Our Global Zeitgeist

Our Global Zeitgeist
© Surazeus
2025 04 21

When I attempt to think outside the box, 
which Pandora gave me for my birthday, 
I find my soul transformed into the fox 
leaping over rainbow of the dreamway, 
so I refocus attention of my mind 
on world of machines Barsanti designed. 

I should not wish the world to match my will, 
but wish the world to be the way it is, 
declares Dorotheus on the dusty hill, 
who writes in sand weird riddles of the quiz, 
thus I attain calm peace with providence 
to treat people with honest confidence. 

Large furry possum waddles on the porch, 
consuming insects from corpses of kings 
who tried to kill the goddess with the torch, 
then I weep when the bold Valkyrie sings 
who bids farewell to Wotan with sad heart 
as I mark Cave of the Ring on my chart. 

Fierce wolf with eyes lit by the silver moon 
runs by my side around the Caspian Sea 
to mountain meadow where I sing sad tune 
through forty thousand years of charity, 
for I fix engines in fast cars of fate 
that read bright satellites to navigate. 

Because all signed roads lead the way to Rome, 
where Chief Bridge-Builder in the Vatican 
reads oracles from riddles in the tome 
that Sibyl wrote with blood of Leviathan, 
I map human history on spinning globe 
which animates progress with the space probe. 

Gathered in Temple of Saturn at dawn, 
we celebrate foundation of great Rome 
as grand republic in which any pawn 
may attain freedom to build their own home, 
so billions of people vote for the Pope 
whose vision presents broadest social scope. 

Translating scripture from weird secret code, 
Dream Jester channels our global zeitgeist 
for the generation lost on the road 
who follows strange vision of Phoebus Christ 
to visit every city in the world 
in grand victory tour of the cosmic herald. 

Though Midas still thinks he runs planet Earth, 
he roams with Nebuchadnezzar and Lear 
on storm-wracked heath of madness beyond worth 
while clutching fake holy book with blind fear, 
so Minerva bears Lamp of Liberty 
to free Justice from chains of tyranny. 

Divine Mind Of God

Divine Mind Of God
© Surazeus
2025 04 21

Scent of rain in gold afternoon of sorrows 
emanates from the Holy Name of God 
which I pronounce with voice of thunder clouds 
in hundred million languages of thought 
that humans speak to comprehend the Mind 
awake in flashing neurons of our brains. 

Water of hope seeps up from the dark Earth 
to spring as fountains of confident faith 
through surging energy of dreamless sight 
that beams before our eager hopeful eyes 
visions of peaceful cooperative life 
where people celebrate flowers of rain. 

My body thrums with anguish of desire, 
tangled with twisted vines of aching hope, 
as I explore vast forest of decay 
in frantic search through landscape of despair 
for fruit of life that sparks awake from fear 
divine mind of the laughter-shining sky. 

Electric quietude of sublime breeze, 
that swirls around me from deep lake of eyes, 
reflects bright stars that sparkle in the sky 
with beams of light that travel in the void 
millions of years after their stars burn out 
to weave their rays in neurons of my brain. 

Quick-leaping birds of arrogant respect 
call to each other from indifferent trees 
to flirt with shameless passion of desire 
with hope to generate bodies of flesh 
from counterfeit riddles children express 
when they gather eggs from meadows of flowers. 

I walk my unique path in solitude, 
and then with wife and children of my heart, 
in bold quest to wake Divine Mind of God 
in flashing neurons of my dreaming brain 
so I feel radiate from core of my soul 
first flash that flares forth from white whole of being. 

Each nation thriving on lush river shores 
develops language to describe the world 
where creeds define immortal cosmic soul 
who dreams itself awake inside our brains, 
so we design religions to express 
how we each perceive Divine Mind of God. 

Each prophet who appears in dream of Earth 
teaches us all to sing with words of faith 
poetic visions flashing in our brains 
so we join global choir to sing one truth 
when we feel cosmic herald in our hearts 
bind all souls through Astarianity. 

Vow To Stand Guard

Vow To Stand Guard
© Surazeus
2025 04 21

Leaping through the forest with taut yew bow, 
Romulus chases the white hart of fate, 
fires sharp arrow to pierce its noble heart, 
then smiles with pride at the successful hunt 
when Diana hugs him with laugh of joy 
as they preside over feasts in her temple. 

Adjusting stone carved from the mountain cliff, 
Romulus founds Temple of Jupiter 
firm at foot of lush Palatinus Hill 
with vow to stand guard and support the people 
who cheer birth of his city they call Roma 
as Diana gives him grail of wine to drink. 

After Jesus preaches message of love, 
Petrus casts nets in Lake Tiberias, 
hauls fish on shore he roasts on altar stone 
to feed five thousand people who sing psalms, 
then tells the uncrowned King of Israel 
he will follow him as Fisher of Men. 

