Get Lost In The World

Get Lost In The World
© Surazeus
2023 10 06

I had to go and get lost in the world, 
wandering far away from land of my birth 
to roam on signless roads that lead nowhere 
in strange landscapes of unfamiliar ghosts 
who teach me secret language of the rain, 
in order to find myself in my heart. 

I had to leave behind all I know well, 
climbing over high walls of paradise 
to explore vast wilderness beyond tales 
my father told about the way of things 
where I invent new stories about death, 
in order to know true essence of life. 

I had to take off bland mask of my name, 
erasing memories of my childhood games 
to play new role on stage of public power 
designed by faceless goddess in the tower 
who teaches me weird magic of thought words, 
in order for my god name to bloom bright. 

I had to search for God of Everywhere, 
addressing glow cloud on the mountain top 
who sings spells in flames of the burning bush 
till I strike rolling stone with wand of dream 
to open fountain spring of the flying horse, 
in order to wake Star Mind in my brain. 

Biggest Conspiracy Theory

Biggest Conspiracy Theory
© Surazeus
2023 10 05

God is the biggest conspiracy theory 
every perpetrated in human history 
because he vanishes under close query 
when I investigate the divine mystery 
to find no Star Mind in the empty sky 
except for conscious soul in my own eye. 

As Michael ponders mystery of all life 
he descends bright stairs to the living room 
where he finds his beautiful loyal wife 
nursing their first child in her fertile womb, 
so he eats breakfast and drives car to work, 
wondering where angels and demons would lurk. 

Long before humans built tall steel-beam towers 
men ruled as gods on red-brick ziggurats, 
deceiving farmers that vast cosmic powers 
assign hierarchy of their social lots 
so they obey him as voice of Sky God, 
enslaved by fate to grow food from wet sod. 

While Michael ascends to high office suite 
in elevator pulled by turning wheels 
he gazes down at people on the street, 
minds entranced by code of the Seven Seals, 
then he conducts business of companies 
that operate mall stores stocked by factories. 

God is weapon rulers wield to control 
minds of people so they obey state laws, 
so as company leader I play role 
of mortal god inspired by social cause 
to help manage food-production machine 
that binds hungry workers with money lien. 

God is Idea of the Tribal Leader 
in social role embodied by each mortal 
worshipped as incarnation of the breeder 
who evades death by leaping through hope portal 
Dream Mother opens to generate life 
so we continue new cycle of strife. 

We fight each other to control rich Earth 
based on whose creation story explains 
better weird mystery of spirit rebirth, 
how genes spark ancestral memories in brains 
which bloom into our personality 
when we accept our frail mortality. 

Because I play god to workers I hire 
I want to fund their families in safe homes, 
Michael vows as he sings in large church choir, 
then dances at midnight with moon-eyed gnomes 
who lead him to grove where Bacchus presides 
over ancient ritual of ocean tides. 

Beauty Of This Messy World

Beauty Of This Messy World
© Surazeus
2023 10 05

Just crooked enough to be less than weird 
face of the wingless angel in dark wood 
hosts small hive of bees living in his beard 
because he dwells where the happy Sphinx stood 
before she vanished in beam of moonlight 
after asking him riddle for his plight. 

Carving runes in verses on temple wall, 
where Zeus once ruled the world with lightning bolt, 
the wingless angel sings about the fall 
to store information about revolt 
of man against blind tyrant in the sky 
who appears on Earth as the curious spy. 

Each atom that beams from first flash of time 
forth in golden spiral transcends the void, 
then rings in paradise through perfect chime 
expanding from core of cosmic spheroid 
to weave network of neurons in my brain 
so I become conscious in drenching rain. 

Amazed at beauty of this messy world 
that blooms with ever-seething tides of change, 
the wingless angel, born as cosmic herald, 
describes through mental formulas full range 
of transformations bodies undergo 
when we all dance at the last picture show. 

Our bodies bloom in chemical machines 
that learn this crazy world to navigate, 
designed by immortal soul of our genes 
who lives reborn in children we create 
as we accumulate knowledge of truth 
each generation to messiah sleuth. 

Strange feelings teeming in my cluttered mind 
motivate my actions to evade death, 
programmed by memories ancestors designed 
as I remember every thoughtful breath 
that guides my journey to the Promised Land 
where I build Heaven with my hungry hand. 

"Why are we alive in this universe?" 
I ask blank sky where no all-knowing god 
creates me with purpose which I reverse 
in fierce rebellion against divine fraud 
greedy men use to control me with lies 
because consciousness ends when each brain dies. 

So lounge with me on temple porch and sing 
hymns that celebrate strangeness of our lives, 
then feast on bounty each person can bring 
while I record your life tales in archives 
that stand ten thousand years after we die 
to preserve memories we dream with our eye. 

