Yet Timeless Horror

Yet Timeless Horror
© Surazeus
2024 01 09

Another hour I find myself alive 
with cheerful laughter of the dreary rain 
I gaze around me at the cluttered vale, 
alert for danger that could break my soul, 
yet no voice thunders from the eyeless sky 
asking where I was when the world began. 

Foundation of the world beneath my feet, 
that surges monstrous passion from the deep, 
solidifies from seething waves of fire 
four billion years before hour of my birth, 
yet I will rage against dying of the light 
while clutching hope in the meaningless night. 

How beautiful this world my eyes perceive, 
I force myself to state with hungry breath, 
tall trees that branch into the silver sky 
where birds dart swiftly on aggressive wings, 
yet Nature seems indifferent to my being, 
so I savor pleasure of being alive. 

I eat the apple Eve plucked from the tree 
that stands forever perfect as the truth 
to taste sweet glamor of the glowing sun 
while I dance slowly in cool evening breeze, 
yet I feel fragile as the flickering flame 
that writhes in stone hearth I built with my hands. 

Aggressive monster of demonic force 
glows deep within frail beating of my heart 
that would appear at hour of desperate need 
when I must defend my life from attack, 
yet I keep blind rage hidden in dream land 
to maintain dignity of normal life. 

This strange hour I find myself alive, 
safe and dry in thick walls of my home 
in company with the people I love, 
I float on divine breath of ancient faith, 
yet stark tranquility of peaceful fear 
electrocutes my brain with prophecy. 

Gray rain drenches Spiderwood in disdain 
that unnerves the owl who encodes my name 
with tangled memories my ancestors lived 
till all their knowledge programs how I think, 
yet timeless horror of this pretty hour 
radiates from center of the universe. 

With casual affection of petulance, 
which motivates my passion to survive, 
I attend world conference of troubadours 
to share techniques for recording weird tales, 
yet false prophets scream on the radio 
till their lies dissipate through apathy. 

Slopes Of Helicon

Slopes Of Helicon
© Surazeus
2024 01 09

The telephone on the library wall 
wants to know when I will escape the church 
by riding super-turtle of the mind 
who zooms me down the highway of success 
to stand on clear-cut slopes of Helicon 
and weep for trees who can no longer sing. 

My ghostly footsteps in the sparkling snow 
indicates to the most persistent sleuth 
that I passed by ten thousand years ago 
on my way to grand temple of success 
that vanished from the slopes of Helicon 
where the goat man wears my face as his mask. 

Descending ladder down stone tower wall 
from the window where Rapunzel has died, 
I eat sour pomegranate of her heart 
while Baphomet explains key to success 
lies in which way up slopes of Helicon 
I climb with goal of intentional faith. 

Through mist of time on Jordan River shore 
I see Jesus talking to thirty clowns 
about putting secret things in the mouth 
so we can weigh the wisdom of success 
till he falls dead on slopes of Helicon 
after he throws seeds in the flowing stream. 

Trees sprout from small seeds scattered by his hand 
that bear quinces, figs, apples, dates, and pears, 
so I haul seven wagons of ripe fruit 
to Byzantium where I sell success 
so I can dance on slopes of Helicon 
with Artemis who wants to marry me. 

Left eye of Bear Girl in the dream cave 
weeps one tear of blood bright as the moon 
that floods the valley of the laughing horse 
so now I understand pain of success 
that cripples me on slopes of Helicon 
though I flop around with wings of desire. 

When my assassin finds me by the church, 
we lounge and talk about the singing grass 
that channels ghosts of the dead to our brains, 
so I gesture toward home of my success 
bombed to rubble on slopes of Helicon 
where no one hears my mother weep again. 

My father trades me for the wingless horse 
so I leap beyond gravity of hope 
to walk in Heaven with the faceless God 
who laughs at my false notions of success 
till I return to slopes of Helicon 
where I write everything with words of blood. 

You In Library Of Light

You In Library Of Light
© Surazeus
2024 01 08

When I see you in library of light, 
glaring beyond ghost of my displaced soul, 
I reverse every mirror in the world 
to prove my body is water and dirt, 
so I leap out through window of the house 
to journey nowhere with the singing fish. 

When I find you in library of light, 
searching for someone who is not like you, 
I plaster my body in the white wall 
so all my memories become fairy tales 
that children read before they go to bed 
about my journey with the witty wolf. 

When I paint you in library of light, 
inventing new world where people are free 
to live as they desire with fear of death, 
I undig grave where my soul will rot 
with unfulfilled dreams of the puppeteer 
who dances by lake of the screaming star. 

When I wake you in library of light, 
explaining how magic car engines work, 
I float up backward in the Pantheon 
with secret plans to fix the broken world 
where we hold weddings on the writhing bridge 
though I hide my face in the photograph. 

When I sense you in library of light, 
chatting with the seraph with six glass wings, 
I tend my garden by river of souls 
to translate sorrow of the bleeding moon 
from tragedy to comedy of love 
though bombs keep blasting Paradise to Hell. 

