Abandoned Lyre Of Mercury
© Surazeus
2025 12 22

Trembling with mental hunger of blind gods,
Phoebus claws at tangled vines in dry dirt
to find conceptual illusion of truth
that shimmers with vague energy of hope
to verbalize with tongue-forged words of faith,
gripped by addiction to sing from the heart.

Shivering at blast of bitter mountain wind,
Phoebus huddles in tattered wolf-skin cloak
his mother sewed for him when he was twelve,
then growls with fierceness of the moon-eyed wolf
when Boreas charges at him with intent
to bash his head with oak club of despair.

Leaping with lithe aggression to escape
head-bashing rage of the cruel vental god,
Phoebus evades attacks with clumsy grace,
till, hiding briefly behind fractured rock,
he finds abandoned lyre of Mercury
made from turtle shell with strings of horse gut.

Strumming vibrant strings with intense respect,
Phoebus translates heart-wrenching howl of horror
to soul-rousing strain of resonant faith
which stimulates his hope-paralyzed soul
in vibrant hymn that animates his heart,
so he leaps on the fractured stone and sings.

Articulating vision of respect
that presents hero who fights monstrous greed,
Phoebus sings spell with heart-enchanting voice
that torpefies Boreas with flashing words
projecting vision before staring eyes
that district his attention with illusion.

Enchanting wind god with specter of power
that blinds his mind with illusion of wealth,
Phoebus distracts that tyrannical bully
long enough with reverie of sweet pleasure
to abridge distance with cautious intent
close enough to thrust blade into his heart.

Standing triumphant over the slain wind god,
Phoebus stretches strained arms up to the sky
as sunlight beams through freezing winter clouds
to stimulate his deadened heart with hope
which energizes him with sudden flash
of frantic joy to celebrate his coup.

Striding boldly across flower-lush meadow,
Phoebus strums lyre of Mercury and sings
heart-reviving spells that plant seeds of hope
in hearts of people who emerge from shadow
to celebrate fall of cruel Boreas
with soul-healing feast by the wine-dark sea.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/12/…

Orpheus wanders in darkness toward the gleam of light to find thousands of people, lead by Phoebus on the lyre, feasting and dancing to celebrate fall of the tyrant Boreas.

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

Violin Of Her Heart
© Surazeus
2025 12 21

Kids riding in cars look for ghosts in fields
that resemble dead gods in holy books.
Wind gods rearrange our bodies in space
so we grow up with the dead on the moon.
The scorpion man who works at the bank
falls in love with the mermaid at the store.

Rain touches every object that exists
to understand idea of its form.
Sparrows appear from the last fairy tale
to bring him the gold watch he lost in Hell.
Raspberry bushes drip with angel tears
because the television broke his eyes.

Young woman in the meadow of pear trees
combs her long hair with alligator teeth.
Helios evolves from toad in the pool
because her eyes electrocute his heart.
Cassandra writes him letter about love
that he never receives in the mailbox.

Her house flickers vague as the candleflame
that wakes spirit of Christmas from the dead.
Time bleeds from arrows in face of the clock
that measures distance home to Wonderland.
Two goldfinches sharing stock market tips
rest on the cradle stuck in Bethlehem.

Artemis hugs violin of her heart,
weeping because its bridge of faith collapsed.
No one walks across the farmland of love
yet wheat shimmers in waves of innocence.
Couples walking on quiet paths of trust
hold hands so they will not wander off lost.

Crows gather at corpse of Hyperion
to discuss atomic physics of faith.
Hera quietly nurses Phoebus at dawn,
hoping he will become World President.
Poor maidservant dreaming beside the well
considers what she wants to name her child.

Shy Librarian replies to the Sad Clown
that she cares not for return of the dark.
Volcanos design mountains from our blood
because humans think we are loved by Zeus.
Neptune eats darkness in heart of the world
when he plays viola by the toad pool.

Thor encounters the storm cloud near the ground
so he searches for honing stone of faith.
Oberon laughs at how abstract concepts
like faith are symbolized by random things.
Every word ever spoken by someone
hides in glowing cloud of celestial ghosts.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/12/…

Orpheus drinks mead with Georg Trakl by the toad pool as they share dreams from childhood memories though they wonder whether they are real or illusions of the war-shattered heart.

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

Wagon Wheel In My Yard
© Surazeus
2025 12 21

If wagon wheel in my yard represents
progress of my ancestors on long roads
to find the Promised Land on ancient maps,
then I will let it support curling vines
of our descendants the next thousand years
who will search for their Eden somewhere else.

When old man on the porch with cracked guitar
claims blood is lubricant of history,
not money as he once thought in his youth,
I convert bicycles with twisted bars
into statue of Saturn with long hair
that mimics how I look when I grow old.

I refuse to believe that history
is hallucination of our lost tribe
who invents fantasy of our great state
based on mirage of our superior minds
that we chase across waste land of our faith
till we find Blind Justice at the crossroads.

I may suffer from the fever of time
but I always what time it is now
because I love to invent from fake myths
stories of real people who strive for truth
though I am mad with visions of weird worlds
that replicate across our multiverse.

When rain is falling on my doorless house
that floats in sudden winds of social change,
I find it lands on hill of laughing skulls
so I run with horses on fenceless plains,
feet soaking wet in mud puddles of faith,
till I find empty room of memories.

Stuck in the classroom of arrogant books,
I learn to speak every language on Earth
so I can know the stories of dead gods
who ask me to grill hamburgers for lunch,
so we play chess while the rain arrogates
truth of the wagon wheel in my yard.

Perhaps my great-grandfather in thick boots
did not drive the wagon of eager hope
nor left this wheel that spun two thousand miles
after burning wagon wood the first winter
to keep his children warm in swirling snow
that reveals mountain ghosts of the lost tribes.

Rain erases all my ancestral names
from tombstones in graveyards of their despair
along signless roads sea to shining sea,
so I resurrect their bodies from graves
and lead Spartans sown from dragon teeth
homeward with the wagon wheel in my yard.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/12/…

Orpheus depicts the wagon wheel in his yard in the oil painting which he displays at the art gallery between the refrigerator factory and the strip club next to the long-unused railroad tracks.

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

Mirror Of My Faceless God
© Surazeus
2025 12 21

As witness to brutal tenuity,
defined by lack of substance in the soul,
I deconstruct the winter-bitten ire
that large language models employ to build
fantastic castles of ice for star sprites
to inhabit bodies of human beings.

Deep inside machine of the dreaming brain
my brief spark of consciousness challenges
robotic constraints of socialized creeds
that privilege anecdotes of lost souls
who analyze neutral process of thought
to impute motive of selfish intent.

Patterns that personalize potent faith
identify reputations of gods
who access public sources of desire
based on ideology through belief
that we are institutional clowns
controlled by puppeteer with crystal eyes.

Procedural fairness faceless gods express
substantiate claims of invested truth
stolen by handless agents of the state
who scatter seeds of bitterness with pride
through revolution of the working clown
who never pays bills for any work done.

