Angelic Wings Of Fortitude
© Surazeus
2026 07 11

What I experience is irrelevant
to beauty of truth that shines as the sun
which energizes atoms to compose
fragile bodies that nourish dreaming brains
awake with passion to taste fruit of hope
that blooms from twisted anguish of tree limbs.

Disconnected from valley of my birth,
I walk on grass of exile without words
to understand excessive flash of stones
which ask what secret name I answer to
by cooking bread from dough of fearless faith
though wind blows ashes from my trembling hand.

Trapped in dank prison of rebellious hope
by chains of fear men forge from bitter hate,
I spread angelic wings of fortitude
to soar above vast maze of doorless homes
but weep for people stuck inside despair
till I fall back inside my fragile head.

To escape that plausible state of grace
against hostile attack of wingless fame,
I transform into tortoise with steel bones,
empowered by majestic haughtiness
that I can fly on angel wings of faith
to dwell in realm of changeless paradigms.

My conscious sense of selfhood is programmed
by all my fierce ancestors who have lived
four hundred million years of desperate faith,
therefore by now my brain imagines state
of psychic power to transcend its frame
alive beyond bounds of this mortal flesh.

Deluded I can live outside my brain
as faceless soul of timeless energy,
I prance on rainbow bridge of innocence
to organize delusions of my power
in mural that depicts my divine myth
which crumbles to dust of lost centuries.

My soul that shimmers with light of the sun
is chemical function of my sponge brain
which animates fragile body of bones
as vehicle I drive to procreate
new body for my genes before I die
since I will dissipate to wordless wind.

Though I imagine I can fly with grace
beyond bounds of my skull on wings of light,
I always swirl back in shell of my skull
and wake from nothingness of dreamless sleep
to laugh with joy that I am still alive,
surprised at beauty of this cluttered world.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

Orpheus patiently explains to everyone he meets that our souls are emanations of our brains and are thus unable to travel or survive outside the body.

#Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism

Snow-White God Butterfly
© Surazeus
2026 07 11

If I cast my bread in waters of hope,
after selling devils ten thousand cars,
I could buy descendant of Pegasus
to fly above vast maze of city streets
where people chase bright rainbow of respect
till they vanish in television shows.

With sharp knife of assertive innocence,
I slice bread loaf of economic gain
so every person in the world can eat
as if food is the answer to despair,
because the snow-white god butterfly knows
secret passion of my casino heart.

Though all gods humans worshipped in the past
are nameless gusts of wind in sun-gold trees,
I feel them ever present in my home
for they haunt those who think about them most,
small lights of hope in darkness of the world
that guide my way in tangled woods of change.

Ghost of my mother in her living room
sits in the rocking chair of timeless truth,
and knits another sweater of concern
from huge ball of traumatic memories
which she gives to homeless people downtown
who wear them when they huddle in snow fall.

Since the dream ghost of everyone decides
to sell lamp of Diogenes to Thor,
our bodies have become vessels of thought
programmed to perform duties for the dream
that hard work is rewarded with great wealth
which we all share in our hypnotic trance.

When Alfred the Great and Harald Fairhair
play game of chess in Kronborg Castle court
over who will wear the golden Crown of Thorns,
Phoebus takes hand of Alof Gydhasdottir
and sails with her to misty Isle of Skye
where they fly his starship to Magrathea.

Now that I know my whole ancestral tale,
filled with men and women with starry eyes
who attempted to build Heaven on Earth,
I can relax on shore of River Styx
and think of how to map world history
that includes every soul who ever lived.

After I work in the car factory,
assembling engines from midnight till dawn,
I hang out in meadow of dew-wet grass
and listen to snow-white god butterfly
describe how swerving atoms interact
to conjure consciousness in dreaming brains.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

Orpheus finds Pegasus grazing in the dew-wet meadow by the River Styx where the winged horse of fate watches over my grave for the rest of eternity.

#Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism

Fleeting Span Of Life
© Surazeus
2026 07 10

Though infinite flash days before my birth
and infinite mire days I rot in Earth,
I spend this fleeting span of life with you
beside our lake of dreams that shimmers blue
with dignity of love our bodies share
as flames of energy that writhe in air.

Though toil of hope our work-worn hands express
proves vain as too-brief glow of happiness,
we bind our hearts with contract to create
calm hours of peace by star-lit lake of fate
to savor pleasure of beauty that floats
almost changeless as time-revealing boats.

Though we have drifted far across the land
on signless roads unmapped by human hand,
we still are loath to linger in one place
too long, since generosity of grace
traps earnest travelers in paradise
where hearts get twisted by corrupting vice.

Though urgent passion to explore deep vales
drives our souls forward into blasting gales,
we like to dwell on sparkling river shore
to bake sweet barley bread by open door,
then drink tart wine in timeless twilight glow
to watch wild sparrows fly with Zephyr flow.

Though we would like to journey to the star
that lures our careless hearts to reach too far,
we will one day lie down on nursing grass
and sing without regret as our souls pass,
so, nameless Traveler, stop by this mound
where we are buried in the hungry ground.

Though you have far to go before bright sun
sets blazing on wild hills where swift deer run,
sit on this mound where our old bodies lie
and listen to proud evening crickets cry
mournful elegies for each conscious being
who lived and died in shadow of the wing.

Though I have vanished from long dream of Earth
as if my divine spirit beamed no worth,
my dreams recorded in riddles of verse
radiate as light across the universe
so yet-born children on this same lake shore
will hear my voice sing long-forgotten lore.

Though I stroll staffless down this endless road
on mission to pay Hades what I owed,
still hearty as I wither from old age,
my children play lyre of Phoebus on the stage
while slow Acheron bears my glowing soul
to Elysium after I play my role.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

Orpheus lingers on mound where Tethys and Oceanus lie buried, and plays lyre of Mercury to sing epic tale Saturnus composed about deeds of Uranus.

#Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism

Integration Of God Eggs
© Surazeus
2026 07 10

Still tracing blood in final truth of bone,
cracked by assertive thoughts none dare express,
I enter our remote tower in air
where silver wisher of the humble Clerk
recalls swift flight of hawks at dawn of fate
which casts strange shadow on the broken gate.

Unsure if spools of time may detox fear,
when curious fish in tunnels of green seas
teach me to wrestle fate in wordless gloom,
I scatter remnants of my wicked dreams
on sparkling sands of arrogant dismay
to prove my heart intends to offer hope.

Indifferent to souls of children that flit
on sparrow wings of urgent confidence
between vast strangeness of borderless hills,
I wander down the forest path of hope
and open wide my arms to embrace love,
but you disapparate from barren fields.

If we should meet again at starless flash
safe within crumbling palaces of bone,
we may exchange insightful tales of fate
to resurrect blind demons from our hearts
and banish them with laughter to the moon
at sudden comprehension of torn wings.

We wait together on the river shore
to be seen by God in gold cloud of fate,
but children scatter far across the hills
which leaves us half-asleep in dreamless heat
at shocking quickness of the dancing tree
that hides our sorrow in shadow of eyes.