When I hear you in library of light, 
chatting with the eerie silence of God, 
I map each haunted castle in the world 
to translate song of the sea to sad psalms 
that horses on doleful hills love to sing 
because love is dark emptiness of hope. 

When I lose you in library of light, 
walking alone in darkness of despair, 
I kneel by Fountain of the Flying Horse 
to fill grail with water for you to drink 
so we can climb the Mountain of the Muse 
and become one with spirit of the wraith. 

When I am you in library of light, 
leaping on crippled wings beyond Now State, 
I embody Earth in my dreaming brain 
as billions of my ancestors in me 
who will reincarnate immortal soul 
of genes in descendants I generate. 

Beauty Of The Falling Snow

Beauty Of The Falling Snow
© Surazeus
2024 01 08

With sudden beauty of the falling snow 
that blossoms soundlessly from bleak despair 
I smile at crazy weirdness of our world 
where people break conventions of respect 
to fight against oppression of desire 
though our bones are all forged from the same snow. 

Though our bones are all forged from hungry snow, 
woven in skeletons by angel hands, 
we walk together to the forest pool 
to make out among flowers of true love, 
bodies kissed by our own butterfly hearts 
so we become the songs sad sparrows sing. 

If we become the songs wild sparrows sing 
before explosion of the morning sun 
redesigns the world we once thought was real, 
we could unlock the home we want to share, 
and live together in silence of trust 
while the sun mocks love with indifferent glow. 

Since the sun sparks love with transcendent glow 
we organize chaos of hot desire 
into consensual routine of charged hope 
to weld our bodies into wise offspring 
who embody unspoken lust to live 
before the Earth is swallowed by the sun. 

Though the Earth will be swallowed by the sun 
billions of years after this timeless hour, 
we will hold hands and walk the signless road 
from ancient homeland our ancestors named 
to escape invaders stealing our dreams 
in our endless search to find paradise. 

Through our frantic search to find paradise 
we colonize valleys thick with fruit trees 
where we build our homes on lush river shores 
to claim this land as ours since dawn of time, 
determined to destroy mute gangs of thieves 
who still hide in shadows of nameless fear. 

We still hide in shadows of urgent fear, 
struggling to survive in dire poverty 
while the man who claims he owns everything 
parades around to display superior strength 
till we rebel against authority 
that bombs our homes to rubble of lost tales. 

They bomb our homes to rubble of false tales, 
but we rise up again on burning wings 
to build Paradise on ruins of Hell 
where glowing skeletons of angels dance 
to celebrate birth of messiah sleuth 
with sudden beauty of the sparkling snow. 

Tragic Cost Of Liberty

Tragic Cost Of Liberty
© Surazeus
2024 01 07

The angels that I see cannot be real, 
the blind girl smiles at the exploding book, 
except for that one in the mirror eye 
who looks for her mother in every face 
that passes her by on the city street 
with wings of the raven who never sings. 

I live my life the way I want to feel, 
the blind girl whispers to the unlocked door, 
though every choice that I pretend to make 
must be determined by my character 
so fate is what I would do anyway, 
even when I think about how to act. 

The laughing angels who do not exist, 
the blind girl snarls at the arrogant wolf, 
fly around the tornado of my head 
with deep insight into nature of rain 
while I wait for the rapture to begin 
because only the obedient survive. 

I want to play chess with Death on the beach, 
the blind girl explains to statue of God, 
because I am owed justice in this world 
though Nature is indifferent to my being, 
so I always take what I want to have 
and keep my treasures hidden in my head. 

I want to find my mother by the lake, 
the blind girl shouts at the passing jet plane, 
but she was forced to cook meals all day long 
as payment for her trip across the sea 
to find salvation in land of the free 
till they left her in the desert to die. 

Though she is dancing in Heaven with joy, 
the blind girl proclaims to the whistling bomb, 
I want to talk to my mother right now 
about the strange epiphany of truth 
that reveals tragic cost of liberty 
for those who fight against cruel tyranny. 

I want to ask God with sincere respect, 
the blind girl screams in the shiny glass mall, 
why the innocent suffer in despair 
because the strong exploit them without qualm 
and steal from the loyal hardworking man 
while feasting on their misery with a sneer. 

The angels that haunt me with flaming eyes, 
the blind girl sings to zombies in the church, 
fill me with radiation of desire, 
so without parameters of the real 
I choose to create rather than destroy, 
cooking food for lost refugees to eat. 

Join The Dream Machine

Join The Dream Machine
© Surazeus
2024 01 07

Mind paralyzed by endless flow of time, 
I feel my heart pulse with stream-flowing rhyme 
that urges me with passion to wrap words 
in brash feathers of sky-contracting birds 
while I hip-hop down busy city street 
in psychic harmony with urban beat. 

