Fall In Void Of Time

Fall In Void Of Time
© Surazeus
2023 06 12

Since death will always catch us by surprise, 
though we are sure it could strike any time, 
we boldly plunge into river of life 
to transcend horror of aggressive force 
in vain attempt to attain paradise 
till we pluck fruit of love from tree of hope. 

I should go cautious into that good night 
to traverse safely dangerous terrain 
where monsters lurk in pitfalls of despair 
waiting to devour the careless fool 
who stumbles into shadow of false hope 
without attentive study of desire. 

Through careful measurement of hostile space 
that looms around me with dark jagged rage 
I glide through chilly shadow of despair 
on slow tentative steps to test firm ground 
because my head buzzes with shock of truth 
that death could strike me down at any time. 

Illusion of this world I think is real 
crumbles away beneath my trembling feet, 
and sacred treasures shining in my hands 
are blown away by harsh winds of disdain 
to scatter all my hopes on fractured ground 
so I feel myself fall in void of time. 

Though I fall tumbling into swirling gloom 
my impact shatters frame of aptitude 
to blast wide open howling space of hell 
that hollows anguish from indifferent lust 
so I create my paradise from fear 
I guard from death with sweet hymn of true love. 

Though I am cast from heaven of my faith 
and lose security of fiscal aid 
till treasures I make with my crafting hands 
are stolen from sacred vault of my heart, 
yet I will build from nothingness of why 
new paradise of fruit trees with my will. 

No matter where I walk in quest of life 
on nameless nowhere roads in maze of myths 
my heart is home of confident respect 
for death still walks beside me to the end, 
bright glowing shadow hovering over me 
though I steal wings of desire and try to fly. 

Since death will someday catch me by surprise 
while I perform creative rites of faith 
I dance with swirling ocean waves of truth 
to comprehend weird language of our brains 
till I arrive on stage of bloody hope 
when I feel myself fall in void of time. 

Dreamless Eye Of Death

Dreamless Eye Of Death
© Surazeus
2023 06 12

Knowledge of soul-congealing light must come 
through my brain on opaque wings of red dawn, 
disguised as wounds that rip my pulsing soul 
on slow transition between states of mind 
while I trudge beneath exquisite lamp boughs 
that drip blood into dreamless eye of death. 

With tasteless morsels of intense surmise 
I reach out to dark shadow of my hope 
that slips away through doors of nevermore 
while I float tangled by my navel cord 
with undulating matrix of desire 
that carries me to dreamless eye of death. 

Carnivorous flower of my hungry brain, 
suppressed by casual weight of tuneless night, 
fuels my aggressive journey past myself 
with rumbling undertones of engine minds 
that drag me back from paradise to life 
when I wake free from dreamless eye of death. 

With abyss-probing instrument of truth 
I penetrate infinity of why 
to examine nature of this frail body 
by which I stumble down fraught road of life, 
expanding far beyond bounds of my soul 
that telescopes from dreamless eye of death. 

Conceptual spiders of my flashing brain 
drag neural web of frantic memories 
through swirling vortex of delirium 
toward cataclysmic maelstrom of my words 
till I surf turbulence of honest faith 
that blossoms worlds from dreamless eye of death. 

With lips still burning from sour angel kiss 
I try to sing eccentric code of truth, 
disarming demons hiding in my hands, 
till sheep dance laughing on wet meadow grass 
as shepherds construct starship from glass acorns 
that zooms black hole in dreamless eye of death. 

Wandering lost forever in maze of myths, 
that jostles wild with anonymous ghosts, 
I follow feeble flicker of glass bulbs 
to search dark underground for lonely souls 
who want to sing fierce howl of false desire, 
embalmed by fate in dreamless eye of death. 

My future self, encased in silver mask, 
thrusts wordless thoughts of love at my frail face 
with delicate wings of soul-slashing blades, 
distorting my perception of my being 
with magic apparatus of my mind 
which obliterates dreamless eye of death. 

Haven Of My Truth

Haven Of My Truth
© Surazeus
2023 06 11

Reluctant to acknowledge pain of death 
that waits patiently in shadow of truth, 
I sit by the window and eat stale bread, 
then ponder process of this divine mood 
which swells my mind bigger than galaxies 
to comprehend flash of infinities. 

To stave off death with scepter of desire 
I plant my shadow in the broken door 
and measure radiance of the morning light 
that rings with concept of the timeless note 
which swells my mind with vision of new way 
we follow to become the conscious ray. 

Excited to perceive vast boundless space 
that spirals matrix of the mental lease, 
I redesign ontology of fate 
to account for free will of the soul seat 
which swells my mind with tears of honesty 
because I must express apostasy. 

Strange characters in ancient holy book, 
like the prophet who struck the fountain rock, 
embody morals that express the good 
commanded by the tyrant who plays God, 
but when I gaze up at the empty sky 
I see truth programmed by Ancestral Eye. 

