Wild Melodies On Violin

Wild Melodies On Violin
© Surazeus
2024 01 17

Through passionate growl of the violin 
I feel our galaxy of flashing stars 
swirl across profound ocean of my brain 
with serious deftness of smooth plangency 
taut with dynamic pulse of fluency 
hidden in anecdotes of our memoirs. 

Intense attention of her fluid eyes 
shears crystal ice with fractures of sharp sound 
quick to repair dream-tangled melodies 
which support expansion of constancy 
with graceful ascension of vibrancy 
when musical notes score my heart profound. 

How wildly she constrains with each thrust 
graceful ballet of her violin bow 
through leaps of faith based on acoustic trust 
with canorous rhythm of ardency 
in synchronous verbiage of potency 
concealed in cipher of the golden bough. 

Erupting from elemental syntax 
where tonal echoes elevate thought scales, 
she stretches melodies on spiral tracks 
contracting vast textures with currency 
beyond fear-sonorous redundancy 
which binds segments of faith in ariose tales. 

Enthralled by glitzy symbols of star tones, 
reverberating straight across clear sky, 
she outlines structural web of aural stones 
that decorate silence with cadency 
contrary to pride of the regency 
in strict rebellion of the dreamless eye. 

Trapped deep in silent habitat of hope, 
heart dazzled by riddles of aching faith, 
she searches bars of notes for writhing rope 
of melogenic theme with urgency 
to channel love born from contingency 
through bodies animated by the wraith. 

Extracting logic from valid respect 
to prove persuasive relevance of tunes 
that spring from the folk as honest concept, 
I measure fluctuating cogency 
encoded in riddles through vagrancy 
reflected in silver mask of lost moons. 

On bare stage in the grand musical hall 
she plays wild melodies on violin 
that highlight throbbing life on the world ball, 
programmed to deal with soul emergency, 
struggling to transcend despondency 
through selfless love of my conceptual twin. 

Ripe Sense Of Divinity

Ripe Sense Of Divinity
© Surazeus
2024 01 16

We are atoms who dream ourselves as God, 
aware that we evolve from hungry chemicals 
transforming through organic shapes of mind 
as we transcend limitations of time 
when we regenerate immortal soul 
of genes through bodies of clumsy desire. 

These bright atomic coils of pulsing light 
that weave our body in matrix of life 
flash timeless passion of attractive hope 
through vibrant spirals of perceptive love 
composing neural nets of dreaming brains 
so we wake on shore of the star-eyed lake. 

That hour four hundred million years ago 
when I first wake beneath the apple tree 
frames how my brain constructs reality 
as virtual models of objects I sense 
with bold subjective ache of anxious faith 
contained in name that signifies my hope. 

So, though I float on timeless sea of truth, 
possessed by awe of vast eternity 
flowing through my heart as quick molecules, 
I know how I must exercise restraint 
to channel passion of my will to live 
through selfless attention to how you feel. 

Alone I wander lost on roadless plain 
without direction of cautious intent, 
but, when I meet reflection of my soul 
in gracious mirror of your curious eyes, 
compassion activates my social sense 
that urges me to share romantic play. 

I offer apple with attentive smile 
as gift provided by the Tree of Life, 
and glow with pleasure when you eat its fruit 
to see excitement gleaming in your eyes, 
which cements fragile bond of calm respect 
to links our hearts firm with mutual consent. 

All bodies formed of atoms fall apart, 
and conscious glow of self-awareness fades 
as structure of our soul disintegrates, 
so we are temporary beams of thought 
swollen with ripe sense of divinity, 
though we accept that we will disappear. 

Though I am atoms dreaming themselves God, 
able to conceive of infinity, 
I savor sensual existence of mind 
bound within flushed limits of time and space 
as we embrace to generate new life 
who grows aware as we fade into death. 

Bride Of The Apple Tree

Bride Of The Apple Tree
© Surazeus
2024 01 16

Mary, wild daughter of the changeless moon, 
why are you running in ghost-haunted woods, 
dressed only in your gown of hopefulness, 
instead of reading your new book of prayer, 
safe in your innocent tower of power, 
tending new-born son of our divine king? 

Richard, gallant son of the swirling sea, 
escaping old king who trapped me with lust 
to seek true path to my own destiny 
is why I am running in gracious woods, 
for you are the man I love with my heart, 
and your child is the soul I want to bear. 

Mary, sweet princess of my loyal heart, 
I thought you loved my father more than me, 
yet now I understand with shocking rage 
that he forced you against your courteous will, 
so take my hand and run away with me, 
leaving him to his pride while we share love. 

Richard, fierce prince who guards me with love, 
the forest is dark and the night is cold, 
and your father reigns over the whole island, 
so where can we run to escape his hand, 
and where can we dwell free of his control, 
except we swim across the swirling sea? 