I feel rise up from asphalt core of Earth 
immortal song that celebrates soul birth 
which swells with every breath of hungry hope 
enhanced by shared insight in how to cope 
with constant turmoil of the social scene 
that jolts our minds to play success machine. 

Yet I ignore money game of success 
and sing mute angst to surprised happiness 
in shocking rhythm with the dancing crowd 
whose revelry would make wild Bacchus proud 
for his fierce energy of feisty play 
seethes through our bodies with intense ballet. 

Erupting from cocoon of crippling fear 
with time-compressing wings of the dream seer, 
I bang aggressive melody of pride 
on hot electric guitar, amplified 
with the primal scream of my inner beast 
that spreads joy when my demon flies released. 

Expanding far beyond bounds of my skull, 
with spirit of Mithras I ride the bull 
of money greed to storm the pearly gates 
reserving Heaven for fools blessed by fates 
with privilege of wealth to beat the game, 
though all will die with nothing but their name. 

When I see visions bleeding from your brains, 
I plagiarize ancient spell of fertile rains 
to sing primal hymn that Ishtar composed 
in new spell of words with truth juxtaposed 
to contrast wisdom between king and fool 
who howl with madness by the starless pool. 

I fail to woo Stella from Astrophil 
because I respect code of her free will 
to express her body as she desires 
so we join force to fight psychic vampires 
disguised as boys who think they own the world 
till seventh coming of the cosmic herald. 

Yet I sit on street corner at sunset 
to record prophecies with tape cassette 
while I strum guitar on bright summer night 
by swirling ocean gleaming with moonlight 
till I make maps to join the dream machine 
in the company run by Melusine. 

Who Owns The Tree

Who Owns The Tree
© Surazeus
2024 01 06

I carry memory of lightning with faith 
that people in their hearts want to be good, 
valent with desire for pleasure of love, 
but bitter rain of anger crushes hopes 
so people fight over who owns the tree 
that blossoms with apples of paradise. 

Light bends conceptual forms of things I see 
through weird perspective of the sky-vast eye 
which vibrates with sharp slackness of despair 
when angels glow in surprise of twilight 
with inward phosphorescence of true names 
that joy emits from sphere of broken glass. 

Sad girl who sits on the fountain pool rim 
considers image of the anxious wave 
beyond cathedral of the honeycomb 
pragmatic with uncontainable gloom 
when blind angels measure infinity 
with eyes that writhe in slow serpentine grace. 

Death thinks about me every day and night, 
though I never think about hungry hope, 
upbeat with aggressive plan to attack 
invisible network of privilege 
that binds our bodies in dance of desire, 
rocked by waves of consequential respect. 

Grim cruelty of Nature arrogates 
mute anguish for each person who expects 
positive expression of fake success 
impure with noble dignity of fear 
too heavy for innocent souls to bear 
when we investigate strange tyranny. 

Unseen by foreknowledge of anxious seers, 
books wait on crooked shelves of empty halls 
for mothers to help their children transcend 
heart-numbing anger toward unjust events 
against obvious answers reason supplies 
since humans dread decay of aging flesh. 

The moon finds holes in brains of lonely souls, 
then slips inside to twist old memories 
into fairy tales that help us survive 
when grievance-blinded men with angry guns 
storm gates of Heaven to overthrow God, 
though wind keeps blowing along flowing rivers. 

The only day when the sun never sets 
I wake with curious passion to reveal 
conceptual idol of the last good clown 
who builds sturdy dreams for the homeless poor 
gathered to sing psalms in the twilight zone 
when lightning erases my memories. 

Tragic Death Of Tyrants

Tragic Death Of Tyrants
© Surazeus
2024 01 06

When Gabriel descends on quick lightning strike 
with flaming Sword of Justice forged in Hell, 
he fights to defend Goddess Liberty 
who guards water of truth in Freedom Well 
that nourishes souls of people who hike 
Trail of Faith to defend Democracy. 

Though monsters, like the ghoul Frankenstein made 
with blind despair from millions of lost souls, 
hide their insatiable greed for cruel power 
behind smiling masks of government roles 
to play dictator over global trade, 
their bodies will feed the indifferent flower. 

All cruel dictators who crown themselves kings, 
as president to rule until they die, 
oppress people of their nations with fear 
till they are destroyed by the honest spy 
who disperses their spells with magic rings 
which tangles lies of the lame puppeteer. 

Dictatorship built on terror of death 
exhausts its drive with paranoid contempt, 
and burns itself out from oppressive rage 
till its system collapses from attempt 
to enforce iron rule over the truth 
so the dictator dies on tragic stage. 

When King Midas tries to regain the throne 
after Zeus drives him from White House with truth, 
Athena Goddess of Liberty calls 
the People to follow Messiah Sleuth 
who receives Excalibur from the Lake Crone 
so we fight to defend Capitol halls. 