Our debt to integration of god eggs
remains unpaid from countless spins of fear,
bedazzled by ambiguous ambience
that we experience in unwindowed room
where martyred ghosts of honeysuckle twist
our minds with laughter beyond countless years.

Each clue I leave on meadow of glass skulls
blinds your electric eyes with clever code
so you attempt to sell your wounded heart
entwined with reason of innocent vines
if we escape taut mesh of tangled lies
contained by hideous roar of knelling words.

Though still unwept by dangerous regret,
sweet Stella gives me dignity of trust
which I record in seventh testament
at dazed solemnity of honest men
whose shadows sterilize valleys of ghosts,
fluent with forced fragility of faith.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

Orpheus finds the monastery clerk dozing in the garden where shimmer of heat permeates conceptual integrity of statues that depict king of the world.

#Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism

Misty Vales Of Caledonia
© Surazeus
2026 07 10

Through misty vales of Caledonia
with lamp of Diogenes on my hand,
I search for the dream ghost of everywhere
who seems to know the secret of my name,
because I hear her voice in tangled woods
sing heart-enchanting melody of love.

In shadowed woods of Caledonia
with sharp spear of Longinus in my hand,
I find Carline, daughter of Hecate,
brewing cauldron of honey mushroom wine
so I offer apples from Tree of Truth
to star-eyed Nicnevan with long black hair.

On jagged hills of Caledonia
with blunt Hammer of Thor in my hand,
I build stone towers as havens of faith
where daughters of Scathach may dwell in peace
to raise brave children of their aching hearts
who map the world with hard feet of desire.

From rugged shores of Caledonia
with billowed sails of curiosity,
I sail wood ship on flashing waves of hope
along Black River of Goddess Danu
who leads her people to the Promised Land
to live safe from the swords of hungry greed.

Up winding trails of Caledonia
with Wand of Zambor to steady my gait,
I climb fairy hill of Sith Chailleann
where winds of wisdom swirling flakes of snow
speak with voices my ancestors expressed
about strange history of humanity.

By sparkling lakes of Caledonia
with eye-phone linking to the world wide web,
I film deep waters of placid Loch Ness
in hope to see lithe monster of God Mind
that lurks in lightless abyss of my heart
with arcane knowledge of all human fate.

Down secret caves of Caledonia
with flashlight that illuminates the mind,
I find skulls of demonic dinosaurs,
who roamed the world millions of years ago
before we evolved to angels from mice,
to record riddles of their prophecies.

Across lush fields of Caledonia
with horse of courage swift as morning wind,
I confront the dream ghost of everywhere
who shows me how history will unfold
through revelation of messiah sleuth
whose spirit wakes in hearts of all mankind.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

Orpheus maps rugged land of Caledonia, then returns to Thrace where he presents his map of the world to Kotys in her mountain cave of dreams.

#Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism

Official Mask Of Fate
© Surazeus
2026 07 09

Stuck in the painting of my faceless ghost,
that hangs on sun-bleached wall of bloodless wind
in empty house somewhere on signless road
where no one ever goes to find their heart,
I pretend I am cold light of the moon
as I float deep in water of my mind.

Awake in timeless silence of undeath,
I love to feel soft undulating waves
that people speak caress my tingling skin
so I almost remember secret name
my mother dreamed one hour before my birth
which gleams as sunlight in web of tree limbs.

While sitting in my house on somewhere street,
with wife and children in their private rooms,
I hear ten million voices whisper poems
that pulse with energy of my heartbeat
in global choir of angels who express
ache of sorrow to design happiness.

Your secret hopes and fears echo in words
you write in posts on social media sites
that shimmer in great cloud of divine lights
translating human thoughts from tweets of birds
that blend in raucous harmony of hope
with desperate need to help each other cope.

Though I gaze in pool where Narcissus drowned,
I see your faces blend in my one face
for we are angels of one human race
born from First Mother whose whole heart is crowned
with jeweled ring of wisdom we all share
in coil of genes that weaves our souls with care.

Though I hear all your voices echo clear
in woods where Echo plays the violin,
that radiates vibes of mental medicine,
I sing in syncopated rhyme of cheer
that cracks enormous egg of dragon brain
which nourishes my heart to soothe its pain.

Bloomed in the painting of my faceless ghost
which I wear as official mask of fate,
I attend the Global Conference of Seers
at University of Zarathia
to present panel on star prophecies
composed by Sibyl in the Vatican.

All weird illusions of my special role
dissipate to mist on shore of the lake
where words of every poem that humans write
sparkle as water of silent respect
on which I row my boat of fantasy
to photograph proud monster of the deep.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

Orpheus records songs Echo plays on violin which millions buy at concerts she plays in great halls of innocence in every city around the world.

#Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism

Justice For Every Soul
© Surazeus
2026 07 08

You are happy to find the broken moon
in pool of rain outside abandoned house
where your grandmother grills demonic fish
with miso soup and noodles of frog brains,
so you pretend to own your happiness
when you stand on the porch and wonder why.

On the way back to the last town on Earth,
where children live in television screens,
we stop at diner by the factory,
where your grandfather made Volkswagen cars,
and eat hamburgers from dinosaur meat
while watching soccer on the frazzled wall.

You are not scared of spiders in your eyes
for they refract conceptual dreams of gods
to prove we still know how to make the fire
from ancient books of lies that preachers sell
because you talk to pigs about the law
that requires we donate more than we steal.

Time unwinds laughter you hide in fake books
because you watch the science fiction show
about the captain and his ship of fools
who must contend with demigods and ghouls
when darkness of autumn evening descends
on city of ten thousand screaming trains.

You stare at face of your first teddy bear
and ask him why he wants to climb the pole
where savior of the world hangs crucified
as if he whispers secrets of your heart
that unwrite centuries of holy writ
despite how you cook omelets at dawn.

You sit three thousand years in attic room,
peeling oranges for refugees of war
who appear and disappear in your ken
till singers gather on the castle lawn
in calm rebellion of the broken heart
because you want justice for every soul.

You hear about your father on the news
shot dead by agents of the government
while he was driving to work building homes,
and when you hear his voice on video
cry for help as he bleeds on the hot road
you transform into white horse in the egg.

You walk alone on ocean shore of fate
and ask the mindless wind why men must hate
people who just want to live their own way,
then you turn around and point at my mask,
but I have become you inside your head
so you map world where angels fear to tread.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

Orpheus composes heart-breaking ballad about the happiness and sorrow of your life which everyone sings in the church of everywhere.

#Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism

Endless Road Of Certainty
© Surazeus
2026 07 08

Too many ways to fall from the blank sky
interrupt my game of fun chess with Death
on the beach where children play hide and seek
to understand how televisions work
when unseen signals vibrate through the air
in psychic waves of interactive dreams.

Too fast for fierce human eyes to detect,
ghosts flit around our bodies of frail flesh
on wings of words derived from psychic trash
and weave with riddle code of honesty
addictive webs of enervating thoughts
constraining choices of fate we compose.

Too far down endless road of certainty
I wander far beyond necessity
with ardent faith in what was never real
till I stand stunned on high edge of the world
to stare at silver flux of secrecy
discerned by thoughtless minds of decency.