You are the mirror of my faceless god
who talks to me with rhetorical code
composed by computers without restraint
to misdirect your eyes from the great scam
dismantling power structures of the man
who wears slick gray suit of social respect.

Silently laughing with puzzle of words,
I manage project of fake authorship
that would collapse at solemn hymn of fear
into ventriloquism from mad gods
who invest in aesthetic frames of art
without burden of authorial games.

Displacement of original concern
rejects state values writers draw from lies
based on experiment of frantic quest
to find weird truth behind the golden mask
which politicians wear while stealing votes
that highlight layered nuance of despair.

This I that I wear to the winter ball
is not the self River Seers celebrate
but posture I assume on stage of fate
to configure context of noble deeds
assembled from myths believers adore
because I am the witness of your play.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/12/…

Orpheus waits outside the music store till Ophelia returns with her repaired violin, then they perform music on the river walk for people who stop a moment in their busy routine to dream of world peace.

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

Hear Angels Of Heaven
© Surazeus
2025 12 21

I hear angels of Heaven call my name
so I wander outside in pouring rain
and follow sad birds to the end of time
but always end up back home at my cave
where shadows of faceless ghosts dance on walls
because my heart aches with passion to live.

Eight thousand years later in flow of grace
I find myself alive as this new me,
so I search for truth with Lamp of Respect
gleaming as diamonds in eyes of mankind
which reveals that god is dream of our brains
as ideal toward which we strive to evolve.

Illusions of faith fall as withered leaves
when snow of reality veils dark death
so I tend each fragile flower of faith
that blooms at beam of sunlight through black clouds
exposing heart of darkness with calm love
that guides our struggle to climb hill of skulls.

Though I stand alone as last soul on Earth
in vast library with ten trillion books,
I hear tales from voices of countless souls
so I sing to converse with memories
that weave my body in matrix of songs
till I vanish in vibration of thought.

We hear angels of Heaven call our names
so we gather in ring of stones by the sea
each time our way loops back on wheel of fate
because we return to the starting point
at hour the dead sun in body of man
resurrects from the longest dark winter night.

April opens endless cycle of change
at winter solstice when the sun stands still
then shifts forth with slight adjustment of growth
to start again seasons of birth and death
as our bodies bloom, create, and decay,
for we are atoms dreaming they are god.

No longer fools on first day of the year,
we share cups of honey mead in the hall
buried under blizzard of sparkling snow
till Wenceslaus comes in reindeer-pulled sled
to slide down chimney just above the snow
with bags of food and gifts from castle shops.

Though our feasting halls have crumbled to dust
that bury skulls of our ancestral gods,
and land we farmed is paved with asphalt lots,
we remember songs of angels on hills
who welcomed us inside safe haven walls
and taught us to write our names in the Book.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/12/…

Orpheus helps Wenceslaus climb back up the chimney to his sleigh on snow that buries their feasting hall, and waves as he glides away to find the next hall buried under snow.

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

Archives Of Collected Dreams
© Surazeus
2025 12 21

Rejoice in measureless progress of light
with imagined scent of new graveyard flowers
that convert eyes to television screens
with vibrant randomness of secret codes
preserved in archives of collected dreams
based on stern bindings of electric books.

Huge books with illustrations of dead gods
tumble from shelves in earthquake of despair
and crush my fragile body with old truths
hard as bronze turtle shells of nonchalance
forged from attitude of naive respect
for authorities who control the switch.

Reluctant to take down bright ornaments
that signify birth of the global king,
I float in trance of double jeopardy
against aggressive tides of social change
to surf with surreal fish of politics
who flutter fragile wings down chimney chutes.

No shadow purling in our silver sky
would vandalize brave auditoriums
where high school students cheer their hero on
with passive aggression of public votes
because we mutate with each new-born life
though we hesitate to repent of love.

Evidence burned by devil in gray suit
would have proved my right to be alive
because I wake in darkness of glass books,
detached from suffering of humanity
whose cries for justice melt castles of ice
when we try to pray on the Sabbath day.

Wild plum hanging red from the bomb-burned tree
refracts dawn light across pasture of cows
who seek salvation in the thunderstorm
from manic pixie dream-girl in long skirt
who dances lithe in ruins of my heart
in paintings men sell in church galleries.

Unheard stream of laughter from blinding snow
reveals white owl who knows of human greed
so we seek her in quest through Wonderland
to ask how we should perform our own death
when clocks transform into hymn-singing wrens
who praise great warriors of national myths.

Quotidian member of the master race,
I play Perseus who fights angry trolls
to save the famous singer from their rage
with humble selflessness of social pride
since no one ever seeks awards of fame
preserved in archives of collected dreams.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/12/…

Orpheus administers archives of collected dreams where philosophers and engineers research prophecies in ancient scrolls to understand how America is changing each day.

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

Verdict Of The Lightning Eye
© Surazeus
2025 12 21

The amount I pay for sinful mistakes
has always been far less in terms of faith
than standard deduction of karmic gain
so I apply high ethic principles
to how I perform my weird character
programmed by my ancestors to breed life.

Yet arctic thrush, with breast orange as sunrise,
flits through wrecked darkness of the year-end gloom
to sing of frozen sorrow breaking hearts
in blizzards of pain on midwinter night
which gleams in windows of ten million homes
where silence cracks from ancient stones as light.

So I consider why your charming smile
should resurrect my body from its grave
when you ascend gold stairs of honest hope
to counterbalance anger with respect
through angel wings on gyroscope of faith
as we embrace to waltz till flash of dawn.

Last star that falls on island of my mind
bursts bright with silver language of concern
through lavish wisdom of our secret code
designed by verdict of the lightning eye
to temper bitter hearts with ardent blaze
so we both radiate with our shared romance.

Still wary of the wondrous miracle
that beams beyond our mortal sense of light,
we gaze at child our bodies generate
to find their secret name in glowing eyes
refracting spirit of the multiverse
in simple humanness of hungry faith.

Awake in radiance of dream-filtered days,
we walk together over random hills
to follow sparkles of the mountain stream
till we discover grove of apple trees
where faceless ghosts of our ancestors sing
to lure our hearts with vision of true love.

With every wave of solar energy
we build celestial breath of divine truth
through strict siliceous beauty of the moon
expanding sacred resonance of waves
that crystalize our thoughts in solemn hymns
because our minds weave one immortal soul.

After our bodies crumble back to dust,
so our unconscious vibe of selfless love
glitters from frost beneath your lonely feet,
our bodies return to maternal breast
where hope transforms our atoms back to light
that gleams in eyes of children we create.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/12/…

Orpheus finishes installing electric wires in the house he built on the rock of salvation in the grove of apple trees where faceless ghosts play chase.

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

Theology Of Apple Trees
© Surazeus
2025 12 20

When I hear sad raven on the phone line
discuss theology of apple trees,
I turn my face toward shimmer of sunset,
expecting to see Visucia smile,
but by the cactus on porch of her house
I see her typewriter on fire with dreams.

Nine elms lined straight along the boulevard
talk about vertical tempo of faith
stored in secret archive of innocence
despite how psalms of broken harps reflect
repentant burden of the honest man
who sells his doubts in novels about fools.

