Unhurried Horror Of Hope

Unhurried Horror Of Hope
© Surazeus
2025 12 06

Perhaps I shall receive moment of grace 
that reconciles assertiveness of faith 
with tragic nature of our universe 
where people striving to create with love 
suffer from disaster, disease, and war, 
bodies torn from minds shattered by despair. 

When I align instruments of dream sense 
in good order through discipline of thought 
to arrange weird concepts of mental dance, 
I lie on high oriel of desire 
beneath obstructing walls of paradise 
to sleep with murdered ghosts of my regret. 

Despite myopic focus of my mind 
on sensuous craquelures of innocence 
that fracture classic landscapes of my heart, 
I choose to perform florescence of faith 
beneath gloom-swirling nimbus of concern 
from which sprouts haughtiness of cautious hope. 

Based on vital reputation of trust, 
constrained by civil privacy of fear, 
I excuse schizophrenic ardency 
with revelation of sordid mind-chase 
that might replace honor of appetites 
disremembered by visitors who vote. 

Soft hints of potent threats from promised pride 
routinely uplift bruised hearts from despair, 
brilliant with unhurried horror of hope, 
to found global democracy on trust, 
except for those blinded by images 
of cardboard ghosts in birdhouse by the church. 

Yet scarlet flower petal in black hair 
of my shy bride reveals her character 
of precious attention to chiming prayers 
that soothe aching hearts on cold winter nights 
with ample whispers of unspoken love 
encoded in songs on the radio. 

Still trapped in narrow street of broken doors, 
down which unwintered winds of magic eyes 
could channel progress of still-changing times, 
we walk beside ancient river of skulls 
to navigate expansive chart of creeds 
in frantic passage beyond holy halls. 

Wearing black cloak in library of dreams, 
Breanna gazes in large crystal ball 
to watch first flash of the big bang flare forth 
in swirls of galaxies where planets bloom 
with organic creatures who strive to grow 
as wingless angels who sing memories. 

Expansion Certified By Gods

Expansion Certified By Gods
© Surazeus
2025 12 06

Fences erected between lonely homes, 
with good intentions of loyal respect, 
always begin to decay in mute rain 
with steady surprise of aggressive joy 
that erodes social bonds of kind exchange 
through gentle words that fray with grim contempt. 

Still faceless shadows of strangers appear 
through leafless trees of hibernal desire 
where stories we share in putrescent hope 
molder sweet as mushrooms after cold rain 
despite how our relationships degrade 
from withering words of spoiled innocence. 

Assertive atrophy of eager faith 
festers unresolved in pictureless rooms 
though agents of change may deteriorate 
against strict rules that angels arrogate 
because lost treasures grow to mortify 
arrested progress beyond crumbling walls. 

Discolored frames of reference dwindle slow 
at lessened constraints of unspoken trust 
which pollutes pages of contractual codes 
till truth disintegrates from legal fines 
because our thoughts imply what we fear most 
based on destructive attitudes we buy. 

Yet Pindar sings no athlete-praising ode 
while standing outside clean department stores 
to strum guitar that Mercury designed 
before he drowned with mermaids in the sea 
for none now worship heroes who perform 
great deeds that prop power of empire states. 

Before my heart may shrivel with regret 
from anguish-riddled blooms of widened faith, 
my fractured brain still magnifies despair 
beyond expansion certified by gods 
to gear extensions germinating love 
between lovers in burgeoning respect. 

Failure to augment decline of world fate 
through proliferation of devout creeds 
escalates bellicose struggles for rights 
through bumbling scrimmage of assertive play 
which amplifies decrease of peaceful work 
that stymies evolution against death. 

To savor beauty of stark wintry days 
while meandering through mirrorless maze, 
I dwell on hyperborean aspect 
of relentless change reconstructing truths 
so we together comprehend with faith 
new world order our cynicism molds. 

Promise Of Halcyon Concern

Promise Of Halcyon Concern
© Surazeus
2025 12 06

Concealed by sharp susurrus of my heart, 
she glides through iridescent memories 
with peregrine desire for plangent truth 
till cynosure of love reveals clear way 
she may arrive with mellifluous thoughts 
in safe Elysian garden of our trust. 

Lured by promise of Halcyon concern, 
we strangers share with amaranthine trust, 
she gazes through penumbra of my soul 
across restless lacuna of our hearts, 
but hesitates with diaphanous fear 
that evanescent love between us fades. 

Though hope our faces silently express 
flits past our bodies on ephemeral wings 
with hesitant lust of effulgent pride, 
we find inside ineffable respect 
numinous desire that weaves lonely hearts 
in new-composed soul through sonorous vows. 

Based on cautious assertion of desire 
brewed into panacea by soft words, 
we two progress with seraphic impulse 
through aspiration of yearning review, 
unsettled by disquietude of lust, 
to share sempiternal kiss of true love. 

