Vibrant Currency Of Fame
© Surazeus
2026 09 03

The river gushing from cave of illusions
will never tell me what I want to hear,
so I carve visions of my mind in stone
because rain washes all our dreams away,
then program robot of my spirit clone
with secret memories I would forget.

My future is the future of this land
that throbs with anguish of the suffering soul,
unjustly treated by the faceless state
as honest criminal who does no wrong,
so I confess to nothing in sweet song
that hypnotizes believers with lies.

Unique state of inaugurated mind
encompasses all possible outcomes
through secretive analysis of skulls
which calculate how far we have to go
to transcend mortal decay of the flesh
with plan to laugh for the photographer.

Unsurpassed scope of heavenly respect
almost daunts bone-clacking seer of concern
who scrambles nations of bold agencies
to peel regretful fruit of rotten hearts
with disorganized methods of soul theft
through unabated waves of wretched faith.

Still wearing mask of calm demonic pride,
I travel between galaxies of gods
with flashing eyes now big enough to see
golden path of success through cautious squint
that brings our bodies back to scrambled game
till sharp tongues bleed through walls of eager glass.

If rainbows dare respect my will to win
I may assert through serpentine attention
encrusted sorrows heroes throw in swamps
against deliberate progress we admire
that patches surreal truths in tuneless seeds
which sprout when buried in obscure disdain.

Since I am not smooth cobblestones in rain
that sings of fateful sorrows ghosts disdain,
I stride with vibrant currency of fame
which angels sell to those who discard truth
to wear fear-polished mask of fervent prayer
by building houses on the river shore.

When white horse of Godiva wanders home
to find out why her daughters cry with shame,
our ghosts assemble in the city square
to play role in our tense democracy
that scatters children out the open door
to build new empire of aggressive fame.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/…

Orpheus sends email to thousands of poets, expressing amazement at their literary achievements, then offers services to help them attain critical acclaim of fame, for a small fee.

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

Souls Of Hungry Seraphim
© Surazeus
2026 09 03

Too deep the sorrow of brute wakefulness
that scatters souls of hungry seraphim
frail as crackled leaves across parking lots
where demons give each other stolen eyes
to make up excuses for scamming gods
who insist on their hard-won happiness.

Strange idea of the true way to live
blinds generations of eager wanderers
who clean the spotless windows of their hearts
in numberless houses where no one lives,
apprenticed to the changeless flow of time
unspooling clocks that scream too silently.

If books unfold themselves with angel wings
against sapphire intensity of hope,
we share ripe peaches in the afternoon
while Satan vacuums empty offices
because no one meets him at the crossroads
with newspapers from secret centuries.

The greatest tales of history ever told
seem to have happened far too long ago
for children to remember why they need
bread to eat with honey of demon tears
that soothes the wounded hearts of honesty
with inconvenience of forgotten dreams.

Since we get nothing from old memories
except mute madness of the speeding car,
we look for kind gnomes in suburban yards
who ask us if we vote for president
before the second coming of the toad
whose eyes gleam bright as headlights in the fog.

She tells him with soft voice of fluttered leaves
that she prefers to fill her heart with love
instead of waiting for his love to fill
the empty places of her hopefulness,
so he calls her the beautiful and brave
with open eyes in museum of her heart.

Since I was born with the weakness to fall,
she sings while twirling in clear sparkling rain
where flower petals flutter in the breeze,
I was also born with the strength to rise,
so he holds wingless anguish of her heart
till she grows wings and flies into the clouds.

The human heart is stronger than the stone
smoothed by ten million years of river tears
because it shatters from betrayal each day,
yet throbs again with dawn flash of the sun,
so we hold hands to bind our weakened hearts
with strength of eager loneliness we share.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/…

Orpheus plays lyre of Mercury while High Priestess of Wounded Hearts sings heart-healing melodies for young women in her Temple of the Honest Girl.

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

Temporary Gods Of Flesh
© Surazeus
2026 09 03

Three ways blind angels know our death is soon
tricks me to wander thoughtlessly alone,
but since I see your face in the bright moon
I leave last pear of my heart on your stone
that never rolls up or down at my word,
therefore I conclude that life is absurd.

The ancient bearded bard with broken harp
still lingers manic in the happy field
while cradling with care gold comatose carp
that leads me to buried Achillean shield
depicting how citizens of the world
pray for third coming of the cosmic herald.

Medusa calls me on the telephone
so I attend her late-night singing show
where she plays mirror of the psychic clone
whose proverbs teach the spirit how to grow
till cute Cheonyeo Gwishin with purple eyes
recruits me to join her squadron of spies.

She wants to ask me why she is not here,
but words that drip from moist clam of her mouth
transform to lizards lured by bitter fear
that mutate problem of evil to faith
since we are temporary gods of flesh
with brains that store their memories in dream cache.

Medusa asks me if I want to kiss
so we embrace with passion of the snake
that tricks Eve into wanting homelife bliss,
though social role she plays is never fake,
despite how industry consumes tall trees
as paper money we use to pay fees.

Since we compete in endless psychic game
by chanting spells in church of prophet bards,
we find our souls trapped by oppressive fame
as social heroes who must hire tough guards
since farmers are foundation of the state
whose struggles define our national fate.

As fugitives from language of the heart,
we tangle bodies in ballet of hope
through algorithm hidden on the chart
favored by survivors who learn to cope
with exploitation our spirits endure,
till Jesus arrives on snake-horned markhor.

One hundred thousand poets recite spells,
while gathered round fountain of the town square,
which conjure demons from aesthetic wells
to win song contest at Scarborough Fair
over whose poetic vision best depicts
real world we perceive on the River Styx.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/…

Orpheus searches for Ophelia at Scarborough Fair but no one has seen her since she went on pilgrimage to Canterbury last year so he finds her white horse alone by the river of ghosts.

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

Luminous Phantom Of Faith
© Surazeus
2026 09 02

I keep the secret of love in my heart
though it swells and bleeds into apple seeds
that I scatter along the muddy road
while ducking under sorrow-laden boughs
to savor succulent sanguinity
too quickly lost in subtle jubilance.

Excessive laughter of sorrow-winged joy
teaches me about the impossible,
yet I never hesitate to reach out
with eagerness to exchange what we make
with what we need in weird commercial game
that functions to keep us busy till death.

Because she understands language of waves
Sycorax knows how to use the dream code
of happiness to tame the Jormungander
in giving her rides to the Promised Land
where she paints murals of the multiverse
on temple walls before the Feast of Friends.