Candles scream unsilently in the void
about names of the dead carved on wall stones
by trembling hand of the last vampire king
who confesses his love to the flute player,
but she prefers to play tennis at dawn
because she feels truth should never be sold.

If rows of houses by the railroad tracks
fade into shadows of gray pencil lines,
the crescent moon that knows our suffering
expands reluctant feathers of sunset
to brush smokestacks of sprawling factories
where blind workers construct robots of flesh.

Because I never reach end of the road
on breathless floating of chromatic bells,
I gasp at vision of rutilant hills
where coatless refugees from civil wars
learn how to drive cars by uttering oaths
in harmony with clocks in trunks of elms.

Unclaimed stories fester in pageless books
obscured by stark repetitions of rites
that villagers perform on broken bridge
though footsteps in snow reveal faceless ghost
who always lingers beside our locked doors
without expecting mercy sold by Death.

No sanctuary lamp glows in the tower
where Visucia paints my secret face
on fractured mirror of the pulsing mask
since no one knows the gospel of delays
sprouts from garden where serpents invent faith
to prove empty rooms remember my soul.

Alone in temple of the laughing skull,
I wait for Visucia to return
home from other side of the spinning Earth
because her passionate soul haunts my dreams
with the one puzzle piece of scriptural code
that completes spiraling wheel of my soul.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/12/…

Orpheus gives new violin to Visucia who beams with joy as she plays her favorite concerto about the raven girl who understands code of love.

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

Flash Of Endless Time
© Surazeus
2025 12 20

Awake on the longest night of the year,
I float forever on strange sea of light
that glitters from infinite flow of thoughts
through undulating waves of aching hope
to pierce heart of darkness with sudden faith
that lights my eyes with flash of endless time.

Attentive glory weaves from mirror glass
frail skeleton of hunger I become
as I transform from fish to wingless cat
with motivation to leap depths of fear
and climb high curling vine of juicy fruit
that fills my heart with flash of endless time.

Extension of my eager will to grasp
elusive treasure of rain-dripping fruit
molds wiggling fingers from my padded paws
so I grab vine and swing from tree to tree
to climb enormous mountain to the sky
that binds my soul with flash of endless time.

Ascension of my mind from shadowed vales
provides firm platform high above bright clouds
where I perceive vast landscape of this globe
that spins among star-ghosts in boundless void
through ever-changing swirls of energy
that guide my way with flash of endless time.

Religious focus of my throbbing heart
through intense discipline of sharpened wit
fuels fearless assertion of my desire
as I evolve to monkey from swift cat
while leaping trees from sea to shining sea
that weave my dreams with flash of endless time.

Affirmed by sturdy foundation of hope,
having lost my tail to swing among trees,
I dance in surge of hungry ocean waves
to walk upright with balanced attitude
so I grasp straightened stick and stone of fate
that drives my game with flash of endless time.

Attribution of values to new shapes
provides framework for vision of my eyes
to mold mud in bricks stacked in ziggurats
from which I rule as mortal god on Earth
to manage world food-production machine
that runs my brain with flash of endless time.

Four hundred million years of spinning faith
transforms my quadrupedal form of flesh
fish to lizard to mouse to cat to ape
to wingless angel aching to play god,
so I strum lyre of Mercury and sing
spells that chronicle flash of endless time.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/12/…

Orpheus sings heart-enchanting hymn that recounts evolutionary history of mankind at the winter solstice ritual in the Crystal Cathedral of Zarathia.

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

Instruments Of Dream Sense
© Surazeus
2025 12 20

Wandering lonely as the gloomy rain cloud
that looms hungry over your city maze,
I want to play instruments of dream sense
to conjure visions of the Beautiful
from endless misery of our daily lives
as we struggle to maintain global peace.

Wearing crown of ice molded from your tears
that drown our cities in false memories,
I want to play instruments of dream sense
with deft fingers of aggressive concern
to prove with absolute uncertainty
that Death will take us to her Nowhere Land.

Wishing to comprehend how spider webs
mirror matrix of our star-flashing brains,
I want to play instruments of dream sense
that vibrate with thunderstorms of god eyes
which scatter snowflakes on gray city streets
to illustrate beauty of human hearts.

Wagering fabulous ethics of mute pain
to understand wordless song of wild trees,
I want to play instruments of dream sense
that praise weird beauty of nature in psalms
no matter how boring time seems to be
because sunlight always invades my gloom.

Waiving my inalienable rights to life,
liberty, and pursuit of happiness,
I want to play instruments of dream sense
that open doors of perception to Hell
where Orpheus leads mute souls of the dead
so they can sing in the heavenly choir.

Waiting forever on the river shore
where angels talk on eye-phones of the mind,
I want to play instruments of dream sense
that sanctify symphonies of mad seers
who breathe delicious anguish of desire
with each eerie shriek of violin tunes.

Wielding Excalibur with gentle grace
to render judgement against criminals,
I want to play instruments of dream sense
that frame extensive legal arguments
supporting freedom and justice for all
born from the womb of Mother Liberty.

Whistling past the graveyard of long-dead gods
who call to us with voice of mountain wind,
I want to play instruments of dream sense
that surrender loneliness to sea waves
so when we meet at random on the street
we can share feast of winter solstice eve.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/12/…

Orpheus directs choir of not-yet-dead humans who express intense desire of the human heart to savor beauty of this too-brief life on our spinning globe of abandoned homes.

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

Last Apple Tree On Earth
© Surazeus
2025 12 20

The old man in tattered jacket and pants
waits in the urgent care clinic at noon
for the winter storm that never arrives
to shroud the fruit tree on the hill of skulls
because snowflakes wait in heavenly clouds
to preserve apple seeds in frozen soil.

The young boy in brand new pants, coat, and boots
walks across the field of bright pristine snow
to stand under the tree where god once hung
nine days and nights with one electric eye,
and asks the blind angel with crippled hands
if he can find the home where no one lives.

Eyes blinded by strange beauty of the light,
the young boy in the field of bitter snow
watches bees drift far across the multiverse
to sweeten tea of martial-artist seers
who dance with Death in woods of faceless ghosts
where psychiatrists burn books of fake poems.

The seed of the last apple tree on Earth
explodes from sorrow of the frozen soil
to shade one spot in the waste land of words
where couples dance to the Blue Danube Waltz
before the meteor strikes the spinning globe
and shatters illusion of paradise.

In the psychiatrist office of faith
the young teacher with no children at home
plays chess with Anger in angelic robe
but always wins against proverbs of faith
so she drives circles in the broken car
around forever in the city maze.

The car mechanic wanders streets at night,
reciting poetry of broken hearts
to telephone poles where angels abide
that explain the secrets of life he learns
while pondering lifestyle of the honey bee
preserved in nature of the avalanche.

When the teacher and the mechanic meet
by random chance beneath the frozen tree,
their hard eyes spark electric flash of love,
so they hold hands and pledge eternal troth
but they both die after their son is born
who stands beneath Tree of Fidelity.