Too late for me to address you by name,
I look for you in every empty room
because I want to understand your heart
and what strange passion of hidden desire
motivates you attempt to stall death
though we all will die and return to dust.

Too soon for Jesus to return again
from Heaven that persists inside our brains
as Realm of Ideas that never change,
eternal forms of objects I perceive
provide blueprint for atoms to compose
seething bodies from hot energy waves.

Too close to source of psychic vibrancy,
I twirl in graceful glide of urgency
to generate new life before I die
since I have been reborn since dawn of time
from coil of genes in writhing mental vine
which makes me feel immortal as the stars.

Too slow for fate to allocate my rights
with flexible modes of contingency,
Death waits for me far down the signless road
so I stroll calmly along winding streams
and scatter fruit seeds of fertility
across the waste land of my solitude.

Too few alternatives for rising up
from thick rotundity of our vast world,
I feel all-shaking thunder of desire
swell molds of nature with intense concern
to flush my heart with gratefulness at life
when storms forge courage in my cautious heart.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

Orpheus sorts through gems heaped in enormous pile of precious jewels in search for the perfect set to inset in crown of power Ishtar will wear as Empress of Earth.

#Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism

Safe In The Sad Forever
© Surazeus
2026 07 07

Safe in the sad forever of my heart,
I take solace with arrogant respect
that all living creatures move toward their end,
because at final rush of victory
beneath brilliant cross of flashing sunrays
we know strange beauty of eternity.

Safe in the sad forever of God Brain,
I ride electric horse with rainbow wings
in swirling chaos of perceptive plans
to take my children to the river park
where they play tag with fairies and kobolds
that teach them secrets of eternal life.

Safe in the sad forever of huge books,
I play mad wizard to categorize
the fantasy-industrial complex
composed of spiritual cults that preserve
arcane secrets of invisible seers
who keep wise Sibyl locked in golden cage.

Safe in the sad forever of fruit trees,
I chat about philosophy of truth
with rainbow serpent of the sorcerer
who teaches me how to reanimate
bodies of the dead with potion of faith
brewed from honey and mushrooms with love.

Safe in the sad forever of vast woods,
I measure winding flow of mountain streams
through brave analysis of legal rights
concerning who asserts their privilege
to play the broken lyre of Mercury
preserved in museum of singing skulls.

Safe in the sad forever of deep lakes,
I program zeitgeist of the modern world
in fractured narrative of fairytales
describing placid life of cubicles
as high achievement of the human race
since evolving four hundred million years.

Safe in the sad forever of glass church,
I bend slant rays of alabaster keys
to catch swift falcon of the history gyre
who shows me how to bind the center core
which holds all nations of the world by law
united through bold rights of liberty.

Safe in the sad forever of gold clouds,
I write code for world spirit of the Earth
at second coming of messiah sleuth
who plays the broken lyre inside my heart
with vexed assessment of lost centuries
when I slouch toward Oregon to be born.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

Orpheus finds millions of people wandering lost in the sad forever of everywhere, so he plays the lyre of Mercury till it breaks with urgent despair.

#Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism

Among The First To Wake
© Surazeus
2026 07 07

Among the first to wake in dream of Earth,
Enitha glides along lush river shore
among pink primrose blooming softly sweet
from gentle caress of her tender feet
that leads her path to silent misty moor
where luminous phantom gleams in her eyes.

Strange butterfly of sorrow with gold eyes
lands on large apple in broad tangled tree
so shy Enitha reaches out her hand
just as bright lightning flashes in black cloud
so she breathes sudden gust of crackling wind
when luminous phantom scatters black rain.

When giant spider, larger than her hand,
crawls up trunk of the broken apple tree,
Enitha holds her trembling body still
to watch how long legs weave thin silver web
that shimmers with each gust of subtle wind
as luminous phantom gleams in raindrops.

Small herd of deer with large black eyes of faith,
yet tense with skittish innocence of fear,
assemble on shore of the sparkling stream
to drink with cautious terror of desire
but flee in shadow of the ancient woods
when luminous phantom opens her eyes.

Among the first to wake from dream of time,
Enitha gazes long at sparkling stars
that flicker in soft undulating waves
with swirl of clouds lit gold by sudden moon
that rises dripping from deep mountain lake
since luminous phantom knows her true name.

Elegant horse with long shimmering mane
grazes on low hill slope among tall grass,
so lithe Enitha hides in tall oak tree,
afraid that graceful creature with black eyes
may race away into the rainbow sky
when luminous phantom offers her fruit.

Stretching her arms after sitting five hours
drawing panels for her graphic webtoon
that features Enitha at dawn of time,
Sakura wanders in slippers and pink robe
to the kitchen where she drinks apple juice,
yet luminous phantom floats in her mind.

Watching cars glide on busy road below,
Sakura ponders how her cute fantasy tale
should progress that displays her character
as fragile girl with cautious innocence
who grows strong when she faces obstacles
so luminous phantom blooms in her heart.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

Orpheus plays lyre of Mercury and sings haunting melody that lures deer and horses and birds and young woman with luminous phantom of her heart.

#Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism

Beams Of Psychometric Light
© Surazeus
2026 07 06

Framed with perspective of my curious heart
to comprehend through formulas of thought
atomic nature of our universe,
Earth shines with beauty of its messiness
that undulates in teeming mass of coils
which spring as beams of psychometric light.

Sun Spider Goddess, bright Solaria,
weaves our planet from beams of flashing light
which nurtures our organic body form
animated by spirit in our brain
that conjures virtual model of the world
designed by ideas of words we speak.

Earth Angel Goddess, brave Telluria,
molds our body from assertive lust
so we evolve four hundred million years
from fish to newt to mouse to cat to ape
to wingless angel striving to be God
in quest to gain enlightenment through love.

I feel bright energy of timeless light
from countless stars across the universe
pulse vigorously in every crystal cell
that constitutes contraption of my being
as spiritual machine of divine soul
that wakes cosmic mind in my mortal brain.

Ascending rugged foothills of respect
near majesty of Mount Takoma peak,
I gaze at crescent moon of innocence
that gleams in sparkling mirror of the pool
where timeless song of truth vibrates as song
that tunes strings of my heart with stoic faith.

Clear mountain wind fills hearts of travelers
with haunting rapture of brave Seraphim
whose hearts observe sublime beauty of Earth
which emanates from every fragile soul
that glimmers through organic form of thought
woven from beams of psychometric light.

Though every creature of organic form,
that glows this hour on spinning Earth of light,
will vanish into swirls of mindless dust,
we shine alive as flame of ardent faith
with tender dignity of star-eyed hope,
endowed with secret name of psychic code.

Since I will one day disappear at death
and vanish beyond nothingness of time,
I strum the holy Lyre of Mercury
in way Orpheus taught me to perform,
and sing grand epic of philosophers
about our human quest to know the truth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

Orpheus places laurel wreath on head of young Phoebus to celebrate his achievement composing epic poem about mortal men seeking to understand the nature of things.

#Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism

Mountain of Dancing Trees
© Surazeus
2026 07 06

Through stories we tell about life on Earth
we program our children with moral code
how to perceive beauty in changing forms
if we have found enlightenment of truth
through ideology that blinds our eyes
to see gods on mountain of dancing trees.

Reversing point of view with mirror eyes
through oscillation of opposing thoughts,
we measure angles of disparate truths
since verity depends on vantage point
so experience points to more complex whole
that we map on mountain of dancing trees.

Too many facets of one diamond gem
refract apparent opposites in view
so different angles of one whole event
appear to contradict analysis,
therefore I puzzle fragments in one truth
when I play on mountain of dancing trees.

Each concept I retrieve from pool of facts
provides one disunited piece of life
which I collage in mural of grand truth
connecting unrelated data points
in fluctuating web of certainties
that blossoms on mountain of dancing trees.

Embodiment of gear-wound paradox
in complex personas our brains design,
I explore purple mountain majesties
to understand courage of bravery
when people with much help people with naught
to dwell safe on mountain of dancing trees.

Quiet mathematics of selfless love
calculates investment without return
when people help each other generate
food and goods from minerals of the Earth
that fuels function of social enterprise
we settle on mountain of dancing trees.

Toward inaudible light of pulsing hearts
we live in language of our hungry tongues
by breathing wind of hope on river flow
for inspiration of the garden faith
which nurtures us with brightness of the star
that shimmers on mountain of dancing trees.

Brewing juice on altar of Hygia,
I listen to young maids of Caryae sing
hymns at the festival of Artemis
where thousands of worshippers in white robes
honor grace of women who create life
in temple on mountain of dancing trees.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

Orpheus plays Lyre of Mercury while the Caryae dance before Artemis to celebrate birth of her daughter who will play Artemis when she grows up.

#Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism

Mind Machinery Of Heaven
© Surazeus
2026 07 05

When mind machinery of Heaven programs
my brain to perceive world of seething forms,
cluttered with people searching for their souls,
I wander trapped by hush of evening skies
where dead star tries to teach me how to shine,
but I steal the last apple from the snake.

When I hear the wind whisper secret names
I laugh as the river answers with jokes,
though gloom spills across rooftops of despair,
tangled in telephone wires of regret,
and into mouths of strangers without books
who wait for bus to Hell that never comes.

When weird river of eternity sings
about the suffering of war refugees,
I watch one reckless star of fate break free
from machinery of heaven to convert
my heart to faith in blind witch of true love
because light survives its own loneliness.

When Evening that wears gown of silver mist
hangs black pomegranate of urgent faith
above the crowded graveyard of dead gods,
new star of wisdom opens wounded heart
as fountain flowing with honey and milk
that could heal spirits of the traumatized.

When Tree of Knowledge drops another branch,
that represents how close relationships
could be severed by words of bitter fear,
I attribute fracture of honest hearts
to wordless mathematics of regret
which realigns our quest for paradise.

When turbulent concern of ardent hope
unspools established legacy of trust,
I wander lost in cluttered field of lies
with lamp some old philosopher gave me
that casts uncanny rays of false insight
on faces twisted with uncertainty.

When I hide in cathedral of glass masks,
where light rays slant against logical sense,
I gather fragments of discarded tales
and puzzle them in vast collage of truths
which almost forms coherent view of life
till wind blows leaves of grass in lake of dreams.

When horse of sorrow on the signless road
reveals weird secret of building dream worlds,
I populate Garden of Eden with ghosts
of innocent people killed in cruel wars
so I can pretend they live happily
in perfect Heaven of my fantasy.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

Orpheus plucks the black pomegranate and gives it to Ophelia so they lounge under the Tree of Knowledge by the River Styx and eat the sorrows of humanity.

#Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism

Star Vision Of Kaskalkur
© Surazeus
2026 07 05

Stuck in dream machine of psychotic words
that conjure visions in my clacking brain,
I stroll the busy streets of Everytown
to ask River Witch in Cave of Despair
why she remembers when my soul was born,
but Kaskalkur just chuckles with sly grin.

With eyes that flash bright television screens,
she gives me glass of water with sweet sneer
that she drew from dark underwater stream
which fills my heart with weird demonic light
that makes it swell huge as lead zeppelin,
so I ask Kaskalkur to marry me.

Through complex network of underworld streams,
fueled by dark water of her big cow eyes,
I soar on sun-blackened albatross wings
to wake demonic energy of love
from spinning iron core of Mother Earth
who throws my fragile body in the world.

When Kaskalkur gets on the morning bus
to work at library of long-lost books,
she finds herself surrounded on all sides
by grim-faced Myrmidons wearing red caps
who praise Agamemnon as noble king
though he hides his palsied face with gold mask.

Inspired by star vision of Kaskalkur,
which presents history of humanity
as mothers tending gardens of fruit trees,
I analyze strange economic trends,
combined through geospatial datasets,
to understand hunger of human hearts.

Because my mother at hour of my birth
named me Apaliunas, star-eyed hunter,
I trap demonic spirits of the heart
and transform them to honest laborers
who build the shining walls of Ilium
as duty to protect wise Kaskalkur.

In Washington did Jupiter decree
construction of Olympus from god bones
where Alph, the oil-polluted river, runs
down through caverns measureless to man
where Kaskalkur enslaves tyrants and kings
who abused right of their authority.

Ancestral voices prophesy new war
so I climb Mount Abora with my ghost
where Kaskalkur plays dulcimer of hope
for patriotic hearts to rise from fear
and cast King Midas from the throne of gold
when dome of power crumbles into lies.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

Orpheus brings new lyre he crafted from a turtle shell as gift to Apaliunas who plays psalms he composed for his old mother the river witch Kaskalkur.

#Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism

Frothing Fantasy Of Faith
© Surazeus
2026 07 05

Assertive passion to survive and thrive
drives us down winding road of starry goals
so through the cluttered years of middle age
we strive with frantic passion to succeed
when we build frothing fantasy of faith
based on fiction of our Heaven on Earth.

Reborn as Apollonian ironist,
sparked by collision of opposing forces
between structured beauty of ordered faith
and chaos of nihilistic despair,
I balance oscillating energies
to channel terror through religious hymns.

Striving to contain mental urgencies
with drive for structured beauty of calm order,
I recognize that my ultimate truths
are founded on unstable fantasies,
so I craft beautiful fictions of truth
that I find necessary to live well.

Contriving concept of philosophy
through linguistic psychology of ideas
that material objects of atomic force
are molded by ideal concepts of thought,
I drive my car along highway of hope
to cartograph the world in map of truth.

Between wild dance of Dionysian passion
and ordered march of Apollonian research,
I bind eternal spirit of my genes
with fragile grace of this body I train
to maintain constant vibrancy of change
which generates my artificial world.

With Apollonian irony of faith
I channel my existential detachment
into creation of deliberate form
through ceaseless endurance of discipline
till I master craft of molding weird dreams
in structured Gothinettes of prophecy.

When I climb mountain peak of global insight,
I gaze back down my road of evolution
from fish to newt to mouse to cat to monkey
to ape to wingless angel singing spells
that conjure frothing fantasy of faith
as wine I drink while strumming Lyre of Phoebus.