Tempted By Eve

Tempted By Eve
© Surazeus
2023 10 04

While I love to dance in the twilight zone 
with the horse and the wolf of my wood clan, 
I will return home as the rolling stone 
to find star-eyed lake where my soul began 
to bloom from sorrow of the pungent Earth 
in apples that nurture my soul rebirth. 

Always I am exiled from paradise, 
Adam ever seeking garden of fruit 
where I can give and take without the price 
we pay for stealing well-made crafts as loot, 
tempted by Eve, daughter of Proserpine, 
who rules cave of the sword-forging machine. 

Flames of forges burning in cave of power 
glint in diamonds on the brass crown she wears 
when I bring basket with the magic flower 
she brews in wine that transforms us to bears 
so we dance howling on the star lake shore 
till divine energy flows through our core. 

While Eve stands tall and still on ziggurat, 
paved with skulls of dragons and haughty kings, 
we dance around our goddess like the bat 
that flutters in vast clouds on vampire wings, 
and from cave of illusions shrieking swarm 
walls of paradise shattered by our storm. 

While angels and devils with ringing swords 
battle to control huge garden of fruit, 
Lucifer with diamond scepter cheers hordes 
of exiled gardeners to fight the brute 
who cast Eve from paradise with a sneer, 
now helplessly howling with broken spear. 

High leaping stairway to Heaven-vast hall, 
I charge in Olympus with quick attack 
to battle God in lightning-nimble brawl, 
urged forth with passion for justice to whack 
head of arrogant tyrant with sharp blow 
that terminates his world-oppressing show. 

Triumphant in Heaven from war for truth, 
I welcome Eve to sit on throne of power, 
then place gold ruby-bright crown of world faith 
on her humble head as she holds the flower 
called lily of the valley that proclaims 
her well-earned right to assign people names. 

Beside world empress, who rules as Ishtar, 
I wield honed sword of justice to enforce 
laws she decrees based on light of the star 
which calculates the ever-changing course 
of human history that becomes our fate 
in rise and fall of empires newly late. 

Girl With Seven Eyes

Girl With Seven Eyes
© Surazeus
2023 10 03

Zoned out on why the girl with seven eyes 
steals paper masks from museum of ghosts, 
I lean against rail of the lonely bridge 
and think about why the sky appears blue 
as if the holy words of angels burn 
visions in minds of the silver-eyed lost. 

Confused about why the alphabet girl, 
who paints our faces on cathedral walls, 
never explains the beginning of time, 
but always points with long finger of truth 
at the potter molding clay into things, 
I soar into blue sky on silver wings. 

I might return from Heaven, if I want, 
where nothing ever changes or grows old, 
to place mask of my long-forgotten face 
on altar where the priest roasts lamb for lunch, 
so I stare at both typewriter and sword 
to ponder state of political power. 

Relieved to find my body in the chair 
where I left myself to think about love, 
I laugh while gazing in eyes of the skull 
without referral to the logogram 
depicting concept of the divine mind 
that glows with atoms of the multiverse. 

Disturbed by how cows freely give their milk 
to hairless apes who protect them from wolves, 
I walk backward on my ancestral trail 
to find where my first mother rose at dawn 
from lake of dreams to sing hymn of creation 
that still vibrates ten million years in me. 

Strange joy I feel when I lounge by the stream 
and strum the perfect lyre of Mercury 
glows deep within Tellurian core of being 
that nurtures world view blooming in my brain 
so I sing ancient spell of death with passion 
to savor sweet pleasures my body tastes. 

Programmed by memories my ancestors lived 
to perform role of my own character, 
I play my part in Theater of Love 
to generate new life before I die 
when the immortal girl with seven eyes 
transforms my soul into child of the Earth. 

Restored to life from words in story books 
that describe special nature of my soul, 
I twirl around with agony of faith 
through acrobatic spring of lithe desire 
with blithe appreciation for this world 
that molds my body from light of the sun. 

Death Will Silence Me

Death Will Silence Me
© Surazeus
2023 10 02

Each week when I take trash out to the curb 
I suffer existential dread from hope 
that I am worth the products I create 
when I convert dirt to books full of dreams 
that program how my brain perceives the world 
after I fell nine days and nights from Heaven. 

For space of half an hour dark silence brews 
reluctant thunderstorm of honest faith 
that I express weird stories I compose 
from fragments of strange memories that flash 
intense emotions my ancestors felt 
at the shocking hour they faced hungry death. 

I sing weird tales of transcendental vision 
that guided my ancestors through wild storm 
with deeds condensed in lessons I must learn 
to evade grim hostility of death 
who laughs at futile effort to survive 
which I deploy in psychic strategies. 

Yet I would never kill myself to ease 
pain of failure that cripples my desire 
to guard paradise where my children play 
since death will crush vibrant flame of my soul 
too soon in timeless spinning of the Earth 
for I would rather dance in weird moonlight. 