Effulgent with shared pleasure of hot skin, 
as we caress each other with respect 
for lucent wisdom of extracted fate, 
we merge aggressive souls in pulchritude, 
enhanced by zephyr of ethereal breath, 
so we expand with aureate amplitude. 

Progressive passion of ardent concepts, 
through which we analyze romantic growth, 
fuels anxious apprehension of distress 
till we submerge our separate energies 
in seething tide of scrutinized remorse 
through penitence of cosmic ecstasy. 

Transition across prime liminal stage 
of bodies buzzing with enraptured joy 
reprograms how our minds perceive the world 
with proven frame of social reference 
that bonds our hearts with matrimonial faith 
so we base exuberant play on love. 

With fervent discipline of blissful trust, 
constrained by euphoric caution of hope, 
we blaze new roads in trackless wilderness 
to build empire of communal exchange 
so we raise our children to imitate 
rules designed to ensure fertility. 

Count Each Snowflake

Count Each Snowflake
© Surazeus
2025 12 05

Since cold silence almost crushes his heart, 
he nearly forgets to sing about death 
as he trudges aimlessly in dark woods 
with secret purpose to count each snowflake 
that shrouds the pulsing world in bitter faith 
so no one remembers warmth of sunlight. 

Expansive sweetness of beautiful light 
explodes from languid happiness of dust 
in golden fruit that ripens to excess 
with loud assertion of conceptual rights 
that he dares claim with nonchalance of fear 
because everyone ignores he is real. 

Almost concerned that love connects dead hearts, 
he reaches out his hand with trembling hope 
to understand why people everywhere 
seem charged with competitive energy 
in fight for power to control the world 
though it all crumbles to sand in the end. 

He slouches by brick wall of the locked bank 
and stares at lights that blink on trunks of trees 
while busy people walking somewhere fast 
pretend his body is no more than mud 
that throbs with feelings of hunger and rage 
by delicate murmuration of fate. 

Inverted sparkplug of his chugging brain 
smears turpentine letters on copper scrolls 
which flares dialectic polarity 
based high on motion of primitive thoughts 
appointed by the clown of solitude 
to grant obscene wishes of refugees. 

He shall not panic at relentless crash 
of whistling stones that hop with legs of frogs 
against aggressive governments through tax 
designed to wrench triumphal latency 
in durable sequence of puzzling songs 
which map demographics of shattered states. 

No traveler remembers their false name 
they write with blood of angels in blank books 
till winter rain dissolves morality 
while goddess of beauty ascends stone stairs 
to sing with strange flames of the last sunset 
that shocks country people with travesty. 

So he rides winged monkey bound for Oz 
to reign as emperor of nowhere else 
with artificial brain of rancid dreams 
programmed by cats that evolve into apes 
on our way to become weird human beings 
who like to count each snowflake of the mind. 

Time Flashing Weirdly Real

Time Flashing Weirdly Real
© Surazeus
2025 12 04

Silver shadows of my circular mind 
reveal eerie scene of the apple grove 
where moonlight watches me with water eyes 
so I reach out and touch what is not real 
that floods my garden with elusive hope 
till I become sharp desire of wind chimes. 

One thousand years of sorrow clean my mind 
with long-forgotten whisper of sweet rain 
embodied by this frame of memories 
in which my spirit glows with calm desire 
to animate aggressive thoughts of stones 
which sing about time flashing weirdly real. 

Surreal with spooky curiosity, 
my home contains alternative beliefs 
based on hypothesis contrived from mud 
that we are awkward demons of mute stars 
concerned about the eldritch honesty 
which we assert to prove our right to live. 

Because none knows where I was really born 
my mind performs with sinister acclaim 
through sly regard for bitter courtesy 
contained by shocked regret of bold esteem 
that we exchange for treasure of bruised hearts 
extracted by despair from vital mood. 

Through convoluted plight of humorous fear, 
entranced by disposition time affirms, 
I stand by broken bridge of federal trust 
and with fake courage divulge secret crimes 
my mind commits in shadows of morale 
that few would dare aver at maudlin death. 

I never will pretend with childish glee 
I am free flower blooming from grim rage 
except as we imagine falling snow 
conceals stark ugliness of wordless greed 
that traps in cycle of blind poverty 
apparent tricksters seeking shy revenge. 

I will not pray to any secret road 
with stubborn worship endlessly expressed 
through grand self-portrait of our asphalt god 
who teaches children to explore the world 
so they can always measure what is real 
despite inflation caused by heresy. 

Sincerity of aberrant defect 
alerts courageous architect of faith 
who portrays mad king with alacrity 
so people are compelled by fear of change 
to vote for him as jester of the land 
who takes me fishing on the mountain lake. 