Mary, proud Mermaid of the Holy Grail, 
monsters and demons lurk in the deep sea, 
eager to devour our innocent souls, 
but my ship is sturdy with stalwart mast, 
so you are safe in bosom of my care 
for to Broceliande Forest we sail. 

Richard, gentle lion who guards my soul 
from possessive lust of old castle king, 
embrace me in your warm protective arms 
to shield me from sharp lightning strike of wrath 
your father fires from bow of haughty pride, 
for I would dwell with you in garden grove. 

Mary, precious bride of the apple tree, 
stay with me as we sail to paradise, 
for I will remove arrow from your heart 
and heal you with aetherius of my love, 
but I fear dart of greed has pierced too deep, 
and light of your spirit fades from your eyes. 

Richard, brave Apollo of my respect, 
you saved me from cold prison of his lust, 
and freed my heart from golden cage of fear, 
so, though we cannot dwell in garden home, 
yet I fly free from sorrows of this world, 
thus I will live forever in your heart. 

Hope In The Spinning Void

Hope In The Spinning Void
© Surazeus
2024 01 15

The raven with three eyes white as the moon 
watches me from shadow of the oak tree 
construct small river boat from slender logs, 
then brings me mushroom from the mountain cave 
which swells my mind with vast pulsating stars 
so I feel Earth float in the spinning void. 

While in the kitchen baking pumpkin pie 
I hear wild shriek across the misty fields, 
and I step out on wood porch of my heart 
to watch the headless horseman gallop by 
on hoofs of thunder cracking crystal sky, 
so I fall dizzy in the spinning void. 

I follow railroad tracks in misty woods 
to large striped circus tent outside of town, 
then step inside to watch tall blond-haired girl 
stand divinely still with elegant grace 
on back of the quickly galloping horse 
that navigates hope in the spinning void. 

The railroad baron in ten-gallon hat, 
who cheats Indians into selling their land 
to profit from false wealth of gushing oil, 
aims rifle at my head with mocking sneer 
that he will take what I refuse to sell, 
so I somersault in the spinning void. 

The young man, bearing old man on his back 
as they escape gang of attacking thugs 
because they refuse to help sell drugs, 
asks me for ride across the wind-dark sea, 
so I welcome them on my fishing boat 
though harpies haunt us in the spinning void. 

On Broadway Street in Gotham City maze 
the weeping clown with smile carved on his face 
strums turtle-shell lyre he stole from Hermes 
to improvise satire poems on demand 
from Hells Angels on roaring motorbikes 
about his journey in the spinning void. 

Four soldiers in jungle of Vietnam 
reminisce about stews their mothers brew 
back home in Florida and Arkansas 
till hand grenade clatters between their feet, 
so Milton throws himself on flame of death 
that explodes with pride in the spinning void. 

Gaunt Mary bears new-born child in her arms 
as she walks the winding mountain road 
with hundred thousand refugees from war, 
dreaming about life in the Promised Land 
where she wants Messiah to attend school 
who grins at demons in the spinning void. 

Womb Of Mother Earth

Womb Of Mother Earth
© Surazeus
2024 01 15

As I uncurl from womb of Mother Earth 
through tense expression of arrogant wings, 
my soul assumes taut posture of grim prayer 
to contemplate origin of starlight 
while I suckle stories from hills of pain 
to fight against demons my mind invents. 

As I escape from womb of Mother Earth 
by crawling diamond-crusted river bed, 
my soul attempts to grasp flow of sunlight 
that drags me gasping from sea of despair, 
stretched out across jagged mountains of hope, 
to wrestle sorrows my heart designates. 

As I expand from womb of Mother Earth 
with storm-engulfing breath of flashing waves, 
my soul accepts dire limits of moonlight 
defining bold extension of my form 
which I transform with hands of eager faith 
to embrace compassion my eyes respect. 

As I extend from womb of Mother Earth 
on trembling legs of elegant disgrace, 
my soul seeks face of beauty in dark mist 
to find electric source of that life spark 
which glows deep in frail body of my fear 
to generate new life from shocking angst. 

As I stand free from womb of Mother Earth, 
tall as true apple tree on naked hill, 
my soul asserts responsible desire 
to savor sweet warm glamor of sun-rain 
suffusing supple bones of fragile trust 
to name myself as conscious entity. 

As I retreat from womb of Mother Earth 
with fierce intention to explore her space, 
my soul stands upright on her spinning sphere, 
shifting attention of my curious mind 
with strict correction of measurable force 
to focus on structural forms of ideas. 

As I return to womb of Mother Earth 
with discipline of honest self-control, 
my soul acquires through legal precedent 
prime clue of right to exist in this space 
which my heart navigates with secret code 
to evade death who haunts my noble quest. 