I sing bright glory of transcendent faith 
in divine beauty of my inner soul 
to radiate psychic energy of love 
that spirals from first flash of the big bang 
which beams through my body in eerie tunes 
for death will silence me with mocking sneer. 

I play role fate assigns me with pizzazz 
in wild romantic travesty of faith 
for I am who am I despite my plan 
to play role written in some ancient myth 
since I am more unreal that ocean waves 
reflecting face I accept as mine. 

Thus I will disappear at flash of dawn 
that watches my children walk from my grave 
to follow signless road I did not pave 
because I realize my story is done 
once I relax in walls of paradise 
to ignore social scenes of thought control. 

So when I retrieve crown my father lost 
when I cast him into the lake of fire 
I decide not to wear power he claimed 
for everything I am I made myself 
from struggle to overcome bleak despair 
since I reign over nothing but my mind. 

Energy Of Anxious Hope

Energy Of Anxious Hope
© Surazeus
2023 10 02

Excessive energy of anxious hope 
drives me to push through torrents of cold rain 
though I stumble across steep mountain slope 
because sunlight of peace blooms from harsh pain, 
for mountains are built from bones of the dead 
and the wind blows with their voices unsaid. 

The people I love most rot in cold ground 
on which I walk to find the Promised Land 
where I pretend I am still glory bound 
though I work building boats with bloody hand, 
for oceans seethe with spirits of the dead 
and I dance wild where demons fear to tread. 

In desert salon I gamble with Fate 
to free my people from hard chains of greed 
for though the Devil tries to lock the gate 
sweet Liberty will sprout from bitter seed, 
for rivers writhe with sorrows of the dead 
and I hunt Hell where sad monsters have fled. 

When sneering gangsters dare kidnap young girl 
and force her to wear white lace bridal gown, 
I shoot them from dark woods where ravens whirl 
till I bury them all far outside town, 
for sand dunes whistle with songs of the dead 
and I respect her choice whom she will wed. 

Down from rain-wet hills of Scotland I stride 
to escape soldiers who slaughter my clan, 
then sail west on stormy Atlantic tide 
to fight civil war for the slavery ban, 
for children play chase with ghosts of the dead 
and I arrive with wagons of fresh bread. 

Aggressive passion of desire to live 
in journey to transcend blind fear of death 
motivates me to create what I give 
while floating in cave of dreams on star breath, 
for mothers remember deeds of the dead 
and I am stuck forever in my head. 

Spark of compassion glowing in my heart 
illuminates empty temple with faith 
where I plot human history on dream chart 
based on how mortals worship the star wraith, 
for fathers fight to protect tribal dead 
and I recite fabulous tales I read. 

Alone in shadow of the godless hall 
where arrogant kings tried to rule the Earth, 
I translate bloody writing on the wall 
that encodes ancient secret of rebirth, 
for parents record weird names of the dead 
and I sing well what has never been said. 

Stay Alive In Heaven

Stay Alive In Heaven
© Surazeus
2023 10 01

Darkening circle of transcendent vision 
that spirals from my footstep in the lake 
disturbs deep beauty of our tranquil fate 
so we begin to dare dream of revision 
in tandem with perception of the fake 
exposed by daring light that beams too late. 

What could negate strange insight of conception 
appears in flash of shadow on dark ridge 
where something calls me to attend its vow 
forever hovering beyond dim horizon 
enough to spark my heart awake with pledge 
to focus attention on here and now. 

Relationships devised on love deception 
augment our passion of the wolf to dodge 
strike of justice that flashes from dark sky 
with wordless spell of riddles which emblazon 
walls of safety framing the sacred lodge 
where ghosts of my ancestors haunt my eye. 

Through salvation attained by misdirection 
to jettison false beauty of my face 
in freakish project to dispel my ghost 
preachers speaking for God conjure division 
that traps war refugees in holy place 
because they profit from despair the most. 

Now safe in apple tree of ancient knowledge, 
which must have never seen the sultry moon, 
I breathe glass eggs of fatal honesty 
in vain attempt to stay alive in Heaven 
where I carve formulas with moonlit rune 
recording lesson through our tragedy. 

Because I sleep with open eye of college 
when I compose weird heart-enchanting tune 
which I forget in mental travesty, 
my soul appears to you as star-black raven 
too eager to grant fools the wealthy boon 
who fail to perform more than comedy. 

With resurrection I become more zealous 
to save lost souls who wander signless roads 
from agony of wisdom we attain 
after we decide our sad hearts must relish 
hypnotizing insight of huge god toads 
who sing in moonless swamps of howling rain. 

I dedicate my life to protect Tellus, 
goddess of marriage and fertility, 
whose eye on flat-top pyramid of love 
enchants my heart with stories I embellish 
through quest to overcome sterility 
with grand vision of galaxies above. 