Tyrants who ascend pinnacle of power, 
and crown themselves as demigods on Earth, 
expend fierce energy of haughty pride, 
unable to discern what life is worth, 
till they fall wingless from the lofty tower 
and crash into Hell where their minions hide. 

Weak fragile men who struggle to survive 
enwrap their human hearts in shield of greed, 
then climb mountains of skulls to prop their reign, 
but always driven by consuming need 
they try to control what makes nations thrive 
so their false strength at last serves them in vain. 

Millions of dictators have ruled as kings 
ten thousand years of human history, 
but Freedom fights against cruel monarchy 
for truth nurtures our drive to victory 
so we rise when Goddess Liberty sings 
vision that maintains world Democracy. 

So after fascists burn themselves in war, 
struggling too hard to control human fate, 
we will gather at the River of Faith 
with all freedom-fighters to celebrate 
tragic death of tyrants who will no more 
kill Innocence in name of their God Wraith. 

While Gabriel stands guard for Democracy 
on world pyramid of justice for all, 
Athena Goddess of Liberty rules 
how elected presidents enforce law 
that treats each human with equality 
through stories taught to children in state schools. 

War Freedom-Lovers Won

War Freedom-Lovers Won
© Surazeus
2024 01 05

I turn toward the siren singing again 
as I dance with the crook the shepherd lost 
in ruins of the high castle where rain 
calculates the countless lives that were lost 
when my fathers sailed here in search of gain, 
and wrestle with Gabriel in the frost. 

My father rises from wreck of his ship 
to name the land he claims with smoking gun 
then gives to me his slave-subduing whip, 
but I turn against owning anyone 
and journey west on mind-expanding trip 
after bloody war freedom-lovers won. 

Strange treasures in America I found 
are not the spoils that wealthy people crave, 
like gold or jewels pilfered from the ground, 
but family memories only moms would save 
as sacred tales in precious volumes bound 
by whisper of the wind on ocean wave. 

Ghosts of the natives, my ancestors killed 
while escaping tyrants who stole their land, 
haunt me with nameless spirits by hope chilled 
at screech of trains built by the greedy hand 
after I join the cartography guild 
so I can trace their footsteps in the sand. 

I wish that I could raise them from the dead 
just like the preacher declares Jesus can, 
but I can only honor them with bread 
and implement intention of new plan 
with equal justice for each soul instead, 
since we were tricked by the confidence man. 

We cannot civilize the world with graves 
erased by homes where children pray to God 
with thanks for labor of the factory slaves 
who run away to join the justice squad, 
till Christian soldiers armed with victory staves 
fight to maintain the national facade. 

The stars and stripes on Flag of Liberty, 
that waves above the White House in sea breeze, 
should promise advancement from poverty 
for honest hands that tend strong apple trees 
through chess-game ownership of property 
in city mazes thick with worker bees. 

Bound tight to mast of my Odyssean boat 
with bonds of duty for state citizen, 
I exercise my sacred right to vote 
that confirms my soul through self-discipline, 
entranced by siren of the royal goat, 
because history repeats itself again. 

Unicorn In The Stone

Unicorn In The Stone
© Surazeus
2024 01 05

While standing on the Moses-shattered rock 
to solve riddle of the chemical lock, 
I gaze through timeless space with eyes of Spock 
to measure progress of the cosmic clock 
so with my dreamless brain of faith I grok 
conceptual soul of our Tellurian flock. 

When I find the unicorn in the stone, 
who asks me if I will love her alone, 
I take her to visit the Raven Crone 
who runes our names on old dinosaur bone 
so our spirits can sing with the same tone 
as we build our home in the twilight zone. 

Hidden in my brain, the psychotic beast 
evolves as Alastor to host the feast 
at which we hear old myths told by the priest 
till he shouts paradise should be policed 
by world messiah who is not deceased 
since the hour his star first blazed in the east. 

Still stuck on endless quest for the real truth, 
I stop to drink from the Fountain of Youth 
where the Fairy Queen buys my broken tooth 
since she wears pink gown in the kissing booth, 
then whispers she loves how I am uncouth 
as she appoints me her messiah sleuth. 

Yet still lonely angels of Heaven wait 
for me to arrive at the Pearly Gate 
where my cheering loyal fans congregate 
to see the monster I keep in the crate 
whose ancient wisdom helps me navigate 
confusing Maze of Myths beyond my fate. 

Digging diamond dreams from cave of the key, 
which are supposed to help my sponge brain see 
conceptual fragments of eternity, 
I expand my soul through infinity 
that teaches me bold courage to live free 
so I can emerge from womb of the sea. 

Born from dragon egg of atomic light 
with fear-programmed power of inner sight, 
I calculate actions that create right 
as I breathe energy for Spirit Flight 
that guides my journey in the scary night 
as I invent Earth Truth with words I write. 

Before my old father Gothus I vow 
to discover secret of the Mind How 
designed by sharp blade of the magic plow 
so I guide our sea trip from the ship prow 
as we navigate the spinning World of Now 
on quest to find the sacred Golden Bough. 