So when she finds corpse of the gray-haired poet
rotting among the golden daffodils,
Sycorax extracts his brain from his skull
so she can study the Realm of Ideas
that conjures visions of the Natural World
as matrix that powers our battery hearts.

Staring at computer screen for eighth hours,
Sycorax imagines with fervent calm
the Great American Novel she writes
with blood of angels on the locked church door
where her son lies in the coffin of glass
since he died in the motorcycle crash.

We feast on terror of fake happiness,
Sycorax explains to the green giraffe
on which she rides into Jerusalem
as new messiah for the modern age
to found one world religion of new faith
that unites all nations in dance of ghosts.

Driving cross-country in old white sedan
to start her new job at Wonderland Park,
Sycorax sings hymns of shy Emily
whose face is luminous phantom of faith
that guides her to the future of success
not even God can see written in sand.

When she arrives at destined hill of bones,
where angels disguised as children with masks
dance among flowers of discarded thoughts,
Sycorax holds fractured skull of Wordsworth
till she comprehends spirit of his verse
that programs atheist wisdom from the curse.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/…

Orpheus flirts with Sycorax as they wander around the Wonderland amusement park to hang out with Emily and William who write haiku in wet cement.

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

Always Friends With Ghosts
© Surazeus
2026 09 02

Because she will be always friends with ghosts
by crossing bridge of angels before dark,
she feeds swans of the past with anecdotes
designed as proverbs in the holy book
to guide lost people to the garden brook
where they make new faces from broken boats.

With laughter from cracked stones of hungry ghosts
she opens pages that flap frantic wings
which teach young children how to invent words
they need to prove their minds are worth the light
that blooms from lilacs in the cluttered yard
where faceless angels carve their names in bones.

If she decides her specialty is joy,
that springs from shifting wells of raven blood,
she may bring flowers to the funeral
held for the old man no one seems to know
who liked to build boats from demonic bones
as if dew on our eyes may cleanse the heart.

Her river glazed with light of centuries,
she tells us how this world is wondrous weird
so we exchange phone numbers by the lake,
but lose touch with the ones we want to know
by walking signless road beyond the wall
that traps our bodies in false paradise.

Still half awake three hours before red dawn,
she stares with wonder at true nothingness
with plan to give unspoken words away
because they sprout their own butterfly wings
and leave her stranded in the doorless room
despite the way she earns her right to live.

When fifteen women in the church at noon
discuss how she reveals her writhing heart
with anguish for brave seekers of the sea,
she blesses tables heaped with empty plates
while stealing apples from the box of lies
from which flow sorrows of the hungry world.

So when the last book still unwritten screams,
she scatters lost words on the cracked sidewalk,
then opens glass door to the multiverse
where humble god of impotence designs
strange paradigm for the whole world to use
when framing thoughts with ancient languages.

Yet she extracts from laughing radios
completed puzzles that depict lost homes
where families feast on zombie heart of faith
to prove our right to live free from despair
based on our friendship with the nameless ghosts
who glow in television screens of hope.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/…

Orpheus finds young woman dazed and bleeding from assault, so he takes her to the hospital, but she sprouts wings and flies out the window of despair.

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

First Mother Wraith
© Surazeus
2026 09 02

If we once gathered in September chill
in stone huts set inside mist-shrouded hill
to roast lamb on bright crackling flames of hope
while children play chase on vine-tangled slope,
then we may cherish memories of those years
in distant lands with nothing but cold tears.

Great glen that splits our land with shining lake
conceals sweet memories we long to take
when we sail wood ships over storm-wracked sea
to build new garden in Land of the Free
since men with guns drive us into dark gloom
that shrouds our hearts with curse of bitter doom.

Winds toss our frail ship on huge mindless waves
which hurl us from wrecked ships to bone-filled caves
where Death inspires our hearts with brave respect
to seek weird truth in jewels eyes inspect
with flash that guides us to the Promised Land
where we build new empire with honest hand.

When each new child is born from womb of fate
I stand with cloth of cheese beside the gate
as gift for hungry worker passing by
whose grace will bless our child with star-clear eye
to spread good fortune from my aching heart
when I map Heaven on our history chart.

From treeless glens where purple thistles thrive
we journey through dark wilderness with drive
for freedom far from gangs of castle thieves,
yet linger lost in mountain vales where leaves
still whisper names of souls we bury here
among gold flowers by the glistening mere.

Two hundred years swirl by in flashing clouds
that soon erase all tales of ancient gods,
so I wake in new world of phones and cars
which reprograms constellations of stars
till Scotia beams from visions of my dream
whose face I see in shimmer of the stream.

While strolling along moon-lit creek of faith,
I see emerge from mist First Mother Wraith
who guides my heart in lush Seattle woods
and gives me symbols of ancestral goods
so I see Scotland mirrored in landscape
that molds old spirit in my mortal shape.

Though hills of Scotland, shining in green rain,
call me to fly home on quick wings of gain,
I linger in lush Appalachian vales
to play guitar and recite timeless tales
depicting noble spirit of mankind
that drives our hearts with love star god designed.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/…

Orpheus flies to Scotland where he climbs to rugged glen where his ancestors had lived 200 years before, herding sheep in the swirling mist of faith.

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

Dreamless Lake Of Untime
© Surazeus
2026 09 01

Greta walks in dire laughter of untime
to become mother of the trembling house
where Walt and Wendell in the forest sing
to wake soul of Kentucky from dark mud
which spirals from strange beauty of her eyes
because her face masks the infinite skies.

Barefoot in the forest of singing ghosts,
Greta writes verses of sorrowful hope
with ants in cursive of electric clouds
though she tries not to cry with ache of loss
by telling no one how she misses them
though they linger in window of untime.

Rising huge from dreamless lake of untime
because she carries darkness in her heart,
Greta fears no monster that haunts the world
when she is pregnant with honest despair
whose soul absorbs her melancholy hope
that cuts her eyes with undigested milk.

Beyond extremity of lightless faith
through swirling portal of unspoken words,
Greta floats above the world-city maze
where people see her spirit mask glow clear
as whatever god they worship at home
composed from our empty rooms of untime.

Wandering in jagged mountains of untime,
Greta maps secret valleys with deep caves
that comprise land of Catalonia
to find old monastery on steep hill
where shy Minerva bathes in sparkling pool
while suckling Phoebus at her breast with love.