Dark Tower Of My Soul

Dark Tower Of My Soul
© Surazeus
2023 10 01

I see blind angel falling from the sky 
who cracks dream of time with bold question why, 
so I steal wings of Icarus to cry 
while I try to evade despair and fly. 
Dark tower of my soul on misty plain 
reveals stable balance of loss and gain. 

Crash of that blind angel on my land, 
still gripping scepter of truth in her hand, 
hollows cave of illusions from my mind 
so I become part of dream she designed. 
Dark tower of my soul in jagged light 
conceals ancient secrets of mental flight. 

Apart from men in lonely hall of dream, 
that wingless angel, whom I fished from stream 
with helping hand, sings sad hymns in dim tomb 
till she glows bright as full moon in gray gloom. 
Dark tower of my soul, drenched in cold grief, 
traps me with lost clan name as orphan chief. 

Still paralyzed by fear he would negate 
with tyrannical laws of global state, 
grim faceless demon who calculates fate 
growls to consume her soul with bitter hate. 
Dark tower of my soul, clear as star mirror, 
reflects my own face twisted with weird horror. 

If blind angel, fallen from glowing cloud, 
is Wisdom famished with rage of the proud, 
I ask her if she would like to be wed 
in vain attempt to guide the songless dead. 
Dark tower of my soul on ocean shore 
consoles no widow weeping by locked door. 

Bearing blind angel in comforting arms, 
I walk forever in vast maze of charms 
to shelter her in haven from harsh storms, 
but, just as I escape, our dream transforms. 
Dark tower of my soul is everywhere, 
endless rooms composed of conceptual air. 

Tending blind angel under apple tree, 
I hum assurance that she is now free, 
then she draws from my brain oneiric key 
she turns to show my soul eternity. 
Dark tower of my soul inside her heart 
comprises state of her Tellurian Chart. 

When I blow bugle of bold confidence 
that shatters framework of soul-trapping fence, 
blind angel takes my hand with loving glance 
and teaches me way of spiritual dance. 
Dark tower of my soul blooms from my grave 
so my children translate song of the star wave. 

This Is The Only Life

This Is The Only Life
© Surazeus
2023 10 01

This is the only life you have to live, 
explains the butterfly flapping frail wings 
that hurl hurricanes through eternity, 
so I stand on front porch of my strange home 
and stare with longing at the signless road 
that goes ever on and on from my door. 

I would like to touch the source of my grief 
so light from darkness of eternity 
would spark my soul awake from reverie 
to remember where I left you alone 
as if I could find my way back to you 
where you wait for me with cold kiss of death. 

Unbidden horror of ominous truth 
slips into fragile body of my soul 
with black juice dripping from poisonous fruit 
that quenches my thirst with sweet bitter truth 
so I walk around garden of dead trees 
and touch eternity inside their being. 

Through difficult effort of speaking truth 
I reach across abyss of silent time 
with tenuous relationship of trust 
that aids my mind with crippled raven wings 
to enter vast house of eternity 
where I prefer to keep still in strange light. 

The weight inside my body knows my fear 
which spinning needle of the compass twirls 
when I find center of the labyrinth 
that leads me deeper into cave of dreams 
where I create order from motif chaos 
to know the unknowable truth of being. 

Dark path I follow to year one of time 
pulls me through arbitrary fact of life 
because every road always goes both ways 
depending on the choice I will to make 
though I distrust my judgment of the truth 
which I still find with the wrong instrument. 

Alternative course beyond emptiness 
though I repeat myself with every dawn 
guides me through forest of eternity 
with outer wheel of knowing by the lake 
that disappears when I open my eyes 
so I find myself beside you at night. 

We change our destiny with every choice 
to swerve off road that our ancestors blazed 
based on pungent scent of fruit-blooming trees 
which startles me awake on empty field 
where ghosts still whisper stories of lost hope 
so I decide this world is paradise. 

Blaze Their Own Trail

Blaze Their Own Trail
© Surazeus
2023 09 30

When I was young, bursting with eager hope, 
I could not then appreciate inner beauty 
glowing from passionate hearts of the old, 
forged into gold by life-affirming flames 
of dramatic experience which transforms 
foolish youth into wise actors of wisdom. 

Fierce passion to transcend this mundane life 
fuels forward-leaping quest of my rash heart 
to leave safe walls of Heaven with bold plan, 
based on audacious enterprise of faith, 
to follow signless way my fathers blazed 
to where first mothers rose from lake of dreams. 

With dauntless confidence of the blithe fool 
I vault high walls of paradise to race 
back east eight thousand miles to first homeland, 
from land where I was born in Oregon 
to Scythia where my ancestors woke from dream 
ten thousand years ago in mist of time. 

Yet somewhere in lush Appalachian hills 
I now dwell with two children and my wife, 
designing maps that model world of dreams 
to nurture their progress on road of hope 
creating art that mirrors state of mind 
which drives our bodies to generate life. 