Foggy Ruins Of Time

Foggy Ruins Of Time
© Surazeus
2025 12 04

Half awake in foggy ruins of time, 
I asks the faceless ghosts of anyone 
if they recall the hour Icarus fell, 
but they keep giving me feathers of crows 
so I glue them on the hand-glider frame 
which sits neglected in my fenced back yard. 

Mapping fate in foggy ruins of time, 
I wander endless maze of unlocked doors 
to learn why no one recognizes me 
because I am the lost prince of the isle, 
so I climb stairs to grand cathedral hall 
where my future wife never sees my face. 

Not alert in foggy ruins of time, 
I write curving letters in the blank book 
which smear and dissolve in drops of green rain 
that shimmer with the hum of motor cars 
whose tires sing on wet asphalt of false hope 
while I become the moon above the sea. 

Casting spells in foggy ruins of time, 
I sing long epic tales of angry fools 
who fight for glory of their land in vain 
then drive across vast plains in rusty cars 
to dance with hippies on wild golden hills 
with flowers of the devil in their hair. 

Still surprised in foggy ruins of time, 
I tell the woman with three eyes of ice 
that I recall the hour Lucifer fell, 
but she takes plastic coins of private wealth 
from every pocket in my stained trench coat 
to buy sacred books of religious faith. 

Shouting lies in foggy ruins of time, 
I challenge Goliath with brave contempt 
to another television debate 
as we run for President of the Earth 
but he transforms into the Buddha Toad 
so I hitchhike back home to Oregon. 

Long restless in foggy ruins of time, 
I work for forty years as the bank clerk 
who steals one penny from each bank account 
till I escape with ninety billion bucks 
to reconstruct castle of Avalon 
where I crown Artemis queen of my heart. 

Building homes in foggy ruins of time, 
I lead lost refugees from civil wars 
on endless Trail of Tears to Neverland 
where everyone becomes the movie star 
performing in Land of Arcadia 
as they follow the blind tambourine man. 

Red Tractor In The Field

Red Tractor In The Field
© Surazeus
2025 12 03

If she thinks about it with special care 
Artemis will remember why she cries 
when angels descend the ziggurat stair 
and trick her lover with appalling lies 
while Thor is busy paving country roads 
in vain attempt to control divine toads. 

Somebody always tries to kill the swan, 
despite federal laws protecting her soul, 
that escapes Cave of Tuonela at dawn 
and teaches children how to set strong goals 
so they achieve the American Dream 
if they can unite in heart-bonded team. 

People vote for the simple-minded clown 
who poses by red tractor in the field 
while upholding values of the small town 
depicted on lost Achillean shield 
that hangs now in Museum of Fake Art 
which is very dear to my wealthy heart. 

The new apartment complex by the mall 
fills up with renters from the lower class 
who hang paintings of Elvis on the wall 
and pray earnestly when they attend mass, 
but harsh social critiques are out of line 
so Juvenal takes Sappho out to dine. 

Though few regret fall of our empire state 
because they cannot see morals dissolve, 
I swipe card to open neighborhood gate 
so I can study how primates evolve 
from hunter-gatherers to nationalists 
who must oppose global imperialists. 

Through random concepts of the Language Game 
humble wizards of academia 
worship grandson of Oedipus the Lame 
who crowns himself King of Arcadia, 
after Frankenstein resurrects his soul, 
yet hides as notorious internet troll. 

When Artemis returns home on the plane 
from her home on the other side of Earth, 
she finds Thor has dispelled her psychic bane. 
so she marries him in church, and gives birth 
to Sisyphus who runs for President, 
though he fails to become more confident. 

The American Dream was never real 
except as shining Lamp of Liberty 
who tries to help us build a better world 
where no one lives in fear of poverty, 
so we eat hamburgers at festivals 
while recreating truth with mental tools. 

How Computers Sing

How Computers Sing
© Surazeus
2025 12 03

The real reason I find my soul in stones 
that clatter down the mountain slope of fate 
has more to do with how computers sing 
while calculating trajectory of ships 
than why horses agree to carry us 
on our holy mission to conquer Death. 

At least that is what my old man tells me 
while we are hiding behind waterfall 
to avoid getting driven from our land 
by knights in shining armor who steal words 
from all the happy children by the sea 
before we wake up in the twilight zone. 

Since God is ideal human character 
I strive to actualize through how I act, 
I find it easy to deceive your heart 
with lie that I have right to rule your life 
based on the fact my father reigned as king 
before he shriveled up and turned to dust. 

If we pretend that I am Jupiter 
while we play game Gods of Olympia, 
then you can play flirtatious Artemis 
and bear Orpheus as son of our souls 
who leads lost people from the underworld 
so they may live in paradise I rule. 

But when I put that childish life aside, 
I drive to work as county officer 
tasked with good mission to design with care 
utility system of copper pipes 
to provide fresh water for every house 
where mothers prepare the Thanksgiving feast. 