Born from the sacred womb of mindless Earth,
brave Greta bears new-born son in her arms
while walking rugged road of refugees
to find secret garden of apple trees
where clever Serpentus, with star-gold eyes,
waits for his wife with passion of untime.

Trapped in the television of untime
with ghosts of actors from the Underworld,
Greta hurries through film studio lots
as shadow on the stage of every show
to find Serpentus wearing business suit
who edits scenes in one grand narrative.

Shocked by the rise of fascist tyranny
that threatens world liberal democracy,
Greta raises high flag of Liberty
and leads our brave toil for equality
since fight for right overcomes fight for might
in still unfolding story of untime.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/…

Orpheus visits Greta at her home in the rugged hills of Catalonia where they climb to the monastery and pray before Minerva disguised as the Virgin Mary.

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

Death Remembers Our Ways
© Surazeus
2026 09 01

Whether or not death remembers our ways
for treating plants and animals of Earth
seems irrelevant to spooling of time
which tangles karmic consequence of deeds
that hungry souls perform in desperate bid
to survive aggressive gusting of change.

Despair for the world releases my mind
from waking anguish of unspooling time,
yet still I wander among humming trees
to hear their opinions about respect
which deceive my eyes of attentive hope
with the peace of the wild things I can feel.

While in the presence of clear water, I
invent connections between twinkling stars
to channel their light in my pulsing brain
as omens that reveal how I should act
to preserve grace of the world with my faith
that means nothing to the recurring rain.

Foolishly confident that I am free
from imagined grace Earth bestows on me,
I walk the signless road of everywhere
and ask the faceless people I may meet
if they can hear ancient song of the land,
but they keep driving their chariot of fire.

Though the complex wholeness of our weird world
remains beyond the knowing of our minds,
I follow clockwork of daily routines
without explanation for life or death
that recycles atoms of my frail body,
assembled from dreams of discarded tales.

So I continue to pretend I am real
as flash of light on water of the lake
that frames the fantasy of give and take
programmed as institute of money games
when we invest in new productive work
expanding market of spiritual faith.

Urged by adrenalin to transcend death,
I hunt demonic monster of my fear
in drive programmed by ancestral success
to wrestle hunger that devours my heart
till I transform from angel into human
when I build Eden in the wilderness.

Every god preserved in religious myth
was once some mortal human with fierce mind
whose deeds of victory against hungry death
inspire our hearts to endure suffering
so we too may become immortal souls
preserved in tales long after we are dead.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/…

Orpheus visits Wendell Berry at his farm in the rugged hills of Kentucky where the talk about ecoterrorism of the capitalist empire that is based on farms.

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

New Queen Of Liberty
© Surazeus
2026 09 01

Hair red as dawn sunlight on treeless hill,
Celta closes her eyes against gray gloom
and whispers through rose-petal lips wyrd spell
that conjures urgent vision of the stream
swirling around her pale legs in moon rings
dire wisdom of ravens on star-black wings.

Curling slender fingers of freckled hands
to spool kinetic flash of energy
in taut dynamic coil of spiral bands,
Celta chants pulsing words of empathy
that shields her wounded heart with firm resolve
to search for love where time-blind angels delve.

Frail spirit inside ruins of stone walls,
where her grandmother reigned as jeweled queen
in grand castle destroyed by cannon balls,
Celta strains attentive core of her mind
to hear and comprehend fear-puzzled thoughts
her ancestors hid in wave-battered boats.

Entranced by inner beauty of her soul
that emanates through gray glow of her eyes,
Corbin emerges from sea-fetid swirl
and offers red apple from dreamless maze,
so Celta consumes sweet tears of the sun
while pacing round stones of the weedy lawn.

While Corbin kisses her with tender care
and whispers oath to guard her sacred soul,
Petrus entraps her with his greedy glare
to proclaim she will perform regal role
as bride of his hearth, then orders his men
to arrest Corbin with strong legal chain.

Caged in grand court hall of the greedy king,
Corbin watches wedding of his Rose Queen,
heart aching when Celta wears diamond ring,
whose eyes gleam when she drinks gold grail of wine,
then ascends stairs with him to tower room
where she will execute his fateful doom.

When Celta returns with white hands stained red,
holding severed head of the tyrant high,
the people cheer and celebrate her deed,
proclaiming her new Queen of Liberty,
then free Corbin who gives her jeweled crown
that glitters when she reigns in blood-stained gown.

Though Petrus destroyed castle of her home
and controlled fertile land of her lost clan,
Celta restores her state with Spell of Doom
to rule her people with generous hand,
assisted by brave Raven of her Heart,
who protects her through code of their star chart.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/…

Orpheus attends court of Celta and Corbin where he strums lyre of Mercury and sings ballad about the evil tyrant Petrus and his ignominious defeat.

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

Logic Of Her Psychic Search
© Surazeus
2026 08 31

She wanders to the broken edge of time
and lingers in soft swirl of ocean waves
to ponder how absurd this life can seem,
which might explain why angels try to rhyme
while they invent new languages in caves
so children can advance beside their team.

She draws how voluminous billows swell
from throbbing ruby of the hungry heart
with plan to fold majestic sight of faith
in clever books we read to key the bell
that vibrates energy through the star chart
designed by sightless bard for the dream wraith.

She dances on uplifted wave of thought
to find Endymion sleeping in moonlight,
but deigns to kiss his mind awake with hope,
so with one raven quill, she never bought,
his name on water she attempts to write
till he kisses her on the mountain slope.

She smooths white marble idol of his soul
with hands caressing curves of wordless ache
to wake her shepherd-boy from fruitful dream,
but he refuses to perform that role
by walking on smooth surface of the lake
to capture demon of his self-esteem.

She feels him dance on flowing mirror sheen
while he hangs from disk of the silk balloon
which fools the fishermen in rocking boats
to think he is wise angel with machine
that opens portal to the fairy moon
where he plays music taught by prancing goats.

She follows voice of children in the dale
to crystal gleaming pool in fairy glen
on quest to find star child with seven eyes,
but wanders lost on empire-building trail,
misled by cheerful mockery of the wren
that proves she may be mother of all spies.

She mistranslates the ancient book of codes
in bid to trick the tyrant blind with greed
since people of the world despise his game,
but he eludes fake justice of the toads
by basing his reign on the sacred creed
as if his blatant theft is blessed by fame.