As I map way from womb of Mother Earth 
through complex algorithms of free will, 
my soul converts stark horror of despair 
through lithe agility of my dream creed 
with language I design from breathless words 
to translate song of the ocean to love. 

Yet My Heart Endures

Yet My Heart Endures
© Surazeus
2024 01 15

When time falls back in open arms of love 
death starts awake from gleam of hungry dawn 
which spurs my heart with anguish of desire 
to find sweet beauty of pleasure again 
though sorrow at loss breaks my surprised heart, 
yet my heart endures to create more love. 

The village my ancestors built from scratch 
five hundred years with hands of bloody hope 
is burned to swirls of cold innocent ash 
by rampaging gang of arrogant thieves 
who drive us into wilderness of fear, 
yet my heart endures to find paradise. 

Because suspicious winds of hungry hills 
batter our bodies with sarcastic hope 
the frail flickering flame of faith we tend 
with trembling hands in ring of bitter rocks 
almost deserts us each bleak afternoon, 
yet my heart endures to nurture faint hope. 

Ghost of my body haunts our homestead farm, 
performing daily routines of respect 
to maintain production of friendly wheat, 
while I huddle against cruel hilltop ridge, 
floating in dizzy terror of mute death, 
yet my heart endures with handful of seeds. 

Tall horse with ambitious eyes of concern 
guides our way among sharp ignorant crags 
with patient compassion for our dire state, 
till through jagged pillars of confidence 
we arrive in vale of the generous lake, 
so my heart endures with firm gratitude. 

Kneeling on moist shore of romantic lake, 
body pulsing with bright epiphany 
of unbelievable hope deceiving fate, 
I plant seeds of wheat with prayer to Blue Sky 
that nature grant my wish to start anew, 
so my heart endures with cautious regard. 

Constructing new home from reverent stone, 
where we conspire to build new paradise, 
we embark on daily raid to explore 
indifferent wilderness of devious woods 
on noble crusade to befriend the land, 
so my heart endures with nascent esteem. 

When time leaps forward on wings of desire 
death lingers in shadows of tolerance 
which motivates my heart with anxious faith 
to treasure beauty of nature I love 
though sorrow hunts my apprehensive heart, 
yet my heart endures to create true love. 

Call Me From The Sea

Call Me From The Sea
© Surazeus
2024 01 14

Reluctant road of billowing blue birds 
explains electric elegance of speed 
when children chasing chickens in the field 
find ancient bearded bard with broken harp 
who tells them gossip their grandmothers hide 
in books stuck in the trunks of weeping trees. 

The graceful horse with long red flowing mane 
looks sideways at me with her moon-black eyes 
as if to chide me for how I behave 
dancing foolishly in vast mirrored hall 
that seems to go forever to the sky 
where angels descend on red flaming wings. 

While picking strawberries near the cliff edge, 
faces gleaming in mist of early dawn, 
we laugh with shyness at pleasure we shared, 
but you slip over edge of nothingness 
as I reach out my hand to clutch at air 
and watch you fall forever in the sea. 

Along grim margin of the laughing sea 
I run long endless years in frantic search 
to find your body floating in cold waves, 
but you have vanished into nothingness, 
your face only clear to me in dark dreams 
when I hear you call me from the sea. 

I enter story of your death sideways, 
reluctant to express sharp pain I feel 
from guilt I failed to save you from the fall, 
yet blue birds on frail limbs of apple trees 
mock my pain with beautiful carefree songs 
so I dive deep into horror of the sea. 

Down deep in cluttered vision of blue light 
I swim into emptiness of my heart 
to find enormous pearl in oyster shell, 
so I grasp small gleaming moon with desperate hand 
and thrust toward leery eye that watches me 
to lie gasping on bleak beach of my grief. 

Cradling enormous pearl in open hands, 
I gaze at mysterious curves of its light, 
and almost see your face in its strange mask, 
so I carry pure spirit of your heart 
as I walk along winding river shore 
past farms of people tending wheat and cows. 

Back home in mirrored hall of your heart 
I kneel before your mother by the hearth 
and show her pearl of your soul that I found 
deep in dark abyss of my aching heart, 
then she embraces me with gentle kiss, 
whispering that she forgives me at last. 

Acceptance Of Her Fate

Acceptance Of Her Fate
© Surazeus
2024 01 14

Through eerie silence of the starless woods 
toward Heaven shining on the distant hill 
I ride black horse in nothingness of night 
to deliver messages of lost hope 
to people dancing in the mirrored hall 
before planes bomb it into shattered dreams. 

Cracked hoofs clatter on iced cobblestone road 
before gold gates of Heaven lined with pearls 
because they gleam bright locked against despair, 
so I hold high messages of lost hope 
and shout into the silent gloom of night, 
yet tunes of the orchestra mute my voice. 