Entranced by glam of my face in the pool, 
that smiles up at me from shadow of Hell, 
I slither from twilight of social gloom 
to search for my mother in Bethlehem 
who studies skulls of ancient kings in caves 
while I translate sacred hymns of sea waves. 

Encoding my thoughts in riddles of verse 
that deconstruct grand narrative of force, 
I charter process of spirit rebirth 
urging our bodies to percolate forth 
which swells my mind from neural net of dreams 
to weave our memories in evolving streams. 

Still stuck in doorless maze of psychic myths 
while I attempt to map confusing paths, 
I stop at edge of time to plot my wits 
with ardent calculus of acrobats 
so I can live in haven of my Truth 
as incarnation of messiah sleuth. 

Playing hide and seek in warm meadow grass, 
I chase my shadow among apple trees 
on quest to become more than mortal man 
evolving through this chemical machine 
which swells my mind vast as the sky above 
through which I savor passion of true love. 

My Sweet Rowan Tree

My Sweet Rowan Tree
© Surazeus
2023 06 11

Forever running toward the rowan tree, 
that blossoms white on summer hills of hope, 
I seek the carefree joy of childhood lost 
in swirling mists of time that blind my eyes, 
yet still in dreams, imbued with wistful glow, 
I see my mother smile in cool tree shade. 

I call out to the wind-blown rowan tree 
to grow still tall on summer hills of hope, 
but thunderous crack of cannons boom too loud, 
so swirling smoke of war shrouds blasted hills 
where skulls of my brothers bleed in red mud 
far from where my mother smiles in tree shade. 

Returning to the weeping rowan tree, 
limping slowly on summer hills of hope, 
I see ghosts of my carefree siblings play 
with joyful laughter of wild raven wings 
among white blossoms in the sun-gold breeze 
where my mother smiles not in cool tree shade. 

Sitting under the silent rowan tree, 
that quivers bare on summer hills of hope, 
I gaze with my good eye at sylvan scene 
that shimmers bright with sad eternity 
while men fight wars for world supremacy 
though our mothers wait still in cool tree shade. 

Alone beneath the bonnie rowan tree, 
entwined with tales on summer hills of hope, 
I weep for all the people of my life 
who vanish lost in changing winds of time, 
yet still remain as ghosts who haunt my dreams, 
my sweet mother smiling in cool tree shade. 

Heart aching beneath the old rowan tree, 
who spreads her arms on summer hills of hope 
to shroud my heart from agony of loss, 
I sing enchanting melody of love 
that wakes from dream ghosts of my family 
to see my mother smile in cool tree shade. 

Though time floats still beneath the rowan tree, 
that trembles wild on summer hills of hope, 
I know sweet memories of my lost childhood 
and ghosts of people I have loved and lost 
cannot sustain my body but with love, 
so I leave my mother in cool tree shade. 

Bidding farewell to my sweet rowan tree, 
that blossoms still on summer hills of hope, 
I walk toward city maze to seek my home 
where my sweet wife and children wait for me, 
for I will bring them to my rowan tree 
to meet my mother haunting cool tree shade. 

Survive These Terrible Times

Survive These Terrible Times
© Surazeus
2023 06 11

If we would survive these terrible times 
we should look to the American sky 
where Jesus and Apollo play chess games 
while I lounge by the pool and ponder why 
humans form gangs to fight for fertile land 
with the Holy Book and the Gun in hand. 

Slouched in despair by the abandoned tomb, 
where the devil plays Savior of Mankind, 
I worship mystery of the nuclear bomb 
that blows all theology from my mind, 
which Zeus, the beautiful Storm God of Wrath, 
wields as thunderbolt of secular faith. 

Though he stood on the Ziggurat of Power 
ten thousand years as symbol of state truth, 
the Tribal Leader, before whom we cower, 
whose face shines bright from our loyalty oath, 
has vanished from fascist national myths 
and hides now as humble, hardworking smiths. 

When noble hero rises from the crowd 
to oppose the tyrant, who scams blind Fate, 
leading common people to rise unbowed, 
he transcends himself to become the State 
through apotheosis of mental fire 
so he directs our song in the global choir. 

While common people in each global state 
work hard to earn enough money to live 
in system controlled by greed of the gate, 
the wealthy pass laws so they can enslave 
our bodies to hunger for food and hope 
while we go mad just attempting to cope. 

The world food-production machine is based 
on back of the farmer who tills the soil 
so we consume goods till mountains of waste 
fester in Eden while our children toil 
to harvest apples from the Golden Bough 
because naught will ever be good enough. 

Though I fall from walls of Heaven at dawn 
to blast open space for living in Hell, 
I rise reborn to found New Avalon 
where hungry workers gather at the bell 
to join my feast in grand Temple of Truth 
where I rule the world as Messiah Sleuth. 