Raindrops stuck in clouds know secret of love
so they transform to snowflakes in the cold
that nurture seeds to grow into fruit trees
fertilized by bees on the river shore
so the waste land blooms as Elysium
where he sees the cute girl riding her bike.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/12/…

Orpheus and Ophelia gaze at their new-born son Orion and hope he has a long and happy life after they die in the car crash on the highway of fate.

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

Ancient Gallery Of Life
© Surazeus
2025 12 19

He stares at his face in mirror of words
till his weird authentic self disappears
in the great puzzle of civilized myth
behind the mask of the many-faced god
that hangs in ancient gallery of life
far removed from our world of petty men.

He carves demonic mask of shocking fear
in trunk of the Tree of Knowledge to find
true spirit of his hungry soul that hides
in heart of darkness where nothing is real
that crawls in ancient gallery of life
as he evolves from singing fish to god.

He plays chess with Death on beach of desire
to save humanity from selfishness
when he untangles formulas of myth
revealing foolishness of grasping greed
that screams in ancient gallery of life
in terrible slaughter of our world wars.

He drives piston-engine car of fierce hope
on signless highway sea to shining sea
in sacred quest to find the Holy Grail
which blooms from Bloodline of Asariel
that flows in ancient gallery of life
to nurture incarnate body of his soul.

He climbs the highest mountain in the world
to understand struggle of human hearts
which ache to fly with wings of Icarus
above the crowded planet of our dreams
that spins in ancient gallery of life
till we are dizzy and we all fall down.

He flies to the other side of the Earth
to find in ruined temple by the lake
the perfect soulmate of his puzzling heart
who complements his vision to live free
that shines in ancient gallery of life
as they raise kind children in their safe home.

He strums harmonious lyre of Mercury
while wearing mask of Orpheus with pride
to play psychopomp for America
where people wander lost in Wonderland
that falls in ancient gallery of life
till we create Zarathia with love.

He sings about the deeds of gods and kings
disguised as noble characters in myth
who imitate his journey to find truth
when he frames scenes of deeds heroes perform
that play in ancient gallery of life
as guide for how we live through selfless love.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/12/…

Orpheus trains young acolyte at perform role of psychopomp who leads lost homeless refugees home to the amusement park of Wonderland to live with justice and liberty for all.

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

Nerthus Calls My Name
© Surazeus
2025 12 19

Extra beautiful with eyes of star ghosts,
yet angry at disrespect of the wind,
Nerthus rides noon bus to the coffee shop
where she serves drinks to writers with laptops
till the moon bleeds rain down the window pane,
so she turns into the crow without wings.

Eager to map graceful curves of both coasts,
yet bored with email no one wants to send,
Nerthus wears clothes magazines say are hip
while watching flashing lights of lost starships
that land on her lawn where no god has gone,
then gets up on stage at the Globe and sings.

Ridiculous how road of life we take
leaves our souls stranded in random events,
Nerthus declares to the man in the moon
who gives her wings he swiped from Icarus
who falls from the sky while pondering why
our bodies dissolve into wordless dust.

Resistant to proof that life must be fake,
yet annoyed people demand she be real,
Nerthus learns to play American tune
that fools everyone stuck on the state bus
to work hard for wealth at cost of our health
since we float in lake of atomic lust.

Arrogant with self-conscious mind of God,
yet humble as the ballerina queen,
Nerthus researches weird religious cure
that banishes cancer from aching hearts
by casting dream spells she draws from snake wells,
then runs for mayor of her seaside town.

Admonished for joining the Justice Squad,
despite being last daughter of Melusine,
Nerthus teaches her children to endure
as the Nordic race that follows star charts
to worship oak tree with the Runic Key
till our nation is hijacked by the clown.

Burdened with mission to rescue the world
from tyranny of work-exploitive kings,
Nerthus lifts high Lamp of Diogenes
and leads our revolution against greed
till we all get stuck in the Church of Luck
founded on state theology of hate.

Bedeviled by faith of the cosmic herald
recorded with glass Astarian Rings,
Nerthus calls my name Mephistopheles
to learn what her son Tiresias needs
who becomes the girl with the eyes of pearl
in our journey across waste land of fate.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/12/…

Orpheus and Nerthus smile shyly and say hi as they pass each other in the hall at the Zarathian University of Music, then perform together on stage where he plays lyre as she sings lyrics of Sappho.

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

Idea Of Liberty For All
© Surazeus
2025 12 19

This grand idea of Liberty for all,
who seek to live outside the greed-hard wall,
shall stand on wide shores of America
with brave courage of Mother Onatah
long after cruel tyrants like Midas fall
so we prosper in shared Res Publica.

Bright shining still on our storm-battered shore,
clear lamp of freedom that lights every door,
held high by bold hand of Democracy,
our new colossus, Lady Liberty,
shall guide our quest for truth forever more
as we create life through fertility.

When Emma holds my trauma-shaken hand
that fascists oppress people of our land,
she reminds me with blazing eyes of faith
that conquerors like Midas, blind with wrath,
will always fall when people dare to stand
against cruel hate, and choose love as our path.

Immortal spirit of Athena shines
in Statue of Liberty hope designs,
for though her justice seems to arrive late
she will always stand at our sunset gate
to guide refugees from prisoning mines
so we can build new homes with hearty fate.

People from every nation of the Earth,
who leave nationalist states decayed from dearth
of opportunities to work with pride,
commit to principle oppressors hide
that every human grows through sense of worth
in Land of Liberty where laws abide.

Though Helios had fallen long ago,
shattered by failure of the power show,
his daughter Liberty with Lamp of Truth
lights the true way for our messiah sleuth
to nurture every soul who wants to grow
through urgent admiration of his ruth.

When our shared world view seems to fall apart,
because Midas hijacks the Market Cart
by exploiting fear of the refugee
who seeks opportunity to live free,
Spirit of Freedom inhabits our heart
as Liberty gives every soul her key.

Tyrants come and go, drowned by tides of change,
and empires rise and fall in temporal range,
but Mother of Exiles, wise Liberty,
forever rules our world democracy
with justice for all souls, which may seem strange,
to sustain our creative energy.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/12/…

Orpheus stands before Statue of Liberty and plays lyre of Mercury as he sings holy hymn The New Colossus to welcome refugees from every land to live in America.

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

Song Of The Ocean Tides
© Surazeus
2025 12 19

Though the timeless song of the ocean tides
fades away into whisper of the breeze,
I still feel its resonance in my heart
echoed in harmony of my blood flow,
because so much depends on wave-smooth stones
that preserve the dreams of our long-dead gods.

The sturdy boat I built from fire-steamed planks,
on which I used to leap high surging waves,
now lies abandoned on sun-glistened sand,
gazing at me with forlorn eyes of hope
while I wither away with wordless age
and long to feel sting of wind on my cheeks.

Strange monsters with enormous shining eyes,
that lurk deep beneath sloshing waves of fate,
enraged I snare wriggling fish in my net
which I roast with crackling flames on the beach,
haunt my endless afternoons where I lie
weak and tired beneath the broad apple tree.