She channels anguish in her gentle laugh
that guides her journey to the Promised Land
where homeless refugees pray in her church
designed by wizard with the serpent staff
through social framework of her public brand
that untwists logic of her psychic search.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/08/…

Orpheus finds his mother on the ocean shore where she glows as embodiment of night that shimmers bright with immortal soul of the dreaming Earth.

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

Exploding Stars Of Thought
© Surazeus
2026 08 31

Entranced by great wink of eternity,
still mesmerized by floods of spirit light,
I try to translate from undinal spells
weird song of Earth inflecting tones of love
on scrolls of shimmer-passioned sentences
that wake our conscious sense of wordless awe.

Though I hear dark confessions of deep tides
surge through our mortal veins of innocence,
I seek to comprehend from water rings
unspoken sorrows wounded hearts conceal,
born from traumatic nuance of respect,
as bodies floating flushed on streams of time.

Raptured through finite consanguinity,
despite these tendered themes of secret faith
we dare exchange against insistence winds,
our hearts retrieve from transient arrogance
shared eagerness to generate new life
from swollen ardency of each embrace.

We long to feel exploding stars of thought
kiss ceaseless waves of mental energy
based on transmemberment of memories
which motivates our journey beyond fear
on lithe pediments of honest desire,
till we emerge from waves of pleasant pain.

Advanced by spectrum of marine concern,
we pledge portentous passion to preside
perilous connections between heaved hearts,
inspired by mutability of trust
refracting portions of our fractured selves
in trembling idol of complete rebirth.

Based boldly on inviable forethought,
vast latitudes unleveled by exchange
of logic-spanning staves defined by quills,
our calm relationship of secret faith
contracts new signature of fluid words
despite assertions of contrary truths.

Meticulous discharge of lonely laughs,
infrangible bond that welds separate hearts
of our private minds in trackless clarity,
expands enclosing scope of welcoming
to shelter wanderers with godless walls
that justifies brave argosies of faith.

Breath sealed by ghosts whose names my dreams record,
my body swells with bitter streams of hope,
now strong enough to cancel tyranny
and build from frantic derelict of faith
new world view of comprehensive insight
by which I predict every consequence.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/08/…

Orpheus records the voyages of the Starship USS Hart Crane as Captain Quirk explores the brave new worlds of our fantastic galaxy of gods.

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

Mercurial Melody Of Love
© Surazeus
2026 08 30

Picking ripe berries from the laurel tree,
that poison tears of angels with despair,
young Lycidas whistles heart-aching tune
in cautious winds of the mellowing year,
then wades into the river of strange dreams
and sings mercurial melody of love.

Three muses gathered at the sacred well,
that springs from stone where Jove lounges all day,
recite brave songs that quick poets transcribe
with blood of angels on parched demon skin,
while Lycidas plays lyre of Mercury
and stamps his feet in tune with river mud.

Nursed together on the hill of pear trees,
Lycidas, and his best friend Satyrus,
herd flock of sheep beside the flowing stream
to batten flock with fresh dews of the night
where evening star gleams in the westering wheel,
then plays slim oaten flute with aching heart.

Tune of his oaten flute in desert caves,
where wild thyme blooms from secret wound of hope,
echoes soft in hazel copse where wrens sing
to conjure from lush fairy mounds of fate
ghosts of wise Druids who share secret codes
recorded by old bards in wood-carved runes.

Down Hebrus tides of endless water flow
Lycidas wanders among fruited trees
while lithe Satyrus dances with fierce grace
to show him fane entangled with grape vines
where skull of Orpheus, studded with gems,
prophesies rise and fall of great empires.

Beside the fountain Arethuse, that flows
free from deep strangeness of our spinning Earth,
Lycidas dances with bride of his heart,
star-eyed Amaryllis in linen gown,
who asks if he plays Herald of the Sea
as son of Neptune in the horse-drawn cart.

Disguised as prophet of the broken mask,
Lycidas plays Alpheus with dread voice
who visits bottom of the monstrous world
in quest for valley where Bellerus dwells,
yet finds his woeful shepherd friends distraught
at news of his death in the Hebrus Stream.

Recording deeds of heroes in strict verse
that encodes tragic song of human hearts
in Doric lay that few interpret well,
Lycidas strides as Genius of the shore
to teach young children art of poetry,
expressing heart ache in transcendent spell.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/08/…

Orpheus comforts Satyrus as he weeps for death of his friend Lycidas, then takes him to Garden of Eden where Eve gives him ripple apple to eat.

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

Flash Of Mental Equilibrium
© Surazeus
2026 08 30

Behind the veil of laughter my soul wears
bees gather sorrows to brew honey tears
which poison angels with communal hope
that apple trees will teach us how to cope
with urgent passion of the need to know
how seeds transform into the mental crow.

Since language blinds our eyes to what is real,
we disentangle concepts we should feel
concealed in books that only gods can read
in psychic riddles that compose our creed
which guides our actions to destroy the world
in preparation for the cosmic herald.

I row wood boat across the mirror lake
to find if Saturnus is yet awake,
but black cat lurks where scarlet roses bloom
in moonlit garden where I taste tart gloom
thick with perfume of poppies in the air
that proves my vow to always show I care.

Together on wood patio after rain
we build great kingdoms because life is vain,
late-summer evening breeze of broken walls
through extirpation of communist halls,
so I row ferry into swirling mist
to find fruit tree where Adam and Eve kissed.

I wake up with no chance to start anew
before the priest declares my crime is true,
so I ride eagle of America
to find crumbling temple in Attica
where I children of my enterprising soul
are eager to perform angelic role.

Lost innocence of lovers binds their hands
with firm commitment to guard fertile lands
where homeless immigrants escaping war
get jobs stocking shelves in the grocery store
because the cleaning lady runs the state,
whose humble mop still calculates our fate.

I read the ancient book of fairy tales
that falls into my hands when terror fails
to recommend song of the nightingale
that sings in pastoral setting of the vale
where honest farmer milks the sacred cow
though his son plays King of the Golden Bough.

Through flash of mental equilibrium
I map lush meadows of Elysium
to find small temple in weird Orphic cave
where I join the global ruling enclave
as shadow king in secret government
which I rule with Astarian Testament.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/08/…

Orpheus stands before the congregation in Global Church of Zarathia and preaches sermon of personal development from the Astarian Testament.

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

Waves Of Lake Ontario
© Surazeus
2026 08 30

When sunlight gleams on Lake Ontario
my lonesome heart ascends on eagle wings
to glide through heavenly scenario
where soul in every world religion sings.
Clear waves of Lake Ontario reveal
strange energy of selfless gifts that heal.