Instead of home-invader Santa Claus 
I place on front lawn of my urban home 
inflatable balloon of the white swan 
featured in grand Tchaikovskian ballet 
about the beautiful Princess Odette 
stalked by the evil sorcerer of lust. 

If you should watch the television show 
where I recite with solemn innocence 
my noble epic of philosophers, 
envision how those ancient commoners 
composed this complex science-based world view 
that programs how our brains perceive the world. 

Then you will find the horse inside the egg 
on which we ride to find the Promised Land 
that exists nowhere but in Holy Book 
which blinds our minds with bronze-age fantasy 
that Jesus resurrects us from the dead 
till mermaids wake us in our cubicles. 

Sunlit Shadow Ghost

Sunlit Shadow Ghost
© Surazeus
2025 12 02

I drink river water of aching hope 
struck by sweet lightning of aspiring gods 
which resurrects my body from mute pain 
so I pretend my spirit is still strong 
as I assert my sunlit shadow ghost 
with wine of Heaven bleeding from my eyes. 

Dear sea of secret troubles fills my heart 
with questions about noble history 
designed to strengthen courage of my fear 
so I will never hesitate to fight 
grim demons of the waste land who devour 
rotten pomegranates of faithful love. 

I cast demonic shadow of my heart 
down into valley of the singing skull 
where children give each other secret names 
to praise their mothers who reveal the sky 
with strict voluptuous sadness of respect 
based on diversity of twisted gods. 

Though every house we build with bleeding hands 
is burned by mocking laughter of your god, 
we separate our bodies from the Earth 
by breathing deep ethereal words of truth 
to undergo catharsis based on debts 
we never pay to Death who lingers near. 

Red raven of my heart spreads wings of flame 
to challenge twilight with electric gloom 
through existential passion for star flight 
though we keep tumbling to the broken Earth 
to wear wet soil as skin of arrogance 
in vain attempt to hide my angry faith. 

Translucent coolness swirled by ardent peace 
contrives with faceless gods of walking trees 
to preach through incantation endless time 
we share this fertile vale with grim respect 
by hiding wounds achieved with locked concern 
so we investigate each cause of death. 

Weakened by shocking afterglow of rain 
that smears our souls across soft bloody hills, 
we tear false sentences from raspy throats 
as we creep boldly over jagged thoughts 
with plan to dispel loneliness of joy 
so we can bury light in mangled hearts. 

By imitating spheres of dreamless eyes 
I draw the perfect circle without help 
connecting curls of canceled certitude 
with ringing jewels of defective words 
trapped deep in helix which identifies 
decadence of my sunlit shadow ghost. 

Eden In The Wilderness

Eden In The Wilderness
© Surazeus
2025 12 02

She asks me if I know how stars are born, 
but when I show her diamond of my heart 
she laughs and gives me apple from the sun, 
then she explains to me the arcane plot 
by which stars spiral out from the God Eye 
to generate virtual Earth in our brains. 

We hold hands with responsible respect 
and walk along the river of our hearts 
to measure grace of flower-petal curves 
expressed by straight equation sliding tight 
through undulating matrix of concern 
that spools eccentric chaos with twirled threads. 

We lounge beneath bough of the apple tree 
to share insights with nature metaphors 
on primal spark that causes things to grow 
from blueprint seeds that preserve secret goals 
for which we humans must invent strange roles 
no gods have ever played on stage of fate. 

She tells me grasping hands of hungry roots 
transform dirt of the Earth to juicy fruit 
that fills our bodies with light of the sun 
as pure immortal soul of energy 
which animates our bodies with intent 
so we respect all life with gentle words. 

We dig holes in the Earth to plant fruit seeds, 
then nourish sprouts with water from the lake 
cupped in careful attention of our hands 
to organize chaos of aggressive plants 
in strict cohesion of assertive rows 
as we build Eden in the wilderness. 

Strange memories for ancient ways of life 
project bright visions on library wall 
while I read chronicles of human lore 
to comprehend our endless quest to live 
by assembling food-production machines 
through more efficient means of molding light. 

I remember six thousand years ago 
when we first see with awed surprise of love 
herds of horses galloping along rivers, 
their manes and long tails fluttering in the wind, 
and how we offer apples of our hearts 
as we caress their necks with calming hum. 

Together on horseback we conquered Earth, 
uniting far-flung farms and merchant towns 
in vast empires from sea to shining sea, 
but now we drive fast piston-engine cars 
and leave our old friends grazing in small fields, 
no more lush Eden in the wilderness. 

Dream Clock Of Nevertime

Dream Clock Of Nevertime
© Surazeus
2025 12 01

No ghost remembers their name before birth 
yet they feel every ray of cosmic light 
that spirals from dream clock of Nevertime 
because our psychic multiverse of dreams 
creates ten zillion planets from God Eye 
who generates our brains from memories. 