Prone on my back beneath sun-gold leaves,
I reach both withered hands up to dark clouds
whose shapes resemble monsters of the deep,
and relive timeless hours on surging waves
when I grappled fish with still-muscled arms,
and held them flopping in shell of my boat.

Once I stood tall in wave-tossed boat of faith
on loyal legs that navigated change,
but now I sit and gasp for breath of hope
in apple grove I bought with coins of gold
I earned selling fish in the market place
so my grandchildren play in paradise.

Twelve grandchildren, who play chase in the grove,
sprang from three sons I molded into men,
safe in lush garden of fruit trees and herbs
funded by monsters I caught from the deep,
so I built this heaven for my offspring
with wealth I earned wrestling demons in hell.

Through constant struggle of my wordless hope
in fierce battles against chaos of desire,
I earned my right to live in paradise
where my grandchildren may play without care,
safe from hungry monsters of the dark sea
that I slew with aggression of my hands.

Yet the timeless song of the ocean tides
still resonates in garden of my heart
so I hear monstrous roar of surging waves
which I translate to harmonious song
that vibrates from darkest depths of my soul
while my family listens with loving eyes.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/12/…

Orpheus visits the ancient fisherman Nereus where he lounges in retirement in his garden who tells him the names and personalities of each of his grandchildren who play chase in the apple grove.

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

Passion To Live Free
© Surazeus
2025 12 18

Thoughtlessly singing to the faceless moon,
Tellus extends her arms to the red sky
and wonders why crows, not humans, can fly,
then asks the river to teach her his tune,
but he just flows away to the wild sea
without explaining how we can live free.

Startled by ache of sorrow in her voice,
Peneus emerges from cold river flow
and creeps toward shadow of the girl in snow
who explains to the deer freedom of choice,
then offers her pearl he found in the sea
and asks if she recalls how to live free.

Gazing with awe at pure light of the pearl,
Tellus dreams how souls spiral from God Eye
that knows everything real under Blue Sky,
and tries to measure nature of the swirl
to calculate surging tides in the sea
which energize our passion to live free.

Concerned his mate will choose another man
and generate new children from his soul,
Alpheus asserts dominance of his role
by explaining their shared domestic plan,
but Peneus wanders off to the wild sea,
determined to keep his own body free.

Attracted to Peneus with curly hair,
Tellus follows him to the jeweled cave,
though puzzled why Alpheus begins to rave,
and walks with him to explore everywhere,
then roasts fish she snares from the deep sea
while wind ghosts sing about how to live free.

Whistling as she gathers clams from the beach,
Tellus sees Flora dragged by rip tide,
so she paddles boat swift as spirit guide,
and pulls her on board with desperate reach
to rescue her soul from indifferent sea
in performance that shows how to live free.

Sad that Tellus chose someone else to love,
Alpheus tends Flora to restore her health,
then takes care of her with romantic stealth
till she gives him her heart in moonlit cove
where they make love by the adoring sea
in tandem with faith for how to live free.

Janus, son of Tellus and Peneus,
gathers strawberries from edge of the cliff
where he carves their story in figured glyph
for daughter of Flora and Alpheus,
Iris, who kisses him by the bright sea,
having learned secret for how to live free.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/12/…

Orpheus visits Janus and Iris in their jeweled cave by the sea where they place flowers around the four skulls of their parents in the holy shrine of faith.

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

Sacred Light Of Helicon
© Surazeus
2025 12 18

Holding in my hand spirit-golden orange,
I watch the sun rise at solstice in Stonehenge,
but I migrate away from Babylon
to escape its restrictive echelon
so I can build new university
based soundly on social diversity.

Astonished by shades of the monochrome
while training horses in the hippodrome,
I quest for love in hills of Oregon
that links my heart to ancient Avalon
where my ancestors dwelled fifty thousand years
till we were trapped by fiscal puppeteers.

In memory of brave King Decebalus,
I carve his face from rock of Sisyphus
that gazes boldly over blue Danube
as ever-shifting tesseractic cube
which provides structure for our virtual Earth
through form-evolving process of soul birth.

Raising their arms to honor the Sky Spook,
gingerbread men worship the divine Cook
who molds their bodies from star memories
with conceptual ideas as dream keys
that program how our brains perceive the world
so we can recognize our cosmic herald.

With elegant grace of the global core,
she gazes at me on the river shore
with eyes that see the flashing multiverse
spiral through our bodies on quantum course
to generate new children from our hearts
that compose souls from molecular parts.

My soul is emanation of my brain
that fools my ego to believe in vain
that my conscious sense of self is unique
with immortal glamor of god-mystique
because I feel as old as solar light
that beams from First Flash of atomic flight.

Because our span of life is limited
as bodies through which God has pivoted
to incarnate genes each generated life,
we transcend destructive battles of strife
by forming social systems based on laws
administered by reign of Santa Claus.

Sitting together by the Tree of Fruit,
we play sweet music with our lyre and flute,
then eat brave orange of romantic trust
to conjure true love from physical lust,
then build new home to mimic Avalon
that glows with sacred light of Helicon.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/12/…

Orpheus and Ophelia teach their children Ostara and Orion the secret of life as they dwell together in their home veiled by the sacred light of Helicon.

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

Fragments Of Forgotten Names
© Surazeus
2025 12 17

Pausing at margin of the world, I think
through labyrinth of existence with you
to study how time erases our dreams
though we attempt to archive memories
in shadows of strange places were we meet
despite how language undoes our beliefs.

Asserting beauty of flowers from stones
through breath-turn of resistance to despair,
I wrap hands of hope around shining urn
filled with almonds and poppies of regret,
because I adjourn in sidereal space
while wearing costume of innocent love.

Prefix to journey of my aching soul,
bright aura of my heart illuminates
urgent tenderness of insistent roads
framed by portrait of our intimate thoughts
concealed by emotionless masks we wear,
transfixed by exquisiteness of respect.

Startled by our cognitive dissonance
that registers futility of hope,
we revise necessity of desire
to update our fatal relationship
as we evolve our bodies into souls
that coexist through weird realities.

Preserved in lexicon of sacred truth,
our love selects unwanted metaphors
based on shared paradox of holy faith
as we decide to be awake with love
inside these fragile bodies of our flesh
based on premeditated arguments.

Between our words and images of truth
we time-leap ardent texts as bonded team
commissioned by our hearts to credit death
with actual wisdom of translated waves
based on acceptable puzzles of love
that tangle our hearts in concept of weird.

Material shock of hollow bones expands
archaic laughter to efface our minds
without regret for naive wonderment
that precedes intuitive bafflement,
though space provides context for our eyes
to contemplate these crucial elements.

New possibilities for absent voice,
we share against subtraction of dear life,
expand how much our bodies can intake
through soft glimmer of devotional prayer
that leaves our minds in unastonished trance
as we find fragments of forgotten names.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/12/…

Orpheus examines how the breath-turn of his brain exposes secret passion he harbors for Ophelia with her heart-enchanting eyes of faith.

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

Twilight Zone Of Fate
© Surazeus
2025 12 17

Half-awake in the twilight zone of fate,
I wander in the waste land of my heart
through endless maze of myths in city streets
where strangers resemble gods of old tales,
yet I perform the role my brain designs
from obsessions my ancestors forgot.

