can perceive commensurate designs 
which we organize with linguistic code 
in categories of mental ideas 
to program language of conceptual thoughts 
allowing our souls to communicate. 

Once we know well how our bodies evolve 
four hundred million years of love from fish 
to newt to mouse to cat to ape to human, 
we can transcend with vision of world view, 
as wingless angels striving to become god, 
through freedom to create and not destroy. 

Through Liberty of mental comprehension, 
with minds open to wide varieties 
of possible experiences, our souls 
may bloom as creative angels of love 
or wither as greedy demons of hate, 
so through our choices we decide our fate. 

Return To Lost Fatherland

Return To Lost Fatherland
© Surazeus
2024 04 30

Floating in deep purple calm of the sea, 
after wild waves stirred by turbulent winds 
capsized fragile bark of his zealous soul, 
Faunus gazes entranced at golden eye 
that shimmers bright with silent gleam of faith, 
then thrashes arms to swim up from dark deep. 

Gasping for air of the infinite sky 
with desperate purpose to reach solid ground, 
Faunus swims over wind-frothed waves of hope 
with frantic intention to evade death, 
that grabs his legs with cold demonic hands, 
by leaping like the dolphin with each breath. 

Stumbling onto broad beach of shifting sand 
that glistens under cliffs of tangled vines 
while gasping with laborious breath of despair, 
Faunus pauses on shore of the misty isle 
where plovers skitter past turtles and crabs, 
and gazes back at the turbulent sea.  

Falling to his knees as he coughs seawater 
and pulls strands of seaweed tangling his hair, 
Faunus stares bleakly at the hungry sea 
and shudders with horror at memory 
of almost drowning from shipwreck of fear, 
amazed he survived stark passage in hell. 

Soaring up high on contemplative wings 
with gulls that glide above dark heavy world, 
Faunus recalls with sharp nostalgic pain 
garden of fruit trees with finches and deer, 
where he played chase with friends in evening dusk, 
then ate fruit while bards sang heroic tales. 

Vowing to return to lost Fatherland 
after years fighting harsh wars far from home, 
Faunus lurches to his feet with fierce grunt, 
then hobbles slowly across the waste land, 
trudging over the roadless plain of faith 
toward vision of fruit groves in paradise. 

Kneeling on roadless plain cracked by mute heat 
in dizzy bewilderment of frustration, 
Faunus chats with three skulls on jagged rock, 
Achilles, Odysseus, and Aeneas, 
who sing enchanting melodies of joy 
that encourage him to continue on. 

Stumbling into grove of bare apple trees 
to kneel by almost-empty pool of tears, 
Faunus stares numb at his wife Marica 
who hugs him tight and gives him juice to drink, 
then calls their son Latinus who stands shyly 
as wild bearded man grasps his hand and cries. 

Our Bodies Blossom

Our Bodies Blossom
© Surazeus
2024 04 30

When life stirs in fertile womb of the sea 
our bodies blossom with hope of the Earth 
as she delights in how our souls evolve 
four hundred million years from eager fish 
to wingless angels singing dreams of light 
in global choir that thrills her heart with love. 

Sipping tea at glass table with her husband 
at small cafe beside the river park, 
Kathy rests hand on her belly and smiles 
with glowing pleasure to feel in her womb 
new spirit blooming from light of the world, 
and hums while watching sparrows flit in trees. 

Each new body born from mother of life 
is reincarnation, again in flesh, 
of immortal soul programmed in our genes 
that first evolved near hydrothermal vents 
from rings of carbon coiled in strands of code, 
so we have been alive since dawn of time. 

Caressing soft petals of the red rose 
that emanates sweet scent of humble joy, 
Kathy relishes strawberry parfait 
while Ha-yoon plays dreamy Moonlight Sonata 
that beams enchanting aura on the street 
as cars with gold lights gracefully glide by. 

First Mother Egg of our immortal soul, 
who spawned all forms of life that thrive today, 
still dreams in every plant and animal 
through conscious vision of atomic cells 
that pulse with primal passion of desire 
to savor joy of existing in form. 