Raising Key to Heaven that Jesus gave, 
Petrus preaches that Christus is the Rock 
for he is willing to die for his people 
instead of treating them as slaves he owns, 
and helps each person develop their talent 
so they grow skilled with discipline of work. 

Meditating in stillness of Soul Light, 
Franciscus sits in grove of apple trees 
and hums in harmony with cosmic thought 
as birds alight on his shoulders and arms, 
while deer and wolf sniff at his open hands, 
as he becomes one with the Mind of God. 

Strumming lute with spirit of Mercurius, 
Franciscus sings Canticle of the Creatures 
with adoration of his aching heart 
to Brother Sun, bright glory of the world, 
and Sister Death, from whose dreadful embrace 
no mortal can escape with humble heart. 

Washing feet of the Mother with her Child, 
Papa Franciscus blesses her with love, 
then rides white car among the cheering crowds 
to chapel where he kneels before the manger 
where Baby Jesus lies on safe keffiyeh 
as he prays for all refugees from war. 

Gesturing with the Benediction Sign, 
Franciscus Georgius Marius Bergolius 
blesses people of Telluria on Easter 
two thousand seven hundred seventy-eight years 
after Romulus founded the Holy City 
in the Roman Empire that never ends. 

Dreams Of Atom Eyes

Dreams Of Atom Eyes
© Surazeus
2025 04 20

Despite morbid beauty of heartless trees 
stomping with root feet on asphalt highways, 
which tears them apart in fragments of fear, 
we vote to cut them into planks of wood 
so we can build Bridge of Forgetfulness 
across abyss of wretched travesties. 

Startled awake by sudden storm-sharp breeze 
that causes us to shudder in our maze 
of rattled doors, possessed by puppeteer 
born in the hall of mirrors, Neptune laughs 
and runs without restraint on glowing beach 
to catch elusive butterfly of truth. 

Curious to comprehend concept of good, 
invented by the witch of of cheerfulness, 
I carve runes to record weird memories 
that seem to involve uniformed giraffes 
earning state-stamped certificates to teach 
oracles uttered by messiah sleuth. 

Tremulous demons of benevolence, 
neglected by children of Pegasus, 
study in college to be specialists 
in various disciplines with secret codes 
designed to program how our brains perceive 
clusters of color as objective forms. 

Meticulous agents of arrogance, 
confounded by riddles of Sisyphus, 
decide to work as honest corporatists 
in secret project to control the world, 
conducting war of arbitrary rules 
against free agents of psychotic will. 

Arrested by agents of haughty toads, 
who disregard laws of fate to deceive 
innocent people with conceptual storms, 
blind prophet becomes the new cosmic herald 
whose scriptures are studied in global schools 
by wizards who play on capitol hill. 

Though my heart, gentle as the whippoorwill, 
respects each person in the global choir 
who sings with billion voices of One Mind, 
I rest in cave of illusions to feel 
electric flashing of the cosmic wheel 
that weaves my brain from dreams of atom eyes. 

Hearts burning bright as bush on Mount Horeb, 
we dance together on the river shore 
after trudging ten years in the waste land 
to gaze astonished at star-eyed cherub 
who sells ripe apples at the grocery store 
till state agents deport him from our land. 

Mystic Riddles Of Love

Mystic Riddles Of Love
© Surazeus
2025 04 20

White blankness of infinity expands 
ovular structure of our universe 
so if we go far enough around time 
we will return to first hour of our birth, 
though rain-fed rivers always flow downward 
from the mountain cave to the ocean wave. 

The old rotten fence falls over in rain 
between the backyard of neatly-mowed grass 
and the forest of trees tangled with vines, 
so Adam pulls wagon of wood and tools 
to rebuild wall of paradise with pride, 
enclosing garden of fruit trees with hope. 

Constraining passion of animal lust 
with solemn liturgy of wordless hope, 
I organize perceptions of my brain 
with strict linguistic pulchritudes of faith 
which formulate mystic riddles of love 
through clear perception of my starlit eyes. 

Eager to glimpse the brightest star of loss 
that shimmers on calm seawaves of my heart, 
I cross the sandy bar on moonless night 
to find the angel, fallen from the sky, 
trapped by tendrils of elegant seagrass, 
who floats while singing in sad revery. 

Stumbling lost along river of blind skulls, 
far from the weeping valley of my birth, 
I find one lone apple tree on small hill 
blooming bright with pink petals of respect, 
so I breathe sweet ethereal soul of time 
to catch the lightning bolt of obvious truth. 

Bearing fallen angel in aching arms, 
Adam lays the woman with sea-blue eyes 
in shady hut beside the sparkling lake, 
and pours sweet apple juice between her lips 
till she wakes from dream and blinks in surprise, 
then cries because she lost her swan-lithe wings. 

Strolling together among apple trees 
that shimmer pink in evening sunset glow, 
Adam and Eve smile shyly with desire 
as their hands brush, which wakens hearts in love, 
so they embrace and make love by the lake 
with melodious chirping of the wood thrush. 