Awake in lonely beauty of this world, 
I sense eternal God of cosmic truth 
vibrate in every atom of my soul 
so I mold tears of love in spinning worlds 
where death unravels each organic being 
who sings as part of our infinite whole. 

I slip key of irretrievable hope 
in vast atomic clock of Nevertime 
to open gates of psychic paradise 
where children gather apples from tall trees 
and run together on lush river shores 
till they all vanish in mute dust of time. 

Though we remember events of our lives 
as winding swirl of streams down mountain vales 
we cannot return to the long-lost past 
for atoms keep on swerving in the void 
to readjust vast vacancy of being 
till heat draws water back to empty skies. 

Descending stairway from Heaven to Hell, 
young Icarus with tattered wings of faith 
leads Oedipus to garden of dead gods 
to sit by gleaming pool of Nevertime 
where skull of Narcissus sings prophecies 
about how we rise from ruins of rage. 

Beyond coincidence of clanging bells 
two lovers meet at nexus frosted clear 
with sudden beauty of attentiveness 
to share strange stories of wild-dancing trees 
in which our faceless ghosts hide from grim death 
while Icarus photographs everything. 

Through furtive moon of confident regret, 
that rises from unfathomed memories, 
we shape oblivion from absent fear 
to measure twirling clock of Nevertime 
that opens portal through library book 
where I appear as angel born from words. 

Adorable in radiant dress of pride, 
my loving spouse in wreath of flashing wings 
decides to offer glass of sun-flared wine 
that binds our alien souls with thread of genes 
as she names every ghost we meet in life 
who fill our home with fertile merriment. 

Girl With Seven Hearts

Girl With Seven Hearts
© Surazeus
2025 12 01

Maybe I should tell them about the time 
I got lost in hills of Antarctica 
while looking for the girl with seven hearts 
who used to sing on the opera stage, 
performing roles of tragic heroines 
who always lament beauty as they die. 

My heart still gets enchanted by the chime 
that rings across hills of America 
decrypting secret code of curious charts 
which unspool atoms from the cosmic page 
through music fairies play on violins 
because children always want to know why. 

If I should find the seven-hearted girl 
alone in forest of certified trees, 
I might discover secret of rebirth 
that she conceals in diamond of her brain 
which shines bright as the egocentric sun 
attracting people from all walks of life. 

I sense her soul gleaming pure as the pearl 
that maps our evolution from dark seas 
which I place in Mind Lamp of xenial worth 
to guide my people through soul-binding rain 
as matrix where our dream spirits are spun 
when we build Eden to overcome strife. 

She waits for me in house of mirrored walls, 
the girl with seven hearts of angel wings, 
so I run joyfully on river shore 
beyond the ruined walls of paradise 
till I fall laughing in the doorless maze 
where idols of dead gods stare down at me. 

I rise from mind-grave when her spirit calls, 
and float to river valley where she sings 
weird spells that link my heart to global core 
with nonchalant respect for psychic price 
I pay to transcend each sequential phase 
on sacred quest to realize Liberty. 

After I map Antarctica with tales 
of brave explorers following dream signs, 
I present palace of eccentric faith 
where the seven-hearted girl reigns as queen, 
so people of our world may understand 
why she always hosts global feast of friends. 

We stroll together on high mountain trails, 
observing god-masks of demonic pines 
that mirror beauty of the cosmic wraith 
who shines through seven hearts of Melusine 
as sacred mother of our fertile land 
who reveals how our ancient empire ends. 

Mindless Energy Of Hope

Mindless Energy Of Hope
© Surazeus
2025 12 01

Divested shares of time-fractalized minds 
compute portentous profits of pure light, 
designed by mindless energy of hope 
to radiate divine consciousness which shapes 
ascendant progress through creative love 
so we empathize with strangers we meet. 

Outside purview of human characters, 
fraught with stark containment of desire, 
stray thoughts explore abstract concepts of truth 
that frame frugal figmentations of fact, 
so our brains better perceive unseen schemes 
providing structure for chaos to form. 

Professor Adam Bradstreet contemplates 
how novelists explore strange inner life 
of fictional people in daedal tales 
while lounging in leather chair of respect, 
then sips ice wine and watches gold leaves fall 
in changing seasons from Homeric song. 

His wife, the graceful flautist Sophie Wei, 
glides in the room with panther elegance, 
then sits at easel by the glowing hearth 
to paint quaint village scenes in Fujian 
where her grandparents lived on fishing boats, 
eyes gleaming with memories of that lost world. 

My ancestors too lived on fishing boats 
on the Weser River in Germany, 
old bearded Adam relates to himself, 
so maybe that explains why our tall son 
hosts his own fishing television show, 
and dresses as Neptune for Halloween. 