For I am apparition of state power 
who crowns myself as incarnation of god 
to rule the world from my money bank tower 
by fighting tyrants with the Justice Squad, 
while our planet spins on in silent void, 
that leaves Jesus and his son unemployed. 

Words Entombed In Books

Words Entombed In Books
© Surazeus
2023 06 10

The way I think is natural to my mind 
but others seem to think my view is weird 
though I can only see this teeming world 
with eyes my ancestors forged in their dreams 
while standing in brutal light of the rain 
to taste metallic sorrow of blind faith. 

Repressing horror that we all will die, 
I unzip wings from aching shoulder blades 
and soar above brick buildings on deep breath 
with fierce intention to transcend my self 
while drowning in the restless sea of truth 
which lifts me so high I can only fall. 

Through mortal godhood of my aching flesh 
I seek to preserve in strict tomb of words 
immortal soul of lightning born from stars 
that writhes with hot demonic energy 
through flashing nerves of honest lust to live 
which urges me to leap abyss of fear. 

My body rots into these spells I write 
so tangled matrix of my fractured mind 
preserves confusing visions of my brain 
in fictive stories bleeding from my eyes 
so we remain as words entombed in books 
long after time dissolves our souls to dust. 

I am not that marble idol in church 
that poses frozen in elegant grace, 
forever gesturing toward eternal sky 
while strumming soundless strings on static harp 
and singing one conceptual hum of truth 
with mute intensity of sublime myth. 

Awake with awed surprise on hill of skulls, 
I sing cosmic elegy for the self 
that dies again with every passing hour 
as sunlight beams sharp rays of agony 
through pulsing passion of my naked soul 
though I float nameless on surging sea waves. 

I only feel free when I am alone 
because each atom flashing in my soul, 
composed from web of buzzing neural wires, 
beams from first flash that flares forth from God Eye 
at godless creation of time-spun space 
to glow within me as the Divine Mind. 

I am alive in shining of the water, 
immortal supersoul in every brain 
of every creature who has ever lived 
and will live in the spinning of our world, 
so I enclose myself inside my brain 
to dream reality through poems I sing. 

Broken Lyre Of Honesty

Broken Lyre Of Honesty
© Surazeus
2023 06 10

Strolling out through my mind to the dark woods, 
with each book ever written in my hands, 
I fall into wild fire of naked words 
that burns my anguished soul into bronze mask 
I wear to play Apollo on world stage 
while strumming broken lyre of honesty. 

When god-sized shadow of the wingless angel 
hovers over valley of singing skulls 
I shout with mute assertion at Glow Cloud 
that I am not his unusable tree 
composed of mortal wood from rancid mud 
while I curl roots into heart of the Earth. 

Since I would never dare quarrel with time, 
who will erase me from this universe, 
I keep unsecret stories of my soul 
programmed by my ancestors in my brain 
that build my body from aggressive hope 
through fiction of duration I devise. 

Stumbling into empty church of dead gods, 
I find statues of seers I want to play 
on global stage of fame to prove I am 
more than this body of muscle and blood,  
Orpheus, Phoebus, Apollo, and Mithras, 
shining paragons of narrative tropes. 

Blinded by the God-tilted light of Heaven, 
which emanates from mocking radios, 
I fly on boneless wings of innocence 
high over telephone wires that connect 
computerized brains in the world wide web 
so I can walk Bridge of Forgetfulness. 

We beam our souls through fingers into words 
that slither on serpentine lust for truth 
in crackling network of the world wide web 
till we become the singing ghosts of faith 
composed of crystal energy we taste 
while drinking courage on the moonlit porch. 

Desperately chanting my hieratic spell 
through Orphic drowning man reborn as Zeus, 
I join the shrieking flock of singing ghosts 
disguised as crows on wet telephone lines 
to analyze Zodiac code of our fate 
when we wrestle with otherness of us. 

While avatar of the American Sublime 
walks signless road to Garden of Desire, 
I stare at my face in the mirror mask 
to hear the subtle shifting shape of rain 
for I am shimmer of sunlight on water, 
awake before the first word Mother speaks. 

Redisbecoming Who I

Redisbecoming Who I
© Surazeus
2023 06 10

Redisbecoming who I think I am, 
we multiply our selves across the land 
to concept void from matter undisclosed 
through universal thought we organize 
that reassembles shattered minds of gods 
who wake as humans struggling to survive. 

Through dream inclusion of unmeasured hope, 
based on pronoun of choice we meditate, 
we choose ancestors who would represent 
exsocial values forged in heat of wrath 
impossible to replicate through words 
as we assimilate colonial we. 

From self-estrangement of soul lineage 
we translate dreams with special rhythmic tunes 
based on edition of the sacred truth 
including various lyres long undeterred 
by thought plurality excluding we 
who contradict our stated principles. 

Collective self we mask with characters, 
conceived by frantic faith in singing skulls, 
decides to sing in glow of morning light 
that stripes illusions from unpainted walls 
containing tales that only children tell 
who give each other masks they hate to wear. 