I walk vales formed one billion years ago 
where giant spiders and long dragons roamed 
high jagged peaks as crackling thunderstorms 
hurled diamond raindrops smoothing them to hills 
that shimmer green in gentle twilight glow 
as I lounge on back porch and strum guitar. 

Fierce energy to explore spinning world 
long drives me forward on quest to find truth 
till I find mate to generate new life, 
so we establish productive routine 
to nurture children through wise adulthood, 
then we relax in paradise we build. 

As I fade into twilight of old age 
my children glow with energy of youth 
that drives them forward on long road of faith 
which our ancestors blaze since dawn of time, 
till I sleep forever in grave of dreams, 
heart glowing with strange beauty of this Earth. 

So though I sleep forever in moist soil 
somewhere along road my ancestors walk, 
body tangled in roots of apple trees, 
immortal soul of genes that forms my brain 
resurrects in descendants of my heart 
who blaze their own trail back to paradise. 

Heart Of Curious Lucifer

Heart Of Curious Lucifer
© Surazeus
2023 09 29

So on this day I skip down to the sea 
to sail my ship to land of Zarathi, 
but on huge boulder, gleaming in hot sun, 
I see three skulls of warriors who had won 
eternal fame in epic tales of heroes 
smiling as mute thrones of three singing sparrows. 

Entranced by eerie music of their song 
they sing in choir before angelic throng, 
I ask three sparrows if they know bold names 
of ancient warriors who once played war games, 
so when they tweet with eyes bright as the moon 
I lounge and listen to their epic tune. 

The first relates fierce madness of Achilles 
who fought cruel king over who owns fillies 
while sacking city of Troy for rich spoils 
in war that unwinds countless mortal coils 
of country boys who sink in gloom of death, 
aching for love as they gasp their last breath. 

The second recounts wiles in many turns 
of Odysseus whose nostalgic heart yearns 
for embrace of his faithful wife at home 
though angry sea god forces him to roam 
till he escapes love priestess who deceives, 
then shoots just arrows to kill greedy thieves. 

The third records arms of homeless Aeneas 
who bears his father with heart of Orpheus 
to sail stormy seas for the Promised Land 
where he kills native king with bloody hand, 
then lays foundation for world empire state 
that still frames ontology of our fate. 

Why are aggressive goons of epic tales, 
I ask myself to analyze details 
of tropes that present tragic lives as great, 
portrayed as noble heroes who fight fate, 
instead of curious seers who search for truth 
whose quests for facts define the clever sleuth. 

I greater value wise philosopher, 
endowed with heart of curious Lucifer, 
who studies essential nature of being 
composed of atoms, forming carbon ring, 
that spiral from First Flash of Divine Light 
which animates our brains with Cosmic Sight. 

Three sparrows dart away into Blue Sky 
so, after I analyze with God Eye 
conceptual nature of our spinning world, 
I record message of the Cosmic Herald 
who wakes as demon in heart of my soul 
refracting pure spirit of the White Whole. 

Alpheus Chooses How

Alpheus Chooses How
© Surazeus
2023 09 28

However long it takes to dream the moon 
that shines on mirror of the mellow pool, 
Alpheus floats in river of lost hope 
that sparkles purple liquid of his eyes 
so when he sees sweet girl with flowing hair 
he hums and disappears in star-bright air. 

Refusing to chase nymph with golden hair 
that bounces curls around her rosy cheeks, 
Alpheus ponders why full silver moon 
cannot escape taut web of tangled limbs, 
though apple tree of arrogant despair 
still dances with the faceless wind of time. 

Wading knee-deep in purple river flow 
to search for magic ring of solitude, 
Alpheus ignores nude girl on lush shore 
who peels ripe oranges with fingers of lust 
to taste light of the sun in juicy fruit 
while two hawks circle hill of skeletons. 

Whichever way on road past paradise 
that he decides to walk at flash of dawn, 
Alpheus chooses how to swerve off path 
to stand on jagged cliff of fortitude 
and watch white lightning flash across black sky 
in shocking revelation of the mind. 

Ignoring ache to kiss sweet river nymph 
who lies entranced by grape vines on the hill, 
Alpheus gathers small plump eye-round fruit 
that squirts sweet juice of sparkling honesty 
when he tastes bitter sorrow of the moon 
while three hawks measure progress of the wind. 

Amused when star-eyed dryad with long hair 
flees into shadow each time he appears, 
Alpheus carves runes of weird magic spell 
on marble wall of temple on the hill 
where ghosts of long-dead mothers whisper soft 
strange secrets only the blind moon would know. 

Annoyed that bold dramatic tale of love 
ignores grand genius of his aching heart, 
Alpheus in apple tree by the stream 
considers why the dryad with long hair 
always runs away when he calls her name 
because she wants to incarnate the moon. 