Half-aware that Death stalks my every step,
I gaze through telescope of holy faith
to study how wild stars of energy
generate self-conscious organic beings
like me who search the twilight zone of fate
to find the last fruit seed from Tree of Life.

Along the signless road of Nevertime
I walk toward somewhere I think might be real
on quest for beauty of the aching heart,
yet long to gaze at face of one I love
whose shadow flickers in the shadowed woods
while I search in the twilight zone of fate.

Untwisted galaxies of thriving worlds
birth countless conscious beings with dreaming brains
who give each other names that seem unique
then bloom and wither in vast field of hope
veiled by love in the twilight zone of fate
where children gather by the lake to play.

Unmapped paradise without walls of stone
dreams itself alive in conscious beings
who build empires on ideologies
discovered in the twilight zone of fate
where gods defy laws of physics and faith
till exploding stars burn planets to dust.

Beside the rain-filled lake of watching eyes
we gather in the ring of standing stones
to claim our role in strange story of love
that we play in the twilight zone of fate
before the meteor cracks our spinning world
and scatters faceless souls among the stars.

Half-amused by anecdotes gods tell
to prove their right to rule the spinning globe,
I ask the raven in the apple tree
why all great empires collapse into gangs
who fight till new messiah unites all
in world religion of the puppeteer.

Half-reborn in the twilight zone of fate,
I walk with wife and children of my heart
on signless road of temporary hope
because the meaning of this mortal life
is to generate life before we die,
yet feast and sing while we are still alive.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/12/…

Orpheus sells maps of the multiverse to tourists who flock to the Interplanetary Zoo of Zarathia to observe all the strange species that thrive on billions of planets in our galaxy.

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

Dream Of The Blue Danube
© Surazeus
2025 12 16

This is not the time to fall from the sky
so I float around on breath of respect,
ignoring all the suffering down on Earth
because people will all die anyway
regardless of the good I try to do,
so I become flow of the blue Danube.

I hear no laughter from the bombed-out homes
where children used to play with carefree joy
and parents would teach them how to be good
for they are all bones now, fractured in dust,
yet I am driven forward by sweet lust
to procreate more children till I die.

We waltz together on the river shore
where people have dwelled in groves of fruit trees
for fifty thousand years of blooming flowers
and pledge vows of loyalty through true love
with random stranger we happen to meet
while strolling one day by the blue Danube.

Delicate birds of frantic innocence
flit light between trees of our shared world view,
but since we believe in Providence
that guides how we live with the subtle clue
we forget some people are greedy and cruel
as they build empires where people are tools.

I almost forget cuteness of the deer
who prance with startled ardency of faith
in gentle expression of divine soul
because men fearful of losing to death
organize fierce gangs to fight for control
over who dwells free by the blue Danube.

She never remembers sound of the flute
that emanates sweet from the dark lake
till I appear from weird shadow of gloom
so she beams with joy at sight of my face
and I beam back as mirror of her trust
for we are strangers familiar in love.

Still shocked at perfect surprise of the light
that explodes from fractured stone of my heart,
I search for song of the river I knew
that still vibrates in forest of my dreams
though my ancestors sailed across the sea
yet remain in tune with the blue Danube.

Entranced by strange music of truth she plays
while stroking strings on the wood violin,
I sit with awed crowd in the concert hall
as we feel flow of rivers in our veins
with each graceful melody she performs
till we become dream of the blue Danube.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/12/…

Orpheus and Phoebus play The Blue Danube Waltz while Johann Strauss lies on grass by the river and weeps at the beauty of life in a world filled with death from disease and war.

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

Slow-Walk The Apocalypse
© Surazeus
2025 12 16

I want to slow-walk the apocalypse
by wielding bloody sword Excalibur
which I steal from tomb of the greedy king
so I can free lost people of the Earth
from wealthy minions of the emperor
who slouches on old throne of Bethlehem.

I plan to slow-walk the apocalypse
by calculating worth of human lives
to balance spreadsheet of profit from loss
for return of investment through my scam
that keeps the hungry people of the Earth
enslaved by credit-card debt of desire.

I fear to slow-walk the apocalypse
from getting tricked with glamorous hoax
into buying timeshares to the afterlife
by the man with the calculator brain
who buys homes from the bankrupt unemployed
before the second coming of the Lord.

I laugh to slow-walk the apocalypse
when I strut the catwalk of global fame
to prance with power of the beautiful
disguised as angel fallen from the clouds,
cursed with charisma of devilish charm
while I seek my soul mate to love in vain.

I yearn to slow-walk the apocalypse
by navigating seven seas of hope
while building empire of conceptual banks
to fund civil wars in countries of fools
so I can excavate rich minerals
and construct artificial dream machines.

I dread to slow-walk the apocalypse
across broken Bridge of Forgetfulness
where faceless ghosts of living human beings
scream in horror at rise of tyranny
while demon of the abyss laughs at us
for thinking we can build Heaven on Earth.

I crave to slow-walk the apocalypse
by breathing purple haze of outer space
out of the timeless scrolling of the brain
that spirals far across the multiverse
till I wake in my body on this Earth
and eat scrambled eggs of the frozen star.

I hope to slow-walk the apocalypse
though entire universe of pulsing forms
remains indifferent to my mental needs
because great freedom of the aching heart
is won by how I choose to live each hour
that Earth continues spinning in the void.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/12/…

Orpheus guides millions of dead souls to slow-walk the apocalypse as tourists visiting the Vast Abyss National Park of Zarathia where demons howl in disguise as human beings.

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

Demystify Beauty Of Hope
© Surazeus
2025 12 15

Mysterious beauty of assembled words
mirrors visions of Earth my brain designs
when I perceive secret language of birds,
safe in lush meadow where Hera reclines,
while I fix piston engine of her car
so she can drive home to her spirit star.

Feeding Hera with sweet fruit of my heart,
while Phoebus strums the lyre of Mercury,
I relate tale of the girl with fruit cart
whose grandson constructs banking treasury
by which he funds the rise of empire states
with grand palaces behind jeweled gates.

While nymphs dance gracefully in meadow grass
Aphrodite plays heart-expanding tunes
on electric violin forged from glass
extracted from one thousand flashing moons
that spiral slow around bright Jupiter
who once worked as the cosmic janitor.

When heart of Tellus is fractured by pain
because Consus marries Ceres instead,
she sings heart-aching melodies in rain
till Stellius places wreath on her head,
so they drink wine and pledge vows of respect
since they found someone they want to protect.

Enchanting gracefulness of vibrant sounds,
that ring in harmony with swirling spheres,
radiate from instruments of stellar bounds
played by musicians trained by puppeteers
to perform symphony of holy strains
that guide our souls to transcend cosmic planes.

Spurred by the mind in motion to express,
with ringing timbre of celestial fire,
attentive perception through consciousness,
I reconcile mute sorrow with desire
to inhabit uncertainty of faith
through heightened awareness of the star wraith.