Huge palace of Heaven where the king dwells 
with extensive clan of proud royalty 
looms high above bold hill of chanting skulls, 
great walls of courage and pillars of faith 
that shelter pantheon of noble gods 
who feast and dance in hall of timeless joy. 

Faint buzz of wasps that haunt my bloodied helm 
alert my cautious horror through stark fear 
as hum swells louder into dragon roar 
when fleet of airplanes with Daedalian wings 
soars up from caverns of Plutonian Hell 
to aim fierce rage at haughty monarchy. 

My black horse rears and strikes hoofs at cold wind 
when I scream with frustration of despair 
in vain attempt to alert the proud king 
who dances with his queen on marble floor 
with elegant grace of power and wealth 
as fleet of planes zooms above his fail roof. 

With helpless horror on my prancing horse 
I watch planes buzzing like a swarm of wasps 
drop slender filaments of silver light, 
round like eggs of dragons in fairy tales, 
smashing grand palace of Heaven with blasts 
that explode into flashing swirls of flame. 

Knocked to the ground by shock waves of bomb blasts, 
my horse and I lie stunned under red clouds 
then he leaps to his feet and flees away, 
so I stumble through mangled pearly gates 
to enter grand Heaven for the first time 
where powerful gods lie bleeding to death. 

Lifting beautiful daughter of the king, 
who laughed with joy beside the garden pool 
when I read her poetry of our love, 
I hold her fragile body in my arms 
and kiss her as her eyes of gentle faith 
gaze through me with acceptance of her fate. 

But Still They Bomb

But Still They Bomb
© Surazeus
2024 01 13

Bright stars that twinkle in the pearl-black sky 
look through the window of his random home 
glazed with thin frost of moonlight in his eyes, 
so he sips wine and strums soft melody 
that eulogizes beauty of the world, 
but still they bomb homes of the nameless poor. 

Soft flowers that bloom in the star-gold meadow 
leap through the window of his passing car 
glinting with restless curiosity 
to explore pristine wilderness of peace 
far from the money-busy streets of men, 
but still they bomb homes of the nameless poor. 

Swift birds of many species flutter wings, 
darting between trees of ripening fruit 
that workers harvest though they never sing 
heart-wrenching elegies through liberty 
for families to bake pies on holidays, 
but still they bomb homes of the nameless poor. 

Young children skipping with carefree delight 
shout gleefully with sweet abandoned joy 
as they visit cages where monsters pace 
with muscled passion of anxious despair 
to photo selfies of themselves at play, 
but still they bomb homes of the nameless poor. 

Curious students on college campuses 
stride casually across tree-shaded lawns 
to gather in classrooms with word-blessed books 
discussing complex issues of concern, 
inspired to nurture justice based on law, 
but still they bomb homes of the nameless poor. 

Cool actors in the most fashionable outfits 
stride red carpet lined with adoring fans 
to attend the fabulous awards show 
where they applaud each other for their craft 
depicting wretched clumsiness of life, 
but still they bomb homes of the nameless poor. 

Wealthy royalty of the corporate kingdoms 
feast on thick steaks of thousand-dollar plates 
it glitzy glamor of the posh hotel 
to support their favorite grand candidate 
who promises laws to exploit the poor, 
but still they bomb homes of the nameless poor. 

Deep within serene hopefulness of Nature 
hums restless passion of an unknown demon, 
stirred by disquiet of stark silences 
which haunt heart of darkness in hungry fear, 
inciting us to protest genocide, 
but still they bomb homes of the nameless poor. 

Infinity In The Finite

Infinity In The Finite
© Surazeus
2024 01 13

To find infinity in the finite 
I wrap my dream spirit in flesh of light 
by counting cardinality of points 
which integrate wheels of galactic joints 
with thought beams in continuum of my soul 
that weaves my brain-mind within the White Whole. 

To prove hypothesis of countless dots 
spread far across vast matrix of string knots 
I calculate clear integers in poles 
that program humans to assume state roles 
based on whole sets with axiom of choice 
expressing words breathed by the curious voice. 

To follow path of individual stars 
connected by thought engines of mind cars 
I will arrive at station of weird truth 
that displays conclusion with friendly ruth 
that even insignificant stars place 
vibrant energy through its journey trace. 

To climb foundation of numbers with hope 
deriving function of the point as slope 
tangent to spiral flow of the curve range 
I surf predicted wave through rate of change 
equal to height of beauty I transcend 
when Heaven rewards my urge to ascend. 

To secure dream database of my heart 
I deconstruct conceptual thoughts apart 
through quantum cryptography of true love 
with flashing curves of finite fields above 
based on algorithm of secret words 
conceived by passion of quick moon-eyed birds. 