Although it overteems with mellow words 
that lead his eager steps to sunny glades, 
Alpheus watches water of the stream 
flow ever onward to the swirling sea, 
so he calls Arethusa on the phone 
but she transforms into the spider crone. 

Strange Fantasies I Dream

Strange Fantasies I Dream
© Surazeus
2023 09 28

While sitting in church, suffused with sunlight 
glowing on faces of angels who sing 
sweet hymns, I realize all my fantasies 
of climbing marble stairs to temple hall, 
where I write verses on long parchment scroll, 
are memories of lives my ancestors lived. 

Those shining halls of Heaven I envision 
as home where I play lyre by sparkling pool, 
while boys and girls in white gowns twirl in dance 
to match their hearts in couples pledged to mate, 
still stand on hilltops by the wine-eyed sea 
as ruins crumbling now two thousand years. 

Torn bodies of warriors, gone mad with grief 
during battle to kidnap fertile brides, 
transform into hills where marble fanes gleam 
with songs of angels in heavenly choirs 
till we build factories to make engine cars 
that glide on highways paved with bones of gods. 

Many generations of reborn souls 
sprout from bodies of mothers to assert 
will to generate new bodies from genes 
who construct wagons and boats from tall trees 
to journey along rivers from burned cities 
and build new cities in valleys of wind. 

I feel tense energy of will to power 
motivate my body with ancient hopes 
to build eternal paradise with trees 
blooming fruit for my children to consume, 
but walls I build to protect them from harm 
crumble from relentless turning of time. 

Called by the faceless Father in the Sky, 
my first ancestor left garden of fruit 
to build vast city maze of ziggurats, 
then journeyed west ten thousand years to find 
paradise lost in the future of faith, 
till I stand today under the bright moon. 

That same moon and stars that once lit their way 
as my ancestors walked long signless roads 
still shine now on me in this distant land 
where I feel energy of countless years 
surge through my body with bold tides of change, 
which charges my heart with faith in the future. 

Strange fantasies I dream in reverie, 
where individuals of my bloodline strive 
to overcome all obstacles of fear, 
provide archetypal framework of action 
which programs how I perform my own role 
as nameless nobody singing in rain. 

White Horse Named Sparkle

White Horse Named Sparkle
© Surazeus
2023 09 27

After working in car factory all day 
bolting seats and doors on assembly line, 
Brian washes sore hands with lemon soap, 
zips up leather jacket and pulls on gloves, 
then walks shortcut across abandoned field 
by stony river behind barbed wire fence. 

While pushing through tangled branches of trees 
that twist from rotten weeds in swampy muck, 
slicked by polluting chemicals from pipes 
spewing waste water from large factories, 
Brian feels his head buzz with dizziness 
as he trudges into foul-smelling smog. 

Uncanny sense of disorientating fear 
thrills his heart with shock of anxious hope 
when Brian steps from gloom of foggy woods 
into misty mountain meadow that shines 
with vibrant blush of flowers that bloom tall 
around silver lake fed by sparkling stream. 

Gleaming white as full moon in misty sky, 
strange creature moves toward him with eager stealth, 
and Brian gasps when beautiful white horse 
emerges into silver timeless glow, 
large eyes gazing from her long slender face 
half-veiled by silk mane gleaming white as snow. 

Amazed at ethereal beauty and grace 
embodied by elegant pure white horse, 
Brian fetches ripe apple from coat pocket 
and presents sweet gift with extended hand, 
then smiles and caresses her silky mane 
as she consumes free treasure of his heart. 

"My name is Sparkle," the white horse explains, 
and I am glad to meet Son of the Raven 
in Rainbow Valley where the river sings." 
Astonished when he hears the creature speak, 
Brian closes his eyes and takes deep breath, 
then opens wide to see if she is real. 

"How many times in weird shadowy dreams 
of restless angst, after working all day 
assembling machines that replaced the horse, 
have I seen you with flowing snow-white mane 
galloping fast as wind along wild rivers, 
heart beating with fierce passion of the sea." 

Slipping on back of elegant white horse, 
then pressing knees against her buxom sides, 
Brian smiles and requests, "I wonder if 
you would give me grand tour of your demesne, 
for I would love to see world of your heart 
that blossoms with fruit trees of every kind." 

Rearing on hind legs by the sparkling lake, 
white horse named Sparkle leaps on wings of light 
and gallops fast as wind along bright river, 
swiftly gliding on lithe exploring legs 
among tall trees that gleam on misty hills, 
hoofs and mane sparkling in mountain sunlight. 

Waking at dawn in his tattered blue tent, 
he pitched in trash-littered woods by the river 
after losing his house in the recession, 
Brian washes his face, eats scrambled eggs, 
then walks back to the factory at dawn, 
but pauses to gaze at the field with longing. 