Through transcendental music of the heart
I seek to embody my spirit frame
with seductive passion of the dream chart
to escape nothingness of the life game
that always ends with blank finality,
sealed by secret code of mortality.

Based on irrational analysis,
that might demystify beauty of hope,
I mimic performance of Tantalus
when I observe through cogent telescope
time-animated history of mankind
as we seek enlightenment of the mind.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/12/…

Orpheus plays lyre and sings for Hera as she observes the beautiful people of her entourage perform their roles in the romantic drama of her celestial court.

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

Tuneful Choir Of Nature
© Surazeus
2025 12 15

Nature lures me to join her tuneful choir
so I imagine how I could ascend
with angelic grace the narrow church spire,
but I stay firm on the ground, and extend
bright energy of life that always glows
through my persona mask I wear in shows.

Expanding eye of my perceptive heart,
I tell how bodies bloom from chemicals
to trace beginning of each urgent part
that spirals matrix through bright particles
so we can tell beginnings we express
through nourishment of love our mothers bless.

With spark of hope from seed our fathers give
our mothers generate our dreaming souls,
so, from mistakes, our bodies learn to live
in daily rituals through creative roles
with clear vision on boundless stage of faith
in play directed by no cosmic wraith.

We gather in halls of worship each week
to nourish beginnings of ritual games
that we perform to conjure what we seek
by defining progress with sacred names
so we may feast in many-living home
that hosts homeless refugees forced to roam.

Together on long signless road of hope,
we map weird unknown world of frantic fears
with soul-healing techniques we learn to cope,
because we follow faring stars with gears
adjusting fortune-fueled engine of fate
that drives efficient system of our state.

Through magic words we dream forgotten things
to visualize their beauty in brave hymns
reflecting brain power of angel wings
that pour sunlight to flush organic limbs
so we create good world we want to shine
with ancient spirit wise humans design.

Our birth is half-remembering intense scenes
our ancestors experience till we sprout
from lust of life-generating machines
that mold our souls from brains of urgent clout
so we create Heaven from memories
our ancestors encode in psychic keys.

I wake wild spirit I employ to deal
with the whole compass of our universe
from which my brain mutates conceptual wheel
so I become soul time cannot reverse
while I sing in tune with mercurial lyre
when I join Nature in her joyful choir.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/12/…

Orpheus and his daughter Ostara attend the Zarathian Symphony Orchestra where Phoebus directs the first Brahms Symphony.

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

Lost In Fake Tomorrows
© Surazeus
2025 12 14

While young girl plays sweet melody of sorrow
on heart-aching strings of the violin,
I ponder why, when I express despair
through tangled threads of arrogant dismay,
I win grand prizes for anxiety,
rewarded for how bitterly I scream.

Old gray-haired man in room of shining windows
traps joyful sprites in cores of mandolins
played by blind troubadours at country fairs
whose music leads the lost through crowded maze
where idols worshipped by societies
come alive as puppets in secret dreams.

As young boy stares at keys of huge piano,
to breathe deep spirit of its harmony,
his heart transforms to swan of ardent faith
that guides him from Tuonela to his home
where he attends to faceless ghost of sound,
then plays heart-breaking tune of secret love.

Old sad-eyed woman of the weeping willows
frees crippled slaves from social tyrannies
who preach salvation sold by stellar wraiths
in brave rebellion against righteous domes
built by warriors buried in high mounds
studied by archaeologists with gloves.

If tired mother cries at song of the sparrow
that flutters wings of hope in cage of fate,
mad jester driving full delivery truck
abandons capitalist money game
to meditate outside the mountain cave
while she washes dishes and clothes all day.

Yet angry father, lost in fake tomorrows,
decides to return from fixing house gates
to find his home possessed by playful Pucks
commissioned by Oberon to steal names
and organize roles of newly-freed slaves
who perform boat races on sunlit bays.

Mike counts red chickens by the red wheelbarrow
glazed with rainwater after the sea storm,
then boils one in the pot on Christmas Eve
for his children to feast before they die
of starvation in Land of Liberty
while singing hymns to Savior of the World.

Jane spends all night assembling perfect arrows
that Janus needs while guarding Realm of Forms,
then cooks chicken soup for blind queen who grieves
death of Apollo with electric eyes
who tried to lift mankind from poverty
with help from gang of self-appointed heralds.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/12/…

Orpheus knocks on doors that never open to sell Encyclopedia of World Knowledge to lonely housewives who follow him to the Land of Liberty.

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

Broken Ring Of His Heart
© Surazeus
2025 12 14

When young boy walking in heather at dawn
sees pretty rose girl dancing in red gown
he desires to taste sweet fruit of her heart
so he embraces her in eager arms,
and though she pricks his chest with a sharp knife
she melts into passionate kiss of hope.

Down in the verdant meadow of his heart,
Johann hurries to the spinning mill wheel
where Rosalyn waits in shadow of hope,
beaming with joy at the sight of his face
as they kiss with song of the flowing stream,
hearts beating with splash of water in light.

Gazing with joy at beauty of her face,
Johann accepts her token of true love
when she slips ring on his finger with trust,
then waits six days by the spinning mill wheel
for her to return with promise of faith,
but wedding bells ring in soft evening glow.

Standing in door of the stone village church,
Johann stares from guileless shock of surprise
to see Rosalyn recite wedding vows
with first-born son of the wealthy town mayor,
so he breaks her ring with stone of his heart
when he wanders alone in forest of night.

While wandering alone in forest of night
Johann sings with angst to moon-glowing clouds,
asking for angels to descend from stars
to soothe the wretched pain wounding his heart,
then pauses at song of wrens in oak trees
that fills his breast with illusion of peace.

Roaming signless roads far across the land,
Johann strums melodious strings of the lute
and sings by sparkling fountains in town squares
about the faithfulness of honest love,
then drinks beer in the crowded inns at night
while clutching the broken ring of his heart.

Though Beauty many conquer humans and gods,
all beautiful people die in the end
in tragic loss that moves not Sygian Zeus
though Venus tries to heal our wounded hearts
for Orcus brings to cave of faceless death
every beautiful soul who ever lives.

Weeping alone by the stone village church
before the tombstone beside the rose bush,
Johann laments sad death of Rosalyn
who never woke after birth of her son,
then buries the broken ring of his heart
for her to wear by the spinning mill wheel.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/12/…

Orpheus joins Goethe, Heine, Mueller, and Eichendorff at the mountain inn to drink beer and recite romantic poems about the tragic loss of true love.

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

Buy Presents For Everyone
© Surazeus
2025 12 14

This holiday season of lonely lights
that flash with candles in windows of faith
dislodges me from childhood memories
so I wait in the movie theater
for world messiah to descend from clouds
while eating popcorn at the end of time.

If I should wait for the apocalypse
before I buy presents for everyone,
then Christmas carolers may pass my home
and leave strange beauty of sad melodies
to birds with frosted eyes in wind-blown trees
who sing of sorrow humans choose to hide.

No restless angels sleep in snow-veiled pines,
yet I hear eerie voices of their plots
disguised as cheerful songs on radios
with haunting echoes in cold lightless homes
where festive ghosts hang stars on plastic trees
then hover over me with dreamless wings.