Pondering name she will bestow on her child 
who begins to dream now inside her womb, 
Kathy whispers Kassandra or Katrina, 
but leaps to her feet in startled surprise 
when man she escaped from six years before 
aims pistol at her heart and fires a shot. 

Curling down to shield her womb with both arms 
while spinning away to roll on the ground, 
Kathy closes her eyes to hide from Death 
who leaps in front to guard his pregnant bride 
so the bullet pierces his chest instead, 
while two men tackle the man with the gun. 

Holding hands with Death who lies on the bed 
to heal from the gunshot wound to his chest, 
Kathy tearfully smiles as he opens his eyes 
and shows new-born Kassandra to her father 
who smiles with joy his wife and child are safe, 
then hums as her eyes gaze into his soul. 

Singing Angel Of Death

Singing Angel Of Death
© Surazeus
2024 04 29

I follow the amethyst butterfly 
through ghastly forest of obsolete faith 
to grotesque candor of infernal cave 
where dreams of every soul who ever lives 
flicker long scenes on television screens 
that form ommateum of the spider queen. 

Macabre alarm of the orgulous spell 
clangs loudly through excessive halls of steel 
where faceless people run in frantic haste, 
endlessly lost in changing maze of myths, 
to find grand temple of the singing skull 
that morphs into egg of the weeping witch. 

Stuck in the cold white room of nothing else, 
mouth stuffed full of pages from ancient books 
that bleed ominous words from sponge-wet brains 
which transform into golem with pearl eyes 
flashing with bewildered visions of fear, 
I wait for the singing angel of death. 

Dark shadow of my traumatizing hope 
looms over corpse of my dismembered mind 
at whistling wonder of the falling bombs 
that shatter mirror-blanked ghosts of the dead 
who linger near explosive tombs of truth 
enwrapped in wretched laughter of insight. 

Instead of wailing with gnashing of teeth 
in broken-hearted horror as you die 
from body-crushing accident of trust, 
I will sing enchanting psalm of despair 
to soothe your journey to the otherworld 
as your soul vanishes after you die. 

Through devastating awkwardness of love 
based on brutal regret of honest speech 
I climb bizarre walls of paradise lost 
to wander moonlit ruins without books 
in dreadful temple of the laughing god 
while searching for soul of America. 

Yet still glass telephone on the wall rings 
with menacing calm of insistent hope, 
so I reach out my hand across the void 
with trepidatious calm of reckless faith 
which bonds our hearts with romantic rapport 
strong enough to save our souls when we drown. 

When I find the amethyst butterfly 
slowly fanning her wings of arrogance 
on my secret Book of Life by the rose, 
I sip sweet pungent wine of holy blood 
from grail I fashioned from skull of Orpheus 
who weeps for Ophelia in lake of eyes. 

Wise Priestess Of Love

Wise Priestess Of Love
© Surazeus
2024 04 29

I like to hear the wise priestess of love 
from Enhuduanna to Taylor Swift 
sing tales about quality of bold soul 
which men perform when they guard her with love 
that stirs heart of the feminine divine 
with compassion to generate new life. 

Amen sits on the flat-top pyramid 
beneath four-pillared shelter that Ptah built, 
and offers drink and food to wanderers 
who listen as she sings enchanting hymn 
that depicts in clear visionary verse 
creation of our world from words of light. 

Inanna climbs stairs of Eanna Temple 
with large pet lion striding at her side, 
then peers into diamond sphere polished smooth 
to observe people in maze of Uruk 
who weep for death of her husband Dumuzid 
who sacrificed himself to save her life. 

Enheduanna opens arms in prayer 
before her father Sargon in feast hall 
to praise him as wise leader in the flesh 
descended from Moon God Nanna to reign 
with wisdom over cities of Akkad 
united under scepter of his power. 