Teaching Seth how to prune limbs of fruit trees 
to maintain verdant health with free airflow 
so more fruit may sprout from network of limbs, 
Adam prepares his youngest son for time 
when he will bear wand of authority 
to manage Garden of Eden with faith. 

One World Astarianity

One World Astarianity
© Surazeus
2025 04 20

Reborn from spark of psychic energy, 
I rise whole from ontological void 
of random chance as spiral coil of love 
which unifies atomic multitude 
in tight organic form of pulsing light 
to manifest wyrd mystery of desire. 

Watching birds fly with random nonchalance 
across the silver sky of everywhere, 
I calculate track of the impossible 
to map trajectory of the cosmic soul 
who animates my body with blind faith 
in warm revival from the chilling stream. 

Wise woman Amen, in leopard-skin dress, 
sits on flat top of the brick ziggurat 
between four pillars at monolith throne 
to tend the cauldron of sweet apple juice 
which she gives every thirsty wanderer, 
then sings Creation of the Universe. 

Star Goddess Ishtar, in white linen robe, 
sits on flat top of the brick pyramid 
to preside in expansive feasting hall 
where thousands of pyramid priestesses 
assemble to attend Moon Festival 
to drink the juice and eat the bread of Earth. 

First Mother Astaria, in red silk gown, 
sends Sarah and Abraham to the west, 
and Saraswati and Brahma to the east, 
to organize tribes of wandering hunters 
in communes tending herds of animals 
to manage food-production companies. 

Astaria founds religions of the world 
which spring from pulsing spiral coil of love, 
so Judaism, Christianity, Islam, 
Hinduism, Shaivism, Krishnaism, 
Taoism, Confucianism, Communism, 
thrive as one world Astarianity. 

Religions of the world were first conceived 
by Amen, Ishtar, and Astaria, 
so spirits of our hearts on angel wings 
may gather round tall Ziggurat of Ur 
where Wise First Mother of the human race 
first taught us how to sing dreams of our hearts. 

Bold honest hero with weapon of death, 
who guards First Mother with loyal respect, 
dies to sustain our souls with Liberty, 
so spirit of her passion resurrects 
his spirit in the body of his child 
who builds one world Astarianity. 

Revolt Against The Mad King

Revolt Against The Mad King
© Surazeus
2025 04 19

If Janet walks to the bright grocery store 
past houses with lace curtains glowing blue 
because people watch television shows, 
she might remember where the sparrow falls 
so she can weave its feathers in her heart 
as she buys bread and milk with copper coins. 

If Janet bears food in the paper sack 
along the asphalt street that shimmers green 
because young leaves were blown by the wind storm, 
she might suggest the ghost inside the tree 
could work as letter typist at the bank 
since she likes painting white horses with wings. 

If Janet cooks scrambled eggs on the stove 
while demons dance as barely-controlled flames 
because purple morning glory vines bind 
souls of families with stories never told, 
she might hide photos of her mom and dad 
who drowned while fishing on the mountain lake. 

If Janet eats toast with butter and jam, 
described by Marcus Gavius Apicius 
in his cookbook De Re Coquinaria, 
she might play chess games with death on the beach 
to save humanity from nuclear war, 
yet cries because she loses every time. 

If Janet reads the murder mystery book 
about the librarian of antique books 
found dead in the medieval history aisle, 
she might translate the ancient epic poem 
composed by Mercury with dragon blood 
when drinking sweet banana-mango juice. 

If Janet strolls on rolling grassy hills 
to photograph the country college town 
with silver river full of dragon ghosts, 
she might solve puzzle of the Rainbow Bridge 
signed by empty sorrow of endless roads 
where people drive past fields of paradise. 

If Janet gathers apples from the tree 
where Lucifer lounges on crooked limb 
while smoking flowers of the cosmic mind, 
she might sell dreams of haunting fantasies 
to lonely people hiding in the church 
who pray for salvation to stick of wood. 

If Janet meets Ishtar for Easter lunch 
in garden grove beside the sparkling lake 
to celebrate rebirth of spinning Earth, 
she might march on the anniversary 
of the day when We the People revolt 
against the mad king and his tyranny. 

Numbered Mirror Face

Numbered Mirror Face
© Surazeus
2025 04 19

Startled by fragile beauty of the soul, 
I gaze into the numbered mirror face 
that measures constant change of flashing time 
with swift atomic wheels which spiral tight 
to weave all moments of my memories 
in one smooth flow of wisdom in my brain. 

Relentless turning by the clock of fate 
erases every bound material form 
from shimmering landscape of our spinning globe 
for we are transient shadows of One Mind 
that dreams the universe of light to being 
so we may sing sweet hymn of aching love. 

Vague monsters on map of our memories 
haunt misty valleys of our secret tales 
which we explore in casual enterprise 
with jeweled tokens dug from fearful caves 
inspired by urgent knowledge of the wind 
from lightning storms that wake us from the dead. 