From self-erasure I invent myself 
with process chartered by the faceless god 
that deconstructs first person singular 
so we become my ego formalized 
through exponential issues unexpressed 
by haughty jesters wearing social masks. 

With splintered images of mirrored minds, 
spilled from pure broken vessels, redesigned 
by bookless pirates stealing tales of fools, 
we must interrogate why we are born 
from vacant heart of consciousness at dawn 
through complex figuration of false names. 

I am anthology of other selves 
imagined by my isolated brain 
which contradicts old doctrine of the soul, 
assumed more difficult at crack of thought 
that only bears itself on open roads 
between bright portals of now-unlocked doors. 

To mobilize this we-the-people mind, 
that motivates my project to control 
effective program through the global state, 
I branch my brain to become every soul 
who ever lives in history of the Earth 
with multivalent body I become. 

Bleeding Apples Of Hope

Bleeding Apples Of Hope
© Surazeus
2023 06 09

If bleeding apples of hope smirk at me 
with indifferent passion sprouting from mud 
I might construct safe haven of my heart 
on shattered hillside of the laughing skull 
because my living body calls up love 
as shadow rising from bright stone of truth. 

On signless road that leads past paradise 
I walk alien to myself thirty years 
to find where my grandfather dug my grave 
so I can clothe nakedness of desire 
then eat sweet pears while thinking how decay 
bewilders my fragile porcelain heart. 

Though I hide on dry banks of the blank sky 
to measure beams of fastidious light 
I talk with darkness of the falling snow 
to rise above the doorless maze of fear 
and soar ten thousand years beyond myself 
till we walk holding hands in sunlit wheat. 

When psychic sense of the soft ocean waves 
envelops me with knowledge of the breath 
I listen for the interrupted cry 
that echoes over our numberless homes 
where tools of gardeners rot in old snow 
though I try to rake misery from my heart. 

Because the thought word moves with ecstasy 
in stuttered harmony of ocean waves 
I wake in shining book of nameless ghosts, 
alarmed by psychic luminosity 
by which I reconcile with skeletons 
who dance too far away from home to care. 

We blossom in the garden of blind ghosts, 
tended by our grandmother who went mad 
escaping from cruel soldiers in the camp, 
and dances free with spirit of the child 
while gathering flowers on the hill of skulls 
so she can forget mute horror of pain. 

So though the world is ending in gray war 
we dance wild around naked flames of fire 
while Bacchus plays flute carved from dragon bone, 
followed by voiceless dancer of the moon 
who teaches us to revere living souls 
with love of those who return from the dead. 

Since unwashed shadows of the living glow 
brighter than eyes of owls in singing trees 
we gather in field of wheat by the stream 
to sing obsessive hymns of honest fear, 
lost in the hazy memories of ourselves 
till we step out of our bodies and bloom. 

When we step out of our bodies we break 
into apple blossoms swirling in wind 
across the highway where ten thousand cars 
scream with unbearable silence of God 
as spiders search for our hearts in dark rooms 
till lights flash on inside our hungry mouths. 

We drink blood of gods from polluted streams 
then camp in tattered tents behind the church 
where happy zombies pray to vampire king, 
then call angels with flaming swords of greed 
to drive the homeless from their neighborhood 
so we can eat fake apples of lost love. 

Waking Up Over The Aeneid

Waking Up Over The Aeneid
© Surazeus
2023 06 08

The sun is bleeding stories on the page, 
unnumbered souls of nameless people swirled 
by restless wind across landscape of time 
who worship concept of their king as god, 
by subjugating conquered tribes as slaves, 
till we live free to surf the internet. 

Each person sitting alone in their room 
ignores how sunlight shimmers on the wall 
as they type thoughts and tales in dreamless squares 
to post their hopes and fears on social sites 
for strangers to like, or argue their case, 
while we all ponder, "Who am I, and why?" 

The Child of Aphrodite gives me book 
about the ancient hero who forsook 
his true love for his glorious destiny 
to found empire on nationality 
that still thrives on this fertile continent 
ruled by the arrogantly confident. 

When ghost of Pallas wanders Congress halls 
to howl at horror of the deficit 
then Raven King will leap through mirror door 
to battle hungry vampire of the church 
who hoards the laughing skulls of long-dead kings 
in desperate search to find lost magic rings. 

At midnight when the moon still blazes black 
we dance around the funeral pyres of gods 
to celebrate rebirth of ancient pride 
when warriors spring from snake teeth in the soil 
where corn radiates sweet energy of love 
from heart of Onatah, eternal queen. 

Translucent mask she wears on stage of fame 
reflects obsessions of our aching hearts 
so we march bold in grand parade of power 
with stately tears that working men conceal 
to follow Turnus down the signless road 
who waves star-spangled banner at the sky. 