Ishtar strums Lyre in Temple of Asshur 
that shimmers with lamps under the full moon, 
and sings Creation of the Universe 
to thousands of people gathered at midnight 
who drink wine brewed with honey and mushrooms 
while Tammuz stands guard with Wand of Shamash. 

Saraswati sits on stone by clear river 
where swans glide in pools as pink lilies bloom, 
and strums strings of the Veena with deft fingers 
while her husband Abrahma chants the Vedas, 
then slays Vritra, snake demon of drought, 
so water of life flows in fields of wheat. 

Athena wields hammer in temple forge 
that glows on top rocky outcrop Cecropia, 
teaching her son Erichthonius how 
to forge sword and grail from gold meteor 
that fell blazing bright from the Milky Way, 
while her brother Apollo plays the lyre. 

Kwan Yin meditates on pink lotus bloom, 
wise daughter of Avalokitesvara, 
whose pure heart perceives true sounds of the world 
on Lake of Bliss in land of Sukhavati 
while chanting verses of the Lotus Sutra 
with mercy for ten thousand sentient beings. 

Minerva rides Pegasus from walled fort 
to tend olive groves on Esquiline Hill, 
but back home she finds her husband Neptune 
kissing Medusa in their temple home, 
so she plays boxwood flute with broken heart 
and sings men must be faithful to their wives. 

Sequana rides boat to Lutetia Island, 
then rides on white hart Cernunnos leads 
to apple grove where Esus son of Iovis 
roasts beef steak on altar of sacrifice, 
so she sits on throne in grand temple hall 
where they feast and watch tale of Lucifer. 

Britannia rides wagon of six white horses 
from castle of Sarum on hill of oaks 
to temple built on pillars of Stonehenge 
where she presides at Beltane Festival 
as Fairy Queen for Isle of Avalon 
to play harp and sing history of the Earth. 

Onatah ascends flat-top pyramid 
after reviewing fields of golden corn, 
then, wearing feather headdress and long robe, 
stands before her tribe in feasting hall 
and chants Creation of the Universe 
while Hawenneyu plays heart-haunting flute. 

Every woman in history of the Earth 
who gazes up at sparkling stars of heaven, 
and sees transcendent vision of our world, 
translates insight of her analysis 
to songs that inspire our befuddled hearts 
with sacred tales of compassionate love. 

I hear their voices ringing in the stars, 
and feel their spirits in wind of the sea 
filling my body with soul of the sky 
so words of their songs inspire me with faith 
to protect sapient woman I adore 
who generates new life from our shared love. 

Though You Vanish

Though You Vanish
© Surazeus
2024 04 28

Walking alone in dark street veiled in mist, 
I dream I see silhouette of your soul, 
and I remember holding your hand 
as we strolled among trees blossoming white, 
but I fought in war to keep our land free, 
and when I returned at last you were gone. 

I call your name in grove of apple trees, 
and call your name along shore of the sea, 
but you are nothing but ghost in my eyes, 
and you are nowhere in the weeping wind, 
yet I will search for you with heart of hope 
till we embrace when I gaze in your eyes. 

I hear your voice in wind of mountain trees 
gleam bright as snow that sparkles in your eyes, 
and hear your voice in crash of ocean waves 
that carve our tale of love on jagged cliffs, 
yet who will read our tragic tale of loss 
shattered from despair of fearful mistrust. 

Walking toward you in dark street veiled in mist, 
guided by light of affectionate love 
that gleams with light of pure stars in your eyes, 
I chase rainbow silhouette of your soul 
though you vanish before I reach your heart, 
then wander lost where you have never been. 

Puzzle Of Who I

Puzzle Of Who I
© Surazeus
2024 04 27

I sing myself as nothingness of light 
for what I shall assume of my weird being 
you shall assume as atoms of world breath 
for we are fragile flames of conscious life 
that glow together on this spinning sphere, 
reborn from spirits our parents design. 

With song I celebrate humanity 
who sprouts from passion of urgent desire 
to breathe sweet fragrance of immortal hope 
which emanates from bodies of warm flesh 
and intoxicates our shy tender hearts 
so we wander in trance on ocean shore. 