Tyranny Of Castle Kings

Tyranny Of Castle Kings
© Surazeus
2024 01 04

Evading boredom through the escapade 
that launches wisdom on sharp rocket wings, 
I laugh from mirror of the ghost-mind fade 
till scream of dawn reshapes the glass-moon rings 
with shocking revelation that Death knows 
good and evil mean nothing to wise crows. 

With clacking shift of motor engine gears 
which realigns the clock-work universe, 
I race vast maze of asphalt city spheres 
to battle gangsters who would kill the nurse 
because she heals the broken hearts of girls 
who dance at night clubs with maternal pearls. 

Strobe lights that flash from mirror globe of lust 
spark deep impulse of throbbing angel hearts 
to rise with sly Godzilla from star dust 
and dance with wild abandon of fruit carts 
from which their grandfathers sold vegetables, 
inspired by folk wisdom of parables. 

Escaping tyranny of castle kings 
and bitter judgments of the shepherd crook, 
wild hordes of immigrants with magic rings 
sail to America to clean and cook 
while slaving for rich sons of pioneers 
so their children can train as engineers. 

While cruising Sunset Boulevard at dusk 
to score sweet pixie dust from star-eyed nymphs, 
son of the Devil wearing mirror mask 
frees thousands of women from priestly pimps, 
then leads them safe to high mountain commune 
where they chant hymns with the holy buffoon. 

All night we dance on beach of singing waves 
with blond surfer dude Bacchus and his gang 
who hosts in deserted church midnight raves 
around Christmas tree where dollar bills hang, 
while selling cryptocoins to greedy fools 
who send their children to expensive schools. 

When Hidden Dragon in uncertain times 
appears with Wand of Zambor from star cave, 
he wins election with perceptive rhymes 
because he promises to free the slave 
entrapped by debt he owes the billionaire 
whose rule was prophesied by Baudelaire. 

Still lost in ever-changing maze of myths 
with perceptive Melusine by my side, 
I program new religion from world faiths 
based on justice and liberty applied 
with equal measure to each human being 
who joins the global choir of truth to sing. 

Zero Time Of Nothingness

Zero Time Of Nothingness
© Surazeus
2024 01 04

Bewildered by sudden blink of the star 
that misguides me on signless road of hope, 
I walk in laughter of cold mountain tears 
that try to keep my eye open with truth, 
but I disappear even from myself 
when I forget to look in Lake of Souls. 

Since the Earth turns my whole world upside down 
with each rotation of its hungry eye 
so all our houses dangle in bright gloom, 
I drink water from wound of the cracked stone 
to taste bitter horror of apple juice 
that poisons my brain with songs of birds. 

Inverted by completion of each day 
so I almost fall backward in my grave, 
the Earth endows my heart with loneliness 
as gift of conscious ruth I must accept, 
which urges me to call invented name 
as if someone I once loved lurks nearby. 

My eyes walk forward on the unforked road 
with heavy footsteps of conceptual fear 
toward subtle shadows of shifting sunrays 
while I chew laughter with my starving brain 
to taste sweet passion of addictive death 
who calls me with voice of the haughty crow. 

Since no one with any face waits for me, 
I spend the morning stepping on dirt clumps 
till my attention creates mountain ghost 
who sends thick swarms of insects at my eyes 
as gleaming sunlight in wild dancing oaks 
swallows my words in loud blue river flow. 

I almost know the reason I am dead 
with mute paralysis of hungry hope 
that binds my body to the spinning Earth 
till I am dizzy with excessive joy 
that sparks ascension of my screaming brain 
to stand again on steep slope of the world. 

I count quick zero time of nothingness 
that never wrecks unspooling frame of words 
with bold persistence of aggressive breath 
which powers urgence of my soul rebirth 
through fierce inauguration of my speech 
when I proclaim intention to live why. 

Secure in my fragile body of bones, 
I wake from weird hallucination vibe 
that radiates heat from cracked egg of my mind 
so I perceive again new blinking star 
that guides my quest to find the secret cave 
where Moon Woman gives birth to my lost soul. 

Statue On The Wall

Statue On The Wall
© Surazeus
2024 01 03

I might become the statue on the wall 
that wants to catch your god before its fall, 
but I would rather gaze up at the sky 
with conscious mirror of the cosmic eye 
intent on sparking passion in my heart 
with each breath swirling from the stellar chart. 

Though people stop and peer up at my face 
as if they wish to comprehend my soul, 
I stare beyond them through eternity 
in vain bid to perceive the cosmic eye 
that channels timeless spirit of starlight 
through flashing neurons of my dreaming brain. 

Even if I soon float in outer space, 
after Earth is swallowed by the black hole, 
I seek bold courage of fraternity 
when Zeus recruits me as his private spy 
to analyze dreams and provide insight 
about cute girl who sings in golden grain. 