Awake on pinnacle of framed ideals 
at shocking climax of contained desire, 
I balance with opposing force of truth 
competing concepts of the world we see 
that blends in swirls of colorful aspects 
till words we speak refract its brilliant facts. 

Exiled by sorrow from my captive home, 
I strum strings of the harp with arrogance 
between excessive regions long pursued 
with each alarming strike the pendulum 
radiates in waves of silent attitude 
that knocks our boat against the muddy shore. 

Since I accept quotidian state of being 
with heart of faith untethered from despair, 
I choose to act on instinct of my mind 
through will to power surging in my frame, 
so I control wild flight of breathless thought 
to glide with grace above maze of my dreams. 

Evading gloom from strips of ardent light 
with staggered prance of parallel dream-time, 
I weave fragmented rhythms from chaos 
with measured order words perpetuate 
based on each time I circle unmapped worlds 
to build quaint microcosm of the Earth. 

Blind owl of my irregular concern, 
that leaps on thunderous steps of holy angst, 
motivates me with fierce intensive love 
to float at stillpoint of the universe 
with killer wings of my wandering heart 
so I become unmoving shade of death. 

Hypothesis Of Our Hope

Hypothesis Of Our Hope
© Surazeus
2025 04 19

Machine of nature flashing in our hearts 
recomposes shadow of timeless faith 
that serves as nothing more than glowing mist 
which shrouds our valley of the singing trees 
who wonder why we weep tears over death 
since they will transform our atoms to fruit. 

Exasperation of the flowing stream 
deprives our hearts of faith in birth of light 
with numbing rancor of the falling rain 
that reveals how our bodies need good food 
in lucid testament our breath declares 
as words that fall in soil as dreamless seeds. 

Since God is hypothesis of our hope, 
devised in desperate circumstance of fear, 
we travel forward over windy plains 
along invisible road of weird shapes 
in dream of faithfulness that leads our steps 
beyond the farthest hill of rugged space. 

So that is how we figure in our eyes 
this world of rivers flowing around hills, 
where trees provide sweet fruit of life to eat, 
is round as apples red against the sky 
that we steal from the hissing snake of death 
so we can dance around the burning bush. 

Through divine election of hungry hope 
we traverse rugged hills in latitudes 
of probability with eager faith 
to assert amorality of choice 
as we progress in motion without laws 
to prove we are free agents without cause. 

Based on caprice of passion to transcend 
frustrating limits from this frame of flesh, 
we justify our journey against death 
to circle valley of our spirit birth 
so we can explore the whole universe 
according to Eternal Will of Fate. 

Hope to build new Eden in the waste land 
highlights the desperate folly of our hearts 
that leads us to wander in tangled woods, 
howling in horror at shadowy beasts 
that haunt our aimless journey to our graves 
till we see our gaunt faces in the pool. 

Though lumens of our beauty wear away, 
we follow flashing moon of changing faith 
that chimes progressive flow of unmarked time 
in uniform degrees of psychic growth 
till we transform into shadowy beasts 
and fade into mute sorrow of the lake. 

Replay The Eerie Tune

Replay The Eerie Tune
© Surazeus
2025 04 18

Orpheus leads Ophelia by her hand 
high up the winding rocky mountain path 
while clutching cold frame of his silver lyre 
with taut strings humming in the frantic wind, 
quickly with caution past the snake of faith, 
eager to rejoin the heavenly choir. 

Bright angels swirl around them in the sky 
as clouds that glow with shocking sunset flames 
with hope to lead them to the waterfall 
since psychic program code in the blue eye 
defines algorithms of their star names 
which gives them courage to transcend the wall. 

From apples ripening on Tree of Fate 
swift goldfinches leap on moon-woven wings 
to bring scroll of prophecy to the toad 
which swells huge enough to swallow all hate 
when Orpheus chants spells in magic rings 
that beam eidolic illusions of God. 

They share cold darkness of their aching hearts 
to glimpse strange beauty of the alien face 
reflecting shadow of their secret souls 
with urgent care to conjure from dream charts 
predawn endurance of their tribal space 
defining how they perform cosmic roles. 

They agree to meet at the next full moon 
when Ishtar resurrects the Earth from death 
in secret mountain cave where time was born 
with mission to replay the eerie tune 
which sharpens pure flame of their psychic breath 
at haunting horror of the martial horn. 

Each day they perform their ritual routine, 
gathering food from the generous world 
with constructive gestures of crafting hands 
to maintain function of the mind machine, 
programmed to perform as the cosmic herald 
in project to reclaim colonized lands. 

Love language of the holy messenger, 
who plays the lyre that Mercury designed, 
adjusts attentive focus of his heart 
on needs of his romantic passenger 
who asks with frightened voice if he can find 
snake of fear highlighted by her star chart. 