Somewhere safe houses we built with our words 
distill our memories into pungent wine 
which lures our footsteps with undisguised hope 
to embrace our idols on meadow grass 
at throbbing beat of our organic hearts 
so we roll entangled in soft moonlight. 

With earnest curiosity of faith 
I reckon contours of our complex Earth 
till I possess prime origin of truth 
which filters lies from tales of travelers 
about fierce procreant urge of the world 
that drives us to seek beginning of life. 

Still caught in vortex of conceptual words, 
based on inception of romantic fear 
causing me to explore beyond the sky, 
I soon discover more about this world 
than my old mother told me in weird tales 
where countless people dwell in city maze. 

Yet perfect equanimity of things 
conceals bold silence trapped behind my mask 
so I catalog attributes of me 
that would define the cleanliness I feel 
composed of particles that bind my soul 
with stealthy tread to solid fact of space. 

Each proof of truth I try to realize 
reflects complexity of timeless force 
which I express with hearty howl of hope 
that I am not this body I contain 
yet every part of my soul aches with love 
to feel pain and pleasure of being alive. 

I celebrate this weird self you perceive 
conceived by visions of ancestral ghosts 
whose voices crackle riddles in my brain 
that flashes bright as mirror of the sky 
while I, with humble arrogance of why, 
assemble puzzle of who I must be. 

Ancient Soul Of Artemis

Ancient Soul Of Artemis
© Surazeus
2024 04 27

The young deer that pauses on my front lawn 
and stares at me while I stare back at her 
may channel ancient soul of Artemis 
to visit me with some secret to say, 
but then she shyly turns and glides away 
without acknowledging wars of mankind. 

While gangsters masked as politicians fight 
over who will control grand halls of power 
I step outside the door to my front lawn 
and search for Artemis in glowing mist, 
but she is gone to wild forest of bliss 
where she knows beautiful truth of the flower. 

Gathered on the university lawn 
to protest endless wars of genocide, 
where people kill each other over land 
before the others kill them as they play, 
the children of snow cry to the Blue Sky 
to bring justice to the children of sand. 

The eagle in the blue sky of world power 
fights the hawk over who will rule the globe 
while the raven in the oak tree of faith 
brings mushrooms to mad prophet in the cave 
who dances with illusions of the mind 
while chanting arcane spells of thought control. 

Each morning when I wake before gold dawn 
I watch the cautious deer with moon-black eyes 
patrol the world with soul of Artemis 
whose bow of justice strikes down tyranny 
as we work to preserve democracy 
with equality and justice for all. 

In cavern of illusions by the sea 
I watch vision of human history 
that displays rise and fall of world empires 
where clever men present themselves as gods 
who organize institutions of power 
in our global food-production machine. 

I want to ride spirit of Artemis 
as she glides in the sky on wings of truth 
to fight greedy tyrants in halls of power, 
who take control of rich nations in coups, 
so people of each land may cast their vote 
to choose wise leaders they want with free will. 

Yet fierce Achilles, always mad with grief, 
kills noble Hector who protects his land, 
so mobs of thieves conquer productive states, 
enslaving honest people with blind greed, 
till the cosmic herald wields wand of wisdom 
to operate United Nations of Earth. 

Sing On Every Globe

Sing On Every Globe
© Surazeus
2024 04 26

Erased from dream of Earth with flash of fire 
which transforms my body to beams of light, 
I disappear from swirl of singing life 
as nameless mask that hangs on temple wall 
where no sad singer recounts tale I lived 
while leaves of trees whisper in evening breeze. 

Reborn in frail body of chemicals 
life after life four hundred million years, 
I wake again from timeless dream of hope 
in each newly designed organic form 
to stand on ocean shore of singing stars 
and remember true name of my first soul. 

With memories of each life from birth to birth, 
all my ancestors lived from dawn of time, 
I grow more wise in knowledge of the truth 
about how we regenerate our souls 
from immortal soul of life-weaving genes 
that mold our bodies from light of the sun. 