The elephants of Carthage trample truth 
with laws that shackle women with their greed 
by banning books that expose racist hate 
till noble warrior of democracy 
breaks bloody rifle of blind tyranny 
by sacrificing his life to save ours. 

I would sit quietly in my safe home 
and map whole history of humanity 
but gray-eyed Athena demands I rise 
and strike with Wand of Zambor to destroy 
system of privilege that the rich employ 
in vain attempt to crucify the clown. 

Revolution Of The Woke

Revolution Of The Woke
© Surazeus
2023 06 07

While driving highway past your empty homes 
I feel your energy vibrate from doors 
that never open wide for wistful wind 
as if our sentimental tales record 
events more strange than mad king on the moor 
who cradles dolorous pride in his arms. 

When I drink from fountain of the blind horse, 
halfway up sad mountain of laughing ghosts, 
my hair sprouts into long vines of pungent grapes 
that taste metallic from lachrymal lust 
so we pray somber to indifferent Earth 
for salvation with sanguine honesty. 

Till Aisling asks me with tremulous voice 
to lead her revolution of the woke 
I float in dreamy mist of eager hope 
that humans may survive apocalypse 
with blessed assurance of naked rage 
because we exercise conceptual choice. 

Each prophet standing on the public stage, 
who reads riddles with literary voice, 
declares holy war against urban sprawl 
while Grendel drinks beer with complacency 
that laughing skull of Hamlet will compose 
new constitution for our global state. 

Though I am broken by life circumstance 
I run around race tracks nine thousand times 
till my heart turns to stone at sudden glance 
of love Medusa translates to sweet rhymes 
since I disappear from each photograph 
when Jesus returns on clumsy giraffe. 

While Bacchus lounges on tattered divan, 
ignoring rusty sword of Damocles 
that dangles from Sistine Chapel of faith, 
I program new world view with secret code 
from song of ocean waves that kiss cliff rocks 
which proves climate change redesigns our minds. 

Since tornadoes discuss theology 
with corporate towers in vast city maze 
about soul salvation through works of faith 
we must ignore poverty and disease 
by offering thoughts and prayers to the bereaved 
who clutch bodies of children killed by guns. 

So I wander home in my shiny car 
hidden in the screaming hills of nowhere 
where deathless mother in long yellow dress 
plays chess with Minerva to win my heart 
because I disappear in words of books 
the not-yet-born will study in high school. 

Blind Hope Of The Road

Blind Hope Of The Road
© Surazeus
2023 06 06

What strange intensity my heart must feel 
each hour the gold sun glimmers on the world 
for me to swell with anguish of the wind 
till I become the blind hope of the road 
I follow till I find edge of the world 
with each crunch of my worn shoes in the dirt. 

Michael pauses at edge of the high cliff 
to gaze at white waves sparkling on the sea 
where fishing boats bounce in the gusting wind 
and wonders why the world has become strange 
since he helped expose the treasonous plot 
by the minister to replace the king. 

The arrow Cupid fires strikes at his heart 
when he sees Aisling by the apple tree 
who clutches throat of the poisonous snake 
to capture venom in the holy grail, 
then mixes in mushrooms, honey, and milk, 
which she offers him with wink of her eye. 

When Michael drinks sweet nectar of Ishtar 
he feels his body soar into the sky, 
so he spreads raven wings of joyful lust 
to shout new gospel to the world below 
that God is illusion kings use to rule 
so break free from his power through free will. 

Roaring from the sea, quick as lightning strikes, 
fierce Dragon of Authority attacks 
the naive boy on Wings of Icarus 
who bears in his hands Lamp of Lucifer 
and Sword of Meroveus that gleams bright 
with thirst to taste hot blood of monstrous greed. 

Swooping on firm wings with elegant grace, 
Michael battles Dragon of Tyranny 
high over Gotham City at midnight, 
striking sword of justice at privilege 
till he pierces crack of arrogant pride 
to kill the tyrant with democracy. 

Snapping awake from vision of just war, 
dizzy on wind-battered Cliffs of Moher, 
Michael chuckles with energy of truth 
that vibrates from Brian Boru Harp he bears, 
then wanders safe around Slough of Despond 
to knock at Gates of Heaven before dawn. 

From gold blaze of light the White Hart appears 
through door of castle tower on the hill, 
so Michael strums the sacred harp and sings 
while Aisling scatters gold coins to the poor, 
who sit at computers inside their homes 
and tweet opinions while the ocean swirls. 

Fourth Angel Jupiter Sends

Fourth Angel Jupiter Sends
© Surazeus
2023 06 05

Slouching against brick wall of Raven Pub, 
Jake Kalinsky points to the west and grins, 
"All the cities and towns across America 
are nothing more than suburbs of New York 
where Fortune bestows fame on fools and jerks, 
so I would be the Jester, not the King." 

Watching the global beauty pageant show 
where tall slim priestesses strut on bright stage, 
Joan White shakes hair over her face and frowns, 
"Why am I not the one shining with life? 
I am no different than these beauty queens 
except I refuse to compete for fame." 