Sinister Beauty Of Life

Sinister Beauty Of Life
© Surazeus
2023 09 26

One sip of wine, brewed from sorrow of time, 
expands my mind with fireworks of desire 
to savor sinister beauty of life, 
portentous with menacing honesty 
of macabre splendor through serenity 
based on tranquil spaciousness of respect. 

With stiff fingers grasping at truth, I climb 
cathedral balcony to join the choir 
of angels hymning about strength from strife 
we gain through flash of bold apostasy, 
masked as truth of divine insanity 
designed by faith of the world architect. 

Once I realize we evolve from sea slime, 
I climb windy height of cathedral spire 
from which I can see island where my wife 
waits for me while I map my odyssey 
to record story of humanity 
in holy scriptures for my private sect. 

Employed by Saturn as his jesting mime 
to encode terrible truths through satire, 
I expose beauty with conceptual knife 
to measure wisdom through geodesy 
with strict performance of urbanity 
when I marry goddess I would protect. 

With Dionysus by the oil-streaked stream, 
where demon spawned from aeromantic spore 
rides into Heaven on royal giraffe, 
I study nature of soul potency 
for fools who seek fame based on vanity 
because they sign Saturnian contract. 

Sipping ginger mocha with minty cream, 
I search for faceless ghost in kitchen door 
who wants to give me diamond wizard staff 
which I could use to claim my agency 
when I build virtual world of fantasy 
to replace Earth with surreal artifact. 

Designing from scratch new world order scheme 
based on tale of the wise philosopher, 
I organize words on conceptual graph 
to emphasize religious ardency 
that fuels quest of my atheist argosy 
when I build belief on established fact. 

I never want to wake up from this dream 
where I perform role of sly Lucifer 
singing ballads that spark the knowing laugh 
since I encode truth through astrology 
to analyze gears of the galaxy, 
then eat lunch after I finish my act. 

World Of Changing Things

World Of Changing Things
© Surazeus
2023 09 26

Alienated from this world of solid things, 
I float on lambent breath of hungry trees 
through iridescent thoughts of angel wings 
that waft conceptual body on slow breeze 
of jeweled pulsing from atomic eyes 
till I tumble wingless from klaxon skies. 

Attentive to perceive conceptual spark 
that radiates from core of essential state, 
I howl harmonious trill from divine quark 
that wakes inside my brain to navigate 
confusing landscape in vast city maze 
through which I must evolve to the next phase. 

Archaic torso of Apollo veils 
immortal soul of genes I incarnate 
as I ascend psychological scales 
to find God glowing with celestial weight 
in singing skull of Orpheus, supreme 
with polytropic tricks in the quest meme. 

Awake with polyvalent attitude, 
which complicates my social character 
with ever-shifting mask in clever mood, 
I strut on global stage as Lucifer 
who brings light of salvation to the lost, 
holy survivors of the holocaust. 

Articulate with world of changing things, 
I organize perceptions in neat rows 
to categorize ideas through rings 
of language coding concepts for stage shows 
where humans struggle with conceptual gods, 
hoping in vain to overcome all odds. 

Adaptive measures to evade mute death 
prove helpful well enough to survive now, 
so I relax and meditate with breath 
that inspires my heart to comprehend how 
I can maintain food-production machine 
through empire ruled by sons of Melusine. 

Authentic spirit of the Warrior Woke, 
which motivates my quest to share the Grail, 
guides my journey to garden of the oak 
where seven ravens worship the White Whale 
whose beauty embodies the cosmic soul 
that spirals from God Eye of the White Whole. 

Auspicious portents dreamed by oracles, 
who walk barefoot on highways of swift cars, 
reveals our souls are sparked by chemicals 
through mental engines of atoms from stars 
that cause our conscious minds to glow with love 
in cosmic vision of the ocean cave. 

Human Lives Are Strange

Human Lives Are Strange
© Surazeus
2023 09 26

Moonflowers bloom from wet grave of my brain 
whiter than mist creeping in from the sea, 
so I become snow-winged owl of the moon 
so I can find you by the alder tree 
waiting for someone to bring you sweet fruit, 
though I vanish in sad tune of the flute. 

I row my river boat in misty woods, 
winding around hills of whispering oaks, 
yet I find in glowing clouds no huge gods, 
except for bearded seers in wolf-skin cloaks 
who vanish in shadows of faceless hope 
while I gasp for breath climbing a steep slope. 

Blue river reflects strange face in the sky 
who seems to mimic everything I do, 
so I ask girl by the alder tree why 
human lives are strange as the river flow, 
but she just gives me ripe apple to eat, 
so I translate riddles unseen birds tweet. 

Our tattered clothes get wet from morning dew 
as we stroll laughing among hyacinth, 
then honey bees reveal which cosmic clue 
will guide our quest through endless labyrinth, 
till we grow weary from our need to roam 
and choose shady grove to build our new home. 

