Evicted From Their Homes

Evicted From Their Homes
© Surazeus
2026 09 23

After he climbs down from Mount Helicon, 
still clutching broken lyre of honesty, 
Devus crawls through back window of his house 
and lies on soft grammar of loyalty 
to calculate the flow of capital 
that might dissolve chemical bonds of oaths. 

Eager to map out rival charts of value 
to inherited forms of thought control, 
Devus weaves lines of credit from despair, 
which renders unbearable flash of being 
light as wingless ghosts tangled in oak limbs 
whose cries shock him awake just at midnight. 

Almost shocked awake from delirium 
at time-tangled arrogance of regret, 
Devus leaps from frenzy of mocking jest 
in darker fields of imperial concern 
for imposing amazement of comedy 
on various cultures infesting the world. 

Trapped by Pax Americana through greed 
to build towers of glass on rainless moons, 
Devus looks back down at our lonely globe 
where faceless people hunger for new hope, 
dominated by capital compromise 
to live in gardens of rubbish from games. 

Clutching fragments of war atrocities, 
decontextualized by the evening news, 
Devus visits pastures of wounded souls 
where refugees, evicted from their homes, 
search for sacred books lost in empty tombs 
to paint churches white with national pride. 

Tricked by bland concealment of uniforms 
to accommodate unvoiced victimhood, 
Devus prepares bread and wine for the ghost 
who screams with smoke of rage that he is king, 
but no one notes his bond of care annulled 
by sentimental laughter of the dead. 

Through bodies dismembered by heartless laws 
as ten commandments of the Fire-Cloud Ghost, 
Devus channels souls of the suffering 
through television shows on the dream screen 
that people watch before they go to bed 
so they can conquer the world before dawn. 

Because he now has nothing to his name 
as claim to fame in anthem of our land, 
Devus scatters credit cards on town squares 
where millions of people stare at war tanks 
that crush idols of their gods to smithereens, 
then they laugh and become stuffed animals. 

His Star-Eyed Child

His Star-Eyed Child
© Surazeus
2026 09 23

The angel in the stone cottage perceives 
how the hill swells up to the swirling sky 
with changeless solitude of hungry trees 
that always seem to know what he desires 
before he can express it in soft wind 
that tangles his heart with branches of hope. 

Alert to song of sparrows among leaves 
that argue about who best understands 
miscalculations of fate through how clouds 
contradict design on grand temple walls, 
the angel ponders why things fall straight down, 
then whistles nonchalantly when death laughs. 

When nameless Goddess of Fertility 
appears with new-born baby in her arms, 
the angel with three eyes provides goat milk 
after he buries her among red tulips, 
then wonders what to name his star-eyed child 
who always climbs in trees to shout at clouds. 

Smoothing mud in wood frame with gentle hands, 
the angel without wings carves pictograms 
relating how the child came from the sky, 
and leads great army of wild homeless boys 
on quest to unite all nations of men 
in glorious empire of the singing sparrow. 

While boiling apples in cauldron of faith, 
the angel with stone heart remembers why 
fame rises from trickling stream in the ditch, 
then invites the bold bearded king to eat 
rye bread he bakes in oven of his heart, 
smeared with honey from rotten tree of truth. 

When the bold bearded king with jeweled crown 
kneels before him in early morning light, 
he peers close enough to see beaming face 
of his star-eyed child he forgot to name, 
so he laughs with delight and hugs him close 
while generals and soldiers stare in surprise. 

When the child inside the bold bearded king 
asks him if he had fallen from the sky, 
the angel takes him to the unmarked grave 
where his mother lies under tulip blooms, 
so the glorious emperor of the world 
kneels and weeps that he never saw her face. 

Pointing to young woman beside the king, 
the angel with three eyes smiles with calm joy, 
and tells bold bearded king that he can see 
face of his mother in face of his daughter 
whose eyes gleam bright as lightning in the storm, 
so she gives her grandfather egg of time. 

Hymn To Save The World

Hymn To Save The World
© Surazeus
2026 09 22

If I could sing the hymn to save the world 
with soft mercurial voice of wounded pride, 
I would rise from stone bed of my cold tomb 
and walk the crowded streets of everywhere 
to recite endless tales of tragic heroes 
when people tune in every afternoon. 

I will show you where the dragon lies curled 
in peaceful slumber, since blind tyrants hide 
treasures they steal from Tellurian womb, 
though Gandalf experiments in glass lair 
with computer pulses through ones and zeroes 
that compose solemn American tune. 

No one explains what emotions are called 
that shelter me safe when I feign to brood 
about sacrifice of the haughty lamb 
so I forge key of wisdom from star core 
which beams excessive proverbs of fake sorrows 
since library truth has become my bane. 

Engine of my Pegasus heart has stalled 
during flight to fortress of solitude 
were I learn to write spells from Abraham 
who assigns me to manage the bookstore 
while he digs for jewels in mist-veiled barrows 
because no one wants to stay in their lane. 