Each face I wear as new incarnate soul 
reflects eternal spirit of the sun 
who beams unconscious power of desire 
to nourish passion of my will to live 
as I evolve fish to lizard to mouse 
to cat to monkey to human to god. 

Now I turn mirror mask of my new face 
up toward eternal beauty of Blue Sky 
where I aspire to transcend mortal frame, 
yet I know with wry laughter of respect 
that my conscious soul of self-aware mind 
is chemical function of neural cells. 

My conscious soul is function of this brain 
nurtured by chemical flash of desire 
that surges vibrant waves of aching hope 
which motivates my progress beyond fear 
across the waste land of terrible truth 
to build garden of fruit trees by the lake. 

After First Mother rose from sea of dreams 
she generated children from her love 
who multiply into billions of souls 
now forming nation-states around the Earth 
forever fighting to control rich land 
in endless world wars of kill or be killed. 

I take no sides in regional conflicts 
for we are all children of Mother Earth, 
so I weep for every human being killed 
while rivers flow and fruits ripen on trees 
and stars twinkle on their own fruitful worlds 
where I will wake and sing on every globe. 

Weird Beauty Of Life

Weird Beauty Of Life
© Surazeus
2024 04 26

When I see world of ever-changing forms 
by light of that different necessity 
which reframes story of how we survive, 
I sing old tale of heroic deeds new 
to metal ears of those indifferent cars 
that pass by on their way to grave of dreams. 

Because I felt no comfort of warm light 
that ancient gods radiated on mankind, 
I never feel bleak absence of their being 
when they desert the world of nation-states 
that teem with greedy gangs of hungry men 
who declare their leader immortal god. 

I feel no dread of punishment in Hell, 
nor hope for rapture from volatile states 
to dwell in Heaven of conflictless peace 
where I would play gold lyre of Mercury 
to sing of noble souls who perform deeds 
of selfless sacrifice to save the weak. 

Alone on ship of state in moonlight glow, 
as Argonaut who seeks treasure of truth, 
I gaze at seething waves of timeless love 
modulated by calm atomic force 
of glaciers melting from high mountain peaks 
through dynamic motions of eager hope. 

Intense aggression of wild ocean swells, 
that carve their songs on jagged rocky shores, 
tutor my heart to perceive unity 
of natural forces nominating Earth 
with spiritual formulas of strange truth 
which vex my frail heart with respect for death. 

Entranced by vision of the faceless sun 
as spider with ommateum that sees 
my single soul in billions of live souls, 
I perceive facets of reality 
outside collective scope of wordless faith 
that all compose one god-eyed view of truth. 

To measure stippled outline of my mind 
refracting many images of truth, 
I walk one hundred times around the Earth 
to dance with glee on highest mountain peaks 
and swim with joy in deepest ocean vales 
till I become nameless ghost of the world. 

With evanescent reason of bold faith 
I map conceptual patterns of ideas 
that spiral into radiant galaxies 
where countless planets nurture conscious life 
who all sing in harmony as one choir 
hymns rejoicing in weird beauty of life. 

Agony Of Truth I Sing

Agony Of Truth I Sing
© Surazeus
2024 04 26

With agony of hope stuck in my throat 
I interpret riddles of silent rain 
that reveal sad strangeness of growing old 
far from bright valley of my spirit birth 
where birds still contest over space in trees 
with songs too beautiful for me to sing. 

Remaining with me over centuries 
of exploration beyond far hills of mist, 
their cheerful songs of territorial lust 
frame how my mind perceives social events 
contrived by proud mavens of thought control 
where I feed ideology through hope. 

If I have traveled far enough away 
from familiar venue of youth home life 
I may not feel as sharp the pain of loss 
when people of my family I respect 
pass from this world into blank nothingness 
so grief my mother felt would not be mine. 