When the farmer finds me in muddy well, 
thrown to avoid getting forged in church bell, 
they place me in museum for the show, 
brass statue of Phoebus with stringless bow 
who presides as justice in the law court 
for banker who operates the shipping port. 

As confederate general in city park, 
astride prancing horse in noble landmark, 
I raise above my head the martial sword 
to found great empire of the secret chord, 
till prophets note I endorsed slavery 
in frantic bid to maintain monarchy. 

Surprised at dawn that love indentures want 
through hope that shimmers in bowl of my heart, 
I try to keep the cosmos in my skull, 
but weird prophetic dreams of global war 
leak from my eyes in bloody drops of ink 
which I employ to code riddles of death. 

If I get baptized in the shattered font, 
as portrayed in symbols of abstract art, 
I will help Mithras tame the Wall Street bull 
that wires electric cash from iron core 
to power academy where jesters think 
how Buddha becomes god with controlled breath. 

Now that I am your statue in the church, 
found here at last after your life-long search, 
you can perceive in mirror of my face 
universal spirit that transcends race 
since I combine in my bland character 
immortal soul of genes from Lucifer. 

Ineffable Force Of Love

Ineffable Force Of Love
© Surazeus
2024 01 03

Ancient words that sing the stillness of light 
on ever-flowing water of the mind 
encode strange riddle of our waking dream 
to record psychic torment of my heart 
as I evolve four hundred million years 
from fish to wingless angel who plays god. 

Frail light of conscious thought in gloom of time, 
these words I speak flash visionary flames 
with searing dragon breath of hungry truth 
so I can see through darkness of despair 
the golden path I blaze with active choice 
across bleak wilderness of hopeless death. 

I am the real speaker of my strange words, 
expressing deep unconscious truth of life 
through mythic characters my heart invents 
to channel ineffable force of love 
that beams from God Eye at the cosmic core 
who can know itself only through my brain. 

Commencement of my soul on breath of hope 
initiates animation of my soul 
with naked spark of passion in cold gloom 
so I assert conceptual frame of truth 
which I construct from memories of success 
when I progress beyond bounds of my self. 

When I proceed from starting line of faith 
to kick-start evolution of my genes, 
I swim from sunless abyss of my heart 
toward God Eye shining from disk of the sun 
that lures me up bright diamond-littered stream 
to swipe ripe apple from tall Tree of Life. 

Dispersing from First Mother of Mankind, 
I wake in billions of dream-flashing brains 
who see my face in mirror of each eye, 
so I name each fragment of my one self 
as we proceed to colonize the Earth 
in nation-states that fight to rule its space. 

With mirror eyes of diamond attitude 
I gaze through swirling mist of fractal thought 
to see how photons compose body mass 
that pulse with energy of singing stars 
through breath-hot pressure of aggressive hope 
that binds infinity inside my brain. 

My words transform the body of my mind 
so I become the character I play 
when I wear weird stereotype as my shield 
that mirrors stillness of the turning world 
in dream-mapped landscape of our city maze 
where my face is displayed after I die. 

World Mutilated By War

World Mutilated By War
© Surazeus
2024 01 03

The sunlit curtains flutter in the room 
white as the tree-bare hill frosted with snow. 
Soldiers eat strawberries from tangled hopes 
and praise the world mutilated by war. 
Refugees who wander the signless road 
sing joyfully of paradise they lost. 

Leaves falling from trees in Garden of Eden 
veil scars torn in the Earth that never heal. 
Feathers from birds that no one can hear sing 
twirl in the wind that vanishes from dream. 
We sit together under the oak tree 
and wait for the indifferent rain to end. 

I hear lost refugees from lonely lands 
share memories of their childhood in wet fields. 
Our radiant thoughts last in stillness of hope 
till every statue of dead heroes falls. 
I search for someone behind the white door 
though black telephones ring in empty rooms. 

Demonic monster growing in my heart 
turns his ugly face to the falling rain. 
Though hunger drives me to conquer the world 
I sit on throne of judgment to build peace. 
The old man dancing on the windy heath 
understands why every empire must fall. 

While traveling from the land where I was born, 
I drop old photos on the signless road. 
Like breadcrumbs Gretel drops along her trail 
my memories are devoured by mute despair. 
I think I see her hiding among oaks, 
her hair glowing with halo of new faith. 

We should fly rockets to colonize Mars, 
Gretel says to me by the waterfall. 
I would rather stay living on this Earth 
where I can guard garden of apple trees. 
While walking Seattle streets in gray drizzle, 
I feel Feldberg Mountain in the Black Forest. 

I long to return to the Motherland 
where wolves play on shore of the Caspian Sea. 
The castle of the king who ruled the world 
now crumbles into sand of angel wings. 
Children play tag in gray cathedral ruins, 
chasing the Krampus with the broken broom. 