Through spiral platitudes of falling rain 
we humans cleanse our souls of spirit pain 
when we assemble in old ring of stones 
to play eerie music on dragon bones, 
then we return to this strange modern age 
where few remember our celestial sage. 

By bay window that frames their lush front lawn, 
Adam plays piano and Sophie plays flute 
in heart-enchanting duet of true love, 
which causes light of energy to shine 
so forgotten ghosts without memories 
haunt their home with uncanny spirit glow. 

Invested shares of wisdom-puzzled minds 
compile prophetic creeds of long-dead gods, 
programmed by natural chemicals of lust 
to generate new conscious souls from brains 
who give each other names in game of life 
so we can surf rough tides of global change. 

Angelic Wings Of Thought

Angelic Wings Of Thought
© Surazeus
2025 11 30

Since I found eternity in white stone 
that radiates visions of human desire 
I keep on walking endless road of life 
to mimic how wind sings in fruitful trees 
till I become horizon of your heart 
that blooms with eerie lightness of the self. 

Since I woke in cold barren hall of stone 
ten million years after my soul was born 
I draw my body from soil of the land 
which replicates conceptual forms of life 
so I translate weird song of ocean waves 
to math formulas that calculate love. 

Since I concealed my soul in hall of masks 
to weave vibrating threads of psychic spells 
with pregnant atoms sparkling in my blood 
I dream creation of the multiverse 
that blooms from every conscious dreaming brain 
to aggregate our worlds in one whole globe. 

Since I arranged books on library shelves 
to imitate angelic wings of thought 
I weave mask of every ghost in the world 
so I experience life of every brain 
that ever dreams in all the universe 
till I expand scope of perceptive creed. 

Since I sensed strangeness of familiar light 
luminate faces of saints in the church 
I sing new hymns of our fantasy land 
that exists only in minds of the lost 
who stand on street corners and sing sad psalms 
though angels in suits never give them cash. 

Since was born from womb of the oak witch 
who sells vegetables at the grocery store 
I see my mother with eyes of the god 
who teaches our bodies how to evolve 
so we know only the world we can touch 
that has no meaning but what we create. 

Since I constructed cathedral of light 
from wings of angels fallen from the clouds 
I transform into horse with human face 
to catch bombs devils drop on castle towers 
then play guitar outside the city gate 
where farmers sell illusions of the heart. 

Since I designed this virtual world of forms 
based on Ideas in Heaven I forged, 
I fly with breathless laughter over Hell 
with reverence for spirit of nature in God 
who gazes at my face from mirror moon 
so I find only myself in the sky. 

Strategy Of Crucial Hope

Strategy Of Crucial Hope
© Surazeus
2025 11 30

To employ strategy of crucial hope, 
asserting right to breath polluted air, 
we twist our bodies with aggressive faith, 
quick to conform our spirits to sky laws 
designed by fear to confiscate our souls 
when gods eliminate mankind from time. 

Alert at black piano of his heart, 
Ludwig, with graceful arrogance of faith, 
plays his cello sonata number three 
in alpha major to enchant the trees 
who weep to feel sweet music of the stars 
that wild Orpheus played centuries before. 

While driving endless highway of blind faith, 
Narcissus thinks about vast fields of corn 
that shimmer golden on the fenceless plains 
because his tribe in waste land far away 
dwell amid ruins of their bombed-out homes 
where they plant apple trees with injured hands. 

Awake with sudden surprise of weird truth 
in old fishing boat on the mountain lake, 
Belenus gazes at bright Pleiades 
where face of his lost wife Parvati gleams 
as constellation of his aching heart, 
and smiles at ghost of her absence with love. 

Young owlish woman with star-golden eyes 
glides wickedly across the college lawn 
to transform ancient books of poetry 
into moon-winged ravens of dire urgency 
that bring her solemn scrolls of prophecy 
to warn politicians of the end times. 

After Tabiti, goddess of the hearth, 
invents the kitchen table from the wheel, 
that Helius designed to mimic the sun, 
she invites refugees from civil wars 
to sit and feast on bread, honey, and wine, 
while Ludwig plays songs on the violin. 

When forgetful snow covers rugged hills 
and buries our feast halls up to the roof, 
Saint Wenceslaus in long sun-scarlet cloak 
guides reindeer-driven sleigh across snowed fields 
and slides down chimneys with bags of fresh food, 
so we gather around the hearth to sing. 

Worshipping luminous phantom of truth, 
who smiles beneficently at souls on Earth, 
we cultivate vital glow of our brains 
in quest for true enlightenment of faith 
as we grow from wingless angels to gods 
who preserve our souls in songs till we die. 