We stroll together on shore of great lake
that binds our nations with mutual respect
so mirror of its truth unmasks the fake
through urge for peace that keys how we connect.
Deep waves of Lake Ontario expose
brave courage in fate our choices compose.

Though greedy tyrant wearing crown of thorns
tries to rename great lake of our joined hearts,
we gather to feast at lacustrine bourns
where name of hope is writ on global charts.
Rough waves of Lake Ontario express
firm principle of liberty we bless.

Two nations bound by one Great Lake of Truth
assert shared mission to nurture world peace,
administered by wise messiah sleuth
through office of our Sibyl cantatrice.
Calm waves of Lake Ontario proclaim
equal civil rights in the social game.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/08/…

Orpheus strums lyre of Mercury and sings chanting hymn to celebrate Lake Ontario where people of all nations gather in equality for world peace.

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

Eagle Of America
© Surazeus
2026 08 30

The people of our land cry out in shock
when King Midas aims golden gun of greed
and shoots down Eagle of America
that twitches in agony when it lands
in reflecting pool of the national mall
where Abe cradles wounded bird in his hands.

Trapped in small scope of what he thinks is real,
King Midas struts in Grand Canyon of fear,
hunting for Eagle of America
to pilfer treasures of the Spider Queen
who weaves cables into the world wide web
so we merge private wills in one world view.

When he takes control over Ship of State,
King Midas steers it at the Siren Rocks
to destroy Eagle of America
whose flight lures him with illusion of wealth
between Scylla and Charybdis of greed
that leaves us stranded on the beach of sharks.

Caught in vortex of changing history,
King Midas climbs the fig tree of despair
to steal from Eagle of America
golden eggs of vanity we admire,
but Minerva fires arrow of respect
that causes wheat to grow from wounded hearts.

Riding red dragon of treason to war,
King Midas steals the jeweled crown of thorns
to fend off Eagle of America
till George the dragon-slayer with sharp ax
casts the devil into deep pit of fire
where he plays rounds on golf course of regret.

Attempting to arrest fierce Juvenal,
King Midas sends goons in the streets of Rome
to deport Eagle of America,
then appoints Goliath Minister of War
to fight the Shepherd David when he leads
grand revolution of the working class.

Destroying Temple of the Holy Ghost,
King Midas chases White Queen in her cave
to kidnap Eagle of America,
but angel in the dark door wakes from dream
who sings with eerie voice of ocean waves
to free our people from his tyranny.

Attacking Liberty with Book of Deeds,
King Midas tries to crown himself world king
with feathers from Eagle of America,
but wise Minerva wrestles ghost of fear
and raises Lamp of Freedom high again
so we build new world of Zarathia.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/08/…

Orpheus joins David and George to help Minerva support Liberty in holy war against the treasonous tyrant King Midas so we can save Eagle of America.

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

Star-Wounded Mercury
© Surazeus
2026 08 29

Across crowded maze of our cityscape
I hear cry of star-wounded Mercury
radiate from world brain of our radio
with eerie melody of aching hope
for every soul alive to live in peace
though they fight to control the narrative.

To understand where, on the signless road,
we are lead by star-wounded Mercury
in progress of expansion from quaint farms
to world empire with war planes that patrol
bright heavens where star angels play gold harps,
I map our journey to the Promised Land.

With sword of justice in my red right hand,
forged from fear by star-wounded Mercury,
I rally farmers I vow to protect
in holy war against invading hordes
to guard enclosing walls of paradise
where we raise our children in apple groves.

Mentored by desert prophet with star eyes,
who wears mask of star-wounded Mercury,
I protect Rapunzel in the stone tower
when she gives birth to my heir to my throne,
so I found Bloodline of the Holy Grail
to rule world empire built by Jupiter.

Crowned with victory of my grand chess game,
well managed by star-wounded Mercury,
I organize ten thousand castle towers
uniting nations in Gothinian state
to colonize rich lands of minerals
in corporate empire of the faceless god.

Though world wars topple kings of fantasy,
in game played by star-wounded Mercury,
I orchestrate knights of the Holy Grail
to fight over who wears gold crown of thorns
in world conspiracy of wealthy banks
through progress of liberal democracy.

While wearing Talamasca of dream code,
invented by star-wounded Mercury,
I host religious rite of sacrifice
in ziggurat temple where Ishtar reigns
to crucify greedy King of the Wood
who steals our treasure from the Golden Bough.

Anointed to play Jesus on world stage,
directed by star-wounded Mercury,
I fight dark doppelganger of my soul
till I assimilate in one whole mind
spirits of Dionysus and Apollo
so I become Lucifer who rules Earth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/08/…

Orpheus gives Torch of Liberty to Jesus Lucifer, then Minerva crowns him as Messiah Sleuth to rule world empire of Anglonesia as vicar of Christ on Earth.

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

Listen With Calm Pride
© Surazeus
2026 08 29

When he embraces clemency of death
while wearing flannel suit and dark green tie,
Scott ponders pewter-polished clouds of fate
that teach his heart to listen with calm pride
to obligations of the open door
that leads him to the garden of dead gods.

Though voices of children ring off the sea
where war ships wait in harbor of respect,
Scott asks the angel with time-bloodied wings
if he can sail beyond edge of the world
where ghosts of gods on gold horizon gleam
with threat of sudden invasion by fear.

While cows chew cud in fields of fractured skulls
where fighter jets scream across cluttered skies,
Scott measures distance to the mountain peak
from cabin by the lake where angels wait
for savior of the world to come again
in starship from some distant galaxy.

Since time may leave him stranded on the beach
where two hawks circle in the mirror sky,
Scott flies large paper kite with haiku verse
about bed sheets that flutter in salt wind
with gentle gracefulness of dragon wings,
then asks Minerva for pear-ginger tea.

If he waits in the airport by the sea
for lonely teacher wearing crystal mask,
Scott never calls her on the telephone
to tell her what the owl would like to say,
then strikes the match so he can start anew,
and lights the candle on the windowsill.

Open hands catching drops of restless rain
to wash the dishes in the kitchen sink,
Scott tends his sick wife in the afternoon
when sparrows in dead trees steal cinnamon
for the mother bear who still prays in church
while clutching amulet of innocence.

Inspired by beauty of wind-carved alcove
from gold sandstone that frames cloud-mottled sky,
Scott calculates psychotic vibe of faith
that nurtures broken hearts of wanderers
dislocated from homeland of their tribe
when strangers adopt them across the sea.