To bind mind curves over infinite fields 
demanding zero function beyond yields 
I locate trivial nothings which display 
critical line that traces each complex way 
that humans assert when performing acts 
mapping world history down uncertain tracks. 

To form imaginary unit splined 
in graceful curves by numbered flow defined 
I loop long ovals which interpolate 
polynomials through broad degrees of fate 
with each atomic point in cosmic space 
composing special features of my face. 

To bridge our two hearts with elliptic curve 
I plot dark radiance of atomic swerve 
that binds our bodies with vow of respect 
to perform cause with positive effect 
through self-control that channels energy 
in secret romance with infinity. 

We Write New Chapter

We Write New Chapter
© Surazeus
2024 01 13

While searching library for ancient tales 
I find Anne Bradstreet in dim fairy glen 
who gives me writing quill of raven wing 
so I wander lost in ancestral vales 
to channel indifferent passion of zen 
in story code that children love to sing. 

As sunlight gleams through leaves of curious trees 
the little witch in black Puritan gown 
enchants my heart with weird hypnotic spell 
so I hear voices of the dead in breeze 
that swirls from star river where mad girls drown 
which leads me to the secret wizard well. 

Deep down in darkness of its shadowed light 
I see my face reflected in dark pool 
as mask revealing faces of the dead 
that my ancestors wore before their flight 
across the waste land of the laughing fool 
who pilfers visions from my dreamless head. 

Then one-eyed Anne teaches me how to write 
dream spells with runes Odin found in the well 
that translate dreams Taliesin saw in rain, 
so with Earendel in psychic flight 
I soar over Middle-Earth to expel 
tyrannic king from castle of the grain. 

Grasping my hand with ice-cold soul of faith, 
Anne leads me down through winding cave of ghosts 
to where Orpheus strums strings of his lyre 
and chants hypnotic tune to wake the wraith 
of Ophelia who writes names on signposts 
for roads that lead lost souls back to the shire. 

We journey home to land of daffodils 
where fairies dance in mists of Avalon 
hidden in woods behind car factories 
where Arthurian knights work to pay the bills 
because vast cities outshine Babylon 
where tyrants try to crush democracies. 

With rebellious spirit of Lucifer 
we rise from rubble of our bombed-out homes 
to follow banner of the cosmic herald 
through revolution against Jupiter 
foretold by prophecies in dusty tomes 
to form new global order of the world. 

We write new chapter in the human tale 
with every choice of action we perform 
to fight greedy tyrants of monarchy 
who think everything we make is for sale, 
then rise on Phoenix wings from martial storm 
to establish one-world democracy. 

World Of Hungry Hope

World Of Hungry Hope
© Surazeus
2024 01 12

When I hear deathless mother call my name 
I stand still on the beach in lonely wind, 
for though I feel her presence in sunlight 
her face appears as cloud above the hill, 
so I decide that she is watching me 
from high above the world of hungry hope. 

I see her body crumble into sand 
and leave her skeleton gleaming in waves 
that swirl around me as I hold her skull 
and listen for sweet timbre of her voice 
explain the meme for how to start the fire 
that crackles bright in starless gloom of fear. 

This ancient memory from the dawn of time 
programs how I perceive the universe 
for that is when my mind invented God 
as Deathless Mother watching from the sky 
to guide my journey to vale of fruit trees 
through words I sing to the golden-eyed snake. 

Now I gaze at the eye-phone in my hand 
connecting me with countless human beings 
who live in every valley of the Earth 
so I can watch them play role of their hearts 
while I design virtual world of my brain 
that glows in magic spells after I die. 

Awake this hour on globe of dreaming souls, 
I feel aware in neurons of my brain 
ten billion ancestors who made me real 
through four hundred million years of rebirth 
so I am every memory of their lives 
combined in unity of my whole soul. 

I am immortal soul of genes they wove 
with every action running on the beach 
to hunt for food that nourishes the mind 
as I seek mate to generate new life 
in children who will live after we die 
to relive drama of this fertile life. 

Descendant of my genes in evolved form 
will stand alive on beach of timeless waves 
five billion years after I chant this song 
with heart that aches for beauty of this world 
to dream weird vision of the universe 
till the sun transforms our bodies to light. 

When I hear deathless mother call my name 
that she invents from sweet ache of her heart, 
I close my eyes to feel her in my heart, 
then I call name of my young curious child 
who imitates the song of life I spell 
which I translate from swirling waves of love. 

Tyranny Of Santa Claus

Tyranny Of Santa Claus
© Surazeus
2024 01 12

This way the books we read will eat our souls 
as if we have lost our butterfly wings 
to climb the stairway to Heaven from Hell 
since we keep keys to our hearts in glass bowls 
without contemplating the state of things 
when statues of dead gods are found in wells. 