When I help Rapunzel escape her tower, 
we will fly on wings that Icarus lost. 
Together on jagged Zugspitze Peak 
we will watch nations of Earth fight world wars. 
Owls of endless grief in dark wordless woods 
reveal the way only refugees know. 

Secrets Of The Why

Secrets Of The Why
© Surazeus
2024 01 02

Because I keep the cosmos in my skull 
with unwise merriment of tuneful bones, 
I might expand beyond confining whole 
through ruthless tricks of river-sculpted stones 
so I can climb bright stairway to the sky 
where women dance for secrets of the Why. 

I feel my way through ancient galleries 
where mask of every long-dead cultural god 
smiles down from mirror of lost histories 
at tourists sure their own god is no fraud, 
so I paint portrait of Death with one eye 
who makes deals to sell secrets of the Why. 

When the face of mystery is born again 
from mist that shrouds churches and bars in gloom, 
the Well Woman who has nothing to gain 
exposes faceless ghost in the glass room, 
reluctant to give love another try 
after finding weird secrets of the Why. 

Though the lawless bell of my placid mind 
clatters in tune with water-clocks of space, 
I choose to sail in Argo Death designed 
when I go searching for the cosmic face 
worn by the man who floats down from the sky 
bearing Star Scroll with secrets of the Why. 

If vortex of our spinning galaxy 
still spirals whistling in the eye-vast blue 
I will find hidden in the cobalt sea 
old dragon bones carved with runes of the clue 
revealing sorrow of mothers who cry 
when their children lose secrets of the Why. 

Mad music that murmurs deep in Mirkwood 
lures refugees of wars to Wonderland 
where we sing hymns with magic of our blood 
which animates gesture of the right hand 
when we construct virtual world from the eye 
that alone perceives secrets of the Why. 

Awake from radium of paralysis 
with clear conception of our abstract thought, 
I search for star soul spawned by genesis 
of conscious life that chemicals have wrought 
in brains inspired by tales that mystify 
our lonely hearts with secrets of the Why. 

Since I am first-born son of Gabriel, 
commissioned to preach bold message of hope 
to crowds of people entranced by the bell 
that rings far down Parnassian mountain slope, 
I return to Earth as angelic spy 
so I can record secrets of the Why. 

Each Time I Explore

Each Time I Explore
© Surazeus
2024 01 02

Each time the television screen explodes 
with stark disasters of assassinations, 
I map new network of celestial roads 
to navigate weird gene-code combinations, 
which blueprints architecture of the soul 
through which we program how we play our role. 

Each time oak trees blossom with singing birds 
bright hour the Sun Spider opens her eye, 
I record weird concepts with tangled words 
which conjure complex puzzles of the Why 
we contemplate while strutting on the stage 
to expose tyrants blinded by their rage. 

Each time new generation of young souls 
replays wild psychic dramas of the dead, 
I reconstitute new national goals 
to perfect the virtual world in my head 
so I can predict all future events 
lead by hidden dragons as presidents. 

Each time the morning sun gleams in frail trees 
to assure me the world will never end, 
I open door of every home with keys 
forged by prophetic laughter of the wind 
because I can never win the chess game 
I play with Death to avoid global fame. 

Each time I explore labyrinth of myth 
to find essential spirit of Mankind, 
I encounter the bodiless God Wraith 
whose nonexistence reprograms the mind 
to see mysterious force of life in all 
that writhes with anguish of the Eden Fall. 

Each time I get lost in Temple of Dreams 
through endless quest to find the Holy Grail, 
I refuse to rejoin religious teams 
because mindless obedience tends to fail 
to save humanity from global change 
since with each new year history gets more strange. 

Each time I see you on the signless road 
emerge from shadow of the Cherubim, 
I find hidden temple of the Star Toad 
who floats chanting at the Grand Canyon rim 
above mushrooms of television screens 
that bind our brains with computer machines. 

Each time I stride down red carpet of fame 
with glamorous beauty of the global eye, 
I wake from strange dream of our social game 
where people fight for wealth till we all die, 
so immortal I of our gene-coil wakes 
in brains of our children by star-eyed lakes. 

Job Of Dream Scout

Job Of Dream Scout
© Surazeus
2024 01 01

If I get another chance to find out 
how every lone soul in the universe 
is connected by the sparkle of atoms, 
I might apply for the job of dream scout 
to investigate who cast the first curse 
in the ancient war between garden Adams. 

Beyond transcendent pulse of spirit minds 
that binds our bodies with collective force 
essential to the function of state heavens, 
I might be dazzled by infinite kinds 
of angels springing from the cosmic source 
who incarnate in Odin-charming ravens. 

When Neptune swims to bottom of the sea 
to find lost trident of the founding god 
so he can defeat the arrogant tyrant, 
I might learn how to forge the psychic key 
by which I fertilize genetic pod 
on quest to generate life as new parent. 

Through endless labyrinth of human fears 
to explore history of the human race 
encoding tropes in our fantastic story, 
I might decide to shift conceptual gears 
when I see in the sun weird divine face 
that never will fit any category. 