When she was struck with agonizing grief, 
after her mother and my father died, 
my heart was blasted with heat of her pain 
so I had to walk way from despair 
and travel far from valley of my birth 
to find safe haven of protective faith. 

No more stuck in strict dutiful routine, 
performing rituals of survival day 
after day to evade anguish of death, 
I roam with freedom from accomplishment 
through indolent curiosity to research 
strange beauty of this world outside my mind. 

Wandering in ruins of abbey stone walls 
to gather berries and nuts for lone meal 
in grove of trees where birds discuss desire, 
I pursue self-communion with my soul 
through mighty heart of transcendental mood, 
till I mitigate misery of my mind. 

With pensive restlessness of silent faith, 
which I design from patterns of sunlight, 
I make deserted wood my lonesome home 
while wounds of sorrow festering in my heart 
are healed by beauty of birth and decay 
that fuel sweet aura through my solitude. 

Alone in oneness of Nature and Death, 
I no longer need to identify 
myself as white female of Scottish blood, 
for now in wildness of high rugged hills 
I am but human struggling to survive 
by savoring agony of truth I sing. 

Calm Of The Stoic Fool

Calm Of The Stoic Fool
© Surazeus
2024 04 25

I respect with calm of the stoic fool 
agony of existence we endure 
for passion of this body we inhabit 
fuels our journey across waste land of fear 
on endless quest to find the Promised Land 
where we tend apple trees with cautious hands. 

Stumbling home to small village of his birth, 
Gubazes falls to his knees by the well 
and gulps sweet water from bucket of oak 
as friends and family gather around 
to express shock at sight of his bruised face 
till he lies gasping under apple tree. 

Running from loom where she weaves tapestry 
that depicts Jesus saving humankind, 
his mother embraces him as she weeps, 
then leads him to feasting hall by the hearth 
where he drinks juice she pours into his cup, 
and caresses his arm as he eats steak. 

Ten years ago when I left with my father, 
hauling wagons full of minerals we mined, 
we were ambushed in narrow mountain pass 
and though he fought with bravery he was killed, 
and I was sold to slave as janitor 
in court of Justinian in Byzantium. 

Escaping maze of golden mirrored halls, 
I fled into rugged mountain waste land 
where Thustra, wizard dwelling in deep hell, 
taught me how to forge metal into swords, 
so I labored in cavern of illusions 
transforming despair into beams of light. 

While searching deep in labyrinth of gems 
I found enormous egg of spottled stars, 
so I warmed its heart with flames of the Earth, 
and from its shell rose red dragon with eyes 
that blaze bright gold as sun that gives us life 
which leaped from my heart to destroy the world. 

Weeping bitter tears for child of my heart, 
whose life I nourished with blood of my soul, 
I notched in bow I carved from taut Yew bough 
arrow of justice tipped with gem of truth 
and fired it straight into heart of my dragon 
who fell wounded into my trembling arms. 

Placing both hands on shoulders of her son, 
Valeriana proclaims for all to hear, 
God has appointed you, my noble son, 
with power to unite our oppressed land, 
so I crown you new King of Lazica 
destined to lead our nation to victory. 

Person Who Dreams

Person Who Dreams
© Surazeus
2024 04 25

The person is walking along the street 
past houses nestled among wind-blown trees 
that could be in any city on Earth, 
for this person who breathes life in the flesh 
is every person who has ever lived, 
and every name ever spoken is theirs. 

The person looks at leaves fluttering on trees 
and feels eternal beauty of the sun 
that blooms in every tree that ever blooms 
in every meadow beside every lake 
filled by every river that ever flows 
where they walk along every road of hope. 

The person looks at white clouds in blue sky 
that gather water from oceans of faith 
which they scatter as rain on every hill 
where people gather in light of the moon 
to prepare meals from the bountiful woods 
then feast and share every tale ever dreamed. 

The person who stands on our spinning sphere 
is me who gazes at the world with eyes 
that beam rays of light into my brain cells 
which organize their colors into shapes 
based on ideas my thoughts categorize 
to conjure virtual model of the real world. 