Ten thousand poets all around the world 
sing together in harmony of thought 
as wingless angels of the global choir 
conducted by dream of the cosmic herald 
who wants to show us what the zombie bought 
when he got stuck in old church of desire. 

With every new anxiety attack 
I translate shocking wisdom to bromides 
that only girls in bikinis enjoy 
for they alone can peer in timeless crack 
through which light of divinity elides 
harsh truth about the genocide at Troy. 

With ripe banana in my red right hand 
I rule sea kingdom of the smiling owl 
that demons build from rays of dragon bones 
so we can buy tickets to Wonderland 
because King Lear and Allen Ginsberg howl 
about sad ghosts who live in telephones. 

When I get back to where I once belonged, 
I will remove fake mask of my ancestor 
so I can play guitar on city streets 
and sing of stateless people who were wronged 
till they elect as president the jester 
who strolls all night with the fast-talking Beats. 

I drive my car in city maze of myths 
to gather data from computer brains 
about state crimes the proud traitor commits 
till ravens soaring from glass monoliths 
arrest the cheaters of capital gains 
who profit from scam of the money blitz. 

Concerned about state of my mental health, 
Minerva takes me to the misty woods 
where we watch sunrise gleam over snowed peaks 
with serious lesson that we employ stealth 
when selling Bibles in poor neighborhoods 
that consume our minds with social critiques. 

From heart of darkness I am born again 
to walk this world as lion with swan wings 
seeking whom I may recruit to the cause 
as we transcend world wars with spells of zen 
which motivate our satire happenings 
that expose tyranny of Santa Claus. 

Blind Elevator Man

Blind Elevator Man
© Surazeus
2024 01 12

What lifts my soul above the crippling storm 
with hurricane of gargoyles who steal wings 
is faith of the blind elevator man 
who lurks in shadows of museum rooms 
smearing his blood on paintings of dead gods 
to protest the most recent genocide. 

The weaver girl stuck on galactic bridge 
decides to ask me with innocent smile 
why I am the blind elevator man 
who knows art history like back of his hand 
so I erase the color of my skin 
with ten thousand masks I hang on the wall. 

Not quite surreptitious as Jesus was 
when he struck the snake writing in the tree, 
I climb the jagged slopes of Helicon 
to carve face of my father on the cliff 
when wingless angels in the church debate 
state of communism or monarchy. 

Yet the old novelist in brown tweed suit 
discusses bronze statue from Onatah 
that presents the blind elevator man 
as symbol of the soul which correlates 
with noble ambition to free all slaves 
since we left the jungle standing upright. 

When Phoebus immigrates to Arkansas 
he works as night janitor at the college, 
disguised as the blind elevator man 
who paints murals on red-brick ghetto walls 
which celebrate all young down-trodden heroes 
in fight against the world money machine. 

The people in bleak country by the sea 
who hide in caves on dusty river shore 
seek help from the blind elevator man 
who catches falling bombs with his bare hands 
then erases secret math formulas 
for chemical weapons from the chalkboard. 

We seek to resurrect with humble prayers 
better angels of our nature from fear 
and follow the blind elevator man 
who strums the mystic chords of memory 
as we sing chorus of our Union again 
with courage to support justice for all. 

Escaping maze of myths religion guards, 
I meditate on peak of Damavand 
to restore the blind elevator man 
who resurrects as Shiva with the snake 
to help Parvati banish proud Andhaka 
with light of Liberty bright in our hearts. 

Gold Wings Of Jibril

Gold Wings Of Jibril
© Surazeus
2024 01 11

Peering through window of apartment room, 
Zurah watches goldfinch in orchid tree 
flutter gold-tipped wings in warm evening breeze 
that swirls from purple waves of the White Sea. 
Yellow light flashes in blue evening sky 
with strange beauty like gold wings of Jibril, 

Practicing calligraphy for homework, 
Zurah writes one of the names of Allah, 
Al-Musawwir, Designer of the World, 
artist who fashions ideal shapes of things. 
Silver missile soars over city maze, 
terrible as pure gold wings of Jibril. 

Caressing soft fur of her black cat Sihr, 
Zurah gazes into his star-gold eyes, 
and laughs with delight when he leaps up high 
to catch ball of yarn dangling from the pole. 
Shrill shriek of the missile pierces the night 
at radiant blast from gold wings of Jibril. 

Holding leather book lit by candlelight, 
Zurah recites verse from ghazal of Rumi, 
"With sweet song expressing sun-lit excuse, 
fetch the beautiful-faced moon to our home." 
Tip of the missile pierces cement wall 
with star power from gold wings of Jibril. 

Surprised by flame of flower blooming bright, 
Zurah gasps at explosion of star eyes 
that opens portal through infinity 
where she floats bodiless on swirling waves. 
Blast of the missile knocks her at the wall 
with radiant glow from gold wings of Jibril. 