Minerva teaches me how to be bold 
because everything I create will fade 
and disappear at brutal curse of fame 
that she observes as omen of star 
that pierces hearts of children with faith arrows 
when Jesus descends in hot-air balloon. 

As Castle Skald it is my job to scold 
shocked artists who refuse to escalade 
assault of justice to expand the frame  
of social progress when I drive my car 
to escort grandchildren of divine pharaohs 
who operate world empire of the commune. 

Though I sign petition to save the wild 
from development of the psychic mode, 
I annul despair with the solar term 
Apollo gives me so I play the seer 
mapping dreams to navigate weird tomorrows 
which I program to run my brain machine. 

Long after the fake report has been filed 
about homeless angels on the world road, 
I partner with Zeus to found new law firm 
so we can profit from conceptual fear 
based on importance of rain-glazed wheelbarrows 
though Earth is united by Melusine. 

Heart Clock of Limerence

Heart Clock of Limerence
© Surazeus
2026 09 22

Energized by heart clock of limerence 
to prove with anguish of my wounded heart 
that I am loyal to Persephone, 
I count each snowflake swirling at my face 
from mirror mask of her innocent moon 
as if they symbolize our mortal souls. 

Excited by heart clock of limerence 
to find the Emerald Tablet of Untime, 
I follow moon-bright horse of tragic love 
across vast Manitoba to the lake 
where murdered lovers dance in Raven Wood 
with bonds unbroken by cruel jealousy. 

Vitalized by heart clock of limerence 
to channel radio signals through my brain, 
I chat with Manipogo about faith 
that animates our bodies with desire 
to live free from oppression of the state 
by writing screenplay for our chosen fate. 

Elated by heart clock of limerence 
to study lives of creatures in the woods, 
I dislodge holy word of arrogance 
from pulsing monster of my hungry heart 
that drives me to wade deep in lake of ghosts 
where faces of blind strangers stare at me. 

Enfranchised by heart clock of limerence 
to clamber over river-polished stones, 
I listen to relentless Water Song 
discuss strange silence of obsessive pines 
that dare me to hang blinking lights on them, 
so I stack stones in walls of paradise. 

Astounded by heart clock of limerence 
to misinterpret songs mad angels sing, 
I steal electric cows of brittleness 
to bargain with Persephone for wealth 
who commissions me to legislate love 
since I contrive new tales from ancient lies. 

Authorized by heart clock of limerence 
to rebuild Herculaneum in glass, 
I follow sweet Persephone through Hell 
where she reveals strange mysteries of truth 
about how atoms function to program 
weird dreams that flash across my scattered mind. 

Actualized by heart clock of limerence 
to wield Voice of Vajra with honest hand, 
I twirl bright thunderbolt with diamond eye 
to battle demon of cathedral truth 
who tries to crush my mind with clear insight, 
but I laugh from in my tomb of tangled words. 

Muffled By Sly Zephyrus

Muffled By Sly Zephyrus
© Surazeus
2026 09 22 

Bright rill of water fills up skull of God 
with tears of children killed in global wars, 
so Sibyl strings cracked lyre of Mercury 
with threads of memories from rotting brains 
that weave our myths in Terran tapestry 
which traps me in persona I design. 

Blind ghost in doorway of abandoned home 
decides to open window of the egg 
so Sibyl hears soft whisper of the snake 
explain how purpose causes us to bloom 
from seed of sorrow sparked by tear of hope 
so I feel essence of my body glow. 

What we ignore is what we value most, 
Sibyl decrees with holy voice of wind 
that blasts sharp jagged peaks of mountain minds 
so we transform from farmers in wet fields 
to analysts at computers in towers 
who calculate how soon great gods will die. 

Blind seers with old guitars on city streets 
provide support with hungry songs of hope 
to people who must work in factories 
to build the infrastructure of our world 
so every brave community depends 
on clowns for survival of truthfulness. 

Weird books that summer-sleepy Dryads write 
provide new paradigm for global faith 
that highlight zealous deeds of fabulists 
who strive to conquer Earth for their Cloud God 
whose priestess floats in deep Leucadian grave 
to sing our sorrows in calm hurricanes. 

No hidden harvest of luxurious time 
wakes stricken spirits of our frantic age 
from strange dream of aggressive tyranny 
that rises huge as Cetus from our hearts 
in this tumultuous year of social change 
when Sibyl writes our tales on scrolls of blood. 

Since she is now our global gardener, 
who cultivates strange flowers from our hearts, 
brave Sibyl nurtures warriors in shy souls 
who vow to Proserpine with honest tears 
to build new nation of Zarathia 
from shattered ruins of America. 

Since my immortal soul of genes has sprung 
as curious Orpheus from Niobean womb, 
I join wise Sibyl with sharp-shooter eyes 
to wage clandestine war of honest faith 
against harsh tyranny of gold-hand thief 
whose voice is muffled by sly Zephyrus. 