The person who perceives the world of forms 
is you who ponders what is real or not 
by expressing concepts in sentient sounds 
that convey vision of that world you see 
which indicates to others how you feel 
so you accept the fruit I offer you. 

The person who dreams the world we perceive 
is us who tell each other how we feel 
by inventing language that distorts the truth 
to conform to state ideologies 
prophets design to control our rogue minds 
when we enforce our right to live and eat. 

The person is standing on the hill top 
and painting image with wet globs on wood 
that represents the world our eyes perceive 
where organic forms made of chemicals 
interact through romantic tragedies 
in games that determine who breeds with whom. 

The person who plays lyre of Mercury 
sings ballad about daughter of Apollo 
who falls in love with son of Lucifer 
so they run away to build paradise 
where they raise children in Garden of Eden 
who sell apples in the market of hope. 

Woman With No Door

Woman With No Door
© Surazeus
2024 04 24

While Ruth strolls slowly in gold field of wheat, 
caressing wispy stalks of hopeful light, 
Tiresias films her progress toward her goal 
to generate life from the timeless soul 
who gleams in coils of genes inside her mind 
based on prototype first mother designed. 

Three men in black robes with fear-sharpened blades 
follow young woman where she blithely glides 
with intent to control her sacred womb 
that generates bodies for the hungry tomb, 
but pause to watch her sing with cheerful birds 
transforming sorrow into charming words. 

White raven in tall oak on river shore 
calls to the lonely woman with no door 
who hears strange secret in his riddled code 
that reveals method of the signless road 
which she could follow to escape despair, 
but she decides she must not really care. 

More beautiful now than Helen of Troy, 
from casual regard for the clever ploy, 
Ruth stands with sad grace on heavenly walls 
overlooking empire of empty halls 
where mirrors reflect faces of the dead 
who return from Heaven with wings of lead. 

Though Ruth decides her strength resides in faith 
derived from prophecies of the blind wraith, 
who writhes like smoke from pages of old books, 
she manages daily routine of cooks 
preparing feasts in temple of the god 
who directs missions of his justice squad. 

Too young to know why men employ brute force 
to misdirect intention of the course, 
Ruth turns back from cliff edge of the abyss 
in vain search to find out why humans miss 
essential clues to how we choose to live 
in restless religion of take and give. 

When she abandons life on the wheat farm 
to dwell in city of rebellious charm, 
Ruth dances with hippies in river park 
where she falls in love with the long-haired lark 
who plays guitar before the National Guard 
though Fate deals to him the Hanging Man card. 

With child born from their sweet romantic tryst 
same hour as the Apollo rocket blast, 
Ruth wanders lost on Desolation Row 
to find out where all the mad jesters go, 
then finds job in the factory sewing clothes 
where she silently composes dream odes. 

Fate Of Religious Ways

Fate Of Religious Ways
© Surazeus
2024 04 24

Fractured windows of the abandoned house 
reveal in swirling snow of frosted eyes 
soft faceless voices of convenient wells, 
and shadows torn from books of lonely tales 
that fail to praise fate of religious ways 
as if our bodies stumble on the loose. 

Bright yellow flowers of the rain-wet field 
that spew conceptual poison of despair 
attract naive butterflies of honesty 
who dance in fragile hope of ecstasy 
above smooth shining roof of the fast car 
that takes us to empty church of the failed. 

Long rows of houses on curved suburb roads 
entomb our treacled fantasy of faith 
concerning venomous beasts of the book 
that teaches young wives how to bake the cake 
so homeless people pay to come and look 
with access to swamp temple of mad toads. 

Old woman with her long hair drawn out tight 
photographs bats crawling on blackened wall 
to disprove reproof of long-silent bells 
which still distort the hours with silent tolls 
when ghosts in empty cisterns climb the hill 
to play chess with the puppet of moonlight. 