Each bright morning, after we sing with larks, 
we gather from misty woods food to eat, 
then sit on river shore to watch tall storks 
discuss how time flows with restless heartbeat 
in timeless harmony of river song, 
then analyze process of right and wrong. 

Ten thousand years we live on river shores, 
tending gardens with hands that understand 
how shadow of death haunts half-open doors, 
then wander on when others steal our land, 
so we build great empires that rise and fall 
till nothing is left but some crumbling wall. 

Gazing at satellite photos of Earth, 
I trace journeys my ancestors once took 
along strange rivers where mothers gave birth, 
till ancient stories in our holy book 
record names of their ghosts vague in my brain, 
so I laugh with angst in the pouring rain. 

So we can continue tale of our genes, 
which incarnate in children we create, 
we map our own journey in time machines 
which we drive down crowded highways of fate 
in world city of Pandemonium 
through which I dream life in Elysium. 

Abstract Symbol Of Beauty

Abstract Symbol Of Beauty
© Surazeus
2023 09 25

When frail Endymion, waking in moonlight 
by sparkling stream, embraces faceless lover 
with passion to know unknown soul of life, 
he wonders if sweet pleasure he now shares 
is nothing but illusion of desire, 
or pure light of love that guides him to Heaven. 

He listens with attentive heart of hope 
while she relates weird stories of the sky 
that entwine their hearts with immortal speech 
preserving breath of lutes with honeyed tongue 
to teach him wisdom he can grasp with faith 
while she grasps him with arms of solitude. 

Yet while he gazes with intense compassion 
in universe that shimmers in her eyes 
Endymion begins to perceive outline 
that presents special features of her face 
emerging from mist in light of the moon 
that reveals essence of her inner being. 

No longer abstract concept of pure beauty 
which presents perfect idea of woman 
concealed behind obscure mask of her face, 
that real woman within goddess of life 
appears with vivid features full of flaws, 
special with unique design of her soul. 

Whispering with awe of swelling adoration, 
Endymion explains to strange nameless woman 
that he pursued sweet shadow of her being 
so long across stark landscape of desire 
to know unknown beauty within her heart 
that he must savor pleasure of her soul. 

No longer just abstract symbol of beauty, 
she radiates with vibrant intensity 
of love for life through mirror of her eyes, 
so he inquires for what specific name 
defines complex character of her being, 
and she replies with teasing laugh and smile. 

Cynthia refers to complicated heart 
that pulses wild with eager will to savor 
sweet beauty of this world which indicates 
special being perceived is eternal truth, 
so my happy love that you find me real 
overwings enclosing bounds of my mind. 

Kissing with selfless compassion of trust, 
Endymion and Cynthia, by swirling sea 
of boundless possibilities, embrace 
with eager cause of vital comprehension 
to generate new life in child of hope 
which incarnates immortal soul of genes. 

Road To Somewhere Else

Road To Somewhere Else
© Surazeus
2023 09 24

Between eternity and nevermore 
I walk long signless road to somewhere else, 
whistling tragic tunes from theater shows 
that only birds on phonelines understand. 
Milk glistens in glass cup in windowsill 
where seven sparrows talk about true love. 

While Sisyphus on the hotel front porch 
reads newspaper stories about world war 
his sister in the kitchen bakes peach pies 
as if the train whistle will never blow. 
Brown leaves float on silver waves of the lake 
where white-tailed deer talk about faith in rain. 

Beyond ruined walls of Heaven up north 
where car factories drink tears of hungry hope 
Sisyphus drives to Niagara Falls 
to find his daughter on the misty bridge. 
Gold sunrays seep across the office floor 
where two horned lizards talk about desire. 

Backward I walk unpaved road to my grave 
while glass eyes measure distance to the moon 
perfect for the man who designs our bridge 
to stare at his face on the silver screen. 
Soft lawn grass sighs with contentment of rage 
where clowns and dancers talk about the book. 

Photos upside down on gallery wall 
depict events in life of Sisyphus 
from hour he was born in cavern of ghosts 
till he stops pushing the boulder uphill. 
Soft breeze of sadness taps typewriter keys 
where river fairies talk about our death. 

Gaunt hands catch sunlight falling from the tree 
as if each move in our chess game reveals 
conceptual framework to base judgment calls 
on revolution we prepare with care. 
Sharp cracks of gunshots echo in church hall 
where faithful worshippers talk about lust. 

Behind invisible mask of my soul 
dark energy seethes from conceptual cave 
to trap our dream thoughts in pages of books 
that flutter raven wings for liberty. 
Smooth flow of water wears mountains to dunes 
where homeless girls talk about sacred wind. 

Bright shadows laugh from sorrow into being 
when millions of people drive cars to work 
though angels float above them in glass rain 
because I love how sensible they sound. 
Black raven wing of Sisyphus sparks joy 
where children paint our souls from nothingness.