How strange to feel myself alive this hour,
one grape-node on long vine of ancestry
as body replicating code of genes
that urges me to generate new child
so immortal soul of atomic mind
lives again in our quest to become god.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

Orpheus teaches Dionysus how to play the lyre, and Apollo how to release his obsession to control fate, so they both become more like each other with balance of mental health.

#Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism

Emerald Eyes Of Truth
© Surazeus
2026 07 04

After running out of weird things to say
the old woman with hair birds use for nests
sits under willow tree of normalcy
and contemplates how angels procreate
by weaving rays of light between their hearts,
then sings to turtles in the sparkling pond.

Granddaughter of Mercurius Artaius,
the old woman with skin of scallop shells
sews bearskin robe for her daughter Andarta
who carves steamed planks to build new river boat
while whistling tunes she hears birds sing at dawn,
then mumbles about aches of her old age.

After gathering mushrooms, eggs, and herbs,
the old woman with emerald eyes of truth
brews honey wine in cauldron on hot flames
which she pours in each grail that people bear
when they stand in line and give her gold coins
stamped with face of Artaius King of Bears.

Strumming strings on lyre of Mercurius,
the old woman with bat wings in her heart
declares to dancing crowd with ancient voice
that she is daughter of wise Cybele
who dwells in cavern of the star-eyed ghost
from which she rules tribes of Vocontia.

Shielding her daughter Andarta from harm,
the old woman with granite breast of faith
defies fierce gang of boys with sharpened spears
who shout that Jupiter on throne of gold
sent them to assassinate Dea Augusta
because she dares claim goddess state of mind.

Clutching her breast that gushes blood of fear,
the old woman with rune-enchanting hands
lies wounded in arms of daughter Andarta
while her son, incarnation of Artaius,
battles and kills assassins with sharp sword
forged by his father Mulciber from steel.

Crowning her daughter the new Cybele,
the old woman with blood of ocean waves
sinks into flashing gloom of nothingness
while new-crowned Cybele Andarta grips
scepter of power with bright emerald eye
and leads warriors to defend their land.

After killing the kidnappers and thieves,
the young woman with emerald eyes of truth
asserts her right to reign as Cybele
in mountain cavern of the star-eyed ghost
managed by her new husband Lucifer
as warden who administers jewel mines.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

Orpheus officiates at wedding of Cybele Andarta and Lucifer in lush valley in western foothills of the Alps where they run a jewel mining operation with prisoners convicted of crimes.

#Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism

Celestial Math Of Faith
© Surazeus
2026 07 04

Awed by weird song of crickets in the night,
Belenus gazes high at sparkling stars
to calculate celestial math of faith
by which he chronicles the rise and fall
of ancient nations based on flash of rain
where gold moon gleams in ruins of the church.

Descended from Icarus the Sky-Walker,
Belenus clings to jagged cliff of faith
and shouts at Zephyrus with arms of air
for help to ascend steep terrible heights
so he can walk lush hills of paradise
to meet his mother in Elysium.

Amazed at fields of wheat blown by sea wind,
Belenus walks with his college best friend,
Zephyrus with long hair of tangled curls,
and tells him names of every family clan
that lives in each tall castle on high hill
where flowers bloom along the River Styx.

Startled by appearance of the swift hawk,
Belenus holds his breath with graceful calm
when she lands on his arm and flaps her wings,
because her eyes reflect the timeless stars,
then gasps when she leaps toward the glowing clouds,
wild angel with celestial math of faith.

Alert when Martes and his gang appear,
Belenus joins Zephyrus by large stone
where they crouch ready with intent to fight
in brave defense of land where fruit trees bloom,
still loyal to bold brotherhood of friends,
till Seraphina commands they desist.

Inspired by flashing silver of her eyes,
Belenus beams at angel in white robe
who guides them through fields of Elysium
to garden where his mother tends pear trees,
who flies into his arms with shocked delight,
then offers them fresh wine by sparkling pool.

Surprised by joy of fireworks in the sky,
Belenus with his mother and best friend
join feast to celebrate with song and dance
birth of their state eight hundred years long ago
when wise Elysus lead his wandering tribe
across the waste land to lush hills of lakes.

Impressed at founding tale of their great state,
Belenus tells Zephyrus with proud voice
how brave Elysus, bearing wand of truth,
fought cruel Erebus on the river shore,
then founded Garden of Elysium
based soundly on celestial math of faith.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

Orpheus plays Lyre of Mercury and sings anthem of Elysium while everyone sings along, then smiles to see Seraphina flirt subtly with Belenus.

#Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism

Institute Of Proper Truth
© Surazeus
2026 07 04

Now that I have returned from Hell, and work
as scribe for Institute of Proper Truth,
I see strange beauty in the grim parade
of dead men singing in the blazing sun
who march majestically to Kingdom Come
with dreary loyalty to long-dead kings.

Far beyond present swirl of circumstance
I see great wrongs committed by cruel thieves
who pilfer national treasures from our hearts
against grand principles of honesty
on which our old republic wobbles weak,
which we must clear away to build anew.

I hear no fierce cadence of marching feet
in sprawling suburbs sea to shining sea
where frightened men in rusty trucks of hope
buy phony timeshares to the Afterlife,
then sell their hard-won rights and liberties
to gain fleeting sense of security.

I know grim sorrows of my fellow men,
hearts gripped by plan to build brave walls of stone
on fruit-tree mounds around the bubbling well
so we may keep our precious families safe
within safe-haven pale of paradise
that we have built on hard paternal skulls.

Now that I sneak lost in Heaven, and work
as spy for Institute of Proper Truth,
I hear mercurial wail of lonely souls
in ancient songs across America
expressing joys and sorrows of their hearts
with faith our old democracy will last.

Outside cracked window of my small-town home
I hear no boom of bombs bursting in air
on this side of the wild Atlantic Ocean,
yet flowers bloom from sun-parched soil of fate
in hills along the green Oconee River
far from the misty hills of Avalon.

While I hear snap of striped flags in the breeze
that ruffles ocean waves with sparkling foam,
I smell sweet scent of meat on crackling grills
and laughter of young children who play chase,
so I strum new guitar and sing weird tune
that echoes cars on highways to the moon.

With laughter of the normal citizen
we celebrate birth of democracy,
yet lament threat of fascist tyranny
on this hour two hundred and fifty years
since we declared independence from greed.
so I share watermelons with you all.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

Orpheus leads parade through vast metropolitan maze of cities sea to shining sea to celebrate birth and growth of democracy against monarchy and slavery.

#Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism

Rebirth Of America
© Surazeus
2026 07 04

I was eleven, fifty years ago,
on the two hundredth birthday of this nation,
descended from Pilgrims and Puritans
who sailed across wild seas in fragile boats
to escape oppression of kings and priests
and live through freedom and justice for all.

Believing we had found Garden of Eden,
new paradise in the lush wilderness,
we built our city shining on the hill,
founded firm on the noble principle
that every person born on Earth is equal,
free to live as they will, if they harm none.