More bodies dug from graves of swirling sand 
leave dry bones rattling on our kitchen shelves 
who whisper stories of arrogant hope 
because the price of freedom is too steep 
though rain waits on the streets of angry calves 
herded by the oak clown with curious mind. 

Falling towers in cities of mad kings 
who once controlled vast empires of dream slaves 
radiate soft glow of unreal consciousness 
confusing people who try to buy bliss 
based on decay of truth from smoking stoves 
since the sad jester protests social wrongs. 

Wind under the door from riddles of bones 
leads homeless refugees from land-grab wars 
to search for eyes of pearls in shallow seas 
where drowned men clutch with fear at greedy keys 
designed to open academic doors 
where robots study secrets of lost runes. 

Huddled in torn tent on the river shore, 
Tiresias asks the turtle with gold eyes 
if he can purchase stocks in companies 
that finance wars for building colonies, 
then rattles tin can of bones to call spies 
who dwell in abandoned house of the star. 

Choir Of Singing Souls

Choir Of Singing Souls
© Surazeus
2024 04 23

Since poets are gardeners and poems are seeds 
we scatter our dreams in dark soil of hope 
where some will bloom into songs we all share 
while others vanish in the silent void, 
yet still we generate poems from our hearts 
and fling them into wind of hapless fate. 

Since poems are pollen and poets are bees 
we visit hearts of fellow troubadours 
to cross-pollinate visions of our minds 
with rich conceptual patterns of ideas 
which fertilize our whole imaginations 
transforming memories into virtual worlds. 

When vision of the world our eyes perceive 
blooms bright as flowers in soil of our mind 
we weave weird sentences of thoughtful words 
to beam that vision in song of the truth 
so others may understand what we see 
and thus communicate in riddling spells. 

So breathe deep spirit of the dreamless sky 
and with intense passion of faithful love 
express that vision of life you perceive 
to join our global choir of singing souls 
to weave one grand religious epic tale 
reflecting light in mirror of our eyes. 

Free In Paradise

Free In Paradise
© Surazeus
2024 04 23

Strumming lyre of Mercury as he weeps, 
Orpheus sings in garden of tall trees 
where people fill baskets with ripe fruit 
while angels in long white robes with sharp swords 
patrol high granite walls of paradise 
to make sure nobody escapes from Heaven. 

Noting that guardian angels in watch towers 
seem enchanted by music of his voice, 
Orpheus nods at Helius and Phoebus 
who climb to top of the two tallest trees 
where he hid bows and arrows in the night, 
then aim sharp attention at drowsy guards. 

As they shoot arrows that soar silently 
and pierce hearts of guardian angels with stealth, 
Orpheus leaps on high stone of contempt 
and shouts with jaunty laughter to distract 
attention of Jehovah from his friends 
who gasps in shock as angels fall in death. 

Facing each other with tense arrogance, 
Orpheus and Jehovah leap to fight 
in hand to hand combat of graceful dance, 
punching and blocking with strict-gestured strikes, 
till Orpheus somersaults on hawk wings 
and cracks skull of Jehovah with his lyre. 

While Orpheus and Jehovah contest 
in brutal fight for power over Heaven, 
Helius and Phoebus leap to the ground 
to protect women and children in groves 
when angels swarm to arrest their rebellion, 
two noble men fighting fierce cherubim. 

Snatching thick branch he breaks from apple tree, 
Helius twirls to fight ten angels with grace 
till they thrust swords into his beating heart, 
and Phoebus hurls stones with noble intent 
to crush their skulls till one runs up behind 
and whacks off his head with swipe of his sword. 

Defeating Jehovah and angel guards 
through rebellion against his tyranny, 
Orpheus and people in paradise 
cheer for their victory against slavery, 
then secure Heaven by appointing guards 
who wield swords of dead angels to keep watch. 

Sitting on throne where Jehovah once reigned, 
Orpheus plays lyre of Mercury and sings 
hymns to valiant heroes, Helius and Phoebus, 
who sacrificed their lives for liberty, 
and fought with love to set our people free, 
while they feast and sing, free in paradise.