Avoiding traps that tempt him to gain power 
of authority over reverent souls, 
Orpheus turns away from Throne of Law 
and discards key that unlocks golden tower 
to focus attention on sacred scrolls 
preserved in Hall of Truth by Onatah. 

Trickery Of The Zodiac

Trickery Of The Zodiac
© Surazeus
2025 04 18

Too high above confounding maze of doors 
on wings of angels stolen from dark Hell, 
young son of Hamlet and Ophelia 
falls in love with Juliet in red dress 
when she dances gracefully by the stream 
and sings eerily, "Life is but a dream." 

Amazed by trickery of the zodiac 
by which he calculates the road to take, 
young son of Hamlet and Ophelia, 
who calls himself mad jester with the crown, 
decides to erase history of mankind 
from pure Edenic vision of his mind. 

Insisting they call him Ophelius, 
instead of Hambert, lost prince of Denmark, 
young son of Hamlet and Ophelia 
steals gold Maserati from the garage 
and races swiftly by the moonlit gulf 
with engine growling loud as the wild wolf. 

To treasure beauty only blind fools see 
by eating apples from old Tree of Fate, 
young son of Hamlet and Ophelia 
declares before the cheering stadium crowd 
that he is prophet of war refugees 
who follow buzzing of the honey bees. 

Entranced by beauty of her star-black eyes 
when Juliet dances on the nightclub floor, 
young son of Hamlet and Ophelia 
saves her from Romeo when he gropes her thighs, 
so they run laughing to the city park 
where they make love till singing of the lark. 

Face lit by rays of rosy-fingered dawn 
while he keeps watch over his sleeping bride, 
young son of Hamlet and Ophelia 
contemplates meaning of life till she wakes, 
then gives her apple he stole from the tree 
because she is queen over land of the free. 

When Romeo charges at him with sharp knife 
to stab him in the heart with howl of rage, 
young son of Hamlet and Ophelia 
punches him in the face with calm restraint, 
but Juliet clutches him and weeps in shock, 
heartbroken at the death of her life rock. 

Arrested for murder by grim police 
for killing son of the bank president, 
young son of Hamlet and Ophelia 
declares his innocence in court of law, 
but he is sent south to El Salvador, 
locked in the prison camp forevermore. 

Psychic Graph Of Cogency

Psychic Graph Of Cogency
© Surazeus
2025 04 18

Since candid words of terrid innocence 
spark dreams to bloom in my lucible mind, 
I hope their psychic graph of cogency 
could vigify my heart with providence 
based on fervific passion to express 
clear insight earned through appliance of pain. 

Not horrible as pallid nonchalance 
through torpid indifference of charity, 
my stringent livor based on vigid spite 
enhances verdant particles of fear, 
destined to rigify my argument 
with legal articles of fervid faith. 

Fierce principalities of torpid trust 
assemble various codes of cogent facts 
to aid construction with adjusted thoughts 
of ever-shifting proverbs stating proof 
that conscious vibes of rigid potencies 
exacerbate our tendency to laugh. 

Despite fervific focus on desire, 
designed to lucify our state of mind 
with latticed wisdom, trapped in formulas 
none can unravel with rigific hope, 
we maintain progress beyond tepid trance 
to claim astringent fields as ordered truth. 

Thus I hide from perception of my eyes 
men shaved and stripped of social dignity, 
then stacked in cement cells of impudence 
by fascist gangsters gripping guns of fear 
who sing grand hymns of patriocity 
to sustain patriarchy of contempt. 

Yet still conceptual vigor of my soul 
remains the leaping fountain of respect 
with unquenchable faith to sing of truth 
as hungry human suckling milk of stars 
from breasts of light in wicked satiety 
with ravenous desire to know your heart. 

Merciless attention to basic rights 
through luminous landscapes of loneliness 
applies contingency of urgent faith 
with pride to psychic graph of cogency 
so I create adjusted warmth of love 
with shining wisdom of exploding rain. 

Therefore we gather on the river shore 
to fight for universal rights of man 
against kleptocracy of greedy kings 
since we outnumber wealthy oligarchs 
while Zarathustra raises flag of faith 
and leads us forth to build democracy. 

Library Of Hearts

Library Of Hearts
© Surazeus
2025 04 17

Divine longing to walk the hidden course 
through irregular bloom of hungry shadows 
urges my eyes to perceive ordered forms 
blurred in abundant rhythm of desire 
with undeterred gestures to manage growth 
of wild trees that obscure pathway of faith. 

Beaming within limits of its taut sphere, 
the sun weaves bodies of organic brains 
from flashing molecules of timeless truth 
who dance together on the ocean shore 
and sing in harmony with swirling waves 
with rapturous awe at beauty of light. 

Mind-pulsing revery of honey bees 
causes clovers to sprout from rancid prairies 
where children splash in starry-silver pools, 
then hold their breath and float on nothingness, 
suspended between credence and despair 
based on narrative of hope we compose. 