Racing motorbike over bridge of death 
toward ancient mountain of the howling moon, 
Jake searches for beauty in misty gloom 
till his heart spreads raven wings to soar high 
above endless maze of shining glass towers 
where wingless angels wait in silent rooms. 

Shelving library books with precise hands, 
skirt swooshing as she pushes the book cart, 
Joan ponders mystery of romantic love, 
then gazes at hundreds of shining towers 
where she sees wizard on the motorbike 
transform into the raven with gold eyes. 

Gazing down at the endless maze of myths, 
Jake shouts in gusts of wind to men in cars, 
"People of America, listen well. 
I am the fourth angel Jupiter sends 
to proclaim coming of messiah sleuth 
for I am the cosmic herald of truth." 

Cradling Phial of Galadriel, that hangs 
at her breast, with gentle care, Joan proclaims, 
"Hail Earendel, brightest of wingless angels, 
sent by Goden to people of Gothinia, 
I see pure light that shimmers in your heart 
emanate from God Eye of the White Whole." 

Staring at his face in the fountain pool, 
which shimmers like gold mask of Agamemnon, 
Jake Kalinsky floats entranced in weird vision 
till voice of the goddess echoes from light 
so he turns startled to see fragile woman 
transform from raven of the mushroom moon. 

Offering the hamburger and lemonade 
to the strange man with eyes full of despair, 
Joan White sits with him by the fountain pool 
where they chat about the meaning of life 
to share tales about fierce monsters of legends, 
laughing in love as the sun gleams at dawn. 

Hidden From Hunger Of Death

Hidden From Hunger Of Death
© Surazeus
2023 06 04

The subtle movement of the flashing sky 
exposes atoms of my burning heart 
when I hitchhike across the desert land 
to find my lover in the empty house 
whose flower face is veiled by cold moonlight 
while I dream of her soul warm in my arms. 

Far across the sparkling pacific sea 
that glimmers blue with inner flame of hope 
my lover walks alone on hungry beach 
to wait for me all night on chilly sand 
till I descend on silver wings of faith 
so we can dance with endless tide of time. 

Because the fevered foam of restless time 
tastes bitterer than death to those who love 
we sing together in hard blasting wind 
to maintain trust we share with eager hands 
for life is sweet when we walk hand in hand 
to know strange beauty of this silent world. 

Our lonely shadows spreading angel wings 
fly side by side along the ocean beach, 
lured by clear tones from lyre of golden strings 
I play with passion of the blooming spring 
beneath the dark uncaring sky of hope 
as we kiss with tender care of wild birds. 

Till hour our throats may ache with joyful song 
we hide from horror of beautiful death 
to savor yet another day of hope 
with graceful passion of the mortal soul 
who knows the painful end of life may come 
at any time we eat the fruit of love. 

Close to my heart I hold the broken world 
to understand this seething faith in love 
that motivates my quest to break the walls 
enclosing paradise with serpent teeth 
which keeps us safe and trapped in flow of change 
till we can teach the world our private song. 

With changeful will of arrogant desire 
we rush against blank wall of nothingness 
to float on ocean waves of innocence 
till we rise dripping from abyss of time 
to pluck ripe oranges from old tangled trees 
and drink sweet sunlight in tears of despair. 

I gather scattered selves to bind one self 
that gleams in crystal ball of timeless truth 
so I see endless flow of human history 
in shifting visions of intense conflict 
till I design safe haven of our hope 
where we dwell hidden from hunger of death. 

Continue Side By Side

Continue Side By Side
© Surazeus
2023 06 04

Sweet agony of our conceptual love 
wakes me at midnight from beautiful dream 
where we walk together in crowded halls 
to analyze the strangeness of starlight 
because when I gaze in your moon-black eyes 
I feel infinity glow in my brain. 

Reluctant pleasure of this timeless day 
fills me with terror of the empty sky 
which gleams cobalt in mirror of the lake 
revealing cosmic emptiness of being 
as we hold hands on fragile wooden boat 
which I row forward toward the hopeful day. 

If darkness lures us through door in the trees 
we decide to follow our eager hearts 
and go where Death controls our state of mind 
till our lost names appear in red moonlight 
as we keep moving with the river flow 
though gravity drags us down to the truth. 

The cogent spindle twists our points of view 
so our two bodies of ambitious flesh 
merge shadows into one immortal soul 
stretched vast as mountains laughing at the joke 
that only ocean waves will understand 
though I will try to translate them to seeds. 

The end of the road that is far ahead 
will lead us back to where our souls were born 
so we must worry to restore the wind 
that swirls around the most beautiful tree 
where we left our childhood in the twilight 
wide enough to become the spinning world. 

For even when I wander in the gloom, 
too far beyond the walls of paradise 
to know the road that would restore our faith, 
she smiles with simple charming innocence 
that glows as light to guide our lonely way 
to the house where the road continues on. 