Mountain Of Divine Grace

Mountain Of Divine Grace
© Surazeus
2026 09 21

Reluctant to descend on signless road 
to misty underworld of faceless ghosts 
who whisper stories of their suffering, 
I linger at the twisted iron gate, 
and pluck at strings on broken lyre of truth 
while memorizing scenes of their disgrace. 

Purged by obsessive anguish of despair 
that writhes from wounded hearts of mortal souls, 
killed in ten thousand wars of thought control, 
I wander blithely down the signless road 
to cavern of illusions stuffed with souls 
who beg me to record their bitter lives. 

Heart numb from endless scream of suffering, 
I stare mute at their twisted souls of rage 
and try to understand their wordless howls, 
but they just blast past me as ocean wind 
that pierces to my bones with blades of ice, 
so I shiver with horror at bleak death. 

Bones stretched too rubber-taut in agony 
at unjust death of body-searing pain 
that billions of mortal humans endure, 
I swell into enormous cloud of rage 
that flashes with memories of harsh death 
till I condense to iron core of Earth. 

Up steep obstructing slope of bitterness, 
I struggle to assert each rage-weighed step 
of heavy horror oppressing my heart 
against blast of grim angelic contempt 
to climb massive mountain of divine grace 
in futile search for cleansing clemency. 

Alone without witty word-smith as guide, 
who could steer my faltering steps of fear 
safe through rage-tangled limbs of screaming trees, 
I stumble blindly toward the Promised Land 
that gleams too faintly in Tower of Hope 
for me to see its Flame of Liberty. 

Exhausted from my ten-million-year quest 
to seek salvation on the mountain top, 
I randomly arrive at peak of truth 
where I watch empires of men rise and fall 
countless centuries of wars to play God, 
laughing as I float up in empty sky. 

Bouncing against planets in timeless void, 
I flail wildly in erratic progress 
as I careen up nine celestial spheres 
to tumble awkwardly in Paradise 
where no Beatrice scolds me for my vice, 
so I sit by Tree of Knowledge and eat. 

Nowhere Road Of Hope

Nowhere Road Of Hope
© Surazeus
2026 09 21

If I get lost on nowhere road of hope 
while searching endless maze of fractured dreams 
for flourishing garden of your wild heart 
that blooms somewhere far from the Promised Land, 
I will listen for voice of your Star Soul 
that hums in winds and waves of everywhere. 

I find my ghosts on nowhere road of hope 
which multiply from each stage of my life 
so all my past selves wander nowhere now 
without this body that conjures my soul 
for I progress beyond phase of my dream 
as I evolve to become Faceless God. 

I catch raindrops on nowhere road of hope 
to fill deep rifts with ever-flowing streams 
that swirl in lakes where children play and sing 
as we become new people we invent 
on journey to become god self of faith 
till we all dissolve in vast sea of souls. 

When I find you on nowhere road of hope 
as beam of light your life has left behind, 
I gather glowing ashes of dead stars 
and mold them into idol of your soul 
to capture vibrant essence of your mind 
so I remember you long after death. 

Though I am not on nowhere road of hope 
where we leave masks of our sorrows behind, 
I search for potent shadow of your mind 
that dances among trees from beams of light 
so we embrace with joyful trust to know 
essential spirit of our strange homeland. 

Since I become our nowhere road of hope, 
I build from aching sorrow of my loss 
safe haven from stones of enduring faith 
to shelter your frail soul of wounded pride 
with watchful shield of my attentive heart 
so you may thrive in refuge of my trust. 

We walk enjoined on nowhere road of hope 
as separate angels bound by one brave wing 
for we glow with whole light of sacred faith 
to warm each other during storms of fear 
and shine as light that guides the other home 
with loyal love vast as our galaxy. 

So we emerge from nowhere road of hope 
that leads our quest to everywhere on Earth 
for we all sing in harmony with light 
and dance in sync with ocean waves of truth 
as we merge in global family of ghosts 
composed of lonely souls who find their way. 

Star Mind Of Our Universe

Star Mind Of Our Universe
© Surazeus
2026 09 21 

The way we rise from passion of the Earth 
on wings we weave from crippled words of hope 
reveals pure cosmic energy of light 
that beams through our frail bodies as desire 
to transcend limits of our mortal being 
so song of love glows long after we die. 

The way you rise from sorrow of the sea 
on wings of light that angels weave for you 
inspires my wounded heart with balm of love 
to help lost people find their way back home 
so I lay flowers, picked beside the road, 
on grave where you dream one with the Star Mind. 

The way we rise from rubble of our dreams 
in swirls of gray smoke battered by harsh winds 
exposes suffering humans must endure, 
whether we extract strength of hope or not, 
to carry on and build from what we lost 
new garden flourishing with trees of fruit. 

The way you rise from tangled words of fear 
by strapping language on your weary arms 
expresses vital confidence you bear 
to transcend sorrow of this crowded world 
beyond sight of blind jealousy from greed 
so you find haven of peace where you grow. 