Crawling over rubble of gray cement, 
Zurah searches gloom of her collapsed home 
for her mother crushed by shadow of fear 
who still clutches her baby with no face. 
Specter of Death rises from missile shell 
that exploded from gold wings of Jibril. 

Glaring at Death who wears black tattered robe, 
Zurah stands on mound of her blasted home 
and offers him the last orange of her heart 
she found half-peeled in limp hand of her mother. 
Death tall and terrible as thunderclouds 
protects young girl with gold wings of Jibril. 

Walking signless road across the waste land, 
Zurah holds hands with Death as she sings 
sad melody of hot wind over sand 
while crickets chirp among waterless rocks. 
Small bloody footprints in the sands of time 
shows where she flies on gold wings of Jibril. 

Brenda Plays Flute

Brenda Plays Flute
© Surazeus
2024 01 11

With Book of Lost Tales in his red right hand, 
Albert walks to the end of anywhere. 
Every city that mushrooms from dry land 
discharges ghosts into the smoggy air. 
He tries to call her on the telephone, 
but Brenda has become the river stone. 

Brenda rides playful pony of the wind, 
laughing with joy because no bombs explode. 
Albert takes her to where the willows bend 
so Brenda plays flute for the star-eyed toad. 
Their soft lips meet in the most tender kiss 
that glows with love from heart of the abyss. 

Analyzing income from mortgage loans, 
Albert calculates bank profit and loss. 
Though moss cannot gather on rolling stones, 
men must bluster to prove they are the boss. 
Suckling her baby with exhausted pride, 
Brenda never tells her mother she cried. 

Albert aims pistol at man in black mask, 
laughing cruelly at the amateur thief. 
Brenda assigns her son the arduous task 
of painting bright flowers based on her grief. 
Albert photographs Brenda and their son 
who claps to watch the alligator run. 

Eating tuna sandwiches at the zoo, 
young family enjoys the warm afternoon. 
The man with the gun distorts his world view 
when he tries to shoot his wife on the moon. 
Albert runs to hit the man on the head 
before he falls blind in land of the dead. 

Brenda cradles Albert in bloody arms 
while police arrest the man with the gun. 
Angels howl with anguish at loud alarms 
when the boy assembles puzzle of fun. 
When demon of justice enters his brain 
Albert rises from his grave in black rain. 

The man who shot his ex-wife at the zoo 
wakes up in jail at harsh unworldly chill. 
Demon of justice with torn wings askew 
drags his spirit to the skull-cluttered hill. 
Albert berates him for selfish neglect, 
"You must treat your wife with loving respect." 

Hanging on the cross for ten thousand years, 
the man who killed the woman writhes in pain. 
After the funeral, wiping away tears, 
Brenda sees his ghost in the windowpane. 
Sitting by their willow in evening light, 
Brenda plays flute to assist his star flight. 

Temple Of The Weeping Clown

Temple Of The Weeping Clown
© Surazeus
2024 01 11

In back of the red Volkswagen I watch 
raindrops glinting gold from rays of streetlamps 
electrocute my brain with eager hope 
that Icarus will give me his old wings 
so I can fly above vast maze of myths 
to find the temple of the weeping clown. 

In Seattle cafe the young sasquatch 
sips cappuccino and watches poor tramps 
sell bottles of perfume and farm-made soap 
to hippies who laugh when the jester sings 
satires that mock national politics 
outside the temple of the weeping clown. 

In gloomy cavern of the dreamy witch 
her three daughters dressed as black-leather punks 
make candles and incense for the ghost shop 
while nine wizards smoke weed in plastic bongs 
to contemplate the consciousness of rocks 
stored in the temple of the weeping clown. 

In dorm room of the Christian school the snitch, 
who likes to tease the pretty girls with pranks, 
helps dungeon master Jesus sail wood ship 
across the storm-lashed sea while chanting songs 
about demon goddess who rules the clocks, 
trapped in the temple of the weeping clown. 

In holiday parade by lake of sludge 
where Satan driving red plastic car honks 
at Aphrodite who wields leather whip, 
the wingless boy lists all the social wrongs 
poor people suffer with mental-forged locks 
to build the temple of the weeping clown. 

In courtroom of the damned the seraph judge 
assigns spy missions to devoted cranks 
who chase Orpheus to the windy cape 
where he shoots them all with eccentric bangs 
that crashes value of food factory stocks 
preserved in temple of the weeping clown. 

In final round of the world wrestling match 
that determines success of psychic monks 
the president who wins the popular vote 
inhales divine soul of god in his lungs 
to program spyware beyond legal fix 
that crashes temple of the weeping clown. 

In black-star mirror of the Bandersnatch, 
who keeps his abstract artwork in glass trunks, 
the wandering troubadour in long black coat 
climbs tower of Rapunzel on broken rungs 
while she escapes Heaven on River Styx 
to find the temple of the weeping clown. 