Since we keep meeting on our daily treks 
to gather fruits and nuts from humming trees 
we decide to continue side by side, 
always together on the road we blaze 
so we can protect each other from harm 
and hold each other safe in the cold night. 

The way she beams with smiles of eager eyes 
while skipping high among the apple trees 
inspires my heart to sing about true love 
so, when she crouches down to touch the herb 
that heals all wounds, I gaze with selfless love 
at timeless beauty of her mortal soul. 

My Body Godless

My Body Godless
© Surazeus
2023 06 04

My body stretched on grass beneath bright clouds 
is the only way I can speak my mind 
through tuneless sorrow of the trembling light 
that watches me from surface of the lake 
so I become tornado in the sky 
that changes climate of the global heart. 

My body aching with chemical hope 
attempts to generate new life from atoms 
threaded by the sun through the neural net 
that translates divine spirit of the stars 
into my brain long pulsing with desire 
to rise alive from void of blinding light. 

My body twisted by anguish of faith 
expands beyond bounds of atomic lust 
to transcend material nature of time 
on blazing angel wings of honest rage 
to overcome despair of nothingness 
till I become this fragile broken soul. 

My body buzzing with electric stars 
vibrates with naked agony of love 
while I stroll down the city street at dawn, 
having swallowed stone of eternity, 
to befriend strangers with star-sparkling eyes 
who understand this wordless pain we share. 

My body godless in vast universe 
drives me down curving road of everywhere 
to find the secret treasure of your heart 
because I want to give you what you want 
since your excited joy is my delight 
as we float laughing on cool ocean waves. 

My body drunk on possibilities 
reviews all futures branching from this hour 
that fan out far across the multiverse 
to analyze which fortune I want most 
which all lead me to wander on the coast 
as nameless, faceless, transcendental ghost. 

My body hungry for conceptual truth 
composed of elemental mysteries 
consumes colossal galaxies of souls 
with existential angst for selfless love 
that radiates from black hole of destiny 
so we eat brunch at Big City Cafe. 

My body animated by God Soul 
beaming from Dreamless Eye of the White Whole 
tries to remember hour in paradise 
when we first meet beneath the apple tree 
and kiss forever in soft rainbow light 
till our children hug us and ask for food. 

Guide Man Toward Death

Guide Man Toward Death
© Surazeus
2023 06 03

I feel dark weight of twenty thousand years 
blaze from blinding star of uncertainty, 
so I break from traditions of the past 
and build my own tradition on their ruins, 
for Ishtar founded on stone of my heart 
all world religions that guide Man toward Death. 

Though I walk alone in city of wires 
I carry water from tempestuous seas 
to fill the cooking cauldrons of the poor 
with holy nectar from ichor of gods 
so we may drink bright energy of stars 
beaming with visions that guide Man toward Death. 

The man who carries ladders in his heart 
leads refugees of wars to border walls 
then helps them transcend social obstacles 
so they can invade Heaven in their quest 
to live as they will, freed from chains of greed, 
attending rituals that guide Man toward Death. 

The way to the river of singing ghosts 
leads past the broken walls of paradise 
so we escape factories and offices 
to gather in the wind-swept parking lot 
where we pray to Golden Bull of Wall Street 
whose priestly matadors guide Man toward Death. 

I am the son of ghosts clutching Dream Book 
that organizes facts about the world 
in strict coherent cosmos of the damned 
for I am blind with ambition to rule 
the world corporate food-production machine 
producing stories that guide Man toward Death. 

Though warden guarding garden of the Earth 
lies buried with keys to Kingdom of Heaven, 
I walk the sacred land of Rainbow Mountains 
where no kings with crowns of authority 
are allowed to tyrannize honest people 
who wait for Phoebus to guide Man toward Death. 

Since my heart is the Argonaut of faith 
in which flame of arrogance is concealed 
I feel it burn with universal truth 
as psychic flare in darkness of the void 
so we dance with abandon of true love 
in stories of stars that guide Man toward Death. 

Awake with ancient genius of the Earth 
in uninhabitable deserts of thought, 
I feel dark weight of twenty thousand years 
support foundation of our world religion 
that worships gods who embody One God 
so we sing ballads that guide Man toward Death. 

Empty Library At Dawn

Empty Library At Dawn
© Surazeus
2023 06 02

The smiling fish who walks in the glass room 
considers why we are not who we think, 
except when the chess queen, wearing her crown, 
goes to the empty library at dawn 
to play piano of the tragic soul 
because she understands why we will die. 

Through otherness of our infinite being 
we get up every morning with despair 
and go to work rebuilding our lost dreams 
which wait in locked cabinet by the sea 
because no train can take us all back home 
except the woman just outside the door. 

With each peculiar slant of memory 
we draw our bodies on frail paper walls 
to erase heart-breaking sorrow of time 
that always records every word we say 
even if we eat apples in moonlight 
while evading horror of nothingness. 