Crouched inside encompassing wall of mounds 
that shields our bodies from hunger of monsters, 
we whisper perfect names in secret code 
to realign attention of our eyes 
with focus on dark shadows of despair 
that lurk among indifferent trees of faith. 

Eager to erase ignorance of Earth, 
we attempt to explore beyond the pale 
of sacred haven where we clutch word keys 
with fierce objective to protect the truth 
in tandem with speech of electric leaves 
that rustle softly in the haughty breeze. 

We catalog strange objects we observe 
as mind-animated parts of blind trees 
that teach our hearts to be reliable 
with rooted stories of the wanderers 
who transplant ghosts from garden of mad gods 
to prove our souls are born from wind and rain. 

Gold warblers lounge in maples by the lake 
with holy mission to retrieve the star 
that falls in blaze of glory from storm clouds 
to write our memoirs in black-feathered books 
we store with care in Library of Hearts 
where daffodils bloom from our rotting brains. 

Dawn wrenches lonely hills from wordless graves 
without respect for how we humans feel, 
so we map signless roads of everywhere 
which all lead straight to City of the Owl 
embodied by the girl with moon-gray eyes 
who teaches me to sing when angels weep. 

Matrix Of Dream-Webs

Matrix Of Dream-Webs
© Surazeus
2025 04 17

When the shadow butterfly of my heart 
flutters into bright planet of your eye 
I forget myself and become your hope 
as sweet electric current of respect 
flows between our bodies in spiral rings 
that blossom into wings of honest love. 

When the star-flashing honey of our words 
weaves taut beams of early afternoon light 
in startling mystery of mutual desire, 
we merge our bodies into glowing cloud 
as precious wings of respect bind our minds 
in compassionate embrace of pure love. 

We want this temporary flame of love 
to glow as long as we are both alive, 
connecting our alien bodies with trust 
as we stroll hand in hand on ocean shore 
to sing in harmony with awe-formed waves 
so we tend energy of faith we share. 

The more we talk about the world we see, 
sharing anecdotes of wondrous events 
that we experience in our times apart, 
the larger virtual world inside our minds 
expands to accommodate formulas 
we devise to explain what we perceive. 

Though we are chemical cogs of desire 
as bodies bound in matrix of dream-webs, 
propelled by natural forces of the Earth 
in global wheel of flashing molecules, 
we navigate landscape of sun-sparked forms, 
choosing our way with axiom of free will. 

We write the script of our predestined fate, 
dispelling illusions of hopeful dreams 
to measure status of reality 
so we can comprehend nature of things 
enough to choose what actions to perform 
within variable range of possibilities. 

Constrained by universal laws of Nature, 
we exercise expansive force of hope 
to balance forward motion of desire 
between extremes of energy and form 
as aggressive souls of organic brains 
in compliance with machinery of time. 

Lithe with play of illusory free will 
within atomic framework of the Earth, 
we breathe ethereal spirit of the sun 
to surf on undulating waves of fate 
along trajectory of flexible laws 
in tune with inexorable flow of hope. 

Island Of Sweet Hope

Island Of Sweet Hope
© Surazeus
2025 04 16

When the shining sun of desperate hope 
is obliterated from the clear sky 
by haunting shadow of the howling moon, 
Odysseus crawls on sore hands and knees 
across the sparkling sands of Ithaca, 
and cries out with joy at his return home. 

Three thousand two hundred and three years later 
I stand in evening dusk on back wood deck 
of my home in sultry Appalachian hills 
near turbid waters of Oconee River, 
and feel ache of nostalgia in my heart 
for homecoming of heroes from harsh wars. 

How far from Ithaca in sailing boats 
my ancestors journeyed on endless search 
to find lush valley with the Tree of Life 
where we may gather in the evening dusk 
to party with pleasure of being alive, 
sweet visions that program how my brain dreams. 

Now far away from Island of sweet hope 
I dwell in temporary paradise 
in quaint comfortable home I did not build 
where my wife and children may safely dwell 
to create beautiful art about life 
with eager passion of dream-crafting hands. 

Soon the shining sun of desperate hope 
may get obliterated from the sky 
by readjustment of the fate machine 
when devil of greed who escaped from Hell 
possesses old king with ambitious pride 
to again wreck grand towers of Ilium. 

This cruel Agamemnon in our White House, 
who has unleashed mad Achilles in hate 
with avaricious chainsaw of contempt 
to exile countless good people from Heaven, 
sneers with bitter disgust for honest law 
while he rampages in careless revenge. 

If wily Odysseus with clever ploy 
would evict cruel tyrant from our White House 
to rebuild our great empire he destroys 
instead of helping trash America, 
he could return to Island of sweet hope 
with esteem that he saved our land from greed. 

We call on wise Athena to attend 
urgent mission restoring our great land 
by turning heart of sly Odysseus 
from selfish greed to selfless courtesy 
with courageous compassion of respect 
to save our homeland from invasive thieves. 