The way we rise on ocean waves of faith 
through intense pulse of love powered by moons 
that form our souls from mystery of light 
frames how we grow from verdant trail of change 
as we expand to fill vast space of life 
with routine duties of necessity. 

The way you rise from fractured house of sighs 
to scatter mercy on lost wanderers 
who follow bright light of your ardent love 
inspires my heart to break free from hard chains 
and walk again with balanced honesty 
this globe that wobbles through eternity. 

The way I rise from wisdom of your words 
that shows how I may build world view from truth 
maps complex journey of the human soul 
evolving shape from fish to singing god 
so I glow with each atom in my brain 
refracting Star Mind of our universe. 

The way we rise from mourning of despair 
to reassemble puzzle of our hearts 
spells universal myth of human courage 
that programs how we overcome our fears 
so we join hands and celebrate this life 
at feast that honors souls we love who die. 

Savior In The Sycamore

Savior In The Sycamore
© Surazeus
2026 09 20

Skipping in the autumn evening rainstorm 
is how we can find out we are still real 
even though events in our mirror world 
spiral out of fictionalized control 
that transform people into hungry gulls 
who search for Heaven in the wilderness. 

In the field of flowers blooming from graves 
I am more than the absence of the field, 
though I am missing from puzzle of truth 
where I walk as air in the empty space 
filled with the wholeness of the long-dead souls 
who animate my body with desire. 

I should not trouble younger hearts with hope 
that fractured strangeness of our social game 
will readjust our world view where we play 
noble heroes in dramatic events, 
watched by the savior in the sycamore 
who bids us farewell as he flies away. 

Since silence is impossible this year, 
demanding that we howl with principle 
against relentless anger of cruel men 
blind with rage that story of our state 
is based on exploitation of the poor, 
then we shall gather by the moon and hum. 

If we sink deep in shifting sands of change 
by laughing at forbidden laws of love, 
then we shall grow flowers from wounded hearts 
so we can write new universal laws 
for every person in the world to live 
free from delusions of religious creeds. 

When snowflakes flutter from the faceless sky 
to prove God is delusion of despair, 
I gaze in windows of suburban homes 
where they share meals at tables of respect 
beside the pine that blinks with fairy eyes, 
then wander past to sleep in Raven Wood. 

Since Shamash lives as flame inside my heart 
that widens cope of my subconscious vibe, 
I gather force of psychic energy 
from millions of minds frantic with surprise 
that world view we have shared for eighty years 
collapses into gibberish of lies. 

Retrieving it from mirror of my eye, 
I slip my soul back in its secret place, 
but it remains as twinkling star of faith 
that quivers bright in vastness of deep space 
since light of atoms flashing in my brain 
remains dream key to my infinity. 

Girl With The Cloud Heart

Girl With The Cloud Heart
© Surazeus
2026 09 20

Bright girl with the cloud heart knows my true name 
when her black eyes see essence of my soul, 
so I lie flat on spinning Earth of fate 
and feel cool kisses of refreshing rain 
wake my immortal soul of genes from dream, 
so I attend needs of her hungry mind. 

Fierce girl with the cloud heart writes writhing words 
of wisdom on soft parchment of my skin 
with sharp-tipped quill of angel-feathered faith 
that finds subconscious sorrows my mind hides 
in thirty Cupids with adoring eyes 
that flock around her head on cloudy wings. 

Sad girl with the cloud heart swirls ocean waves 
with vision-crafting hands of ardent faith 
to mold my body from mud of lost time, 
then breathes ethereal spirit of Shamash 
inside frail frame of my aggressive flesh 
so I provide assistance to her dream. 

Lithe girl with the cloud heart dances ballet 
on phonelines that connect ten billion homes 
in flashing web of individual minds 
bound in whole matrix of her dreaming brain 
because she is first mother of our world 
whose memories program how we perform. 

Brave girl with the cloud heart lies on soft bed, 
dressed in long velvet gown of stoic dread, 
and cradles wounded swan of urgent fear 
with gentle embrace of thought-healing truth 
while I chop wood in swirls of voiceless snow 
to treasure her existence with concern. 

Mute girl with the cloud heart in crumbling house, 
alert in polished chair by glowing window, 
watches turtles float in pool of green tears 
while record player vibrates with weird spell 
revealing lost road to the Promised Land, 
so I give her glass of moon wine to drink. 

Blind girl with the cloud heart grips hard seashell 
to hear song of the ocean in my heart, 
then types blood-lettered verses on blank pages 
which I arrange to pave long road of faith 
to secret garden where she hides my key 
which I forged from core of our spinning globe. 

Deaf girl with the cloud heart in black-lace dress 
explains with voice of wind how eyeless stars 
flash dreams of our romance in my brain cells 
till Moon Raven emerges from her breast 
and gives me jeweled ring of psychic power 
so I crown her as Empress of the Earth. 