Vast Singularity Of Love

Vast Singularity Of Love
© Surazeus
2024 01 10

While listening to the waterfall of light, 
I invent the strange story of my life 
where I survive the terrible events 
through kindness of lost people without names 
who vanish on the boat in swirling mist 
though I come with gift of apples too late. 

I hold up three fingers to represent 
tall trunk and spreading branches of the tree 
which grows forever as symbol of truth, 
so I draw line with three limbs branching up 
to signify true concept of the Tree 
which provides fruit that nourishes my soul. 

I open door of every house I pass 
to find vast singularity of love 
that gleams compact in beating of my heart 
because I keep my secrets in the drawer 
which I give to every person I meet 
to honor how we all are made of grass. 

Before I become nothing of this brain 
I am the ocean swirling around Earth, 
awake with timeless energy of motion, 
too important for this stark loneliness 
to remember why every creature dies 
after we are born from beams of sunlight. 

After I walk from sea to shining sea 
I will stand on stage of the empty church 
to explain what the silence says each hour 
our hearts fold wings to trace our global flight, 
but I stop on the hill of singing trees 
to gaze up at fake mirror of the sky. 

This world I sense with algorithmic thoughts 
glows bright outside the dream world of my brain 
so I note lessons of nature I learn 
with magic spells in book of wordless codes 
that yet-born people can read without eyes 
which programs their brains to see how I see. 

I know I am alive because my heart 
remembers pain and pleasure of my days, 
so I keep walking signless road of faith 
across national borders of empires 
which I cannot see as I walk in the woods 
where strangers hide books under tangled roots. 

Bathing in waters of the River Styx 
in cold baptism that restores my soul, 
I ponder nature of our universe 
composed of atoms in chemical forms 
that grow and decay in cycles of change, 
born from vast singularity of love. 

Pick Up That Gun

Pick Up That Gun
© Surazeus
2024 01 10

Walking on the beach by the hungry sea, 
to contemplate long strange path of my life, 
I find the gun I lay down in the sand 
to reject the manifest destiny 
for global empire of the oil-well king 
built on foundation of white privilege. 

I pick up that gun forged in flames of Hell 
and aim it at mindless eye of the sun, 
then mouth the bang of war with wordless tongue 
to contemplate absurdity of pride 
we feel to fight for land of liberty 
in freedom crusade against tyranny. 

When gangs of thieves attack land of the free 
to install their tyrant in the White House 
so they can exploit all the hungry poor, 
we join forces to fight for liberty 
with equal justice for all under law 
in war to defend our democracy. 

Beneath Stars and Stripes that waves in the wind 
I pick up that gun I once threw away 
and vow to defend our democracy 
so every person alive in this land 
may live free as they will, if they harm none, 
so come, Children of Love, and fight for truth. 

Injustice Of Attack

Injustice Of Attack
© Surazeus
2024 01 10

Caught by the infinite loop of the road, 
I walk back and forth on hesitant leaps 
between mouthless wound of unspoken thoughts 
and the ultimate mask of happiness 
pressed soft as flower petals on my skin 
that shields my glass heart from horror of death. 

Clouds thread ancestral memories in my eyes 
so I no longer see cerulean skies 
untainted by despair of wounded souls 
who cry out at injustice of attack 
as dreams of sorrow bleed into dry sand 
till empty horror swallows all in death. 

I follow flicker of faraway flame 
that fools me to believe it is the star 
that predetermines fate I would avoid, 
so I stand lost in middle of the street 
where ashes of books burned by laughing bombs 
imprint mute stories on my bloodied hands. 

Because I am invisible to you, 
I hide inside the tree of singing wind 
so you will never find me in my woods 
though you name it for your father who kills, 
because I want to play with honey bees 
who lead me to trove of magical keys. 

With final understanding of sea waves 
that refresh the world after blasting storms 
I will unlock museum of my dreams 
where I prefer to live in secret faith 
to label artifacts I dig from wells 
with stories that conceal horror of death. 

Safe in dark intuitive mist of faith, 
I occupy the house where you keep dying 
so when I look in mirror of the self 
I see the You you wish to play on stage 
because hostility of Nature binds 
our bodies tight with ambiguous love. 

Uncertain I exist as gust of wind, 
I base my faith on god contingency 
that dissipates with each surprising dawn 
when I hide rainbows in the dreamless book 
which leads me dancing in the ring of fire 
where fools and kings discuss philosophy. 

Awake from sketchy solitude of rain, 
heart heavy as the entire universe, 
I walk infinite loops to evade death 
in casual quest to find fresh fruit to eat 
till my glass heart cracks into solemn hymn 
that radiates light into the eyeless void.