Though I admire with true love in my heart 
steadfast loyalty that Cordelia shows 
when she tries to convert the raving heathen, 
I might attempt, with calculating chart, 
to prove I love her with the crystal rose 
till she explains she wants to marry Phaethon. 

If I can find Ophelia soon enough 
to rescue her from drowning in the Styx 
when I go strolling in Elysian meadow, 
I might record how hot atomic stuff 
composes our souls with chemical tricks 
when the Seraph appears as verbal shadow. 

Since Melusine agreed to marry me 
in moonlight more than twenty years ago 
and took me to Temple of Saraswati, 
I might fight so every soul can live free 
to expand world empire from Jericho 
through secret plan of the Illuminati. 

Though I still find myself alive on Earth 
while evolving four hundred million years 
from fish to wingless angel as Athena, 
I might reveal secret of second birth 
incarnate in brain of neurotic gears 
when I leap toward stars as the ballerina. 

Empire Of The Thunder God

Empire Of The Thunder God
© Surazeus
2024 01 01

The boy carries frail father on his back 
away from rubble of their bombed-out home, 
leaving ghost of his mother in gray dust, 
but they find no ship on the wild-wind shore 
in which they can sail to the Promised Land 
to found new empire of the thunder god. 

The boy reaches the point of no return 
somewhere between the river and the sea, 
so amid rubble of the bombed-out town 
he recites the rambling speech Hamlet makes 
while his father rages with mad King Lear 
to challenge empire of the thunder god. 

The boy climbs mountain of the holy ghost 
to stand before the burning bush of truth 
where the all-powerful mind of the stars 
issues ten commandments he must declare, 
but his people worship the golden calf 
to enter empire of the thunder god. 

The boy binds long red cape around his shoulders 
then leaps on broad back of the charging bull 
in battle to defeat the Minotaur 
and free children of Zion from the maze 
till Phoebus shoots Achilles in the heel 
to reject empire of the thunder god. 

The boy fixes feathered wings to his back 
then leaps from tower where Rapunzel sings 
to soar over vast lands of Middle Earth 
with message of salvation for mankind, 
but falls nine days and nights from wall of lies 
to shatter empire of the thunder god. 

The boy flees Zion with the Argonauts 
till Moby Dick swallows him in despair, 
then sits before gold gates of the White House 
beneath the gourd plant as shade from state power 
till the greedy king bows before his idol 
to dissolve empire of the thunder god. 

The boy chooses five smooth stones from the brook 
then stands before the tyrant on the hill 
who shouts, migrants are poisoning our blood, 
then slings straight shot that knocks him off world throne 
based on justice and liberty for all 
to maintain empire of the thunder god. 

The boy chops down the cherry tree of faith 
then wrestles angel of the lord in rain 
to steal his invisibility ring 
so he can see all that happens on Earth 
on secret television monitors 
while ruling empire of the thunder god. 

Windy Heath Of Faith

Windy Heath Of Faith
© Surazeus
2024 01 01

When Cordelia finds me on windy heath 
shouting at stones about blindness of love, 
she convinces me I have become myth, 
so I map all the strange lands where I rove 
with intention to prove I am still sane 
though I dance singing in cold winter rain. 

If I divide land of my aching heart 
between the children of my holy blood, 
they will tear my glorious empire apart 
that would leave crown of power lost in mud, 
yet I must choose the soul who understands 
old secret language of the mountain winds. 

Cordelia gives me cup of juice to drink 
so I lounge with Socrates by the pool, 
discussing with calm reason ways to think 
about how to enforce the Golden Rule, 
while she transcribes the arcane songs of sparrows 
who recount tales of seers buried in barrows. 

I almost think I can fly off the cliff 
if I run fast enough to edge of time, 
but Cordelia stops me with wizard staff, 
so I imitate the arrogant mime 
with frantic jest to mock the haughty king 
who keeps trying to steal my magic ring. 

Running naked in maze of Samarkand, 
where I eat grass and claim all souls are one, 
I calm the frantic horse with gentle hand 
so she will take me to Hall of the Sun 
where my three daughters calculate my fate 
as son of the king tasked to guard the gate. 

I cannot see clear relevance of spells 
I chant before the gates of Nineveh 
till Anahita shows me water wells 
hidden in the corn fields of Onatah 
who commissions me to liberate ghosts 
from confessional verse of narcissists. 

Disappointed I doubt her loyalty, 
Cordelia lingers by star pool in woods 
where Narcissus explains how royalty 
are thieves who fool us to think they are gods, 
so she finds me on windy heath of faith 
where I sing love songs to the eyeless wraith. 

Guiding me away from Castle of Greed, 
Cordelia leads me to the humble farm 
where she teaches me to grow food I need, 
but I cling desperately to the gold charm 
her mother forged from hot flames of Mount Doom 
to hide the Holy Grail in fertile womb.