Without the business of darkness to test 
strength of character in chaotic times 
we might extract our sorrows from sad gloom 
to paint clear vision of grand narrative 
which defines how we conduct politics 
based on myth of the tyrant and the savior. 

Therefore I organize facts of the world 
within eclectic scope of the round mirror 
which distorts reality with glass eyes 
through convex mirror of our divine mind 
with random elements of naked truth 
we find discarded on the ocean beach. 

Still no one waits inside the empty room 
for someone else to dispel loneliness 
with unexpressed words stuck in broken jars 
too late for us to gather by the tree 
which blossoms though we trample its frail roots 
to connect my brain to the world wide web. 

Awake in vast Palladian sculpture maze, 
I evolve from likeness of the First Man 
through rapid syntax of the telescope 
which still reveals our planet in the void 
illuminated gold by sublime hope 
as we deliberate how to respond. 

Grasping naked current of starry waves, 
I play stringed instrument from turtle shell 
to hypnotize my worshippers with faith, 
then write with tattered quill from angel wing 
weird story that relates how we attempt 
to generate new bodies till we die. 

Recognize My Own Ghost

Recognize My Own Ghost
© Surazeus
2023 06 02

If I could just recognize my own ghost 
who rambles wearing clothes I threw away, 
then I could count the days of broken lutes 
I retrieve from fox tracks in silent woods 
because I fall in love with the blind queen 
who waits alone in the garden of dreams. 

But all that sorrow is long in the past 
in trembling hands of brides who cannot pray 
so I pull on my leather working boots 
to measure and map all the signless roads 
till empty temple of dead gods is clean 
for mothers breastfeeding by weeping streams. 

As lonely pilgrim on the desert trail, 
I feel strange holy light glow on my face, 
so I look for Heaven of timeless truth 
through magical eye of the telescope, 
but all I see are planets in the void 
teeming with creatures who fight wars to eat. 

I drink zinfadel from the silver grail 
and ponder history of the human race 
who never listens to messiah sleuth 
though his weird riddles teach us how to cope 
with horror of death when the wise android 
imitates our most emotional feat. 

The mystical isness of my thought ghost, 
defined by secret code my brain designs, 
grants me access to treasure chest of keys 
which I employ to operate with my mind 
unseen time machine to psychically jump 
through all my fake selves in the multiverse. 

Escaping dream maze on the storm-wracked coast 
to swim immiscible sea where hope shines, 
I stand with reverent awe in swarm of bees 
while lost on hopeless quest of faith to find 
blind queen cooking meals in the migrant camp 
who comprehends our clockwork universe. 

After I finish reading every book 
ever written by hands of desperate gods 
I bear Doom Scroll of adverse prophecies 
to the blind queen sitting on iron throne 
who commands I liberate every slave 
from chains of debt forged by arrogant pride. 

So I choose to marry ambitious cook 
who has no time for deceivers or frauds 
while I draft social program policies 
to build paradise in the twilight zone 
while dreaming of you in the jeweled cave 
before global empires of wealth collide. 

Understand Everyone Else

Understand Everyone Else
© Surazeus
2023 06 01

Since everyone always misunderstands me 
I try to understand everyone else 
but I get so lost in the maze of myths 
I see only myself in mirror eyes 
till I become the ambiguous ghost 
of every person who has ever lived. 

As I age into strange beauty of death 
my eyes become clouded with memories 
so I almost cannot see the new person 
who stands so alive in front of me now 
though I stare at bright moons of Jupiter 
from which I carve the mask of God I wear. 

My eyes measure time through eternity 
since constellations become laughing crows 
who carry my soul over River Styx 
to connect my heart to the universe 
because I love every human alive 
though I hide from them in silent delight. 

Anxious from influence of all dead gods, 
I watch human faces on clouds and trees 
explain how bright light of the universe 
pulses weird from thirsty cells of my brain 
so I catalog everything I see 
as ideal forms composed with gravity. 

I constitute the mountain of the Earth 
who scatters fruit in wet soil of my heart 
so I become the stranger I admire 
though we never meet on the road of life 
while I carve marble in idols of gods 
who wake to embrace me with loving arms. 

My body thrums with animating light 
that emanates from One Galactic Eye 
who dreams itself awake through my own brain 
so I hug apple trees on rowdy hills 
where the rugged cross on the picture screen 
bleeds tears of the damned I drink as sour wine. 

The Moon Crow knows its way into my heart 
as if we cannot understand why Death 
gives me lost Holy Grail to drink her dreams 
while our world drifts in Void of Everywhere 
on vast periphery of the universe 
where Mother appears in mirror of time. 

The dancing Devis of the purple moon 
reveal to me the secret of true love 
so I give cookies to Grandmother Death 
who chuckles as she gives me glass of milk 
and teaches me to understand your mind 
though no one will ever understand me.