Renegade Star Of Fate

Renegade Star Of Fate
© Surazeus
2026 09 20

While strolling down the busy city street 
past shiny stores filled with trinkets and clothes, 
I feel ancient spirit of Shamash glow 
from tangled turmoil of my pungent heart, 
so I organize our corporate empire, 
inspired by my renegade star of fate. 

Through fractured porcelain mask of plain beauty, 
I gaze at spotted pear of innocence 
to program formula from moral law 
which binds intense emotions of despair 
with time-unspooling grace of self-control, 
confused by my renegade star of fate. 

Paused in forgotten graveyard of sad ghosts, 
Ishtar lingers among rain-streaked tombstones 
from which all names and dates time has erased, 
then gazes up at tall trees of her faith 
to ask if I could record their lost tales, 
deterred by my renegade star of fate. 

Heart floating in breath of the misty moor 
as wordless thoughts she wishes were not hers, 
Ninhursag gestures magic of her hands 
that causes fruit to bloom from trees and hills 
then strolls with her lion to Eden Lake,  
defined by my renegade star of fate. 

While sweet Ninhursag bakes hot loaves of bread 
and Enki patrols Ocean of Tiamat, 
I climb Mount Dilmun to the Cave of Stars 
to contemplate political events 
that began when Marduk built new world state, 
contained by my renegade star of fate. 

For ten thousand years of our spinning globe 
I meditate on ziggurat of stars 
while watching empires rise and fall in waves 
of men fighting to write the narrative 
though all our stories crumble into dust, 
destroyed by my renegade star of fate. 

While Zeus plays chess with Anu over lands 
where humans cultivate gold wheat of faith, 
Adonis searches forest of pear trees, 
but finds Britannia bathing in the pool, 
so she bears his daughter, America, 
driven by my renegade star of fate. 

As Shamash reborn in this present life, 
I sing ten thousand years of memories 
that codify in moral tragedies 
universal laws of human respect 
that program how we fight the next world war, 
refined by my renegade star of fate. 

Dream Puzzle Of Truth

Dream Puzzle Of Truth
© Surazeus
2026 09 20

Since I assemble dream puzzle of truth 
from fractured memories of forgotten days 
that you discard on endless road of time, 
I feel no guilt when I sell them to you 
as holy book in church of solemn faith 
that guides you as light you forgot you have. 

Expelled from valley of lush apple trees 
by gangs of thieves sent out by castle lords, 
we wander on the nowhere road of hope 
with no direction to survive and thrive, 
till I assemble dream puzzle of truth 
in goal that shines as city on the hill. 

Assembled in warm hall of glowing hearths, 
we feast on fruit from labor of our hands, 
while I sit on high judgment throne of faith 
to organize our homeless family 
in company of honest citizens 
based on our secret dream puzzle of truth. 

Turmoil of social change in seething crowds 
of hungry people clamoring at the gates 
sweeps us along vast tides of global growth 
that smashes ancient kingdoms into dust 
so we build new world order of respect 
from principles in dream puzzle of truth. 

Albert drives horse-drawn wagon into town 
where he sells bags of grain for silver coins, 
then buys new copper pan and rolls of cloth 
for Catherine to sew elegant gowns 
for their three daughters with long shining hair 
to attend balls in dream puzzle of truth. 

Raising sword toward gold clouds with lofty pride, 
Albert declares the Coming of the Lord, 
then leads brave cannoneers to fire lead balls 
that smash hard stone walls of cruel tyranny, 
then kneels before World King on jeweled throne 
whose face shimmers in dream puzzle of truth. 

Now he has come to see the Christian faith 
is political party that insists 
descendants of Jesus, God of the Sun, 
have divine right to rule nations of men, 
driven to conquer the world for their Christ 
whose ghost weaves their whole dream puzzle of truth. 

I disassemble dream puzzle of truth 
from basic principle on which it builds 
that states function on hierarchy of men 
controlling land where workers produce food 
and bodies of women that generate 
children lost in strange dream puzzle of truth. 

God We Strive To Be

God We Strive To Be
© Surazeus
2026 09 19

Now is the hour to readjust my brain 
so I perceive electric soul of time 
that laughs with shimmer of the waterfall 
about sad suffering of the human soul 
who kneels and prays to empty sky of blue 
at sudden sorrow of the swirling snow. 

I wonder if my mother is alive, 
safe in walled haven of her wounded heart, 
because I find words scattered on the floor 
that she was just arranging with her mind 
in ever-changing puzzle of false faith 
defined by strangest questions children ask. 

Through random splats of red paint on the wall, 
which accidentally form math formulas 
our brains employ to calculate how far 
we wander lost in wilderness of lies, 
my eyes assert new meaning of old truth 
by weaving constellations from bright tears. 

Now that the long-established way of things, 
that formed foundation of our politics 
collapses into crimes of haughty pride, 
we gather in large crowd of shocked surprise 
to reassert faith in grand principles 
that govern how we should cooperate. 