Communal Laws Of Conduct

Communal Laws Of Conduct
© Surazeus
2025 11 30

Through absolute simplicity of faith 
most people focus on their daily work 
to fund courageous strife against harsh cold 
so their hearts shine bright in gloom of despair 
as nations muddle through another year, 
transforming sorrow to commercial gold. 

Extracting minerals from heart of the Earth 
with desperate hands of earnest agony, 
we build enormous factories from steel 
to manufacture television gods 
who replay roles of Jupiter and Eve 
in psychosocial drama of our state. 

While Adam and Hera manage the store, 
selling graceful lifestyles of magazines 
through furnishings for the upper class home, 
Phoebus and Kwan Yin deliver the news 
about events on television shows 
that display noble spirit of our state. 

Fixing piston engines of cars and trucks, 
Thor keeps commercial machine running well 
while his wife Lakshmi works as clinic nurse 
providing care for souls with urgent needs 
to keep their bodies functioning with love, 
so we can live our lives with honest goals. 

Because I wear the mask of Lucifer, 
which I stole from the ancient gallery, 
I enforce communal laws of conduct 
to manage interactions of our tribe 
that ensure people can do what they will 
if actions of their hands may cause no harm. 

After Oedipus wins popular vote 
he works as Senator in Washington 
composing programs for the social state 
that provide financial assistance credits 
for fathers to earn a fair living wage 
and mothers to raise children with brave love. 

After Jupiter Alfred Prufrock reigns 
one hundred years of solitude in Hell 
to transform the waste land to Wonderland, 
he lectures at the university 
about great art of Michelangelo, 
then swims with mermaids in the silver sea. 

Descending from Heaven on wings of fire, 
Icarus and Michael lead world crusade 
to cast King Midas from the Throne of Power, 
then Ishtar and Mary, Mothers of Faith, 
design new world view of honest respect 
as guide for United Nations of Earth. 

Orchid Of Enchanting Truth

Orchid Of Enchanting Truth
© Surazeus
2025 11 30

I wear soil of wet earth as skin of hope 
so I can wonder how small angels fly 
and tweet in fruit trees of their fierce desire 
to generate new bodies for gene-souls 
so they can dance forever on wild wind 
that thrusts cold blade of fear into my bones. 

Tall tree that stands forever on high hill 
suddenly cracks and topples on its side 
when angry demon roaring in rain clouds 
hurls strike of lightning with aggressive grasp, 
so I howl happily at death of god 
who vanishes in swirl of hungry flames. 

I cannot find clear pool inside my heart 
that shimmers bright with weird angelic face 
who seems to know dark secrets I conceal 
till I stretch arms and legs to touch the sky 
but I feel nothing of its gleaming blue, 
then curl into my body with strange hope. 

When angry words of shadows in gold trees 
slice my skin with bitterness of hope 
I feel sap of hot blood ooze from my eyes 
so I chew fear in honeysuckle stems 
till honey drips from carol of my tongue 
to measure gracious curves of energy. 

Because the tall pear tree by singing stream 
remembers my caress at gleam of dawn, 
I pull aside thick veil of tangled vines 
to enter cavern deep into my heart 
where ghost of every person I once knew 
appears as glimmer in large diamond eyes. 

Long before my brave descendants of faith 
invent the door as frame of random dreams, 
I organize disconcerting events 
with judicious narrative that presents 
ceaseless flow of passion within framework 
assembling puzzle of my comic life. 

Startled by orchid of enchanting truth 
that blooms from corpse of my star-fallen god, 
I bear witness to beauty of this world 
in silly spells I teach children to sing 
as they skip laughing on the river shore 
while I imagine shadow of the door. 

I cannot wait another million years 
for god to evolve from the singing fish, 
so I weave feathers of crows in long cape 
then dance around the fire in ring of stones 
to sing of Hero who wears mask of god 
in battle against demons of despair. 

Pennies Of Cloned Hearts

Pennies Of Cloned Hearts
© Surazeus
2025 11 29

Though she sleeps now in shadows of my heart 
the brilliant light of her eyes luminates 
silent emptiness of our secret home 
with complex beauty of shared memories 
framed by our love as portraits on vast walls 
that animate events of our romance. 

While reading novel in soft-cushioned chair, 
she chews sweet white raisins with slender fingers 
in slow contemplation of eager hope 
which motivates the heart of every human 
to trust the stranger with attractive smile 
for secret treasure of their trusting heart. 

When she finds the last penny in the world 
gleaming brightly on the cement sidewalk, 
she pinches purity of its stored worth 
with practical respect for usefulness 
based on assurance of prized benefits 
we gain by saving profit through esteem. 

When she assesses estimated cost 
of vain deficiency appraised as fake, 
opposed to strict advantage by exchange 
from standard principles for purchasers, 
she treasures merit earned by crafting hands 
that found grand empires on capital gains. 