Though dreams of nothingness haunt morning hours
from careless arrogance of wind-swirled sand,
Scott stands on stage with microphone in hand
and reads verse he wrote on the broken bridge
through framework of domestic quietude
that serves as social glue in times of war.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/08/…

Orpheus takes his children to tour the old wood ship that legends say his ancestors sailed across the sea to escape persecution in the Promised Land.

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

Laughing River Of Respect
© Surazeus
2026 08 29

Free on the laughing river of respect,
Zephyrus sails to city of glass books
where he presents tale of the fallen god
that seems to inspire workers to rebel
against overlords who enslave their souls
in war that fades from memories of men.

Though children from Star Woman in the cave
rule island of plum trees three thousand years,
Zephyrus organizes farming towns
to manage food-production of rich land,
ensuring every person breathing air
receives enough food on their plate of hope.

Wielding star-forged Sword of Gathering Clouds
that gleams with diamonds from star eyes of gods,
Zephyrus battles the eight-headed beast
incarnate as dread pirates of the sea,
and slays them all with lithe alacrity
to free the people of his land from fear.

Painting portraits of heroes from the past
whose brave deeds save humanity from harm,
Zephyrus depicts normal human men
as gods who represent forces of nature
incarnate in our fragile frames of flesh,
whose spirits possess men with force of power.

Ruling people of Earth with honest fairness,
as river god who controls traffic flow,
enforcing passage fees on merchant ships,
Zephyrus reigns in watch-house on the bridge
where he controls commercial sales of goods
as guardian over garden of his clan.

Kneeling by laughing river of respect
before Star Woman in cave of her heart,
Zephyrus declares loyalty of faith
to cause of her grand vision to unite
all nations of the Earth under one law
that treats every human with equal grace.

Chanting verses from Epic of Star Eyes,
Zephyrus sings before angels in robes
that sound of the bell ringing in the sky
echoes the impermanence of all things,
for flowers show how the prosperous decline
and the proud fade as dust before the wind.

Awake by laughing river of respect,
Zephyrus ponders nature of our world
where humans work in companies of faith
through hierarchy of responsible power
to maintain our food-production machine
that keeps us alive till every soul dies.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/08/…

Orpheus maps history of power struggles on island of plum trees to chronicle reign of emperors who descend three thousand years from Star Woman of the cave.

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

Puzzle Shards Of Truth
© Surazeus
2026 08 29

To reassemble puzzle shards of truth
that depicts virtual model of real Earth,
Seraphus gathers masks of mortal gods
who crowned themselves as great leaders of men
to hang in Museum of Manic Heroes
which highlights vanity of social power.

When howling winds of social hurricanes,
that represent changes in our shared zeitgeist,
sweep through vast Museum of Manic Heroes,
puzzle shards of truth in global world view
swirl into spirals of chaotic fear
that scatter principles all humans share.

Separate world views, which religions create
on grand foundation of heroic deeds
performed by prophet of their cultural vibe,
are deconstructed by woke warriors
who fight to dismantle power hierarchies
that favor privilege of wealthy clans.

Wielding the sword Excalibur with hope,
Seraphus defends with courage of faith
Goddess of Liberty in human form
who bears Lamp of Freedom and Book of Truth
so she can guide lost refugees of war
through storm to Museum of Manic Heroes.

When farmers all across the countryside,
bitter that politicians neglect their needs,
follow King Midas to the Promised Land,
they find themselves trapped in vast maze of debt,
scammed by the greedy thief who steals their wealth
and leaves them stranded in the wilderness.

Aware that farmers who produce our food,
which angels stock in stores across the land,
were scammed of agency to live with pride
by greedy king who wears mask of the Christ,
Seraphus finds them in the wilderness
and promises to help secure their farms.

To reassemble puzzle shards of truth
in new world view based on support of farms,
Seraphus constructs world ontology
for every nation on our spinning globe
to focus fiscal programs of support
on mothers raising children to grow food.

On crumbling ruins of America,
social system built on wealth privilege,
Seraphus leads our project to construct
new government focused on funding farms
that nurtures families with faith in truth
in thriving state we name Zarathia.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/08/…

Orpheus campaigns for President of the United States by touring farms in states from sea to shining sea with promises of financial aid so they keep growing food.

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

Empty Books Of Tales
© Surazeus
2026 08 28

Ghosts of our ancestors fold their tattered masks
as origami puzzles of engagement
to hide essential code of fantasies
in empty books of tales that angels steal
through clever plan to encrypt frequencies
programmed to trick my heart with guarantees.

Sylvanus stares at how the river flows
in graceful curves around large stone of faith,
concerned about excessive intervals
that index legal statutes without keys
translating illogical anecdotes
to riddles of magnetic fortitude.

No prominent inspector from the tower
arrives at fountain in center of town
soon enough to prescribe fake principles
that manage moral behavior with jokes
that reference our rational radiance,
pursuant to unrecognized perspectives.

Symbolic supplements stored in glass books,
that define temporal syllabus of faith,
upgrade mental functions of measurement
through ultimate testament his heart screams
against transmission of funds to the sky
from virtual vanity his mind extracts.

His brain of advantageous variants,
contracted by the faceless gods of idols,
rewinds warrantless clock of revenue
through socialist drama radios broadcast
to prove religion no more relevant
that stories children draw in picture books.

No sacrifice in stadium of state pride
proves needless to the specialized reporter
whose strategy to satellite salvation
beams through visual virus of vanity
libertine loyalty jesters revere
enough to maximize potential gain.

Honest leverage that saviors apply,
while singing frantic hymns of motor cars,
frame social ministry devils require
through mutant melodies of manic love,
quick enough to abdicate marketing
contrived by believers in mysteries.

Time-shifting paradigm of fairy tales
provides permission for the populous
to buy and sell their souls in grim exchange
according to their noble heritage
despite hurricane of the holocaust
that we perform in theater of faith.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/08/…

Orpheus plays piano in the hotel lounge while Sylvanus sings heart-enchanting songs of romance between strangers on moonlit evenings of aching loss.

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

Walk This Tender Earth
© Surazeus
2026 08 28

We walk this tender Earth on haughty feet,
fueled by the burning passion of bright rain,
with mission to transcend bounds of this time
through smoldering wisdom of the blazing clouds
which seem to urge our journey against death,
till we sit breathless by the gushing stream.