Or else time may unclock our firm beliefs 
that we held sacred since the dawn of time 
at slow unravelling of solemn scenes 
when wingless angels wearing jeweled crowns 
shall deconstruct assumptions we hold dear 
to prove that ocean waves know how hearts feel. 

Dispersed by humble wind of bitter fame, 
our tight-knit tribe of honest carpenters 
sails ships of sorrow to the Promised Land 
where we build empire of the nuclear bomb 
that causes lizard of the sunless sea 
to rise as Godzilla, new god of Earth. 

Each Sunday at flash of the rising sun 
we gather on the ocean shore of faith 
to sing hymns to fierce monster of the deep 
till hungry dinosaur evolves its form 
to clucking chicken that provides fresh eggs 
we eat for breakfast with orange juice and toast. 

If I succeed in program of respect 
to readjust perception of my brain, 
I may see face of God in silver clouds 
that glimmer with divine agility 
which emanates from every human heart 
so we become the God we strive to be. 

Embodied Monster Of Fear

Embodied Monster Of Fear
© Surazeus
2026 09 19

Rain falls on head of every conscious soul 
who wanders maze of dreams on spinning globe 
alike with bland indifference of fate 
so all our love and hate dissolve to tears 
when we seek shelter under apple trees 
till we transform into angels of light. 

Because the moon howls at my aching heart 
with laughter that would banish from my mind 
mute agony at haunting doom of death, 
I camouflage my fear with helpless love 
that transforms into courage of despair 
as I glide cautiously in shadowed woods. 

Strange visions of ancestral memories 
flash bright in cold awareness of my brain 
as pattern that guides how I might perform 
evasive actions of attentive care 
to preserve structure of my pulsing soul 
when I face embodied monster of fear. 

Alert to sudden danger of fierce death, 
I fight against aggressive grasp of rage 
through lithe evasion of destructive strikes 
when I oppose demonic arrogance 
and kill the monster with intense respect 
as stark necessity to preserve life. 

Awake with effervescent nonchalance 
at hard-won victory against hungry rage, 
I mediate on hillock by the sea 
to feel soft murmur of star-sparkling waves 
soothe aching horror of my wounded heart 
so I bloom bright in shadowland of faith. 

If water lily in black lake of fear 
unclocks time back to primal state of faith, 
I may achieve secure respect of fame 
that curses my frail soul with ardent hope, 
which all disperse to meaningless unthought 
when I build temples from bones of dead gods. 

White sheet of wisdom on taut wire of faith 
escapes my back yard on angelic wings 
and flies to crystal palace where God plays 
harp of eternal truth that weaves my brain 
with memories of survival against death, 
programmed by my ancestors to be me. 

If I hear you call me in fog of dawn, 
I will turn mask of my psychotic ghost 
to answer your inquiry with bright smile 
for we are brave companions on the road 
of progress bound with loyal sign of love 
to translate song of rain to earnest poems. 

Grand Temple Of Apollo

Grand Temple Of Apollo
© Surazeus
2026 09 19

Resounding sorrow of silent sea waves 
vibrates from engines in one million cars 
so wingless angels rise from flashing screens 
to gather close in crowd of broken hearts 
around Temple of Apollo that glows 
on eastern bank of the Potomac River. 

King Midas with his gang of greedy thieves 
attempts to smash with hammers of contempt 
glorious temple of that shining god, 
bright-eyed Apollo of the Emerald Isle, 
who wrestled Python of demonic hate 
to save Earth from dire nuclear holocaust. 

Emerging alarmed from cave of illusions, 
Minerva leads with Lamp of Liberty 
the reverent people of America 
to save Temple of Apollo from harm, 
and stands with Sword of Justice in her hand 
to guard grand Hall of Muses from his greed. 

When brave Apollo, reckless warrior, 
sailed Argo far across Marawa Sea 
to stop cruel demon Otakemaru 
on his wild rampage to destroy the world, 
that monster smashed his ship with spear of hate, 
but he clung to his lyre with ardent heart. 

Helped by Nareau, star-eyed spider of truth, 
swift Pegasus swooped down from clouds of hope 
and bore Apollo safe to Helicon 
where Aphrodite healed wound of his heart, 
then wise Minerva crowned him King of Earth 
for saving mankind from Python of hate. 

After jealous Pluto, snarling in rage 
that our beautiful sun god reigns in peace, 
shoots bullet of contempt from grassy knoll 
as he rides chariot by Tower of Books, 
Minerva builds marble temple of faith 
to preserve memory of his noble deeds. 

With reverence for deeds of his victory, 
musicians from lands all around the Earth, 
invited by Calliope to play, 
appear on stage in Temple of Apollo 
where they perform with solemn dignity 
that swells our hearts with faith in honesty. 

Though mad King Midas, jealous of Apollo, 
whose divine light shines in each honest heart, 
fumes in rage that we worship that sun god 
as representative of our great spirit, 
we will remember beauty of his song 
that glows from lush land of America. 