This Hour Of Faith

This Hour Of Faith
© Surazeus
2025 04 16

Emerging from wood fane by the pear tree, 
Sabina stands before her frightened people. 
"Now that we have secured haven of hope 
on lush shore of swampy Albula River, 
protected by our guardian Curinus, 
may Mother Ceres bless us with ripe wheat." 

Gesturing toward their boats anchored to oak trees, 
Sabina reminds them of their hard journey. 
"My father, Sabus Jupiter Fidius, 
assembled our tribe, driven from their land, 
on rugged sea shore of hilly Laconia 
and lead us here to this lush mountain valley." 

Sabina presses her hand on her heart. 
"His noble father, Sancus Fisovius, 
divine guard of our tribal sanctuary, 
god of heavenly light, sanctified oaths 
of agreements in contracts of respect, 
and avenged dishonest ones who broke oaths." 

Sabina gazes in their hopeful eyes. 
"Now that we enclosed our town with safe walls, 
we shall build temple to our tribal founder 
to preserve memory of his honest reign 
as son of Dius Fidius and his bride, 
wise Neith, graceful daughter of Sobecus." 

Sabina wipes tears from her sparkling eyes. 
"Sobecus reigned as river priest of oaths 
in land of Egyptia in hot Africa, 
till his brother overthrew him in coup, 
and set him adrift on the wine-dark sea 
with his young daughter and beloved books." 

Sabina raises right hand to the sun. 
"Generous Feronia, Goddess of Mothers, 
found Sobecus and his daughter shipwrecked 
on shore of Laconia, hungry in rain, 
so she gave them shelter and food to eat, 
and told her son Fidius to guard them well." 

Sabina crosses her arms across her breast. 
"When Neith grew tall and graceful as the willow, 
her kindness and beauty won the bold heart 
of Dius Fidius, defender of his tribe, 
so they pledged their love before Feronia, 
then she gave birth to our Lord Fisovius." 

Sabina spreads arms open as they cheer. 
"Each generation of our bold ancestors 
wandered lost in this world of hostile tribes, 
but we build our new home with crafting hands, 
for we are blessed by Feronia and Neith, 
whose spirits wake in me this hour of faith." 

Farm Fields Of Paradise

Farm Fields Of Paradise
© Surazeus
2025 04 15

Warned by stones in the walls of paradise 
about fish flipping the sky upside down, 
we untangle memories of this wild land 
which we name after first mother of faith 
who walked these lush hills centuries ago 
to hide our bodies in egg of her heart. 

Vulnerable to hungry machines of hope, 
which plow fields of grass into furrowed verse 
where wordless men with taut wind-weathered faces 
scatter seeds of stories in graves of fear, 
old paradigm of Earth we cherished deeply 
hides redolent spirits of our dry bones. 

Words ferret mysteries with the sense of touch 
we connive to prove Earth remembers us 
so cities of stone we build on her breast 
creak with anguish of forgotten desires 
that bloom from rain-wet fields into gold wheat 
we bake into bread to weep for Adonis. 

Consorting at twilight with honest lovers, 
we weave strange loneliness of midnight flowers 
in wreaths we wear to May Day festivals 
with unrelenting passion to transcend 
cadence of broken hearts in sprightly dance 
though we relapse to status of lost fools. 

Our bodies vanish into fields of wheat 
where we first rose from corrugated tombs 
to map eccentric meadows teeming angels 
who chase each other twenty thousand years 
as we gather berries from tangled vines 
which represent weird history of our race. 

Buoyant spawn of our hearts escaping caves 
grasp roots of trees with elegant disgrace 
to organize wild herbs from shadowed woods 
into neatly aligned rows of fruit trees 
which flourish thick in hush of river winds 
for sweet unsingable hymns of old faith. 

Amazed at startling beauty of gold mist, 
that frames the rising moon with arrogance, 
we calculate our peaceful absences 
with daring urgency to comprehend 
crystalized wisdom of our drifting house 
that shelters our children from angry storms. 

Conjured by gale-warning voice of the sea 
that sings with sibilance of honest hope, 
our spirits beam with marvelous intent 
to count each raindrop shining with its star 
that animates seeds with ambitious pride 
we feel tending farm fields of paradise. 

Fervent Prayers To God

Fervent Prayers To God
© Surazeus
2025 04 15

The words I speak are transient as the wind, 
yet mold from conceptual clay of my brain 
timeless state of reality I feel 
vibrate in ruthless wind of constancy 
with arbitrary perfection of thought, 
for I create the world with words I speak. 

The mystery of the weirding words I speak 
reveals the way to balance truth with lies 
halfway between reality and dream 
when I stand on the rock of haughty hope 
to proclaim the meaning of world events 
that swirl our bodies in currents of fate. 

The faultless vision of the way things are 
highlights the pointless passion of desire 
that drives our spectral progress to transcend 
walled obstacles of belligerent faith 
contrived by gestures our bodies invent 
to program fortune of successful plays. 