We bury shame of failure in the grave,
entangled with long roots of hungry trees,
to find wealth we extracted with our hands
stained red with blood of wanderers who grasp
at fleeting shadow of security,
amazed at beauty of the fractured sky.

I weep at forests of tall graceful pines
hacked into boards of office furniture
that grew on mountains shoveled in hot stoves
and forged in rumbling engines of fast cars
that swarm vast web of asphalt highways fast
against the silent loneliness of time.

Along the road where my ancestors walked
to build new paradise of liberty
I travel east against their westward tide
to find my neighbors locked in prison camps
where angels of pure light in rotting flesh
sing with the specter of the desert seer.

With noble anthem of the broken heart
I celebrate counterfeit victories
achieved by soldiers of the bleeding cross
when Twin Towers of global enterprise
collapse in burning flames of honesty
at second coming of the eyeless ghost.

The universe expands beyond my mind
where atoms spin wild spirals of desire
so I feel surging tides of ocean souls
flush through taut veins of melancholy joy
when I rise from womb of our Mother Earth
to dream through every soul who ever lives.

Pure love for life as energy of song
abides in writhing bones of my god soul
with lithe affection for all conscious souls
who glow with me in multiverse of fate
that we create with every choice we make,
constructing new world view from fertile myths.

Born from the rain-wet woods of Oregon,
that mold my soul from jagged mountain clay,
I walk the endless road of holy song
to praise immortal souls of flashing stars
who dream their gods awake inside my brain
while I sing in the crowded city maze.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/08/…

Orpheus leads millions of dead souls, killed in wars all over the Earth, along the winding trail of sorrowful memories to the meadow of singing apple trees.

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

Old Souls Of Stars
© Surazeus
2026 08 28

We are frail mortal dust that dreams of light,
small fragments fallen from soul-beaming fire,
old souls of stars that burned before the world,
whose furnace forged our thoughts in molten time,
and scatters us as seeds across cold void
to wake in flesh and wonder what we are.

We glow within vast crucible of suns
when hydrogen sings hymns of violent birth,
compressed to diamond hardness in their hearts,
and burst in supernova bloom of death,
propelling our bright atoms through vast night
to drift ten billion years toward this green Earth.

Now locked in bone we bear that primal blaze,
clear glimmer of celestial memory
that flickers when we gaze at midnight sky
and feel strange kinship with those distant lamps,
for every eye that peers in star-strewn dark
recalls the home from which its light was beamed.

The iron in our blood was stellar ash,
the calcium that props our active frame
was cooked in dying giants long ago,
so when our hearts beat fast with love or fear,
the rhythm pulses from that ancient drum
that first began to throb in central suns.

We think we walk alone on lonely ground,
yet constellations wheel within our veins,
their mythic figures mapped in neural fire,
and when we love with grief from dream of gods
we reenact grand drama of huge spheres
where light yearns still for light across the gulf.

So though we dissipate to ash at death,
extinguished when the body cools to clay,
our atoms lit in starlight cannot fade,
but swirl again to join their parent glow,
returning through the dark on silver wings
to shine once more where new suns take their form.

We are the universe that learns to see,
the cosmos waking from its dreamless sleep,
with eyes that open on the edge of time
to watch itself unfold in bloom through thought,
and in each soul that suffers, sings, and strives
our star recalls its journey and burns on.

As temporary souls of ancient stars
we swirl in Earth to learn the shape of flesh,
taste the bitter-sweet salt of human tears,
and turn our timeless light to words in song
so all who hear may lift their gaze above
and know themselves as children of the stars.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/08/…

Orpheus strums lyre of Mercury and sings about the timeless light of stars that wakes as conscious beings inside the dreaming sparkle of our brains.

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

Solarium Of My Honest Heart
© Surazeus
2026 08 28

Each time I look back on road of my life
to analyze progress of my secret plan
to generate new life before I die,
the future unspools world view of my heart
so I become enemy of my soul,
distracted by strange beauty of the sky.

Stretching my body to waken from dream
electric soul of stars, which animates
aggressive caution of my hungry mind,
I write tale of my laughter on the sky
so I can drink ancient truth in the rain
that teaches me the way my heart should go.

Awake this hour in silence of cool dawn,
I ponder why all humans live and die,
yet try to play some mythic role of pride
in psychic drama of our nation-state
composed of children from One Mother Soul
whose vision of the world programs our minds.

I like to lounge beneath my apple tree
and chat about true nature of the world
with star-eyed serpent in long tangled limbs
whose rainbow-feathered wings expand with breath
to broaden scope of my brief consciousness
so I almost become God I imagine.

Each time some hungry animal or man
attempts to eat my body for its meal,
or enslave my soul to fulfill their will,
I fight to maintain life and liberty,
asserting my inalienable right
to exist in weird drama of my faith.

Our souls are conjured by dream of our brains
as long as bodies function chemically,
so I stretch tension of my body taut
with lithe attention to limits of force,
based on analysis of consequence
I measure from results of active cause.

I fashion oak limb into magic wand,
tipped with sharp diamond from cave of desire,
so, when they attack to control my soul,
I fight with martial dance of graceful hope
to guard Solarium of my honest heart
where fruit trees blossom with sweet food of love.

When I look forward on my road of life
I cannot see the future I will live
except through fractal lens of earnest love
constructing paradise my heart designs
through every choice of fate I activate,
so I give you fruit to eat in my heaven.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/08/…

Orpheus records every plant and animal in the great Solarium of Zarathia to document complete inventory of all organic beings that thrive with life.

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

Jitteriness Of The Deer
© Surazeus
2026 08 27

In evening shadow of cautious regret
Carla treads through elm grove to flowered glade,
toward blue house beside the round silver pool,
alert with jitteriness of the deer
to danger lurking in darkening gloom,
body buzzing with terror of grim death.

Stomping boots with earnest possessiveness,
Robert searches for his runaway wife
who cost three horses and seven cows
when he purchased her from the poor blacksmith,
and shouts her name loud in darkening gloom,
heart pounding with religious rage of pride.

Trembling in chilly wind of fearful hope,
Carla knocks lightly on the blue house door,
but glances behind her in shadowed woods
when she hears him shouting her name in rage,
and gasps when old woman opens the door,
whispering hoarsely to hide her soul from death.

Running toward blue house by the silver pool,
Robert grabs thin arm of the frightened girl
who stares at him with black eyes of the deer
which attempts to escape jaws of the wolf,
and grins at the old woman with gray eyes
to explain the little girl is his wife.