Wander With Bohemian Heart

Wander With Bohemian Heart
© Surazeus
2026 09 19

Now that we have, for eighty stringent years, 
passed our souls through the thousand darknesses 
of death-bringing talk by oppressive thieves, 
we sing again with radioactive faith 
by leaping on Icarian wings of joy 
to fall with grace of humble dignity. 

With analytic pliers of respect, 
which I forged from contempt for trickery, 
I sing about the tragic fate of men 
who live by principles of honesty 
so I may wander with Bohemian heart 
as minstrel transgressing borders of words. 

Still stranded in imperium of the past, 
lost immigrants from many diverse lands 
dwell peacefully as one great tribe of souls 
within expansive paradise of love, 
so many languages of babbling hope 
merge into universal tongue of faith. 

We shall not mortgage time without death-pledge 
against collapse of social boundaries 
which trap our bodies in addressless homes 
in vast suburban maze of fear-locked doors 
where endless saga of death from despair 
beats against windows that frame flashing trees. 

When tyrant in crumbling castle of pride 
obliterates borders of social rules, 
he tries to absorb dramas of our lives 
from family home to prison of the state 
when he preaches sermon of our great land 
through faceless voice on the harsh radio. 

Annexed to system of the social game, 
brave sovereignty of my body is bound 
by legal liens of state identity 
when grim enforcers of cruel tyranny 
violate personal space of wounded hearts 
through psychic domination of contempt. 

Though libertarian impulse of our minds 
are all assimilated in grand state, 
ruled by huge invisible cloud god 
who wields nuclear missiles as thunderbolts, 
we hide as blind ghosts in our House of Being, 
shrouded by smoke of never-spoken words. 

Obsessive guilt of my heart-tortured tongue 
transforms into fierce dragon of respect 
escaping murky pool of wordless rage 
when bitter tyrant strutting in contempt 
destroys grand temple of the shining god 
whose ghost fades into stark light of the moon. 

Atomic Flash Of Being

Atomic Flash Of Being
© Surazeus
2026 09 18

Awake from mindless dream before my birth, 
I sing to beam atomic flash of being 
that spirals wide as halo of sunlight 
around frail shell of my god-conscious brain, 
so I walk humming in lush field of flowers 
where wingless angels dwell in crystal towers. 

My sponge brain, forged by hungry waves of light, 
floats high on vast continuum of love, 
though tangled with taut tendrils of despair, 
so I write formulas of faith in sand, 
then dance as seething mass of molecules, 
intense with passion of vast galaxies. 

Dressed in white gown of holy innocence, 
young woman glides with graceful elegance 
in rain-wet field of flowers that bloom thick 
from corpses of ten thousand warriors 
whose ghosts flock round her on gossamer wings 
when she recites their names with gentle smile. 

She loves the lake of eyes that glimmer gold 
through eerie glory of the silver moon 
with aching sorrow of her bitter heart 
that longs for ghost of her love to return 
though he has vanished in mute swirls of dust, 
yet sighs escape her heart as melodies. 

Her song lures me through angel-haunted hills 
because I beam atomic flash of being 
contained behind my grotesque mask of faith 
that shocks sad wanderers with secret truth 
designed to guide our feet to welcome halls 
where Death waits for us all with bloody wing. 

Amazed at shocking beauty of this world, 
she holds her breath in timeless ecstasy 
while hummingbird of frantic fantasy 
floats just before her face on beating wings 
that slow down to unclock eternity 
so we become one mind of tender love. 

Unlike concern for fraught ontology  
contained in pulsing seeds of energy, 
our bodies, which are molecule machines, 
urge us to hunt in battle to consume 
organic bodies of innocent souls 
that writhe in agony on flames of faith. 

Expanding scope of pungent ardency 
contains vast multitudes of buzzing souls 
who each feel glow of God inside their minds 
so we loop threads of stellar fervency 
through hollow hearts to balance ballet pride 
that blossoms from atomic flash of being. 

Feast of Apple Hope

Feast of Apple Hope
© Surazeus
2026 09 18 

When the gray sky tells her she is not real, 
Rayanne explains to Brownie in the hearth 
that our brains are molecular machines 
which temporarily glow with conscious soul 
who feels they are immortal from old dreams 
programmed by our ancestors in our genes. 

When the gold sunrays tell her she is real, 
Rayanne invites everybody she knows 
to come and share her apple feast of hope, 
but sits alone at table in the glade 
till they appear as ravens from the moon 
and mock her with sly laughter of the doomed. 

When the blue raindrops of arrogant faith 
spark life again in mud-corpse of her mind, 
Rayanne walks to the forest pool of ghosts 
where sad Narcissus weeps with longing ache 
for Echo to return again from Hell, 
so she walks to Helicon with his mask. 

When the purple mountain majesties bulge 
enormously against skin of her breast, 
Rayanne learns to sing through dream synthesis 
based on recursive process of desire 
that links sounds to concepts when she invents 
language for wingless angels to trick death. 