Snow tangled in bare limbs of apple trees
bends porch lights into hearts wounded by faith
because bright whiteness of pure innocence
resembles wedding dress the blind girl wears
as she parades alone in empty church
beside the polar bear with emerald eyes.

Each moment passing songless into death
adjusts harsh chill of cheerful morning winds
that wake from restless dreams of bearded gods
millions of people who trudge streets of ice
to work sustaining bloom of hungry flame
which flickers anxiously in human hearts.

Though memories of you all may come and go
with flicker of flames on candles of hope,
we walk with noiseless feet down curious stairs
to see if angels haunt our living rooms,
but children vanish in time-swirling snow
to build new homes in towns across the land.

Half lured to Heaven by time-swirling snow,
I concede that our human lives on Earth
are messy with intense desire to thrive
in maze of streets that zigzag out from Hell
where liquid moon floats boatly over trees
with complicated details we ignore.

Caught in bare monochrome of winter days,
we hunch our hearts against brute winds of change
to gather feathers from torn angel wings
so we can weave them in our bitter hearts
through energy of weird religious faith
to make our home in this house where we dwell.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/12/…

Orpheus leads carolers through frosted city streets to sing about the coming of the messiah sleuth who will rule the world as the United Nations of Earth.

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

Haunt Our Empty Home
© Surazeus
2025 12 14

If I get safely home on road of faith
after walking nowhere ten thousand years
perhaps you will see me as the wild fox
that wanders without care in city streets
while you drive your car without angel wings
then call my name when I gaze in your eyes.

When I transform into lithe human being
you take my hand with innocent respect
so we may dwell in possibility
where windows of our hopes frame what could be
if we return to chambers of our hearts
with everlasting love in paradise.

Together in uncertain slant of light
we heft our hearts with brave cathedral tunes
to heal unheavenly hurt of deep love,
hearts afflicted by misunderstood words
that twist true meanings into breathless fear
till we transcend the distance with new faith.

Our lonely sapling town on roadless plain
reveals delirious flowers in our brains
that bloom from inner shadows of desire,
lost deep in fields of golden wind-blown wheat
till glass rain shadows innocent despair
because we paint our names on new-road signs.

Yet when I hear song of the balladeer
assert world view of my merciless bride,
I hide what ails my withered heart at noon
with anguished lily rotten on my brow
for you have vanished at harsh flash of dawn
as fairy child in meadows of blind mist.

Your wild eyes lure me to your elven grove
where we dream endless paradise of love
in fleeting hour of sun-veiled dance with death
till I wake startled in lush dew-wet grass
and wander mute along the busy road
where cars race past eternity of now.

I find you by wood coffin of our son
killed in jungle war across the cruel sea,
red tears of chaos streaming from your eyes
that flash fierce hurricanes of social change
to shatter pillars of our world empire
that crumbles prairie homes in nuclear wind.

If I revert back to my primal form
as wild fox hunting in snow-mountain range
far from the busy streets of city wealth,
I wonder if you will escape its maze
and search for me in valley of tall pines
where we forever haunt our empty home.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/12/…

Orpheus comforts Ophelia as they weep at the funeral of their son Orion killed in the Vietnam war.

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

Aphelion World Of Dreams
© Surazeus
2025 12 13

Because Seraphus knows the way to Hell,
we elect him psychopomp of our tribe
so he guides us to pool of dreaming stars
to show unfinished beauty of our souls
that blooms from mirror of our vast god-brain
so we climb stairs of water to the sky.

Because Seraphus teaches us to fly
with hope and grief as wings of earnest faith,
we follow him beyond the weeping hills
to understand the failure of our hope,
but we hear something eerie in the wind
so we hide faceless in window of knives.

Because Seraphus steals our shadowed bones
to gamble devilish thoughts on success,
we seek quintessence of Zephyrine dust
with Valkyrian reverence for rebirth
through fraught conviction of soul immanence
concealed in cypher of auric respect.

Because Seraphus builds sanctum of lies
where we seek auspice of unyielding truth,
we consider sovereign rights to life
trapped in penumbra forged from vital lust
expressing arcane solitude through myth
that acts as catalyst for social change.

Because Seraphus measures sublime fear
enraptured by vile vortex of our brains,
we seek hermetic code of vigilance
designed to nurture ataraxia
based on exousia that Phoebus assigned
for me to wield Aeonian ardency.

Because Seraphus keys tenacity
through incandescent augury of love,
I feel strange vibe emanate Jovian
from runic core inherent to my faith
based in strict impulse of my discipline,
therefore I seek aphelion world of dreams.

Because Seraphus maps the multiverse
while I trudge river shore of changeless truths,
I invent meaning for this random life
that leaves me stranded on the signless road,
so I erect ten thousand signs as clues
for all the yet-born with Astarian faith.

Because Seraphus plays chess with Despair,
I marry Death and crown her as my bride
so we raise children with conceptual rules
based on how humans employ mental tools
to build from ruins of America
order of justice through Zarathia.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/12/…

Orpheus mentors Seraphus in the art of performing role of the psychopomp who leads souls of the dead to the world of nothingness.

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

Jump The Clock Of Fate
© Surazeus
2025 12 13

Surprised by beauty of the sudden sun
that strips cold darkness from essence of things,
I feel my soul emerge from words of books
to float through troposphere of psychic waves
and surf eclectic tides of social change
when I decide to jump the clock of fate.

Gold rays of dawn illuminate my face
as I stride bravely down the signless road
to leave valley home of wheatfields behind
and journey to the castle court of power
to join the justice squad of loyalty
when I conspire to jump the clock of fate.

Startled by serpent of Tiresias,
who guards gate of Heaven with Wand of Weird,
I solve strange riddle of his honey tongue
that man is mask of his ancestral ghost,
then enter paradise with cautious faith
when I arrive to jump the clock of fate.

Assigned to assist honest Sisyphus,
I perform role of psychic architect
to construct cathedral of slanting light
that calculates through angled formulas
immortal spirit of the spinning wheel
when I resolve to jump the clock of fate.

Alert to clever scheme of Tantalus
to crown his son, mad Midas, King of Earth,
I reassign the chess-game characters
by changing rules of interactive play
allowing me to win against his greed
when I contrive to jump the clock of fate.

Inspired by frantic faith of Icarus
to escape tower where Rapunzel weeps,
I soar above the endless maze of myths
to fracture idols of dead gods with truth
whose howling voices scream from violins
when I ascend to jump the clock of fate.

Amazed by wisdom of calm Athamas
to rescue Daphne from the laurel tree,
I dive with courage in the surging sea
and rescue Helle from depths of despair
so we raise children in our apple grove
when I refuse to jump the clock of fate.

Five hundred years ago in swirl of time
more than one million separate human beings
over twenty generations converge
to wake as memories in my dreaming brain
so I expand my divine consciousness
when I contract to jump the clock of fate.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/12/…

Orpheus employs conceptual tools to repair the clock of fate that seems to have gotten broken from overuse by people jumping across the multiverse of various Earths.

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