Frowning with concern as the moon glows gold,
Catherine insists he let the girl go,
for she is far too young to be his wife,
but Robert pushes her with growl of rage
with force that causes her to tumble back
so her frail head cracks on hard oak table.

In purple dimness of the twilight zone,
Carla gasps in shock of frightened despair,
then cradles head of the old crone with care,
whose frail body spasms at jolt of pain,
vainly attempting to stop gush of blood
that glistens with horror of mute moonlight.

Twisting arm free from hard grip of his hand
when he drags her away from the blue house,
Carla runs through elms to the gushing stream,
pauses by the stone to softly declare
that she would rather die than marry him,
then jumps in swift current of hopeless fear.

Crawling on shore of Plutonian gloom,
many miles downstream from her lost hometown,
Carla huddles beside the apple tree,
and cries with anguish of hopeless despair
when she thinks about old woman who died,
then eats apples at lonely flash of dawn.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/08/…

Orpheus finds old Ceres bleeding with concussion to her head, so he lays her gently on the bed to tend her wound, but weeps when she sinks in gloom.

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

Map Meadows Of Elysium
© Surazeus
2026 08 27

Across the frozen fields of ardent faith
I hear uncanny hymns of wordless hope
sung by lost angels of the Pleistocene
that lure me with enchanting siren call
to journey eastward to the rising sun
which highlights fruit trees of the Promised Land.

Trapped in glass temple of the eyeless wraith
that whispers proverbs about how to cope,
I offer apple to Queen Melusine
who bids I take new God Mask from the wall,
then teaches me to use the Judgment Gun
when I guard Heaven with my red right hand.

When son of Jesus reigns as King of Earth
with angels in hierarchies of state power,
I ask my father, Archivist of Fate,
if I can join cult of the Seraphim
to play role in his global government
as secret agent of King Jupiter.

Attending sacred ritual of rebirth
that takes place in the high Rapunzel Tower,
I journey Sacred Way to Pluto Gate
with acolytes while chanting Orphic hymn
to seek wisdom through psychic punishment
so I rise reborn as Prince Lucifer.

Arriving at the Telesterium,
to join in Eleusinian Mysteries,
I experience cycle of birth and death
while wearing oak mask of Persephone
when I drink nectar of spiritual light,
then sing in small Anactoron of Truth.

Presiding in new-built Astarium,
where Ishtar dictates Book of Fantasies,
I lead worshippers in rites of deep breath
that primes our minds to beam epiphany
when we learn rules for psychedelic flight
from Icarus who plays messiah sleuth.

I seek salvation of the Rolling Stone
which Sisyphus orients to build Stonehenge
since Oberon hosts festival of elves
to rule Empire of Earth from Avalon
for twenty thousand years of solitude
till hunger builds the towers of Ilium.

I carve magic spells in runes on god bones
while Tantalus gives Ishtar sacred orange
so Apollon stores books on archive shelves
at wizard academy in Oregon
where I learn arcane art of pulchritude
when I map meadows of Elysium.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/08/…

Orpheus sells maps of Elysium in the market outside the bustling city port of Ostia where travelers from around the world search for the Promised Land.

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

Brave Urgency Of Hope
© Surazeus
2026 08 27

Inspired by gold-face shadow on pine hull,
designed by dawn light gleaming through soft mist,
Saphyrus ventures from ship of his heart
to cautiously explore the waking world
where breezes whisper in large silver leaves
strange story of the way time unspools all.

While constellations of the pre-dawn sky
frame how his eyes perceive tree-bristling hills,
Saphyrus stretches body of stiff limbs
to activate brave urgency of hope
for picking strawberries on the hill slope
where sea winds prance on deer legs of desire.

Urging the woman wearing deer-skin robe
to shelter from fierce wind inside his heart,
Saphyrus gives her strawberries to eat,
and feels her eyes etch wisdom of calm faith
on rough skin of his soul with tender hands
that warm his trembling body as they kiss.

When lightning, flashing across the gray sea,
disperses clouds to unveil the bright sun,
Saphyrus follows woman with green eyes
down to the swirling waves of ardency
where she floats on tormenting waves of time
till he becomes the land that cradles her.

Feeling as if his aching soul transforms
to become this nameless woman he loves,
Saphyrus chooses to walk by her side
when they explore lush hills of rustling trees
to fill leather bags with apples and eggs,
then follows her up to silver moon ridge.

Sitting before airigh of rugged stones
at entrance to large hall inside high mound,
Saphyrus feeds wood to the crackling flames
as green-eyed deer woman with long black hair
brews apple cider with honey and eggs
that bubbles in brass cauldron of her heart.

Slicing cheese that she makes from pungent milk
where wooly sheep graze on thick tufts of grass,
Saphyrus gazes at the distant loch
that shimmers silver between rugged hills,
and wonders if the ship on which he sailed
from Ostia still lies on the pebbled beach.

Hoisting sail on his ship of eager love
that glides over the wine-dark sea of time,
Saphyrus takes pregnant deer woman home
from rugged hills of Caledonia
to sunlit meadows of lush Latium
where she breastfeeds their daughter in the garden.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/08/…

Orpheus welcomes Saphyrus home who describes his trip to Caledonia, while Ophelia tends to the pregnant woman from the distant land of mist.

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

Wild Carmanian Waste
© Surazeus
2026 08 26

Mother of this great globe that teems with life,
whose psychic energy through human brains
strives to wake mortal souls with cautious sight
of faith in what our minds perceive, reveal
pure essence of atoms in frames of matter
so I feel your divine mind in my soul.

Since obstinate questionings about life,
delivered by the faceless ghost of earnest hope
embodied by the laughing messenger,
drive me beyond walls of religious creeds,
I render brave mission to comprehend
engine that motivates my quest for truth.

Twilight phantasms glowing in my dreams
spark me to fine-tune taut lyre of my heart
so breath of our First Mother plays quick tune
of wisdom across matrix of my brain,
expressed as solemn hymn of honesty
which charms no other heart on Earth but mine.

Since charmed eddies of autumnal winds form
mound of forgetful leaves over my skull,
which sings wordless prophecies about death,
I sing in solitude of wind-blown trees
surreal fantasies through weird melodies
which gleam as lamp that guides my earnest steps.

Nurtured by solemn visions of soul growth
at fountain of divine philosophy
that radiates in ambient air from lush Earth,
I seek strange truths in undiscovered lands
where city mazes of steel-framed glass towers
mushroom from meadows where my fathers farmed.