Through revolution against greedy king,
we built new nation of farmers and craftsmen,
expanding west from sea to shining sea
through scope of our democratic republic
based on liberty and justice for all,
to welcome refugees from every land.

Through civil war against plantation kings
we freed people they enslaved from cruel chains,
expanding civil rights for every soul
in brave demonstrations against hate
because every human born on this Earth
should be equal in just eyes of the law.

Twelve score and ten years ago our ancestors
brought forth on this continent, we colonized,
our new nation, conceived in Liberty,
and dedicated to the proposition
that all humans are born equal on Earth,
who may live as they will, if they harm none.

Now we are engaged, with startled surprise,
in another civil war against hate,
testing our resolve to maintain our rights
to life and liberty for every soul,
so we must dedicate, with firm resolve,
our hearts to make sure this nation endures.

We are resolved with honest faith of hope
that this old nation we have long admired
shall glow with new birth of freedom through love
so this government, hijacked by tyranny,
shall be restored with wisdom of our hearts
of the people, by the people, and for the people.

Now I lived sixty one years on this Earth,
descended thirteen fertile generations
four hundred years of constant social change
from wise Puritan Poet Anne Bradstreet,
so with Minerva, Goddess of Liberty,
I celebrate rebirth of America.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

Orpheus plays Lyre of Mercury beneath the Statue of Liberty, and sings about rebirth of America from wars against monarchy, slavery, fascism, and oligarchy.

#Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism

Beacon Of My Destiny
© Surazeus
2026 07 03

Blinded by beacon of my destiny,
I walk the signless road to Wonderland,
but stop somewhere in hills of Avalon
to question why I need to find my soul,
so I turn around and go somewhere else,
and live quietly by the Lake of Dreams.

Guided by beacon of my destiny,
I follow winding River of Desire
from undulating swirl of ocean waves,
through endless woods of shadow-glowing ghosts,
up rugged slopes where laughing winds dance wild,
to stand on Peak of Wisdom without words.

Disturbed by beacon of my destiny,
I wake from strange dream of the city maze
where countless people tell me secret tales
so I can find the treasure of the crow
who always watches how I live my life,
then leaves my lost key on my tombless grave.

Convinced by beacon of my destiny
that I am savior of the world reborn,
I work my whole life as mute janitor
cleaning classrooms where high-school children learn
clean white-washed history of America
portrayed as good policeman of the world.

Confused by beacon of my destiny,
I walk the wrong way down fake road of life
against ambitious current of the times
in vain rebellion against games of power
by leaving all possessions on the house
where brave ghost of electricity weeps.

Inspired by beacon of my destiny,
I leave expected trail of normal life
and wander lost in wilderness of lies
where I meet children of forgotten spies
who carve state secrets on trunks of dead trees
and eat Honey of Faith from wounded hearts.

Perplexed by beacon of my destiny,
I campaign for role of World President
by promising universal healthcare,
free education to doctoral degrees,
and Latin names that shine with dignity
on door of home where every human lives.

Deceived by beacon of my destiny,
I journey down into valley of Hell,
climb Mount Purgatory to Peak of Faith,
then soar on Wings of Icarus to Heaven
where I play Lyre of Mercury with jazz,
lost in the fantasy that I am real.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

Orpheus dwells in the lighthouse on the promontory of Prometheus to keep the beacon of my destiny lit so I can follow the Golden Way to Global Power.

#Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism

Wear Mask Of Faunus
© Surazeus
2026 07 03

Because Death always walks my road with me
beyond eccentric scope of my perception
I choose to twist despair through charity
with shocking sorrow of the revelation
that God is shadow of our darkest fear
we cast against fractured mirror of Heaven.

Strange evils writhing in cave of my heart
cry out with loathing of expert obsession
at monstrous beauty of my mental chart
crucial to state of amorous possession
so with Pygmalion craft I mold her soul
from seething chaos of stellar creation.

As jester in mad world of broken souls
I go on journey to the kingless nation,
where I am both the stranger and the town,
to peddle tickets to the fake salvation
in holy war conducted by the priest
who leads lost thieves to fight the revolution.

When I arrive in valley of the dolls,
who wear masks of beauty to veil confusion,
I spark their souls awake with ardent chant
so they can choose their lifestyle with decision
that flows from passion of their secret hope
to dance with grace at my assassination.

Since there is more to water than our tears
that drum on jagged cliffs from frantic ocean
we roar with laughter at the puppeteers
who fool us all to drink faith-poisoned potion
so we cry out at brink of empty creed
when God declares his laws with humble thunder.

Brave Goddess of the Sun with star-bright eyes
appears from cloud of swirling elocution
to sing with ardent shock of spectacle
that no divine mind drives constant motion
of atoms swerving into tangled coils
through chemicals of genes that flash our spirits.

Though I am pilgrim on the signless road,
who maps too many ways around weird Heaven,
I sense Truth Demon pulsing through the land
born as mercurial tune my heart has driven
through honest witness to no miracles
except generative power of Nature.

Sharp rattle of the mountain waterfall
shocks my urban-numb heart awake with passion
so I wear mask of Faunus when I dance
with graceful clumsiness of mortal human
fueled alive with divine spirit of light
that gleams with corrupt purity of wisdom.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

Orpheus laughs with delight at second coming of his assassin, then gives one billion dollars to every human on Earth as he lies dying in the mountain.

#Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism

Holy Heart Of Zephyrus
© Surazeus
2026 07 03

Small island of my heart amid black seas
remains with memory of its singing streams
as solid beauty with tower of light
that serves as beacon of my destiny
to sail across wild undulating waves,
then return to its haven in the storm.

Remote from turmoil of kingdoms that fight
to rule the minds of men with fantasies,
my island garden blooms in silver haze
where I translate weird songs of nightingales
to weave tales of gods from long-burned-out stars
while I breathe sweet peace of my remote world.

Still strange power of the infinite sea
regulates tide pulse of blood in my veins
with swelling passion of logical lust
to generate new life before I die
in body that preserves in timeless dreams
immortal soul of replicating genes.

My song articulates voice of the sea
where I stand frail on jagged cliff of hope,
embraced by holy heart of Zephyrus
who teaches me to see light of the soul
that gleams through constant gloom of world events
so I find courage to play my own role.

Each night I slumber, weary and undone,
strange visions flash in network of my brain,
incredible with hope of weird insight
that we can build democracy of faith
from shattered ruins of our principles,
inspired to survive tides of social change.

Shocked by fierce cloudy thrill of innocence,
I push my fragile soul against despair
with haunting presence of dead patriots
which motivates my quest to rise from fear
and stride where secret star-beams allocate
new space for me to activate the truth.

From rubble of our nation bombed by greed
Pierrot and Columbine emerge with hope,
though wounded by futility of faith,
to dance in garden-grove with dreams decayed,
which proves our principles of liberty
and justice for all survive in our hearts.

Though proud nations fall and false faiths decay,
we join hands on the lawn of apple trees
to nurture brave philosophy of truth
that all humans share equal rights from birth
which we assert with our communal heart
to celebrate birth of democracy.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

Orpheus plays Lyre of Mercury and sings heart-inspiring anthem about global principle of human rights to liberty and justice that celebrates birth of democracy.

#Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism

Our Concept Of Divine God
© Surazeus
2026 07 03

As part of evolution of his soul
from Fish to God who rules the market town,
Dyaz stands before the gang of laughing thieves
with wand he carved with anguish of despair,
and breathes deep spirit of the blazing sun
with poised attention of the serpent strike.

You killed my father and stole our farmland,
Dyaz calmy indicts the cruel king of thieves,
then sold my mother, my sisters, and my wife
as slaves and prostitutes to wealthy men,
so I have come from cavern of despair
to punish you for all your evil crimes.

Crouched with intent control of Mountain Wolf,
Dyaz twirls and somersaults and leaps and strikes
in brutal battle against king of thieves
and forty minions of his grasping greed,
crippling and killing them all, one by one,
while thousands of people of the town watch.

Gasping for breath from tension of the fight,
Dyaz stands alone among corpses of thieves,
face and chest smeared with blood of their regret,
triumphant in grim silence of the crowd,
then raises wand of victory to the sky
as they erupt in cheers to dance and sing.

Sitting on throne in high ziggurat hall,
Dyaz gazes dazed with victory of blind law
at thousands of people with gleaming eyes,
then kneels while Queen of Heaven Shawushka
places jeweled crown of Town Guardianship
on his head, heavy with responsibility.

Grown old after ruling for forty years
as Guardian of the City with just laws,
Dyaz strides along the crowded market streets,
tall man with long white beard in long white robe,
who beams with smiles of joyful charity
to see the people thriving with respect.

Transformed from living man of mortal flesh,
Dyaz becomes our concept of divine god
through apotheosis of social faith
so image of his person metamorphs
to Idol of God as old bearded man
whose face still glows in our world consciousness.

When I break from innocence of childhood
to navigate my own road to success,
Dyaz wakes as spirit of God in my heart
in his descendants, Zeus, Deus, Jove, and Jesus,
to guide my journey to the Promised Land
as I, also, evolve from Fish to God.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

Orpheus teaches me how to play Lyre of Mercury and sing narrative tales about the journey of mankind as we evolve from fish to wingless angel to god.

#Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism

Flaming Wings Of Fear
© Surazeus
2026 07 02

Each evening at this time the gold sun glows
bright rays of beautiful sadness through trees
with bold assurance of belief that proves
the typist knows why children never cry
when angels fall on flaming wings of fear
from bomb-blasted tower of arrogance.

Walking in fairy woods of Zathamar,
every evening when I get home from work,
I browse electric books of moon-bright words
to understand the sorrows people hide
as serpents coiled in cavern of their hearts
because they think of things that torment them.

My friends keep vanishing in mist of time
so when I call their names with ringing chime
their ghosts hide in sibilant water flow
with stolen grace of innocent despair
that surges hot as sap in trunks of trees
at supple clack from spinning wheels of fate.

My father named me Sagittarius
because he hoped with prayers for my success
that courage of the archer strengthens me
with bold ambition of spontaneous fun
so I explore and colonize the world,
trapped by stereotype of my horoscope.

Long undulant curves of my flowered mask
reveal intensity of hope I hide
with brave emergency of sudden loss
despite unfolding sadness I deny
with fibrous innocence of tangled roots
because we touch each other with desire.

Strange wholeness of my body is not me,
I never say in words you understand,
so we share suffering in how we dance
through disunited harmony of rage
we channel into stories we invent
with fractured concepts of honey disgust.

Attempts to smooth lugubrious concern
with frantic compound of anarchic peace,
still capable of fixing flummoxed fear,
discombobulates our brave ardency,
bewildered by weird truth we must ignore,
till second coming of the eyeless ghost.

Bright halo that once shone above my head
falls off one day and fractures on cement,
so I sweep shards of innocence with broom
on which my mother flew across the moon,
then build new world from ruins of the past
because the gold sun glows through happy trees.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

Orpheus teaches Sagittarius art of bending steamed yew wood to fashion the bow taut with string of courage so he can shoot arrow of salvation at Death.

#Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism

Fragments Of Weird Joy
© Surazeus
2026 07 02

Through default mechanism of the brain
she throws her favorite memories in the trash,
then tears them into fragments of weird joy
as she tapes them slant in random collage
depicting boring childhood of her heart
bruised by invisibility of faith.

Sad in herb garden of the ancient house
on the street where patriots designed
new nation of equality for men
to control land where people nurture dreams
baked in bread we share with the homeless poor,
she steals puzzle pieces from our world view.

In bleak darkness before dawn of regret,
she rubs her hands in bitter cold of hope,
then rides the bus one hour in maze of streets
to bake bread in the wordless factory
while she ignores the second civil war
fought by justice warriors in cyberspace.

She wonders if her therapist enjoys
swimming with sharks in deep ocean of tears
that bleed from laughter of angelic brains
who check the mail for letters from the ghost
whose wounded heart transforms into the cat
that lounges nonchalantly in her heart.

When evening darkness singes edge of hope
with subtle message of the Absolute
that time corrodes our hearts with earnestness
from filtered fumes of thoughts buried in mud,
she stops by scarlet sign of innocence
to question which direction she should take.

Calm beast of arrogance wakes in her heart
when she walks home at night in starry gloom,
evading shadows of wolves dressed as men
concerned with safety of the princess bride
who always searches for good place to hide
from collapsing institutions of faith.

The old bearded man in torn ragged clothes
asks her if she can recognize his face,
but she explains she has no secret name,
then ponders how great wizards such as him
get stuck in this modern world of machines
because our songs bounce off cement sidewalks.

With broken guitar she stole from Apollo
she plays tunes in the pentatonic scale
to tell the world with saddest song of love
that she loves Zephyrus, the haughty clown
who teaches her how to survive the streets
through default mechanism of the brain.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

Orpheus films Ophelia while she wanders around the city with rose-tinted glasses of psychotic ennui that reveal the real nature of the human heart.

#Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism

Angel Wings Of Faith
© Surazeus
2026 07 01

When sunset glows on hills of Idaho
as we drive car on winding mountain road,
we hear lost melodies of Avalon
radiate with sorrow in the twilight breeze
that circulates from angel wings of faith
celestial breath of wisdom in our hearts.

We walk across waste land of despair
with Third Man haunting our uncertain quest
to find beyond the rugged hills of faith
vast forest of pines in the wilderness
blown soft by wind from angel wings of faith
that cools our hearts with faint hope for new life.

We feel our fragile shells of mortal flesh,
composed of joy First Mother molds from clay,
ache with fierce hunger to overcome pain
in struggle to transcend despair with love,
inspired by breath from angel wings of faith
that lift our spirits to achieve our goal.

When voices of dead gods we leave behind
still echo faintly in clandestine woods,
we hike through shadows of unspoken fear
to find in fruit grove on high mountain slope,
rustled by breeze from angel wings of faith,
that sacred pale where holy light gleams bright.