The process I prescribe with strict respect 
provides clear method we articulate 
to catalog all objects of the world 
with words that shape forms into clear ideas 
demarked by boundaries of conceptual fact 
depicting accurate state of primal being. 

The card tricks jesters play on loyal fools 
expose selfish greed of each conscious soul 
who risks their hard-earned wealth of social pride 
to gamble for salvation against Death 
who always wins in fate-adjusted time 
despite our fervent prayers to God for Life. 

The eerie laughter of the apple tree, 
who understands fierce hunger of my flesh, 
excites erotic wisdom of my brain 
to plant small seeds in putrid river mud, 
and faithfully attend their fragile sprouts 
till forest of fruit trees grows from my corpse. 

The monstrous toad beneath the murky waves 
lurks in disguise as beauty I desire 
with glamorous allurement of sweet eyes 
for pleasure promised by ecstatic faith, 
so I dive in dark lake where Grendel hides 
to fight the demon Nature with word spells. 

The painful memories of our harvest hour 
compose the sturdy bridge of honesty 
across which humans walk with trembling faith 
to find the Promised Land of fruitful trees 
across the waste land of sterilized faith 
defined by rapture of true words I speak. 

Empty Sky Of Faith

Empty Sky Of Faith
© Surazeus
2025 04 15

Oak trees that arch over the home-lined lane 
conclave our neighborhood with ambience 
that shines with grand cathedral elegance 
of calm security which shields our lives 
from political turbulence of greed 
that roils old institutions of our state. 

Small herds of deer, that prance with skittish grace 
across oak-shaded streets of solitude, 
play in lush backyards of our neighborhood 
with innocent observance of desire, 
far from tense chess games in law-tensiled courts 
fought between fearful gangs for thought-control. 

Bright green glow of advancing dawn light rays 
enshroud safe haven of my private home 
with calm assurance of stoic respect 
for caustic forces of dramatic ploys 
the weak king exudes with rage to enforce 
vain power of his fake authority. 

Red-feathered woodpecker with knife-sharp beak 
explains laws of physics to playful children 
who race their bikes on oak-lined avenues 
in preparation for the future phase 
when they assume faith-fortuned offices 
in contest over who narrates the truth. 

Cerulean shimmer of the morning sky 
reflects conceptual state of psychic being 
our brains project as vast immortal mind 
on whom we post responsibilities 
for all the good and bad that Nature shows 
with blind indifference to our fragile lives. 

On vital wings of social fortitude 
ascend the bright-eyed ghosts of cloudy realms 
embodied as the heron by the pond 
who dares reclaim weird mystery of the stone 
by which humans, frightened by mute death, 
attempt to tame wordless forces of Nature. 

Bold vigor pulsing in our hungry hearts 
compels aggressive passion to attend 
religious service of communal hope 
with arms outstretched to empty sky of faith 
that measures maturation of our souls 
as we achieve sufficient height of love. 

Awake with timeless attitude of faith, 
while strolling among hundred-year-old oaks 
that arch high cathedrally beautiful 
to cast bright atmosphere of holy awe, 
I prepare my heart for fierce civil war 
to stand on the right side of history. 

First Designed By Amen

First Designed By Amen
© Surazeus
2025 04 15

Mild reluctance of the arrogant snow 
to prove whether some god exists or not, 
inspires me to play confessional chess 
with every devil who dares interfere 
with my plot to realign the star frame 
geared to favor my fortunate success. 

How wild my heart accelerates back-flight 
when blind god who may or may not exist 
requires me to play congressional chess 
despite lack of experience with death 
that will erase this vision of the world 
glowing with immortal light in my head. 

Since no one ever attends my Dream Show, 
I decide it is best that I persist 
with programming my humanized robot 
with consciousness based on star-flashing breath 
because I always lose each game of chess 
I dare to play against the universe. 

Safe for now in haven of false desires, 
enclosed by walls of secure dollar bills, 
I rage against the global dream machine 
that brainwashes our minds to perceive how 
god embodies itself in the milk cow 
who grazes on grass in the vale of mist. 

Sparked by sudden feeling of bold despair, 
which haunts storybooks in library halls, 
I conduct studies of how rivers flow 
with winding suspicion of gravity 
that guides our progress to the cosmic sea 
where all molecules merge in mind of god. 

Though I grope half-blind in valley of fog, 
holding up lamp of liberty to plan 
random pathway I map to Wonderland, 
people may follow me centuries later 
to find paradise glows inside our hearts, 
yet still we search for fruitful Tree of Fate. 

Honest confusion for the role I play 
in global game of chess to attain power, 
that we call civilization, conjugates 
expansive formulas which define nature 
common to every human on this Earth 
which spins forever in the void of faith. 

Awake before dawn in the twilight zone, 
I unfold angel wings from the bone 
supporting infrastructure of state banks 
that fund educational institutes 
so brain of every child may be programmed 
with one world view first designed by Amen.