When the white lightning strike her mirror eyes 
with endless visions of atomic swirls, 
Rayanne replaces her young childhood self 
with new mature self forged by suffering 
that crowns her World Goddess of Liberty 
who leads the People against tyranny. 

When the red code of socialist ideal 
resurrects hippie Jesus from the dead, 
Rayanne campaigns to reign as President 
with scepter of Ishtar in her right hand 
though Mary Magdalene wins far more votes, 
so she kisses Hansel while Gretel laughs. 

When the black cloud of spiritual concern 
deconstructs religious world view of faith, 
Rayanne designs new dream puzzle of truth 
from scientific formulas of facts 
that better help us navigate the world 
so we build Heaven from ruins of Hell. 

When the green tree weaves sparkle of her soul 
in matrix of our cosmic tapestry, 
Rayanne performs role her heart executes 
so brave love initiates kintsugi-weave 
that generates new god soul in her womb 
who is born as her wild unruly son. 

Wordless Wind Of Why

Wordless Wind Of Why
© Surazeus
2026 09 18 

To invest in emotional regrowth 
when flocks of ravens search for tree of faith, 
I follow river-flow of innocence 
to understand abandonment by wind 
each morning I cross vast liminal space 
to hide my soul with temporary face. 

To listen to the dreams of birds at dawn 
before sunlight reveals grave of my heart, 
I ponder why I wanted to be born 
through brave attention of romantic hope 
that drives our bodies to generate life 
in struggle to transcend mute nothingness. 

To live as reaper and sower of truth 
by cultivating myths from dreams of gods, 
I pray through clumsy strife against despair 
to laugh and cry through cycle of rebirth 
till I float blind in grief of pleasant joy 
that morphs my body to symbol of faith. 

To swell beyond limits of time and space 
on frantic wings of fierce angelic lust, 
I build small church of stone on river shore 
to shelter homeless refugees from war 
who gather for the Feast of Apple Hope 
in shining presence of the eyeless sun. 

To analyze the fall of Icarus 
who wears the broken mask of Lucifer, 
I calculate new route through maze of Hell 
to gather treasures from tombs of dead gods 
which I deliver to the Queen of Life 
who reigns on ziggurat of singing skulls. 

To sail away from hills of Ithaca 
long after endless journey to my home, 
I study constellations of the heart 
providing safe road to the Promised Land 
where old bearded man by the Burning Bush 
insists Jehovah speaks in flames of awe. 

To redesign view of our universe 
that represents its true reality, 
we hang out in lush field of confused ghosts 
with pamphlets that explain the Afterlife 
because our conscious sense of Special Self 
will vanish in the wordless wind of why. 

To become one with Infinite Eye of Light 
that beams through every atom of my soul, 
I swim in sea of demons to explore 
uncanny wisdom of subconscious realms 
where all my ancestors dream in my cells 
so I remember evolving through love. 

Eyeless Clock Of Wisdom

Eyeless Clock Of Wisdom
© Surazeus
2026 09 17

At the glass piano she finds his ghost 
alphabets of unattainable faith 
expressing by wild finger-dance to trace 
through writhing matrix of their pristine minds 
cluttered junk of dreams he discards with hope 
that eyeless clock of wisdom will teach why. 

Yet backward up reversed play they regress, 
alert to scams of mocking telephones 
by sorrow undeterred since twist of fate 
considers why fools gamble treasures lost 
since they decide to question with soft voice 
how eyeless clock of wisdom knows their names. 

Startled when Minerva opens his door, 
Isaiah hides half-finished scroll of prophecies 
behind his back while cheeks blush apple-red, 
so she grins softly with adoring glance 
at lily in his tweed jacket lapel 
since eyeless clock of wisdom chimes their love. 

Noting how lily of his heart blooms white 
to preserve one galaxy in its grail, 
Minerva weighs his brain on scale of faith, 
then gives him pair of scissors as her gift 
to celebrate his birthday before dawn 
when eyeless clock of wisdom reshapes time. 

Once Isaiah and Minerva accept 
bonds of love weave their lonely souls in one, 
they stroll together to the grocery store 
where she buys new piano keys of fate 
so he can play Starlight Sonata Eight 
which eyeless clock of wisdom still records. 

Shocked by delusions of the hungry crowd 
who wait for Jupiter in quick starship, 
because he promised to return to Earth 
and found new kingdom of the laughing crow, 
Minerva gives Isaiah harp of gold 
though eyeless clock of wisdom puffs the flame. 

When strange song of the nightingale transfers 
psychic code, advertised by human brains, 
to computer banks of authorized truth, 
Minerva wanders in garden of skulls 
where fairies dance around the fountain pool 
till eyeless clock of wisdom burns their wings. 

Hired as political analyst by Zeus 
to prophesy fall of America, 
Isaiah runs through twisting maze of myths 
till he finds Jesus on the motorbike, 
ready to broadcast his late evening show, 
if eyeless clock of wisdom programs hope.