Emergent artists trapped in maze of wealth 
decry obsessive passion to create 
excessive beauty from randomized objects 
collected from heaps of discarded hopes 
that old men sell for pennies of cloned hearts 
to wives of farmers who befriend pond toads. 

At eerie howl of monsters in dark woods 
she feeds ripe apple to the wingless horse 
whose milk funds castle project to design 
ascendant phase of educating growth 
for children to learn mysteries of the Earth 
when they inherit globe of pulsing ghosts. 

Connected through throbbing node of prime words, 
our radiant brains adapt new global themes 
to maintain noble purpose broadcast well 
when we accommodate pure friends we love 
through quick adjustment our typewriters reel 
if we would comprehend how souls are born. 

When she wakes from bright shadows of my heart 
on opposite side of our spinning globe, 
she guides hawk of my soul with gentle grace 
to visit tomb of her mother at dawn, 
and weeps at loss of treasured revenant 
whose absence gleams as ghost of sacred love. 

Code Of Fake Books

Code Of Fake Books
© Surazeus
2025 11 29

Frantic solitude of angelic hearts 
traps sorrows of ghosts in code of fake books, 
yet nameless people all over the world 
share stories of their lives in tangled threads 
all woven in vast tapestry of faith 
so we understand how each other feels. 

Though I crawl across jagged stones of fear 
on wind-lashed beach below the towering cliff, 
I feel strange beauty of mercurial waves  
exert magnetic radiance of fraught truth 
that excites my heart with drive to assert 
new narrative my brain designs from shock. 

Despite prevalence of orthodox faith 
in strict prediction that stocks oversight 
with optimum progress of the oracle, 
I peer in eyes of strangers with concern 
so I perceive this world of fractured forms 
through premonition of our hungry hearts. 

Severe statistics through dream registry 
provide salvation based on revenue 
acquired through beaming satellites of jokes 
that service semantics devised by fools 
trained with tactical strategies of fear 
against seasonal resonance of trees. 

Strange woman wearing broken mask of joy, 
which she carved from trunk of the honey tree, 
encourages me to sign her warranty 
as talented volunteer of the church 
through tradition devised by therapist 
who translates tradition of psychic rites. 

With each new prototype my hands create 
from prominent radius of rapid plots, 
I perform role of reserved realtor 
primed to sell time shares to the afterlife 
where eager visitors ask demons why 
people reject clues to the renaissance. 

Each riddle I preach in my ministry 
diverts attention of your compact mind 
through trite evasion from current display 
that forecasts secret emotions we share 
based on disfocused attention to scale 
so no one understands how we should feel. 

Recycled decor in cathedral hall 
exports equipment of extreme respect 
divorced from chronic drama of tense love 
except for coupons still uncredited 
because I sell fake books of history 
that chronicle our frantic solitude. 

Cat Distribution System

Cat Distribution System
© Surazeus
2025 11 29

The cat distribution system provides 
adorable companions for the lost, 
whose gentle purrs always heal broken hearts 
because their eyes refract rays of the sun 
to light our souls with beauty of this life 
embodied in lithe cuddly balls of fur. 

Alicia drives on the highway in rain, 
angry because the plumber wrecked the pipes, 
then sees gray ghost in flash of gold headlights 
appear as small kitten huddled in muck 
between black road and concrete barrier, 
so she turns on red emergency blinkers. 

Opening the door after trucks zoom by, 
Alicia crouches to approach the wall 
where tiny kitten with weed-mangled hair 
peers at her through one small blurry eye 
and hisses as she scoops him in her hands 
then shivers as she hugs him to her breast. 

Wrapping mangy kitten in her pink sweater, 
that her mother sewed with three unicorns, 
Alicia drives in gloom of pouring rain, 
headlights gleaming golden on monstrous trees, 
then bounces car up narrow gravel road 
to park beside the porch of rotten wood. 

Bathing small kitten in bowl of warm water, 
Alicia scrubs trembling body with soap 
while gently tugging weeds from curly hair, 
then rubs him dry with towel of concern 
which causes tiny creature to purr softly 
as he curls in crook of her arm to sleep. 

Holding bottle of warm milk to pink mouth, 
Alicia feels his small heart pulsing fast 
as he gulps liquid with aggressive thirst, 
and grins as his sly paws grasp at her hand, 
then gently wipes goopy mucus away 
so he opens both eyes with confidence. 

Holding thin flexible pole with long string, 
Alicia teases kitten with fun play 
so he crouches low and whips his little tail, 
then leaps to pounce upon the feather clump, 
bold mighty jungle beast with gleaming eyes 
chasing feathered dinosaur by the river. 

Lounging on the couch under a thick blanket, 
Alicia watches Wednesday Addams drama 
while cranky gray-haired kitten she names Lurch 
curls on her chest and purrs with satisfaction 
though black rain beats against her Gothic home 
that gleams from lightning in the old oak woods.