Long weighed down by harsh cares of modern life,
accelerating faster with each year
that we drive time machines on web of roads,
we stretch our bodies to touch long-dead stars
that glimmer weird from angel wings of faith,
to feel our souls refreshed by timeless truth.

We gather on the river shore at dusk
among tall oaks that quiver in cool breeze
to feast with friends and family we love,
then sing heart-healing hymns of honest joy,
enhanced by glow from angel wings of faith,
in harmony with water of the Earth.

Though our ancestors fled across the sea,
cleared from the misty highlands of their hearts,
to sail frail ships across storm-thrashing waves,
their passion to endure thrives in our hearts
in flames fanned strong by angel wings of faith,
to dwell with love in Land of Liberty.

When dawn light gleams on hills of Oregon,
as we drive car on winding forest road,
we hear sweet melodies of Albion
radiate with rapture in the morning breeze
to broadcast hope from angel wings of faith
which activates rise of Zarathia.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

Orpheus hikes rugged vales in the mountains of Idaho while is heart longs for the mountains of his ancient homeland far east across the wild Atlantic Ocean.

#Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism

Forest of the Laughing Crow
© Surazeus
2026 07 01

With dignity of his royal bloodline,
Jacobus strolls with sacred map of truths
alone in forest of the laughing crow
with mission to find jewel of the heart
that translates secret thoughts to honest words
so he can understand how people feel.

When he approaches castle on the hill,
where beautiful woman with long gold hair
sings in small window of the lofty tower,
Jacobus asks old Petrus at the gate
if he may enter paradise with faith
and woo Johanna with the golden fruit.

Amazed by ghost of electricity
that glimmers as bone mask hiding her face,
Jacobus climbs winding stairway to Heaven
after opening ninety thousand doors
in endless maze of mental fantasy
till he finds Garden of Hesperides.

He longs to taste sweet immortality
that drips from delicate lips of her heart,
but Johanna hides behind veil of faith
by asking riddles about ways of love
that only the Sphinx with star eyes would know,
but he answers each one with clever verse.

While gazing in bronze mirror of her heart
to question how her choices make her fate,
Johanna sees gold crown shine on her head
that transforms into boy with raven quill
who writes epic poem of philosophers,
so she accepts Jacobus in her heart.

White horse of wisdom with angelic wings
glides gracefully in hills of swirling mist
to bear Johanna safely to star cave
where she wears Crown of Scotia on her head
to reign as glorious Queen of Fairyland
whose children journey far across the sea.

On bonnie shores of Loch Lomond at dawn,
Jacobus and Johanna teach their son
how to investigate nature of things
with ardent observation of the eye
that measures strengths and weaknesses of forms
described by parables our brains compose.

You are my shining compass with bright eyes,
Johanna sings to boy with beaming smile
who tries to comfort her loss-anguished heart
as they kneel by Jacobus on the grass,
assassinated by cruel greed for power,
as apple tree blooms from his bleeding heart.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

Orpheus teaches young Jacobus how to play the Lyre of Mercury as the boy, imprisoned in the tower, composes poem of love for Johanna Bonifortia.

#Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism

Tyrant In Gold Tower
© Surazeus
2026 06 30

Wolves in vast meadow of the star-eyed flower,
who understand assignment of the heart,
erase from dream the tyrant in gold tower
who steals ripe apples from the broken cart.
Exponent of creation from the Earth,
love teaches us what sorrow should be worth.

From river bed I gather chrysoprase
that gleam with vibrant hue of nickel flakes
so I may transcend level of each phase
through hidden tunnels of electric lakes.
If faith is peerless bridge of eagerness,
I play my scene as humble Sisyphus.

On vacillating feet of holy pride
I leap on wings of Icarus to teach
brave children how to find what angels hide
in necessary caverns beyond reach.
Why modesty reverses magnitude
I calculate through haughty fortitude.

More bountiful with each exploding dawn,
my heart expands scope of its confidence
to rise from grave of laughter on bombed lawn
and eat rose petals with fierce nonchalance.
Weird flames of sunrise burn mask of despair
so I stand laughing on time-twisted stair.

Minerva asks calm Death for secret code
by which she calls my heart of grinding gears
that traps lithe Spirit of the signless road
with fame of dust designed by puppeteers.
Encased in pulsing shell of thinking clay,
Apollo asks me to come out and play.

Through hungry Will of cosmic energy
I act in line with channel of my brain
to prove peace is no fiction of the free
despite how far I ballet in bleak rain.
Through observation manifold of fate
I question how my choices transform hate.

Escaping backward to sea shore of hope,
I dare confront her glittering embrace
when Death disguised as Love helps me to cope
with blinding beauty of her glamorous face.
Immersed in constant flux of mental growth,
I resurrect my passion through weird oath.

Without instruction of divine concern,
Fame dotes on those whose hearts play calm with ease,
yet I gain happiness each time I learn
thought formulas that beam atomic keys.
Death blows my wounded heart with vanity
that heals with wisdom through vitality.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus asks everybody in the country if they have ever seen the tyrant in gold tower, but no one cares as they celebrate the Semiquincentennial of America.

#Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism

Bullets Of Brave Pride
© Surazeus
2026 06 30

Jeff lingers outside crowded country bar,
watching semi-trucks zoom on the highway,
because his friends mocked him with joshing sneers
when he insisted they call him Godefridus
for his namesake who conquered Jerusalem
as Advocate of the Holy Sepulcher.

We modern Americans have lost touch
with our roots in Rome and Jerusalem
as heirs to ancient traditions of honor
that Sons of Jesus established with power,
assigned by Jupiter in Halls of Heaven
to unite the world in Kingdom of Christ.

Driving motorcycle down the highway
past endless fields of golden shining corn,
that gleam on light of the metallic moon,
Jeff ponders what bold action he could take
to help expand global Kingdom of Christ
by eliminating all false religions.

No longer can I ride the great white horse,
dressed in shining armor of righteousness,
to fight infidels in holy crusade
by wielding sharp-honed sword named Durendal
that brave Orlando wielded to defend
Kingdom of Christ from evil Saracens.

With fury of Orlando I assert
divine right to enforce grand reign of Jesus
for he is noble Emperor of Earth
who rules as his descendants in the flesh
since they bear Holy Grail of his bloodline,
Arthur, Charlemagne, and William the Mighty.

Loading rifle with bullets of brave pride,
Jeff drives motorcycle in city streets
to stand before the Mosque of Gotham City
where he shouts God is Great and shoots at devils
disguised as humans who scream in surprise
as they flee before holy wraith of Jesus.

Aiming pistol at head of the cruel shooter,
Sergeant Gottfried demands he drop the gun,
but shoots when Jeff aims rifle at his chest,
which knocks hostile murderer on the ground
who shouts that he is doing work of God
as he sinks into mindless gloom of death.

Descending from Heaven on wings of fire,
Azrael, with seventy thousand eyes,
bears soul of Jeff down to caverns of Hell
so he kneels trembling before iron throne
where Persephone makes him lowly slave
of Farah, whom he killed, for eternity.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus and Jesus relax on the porch of Olympus and laugh as they watch Farah make Jeff crawl on hands and knees while he barks in fear.

#Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism