Frothing Fantasy Of Faith
© Surazeus
2026 07 05

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

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

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

Emerald Eyes Of Truth
© Surazeus
2026 07 04

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

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

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

Celestial Math Of Faith
© Surazeus
2026 07 04

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

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

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

Institute Of Proper Truth
© Surazeus
2026 07 04

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

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

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

Rebirth Of America
© Surazeus
2026 07 04

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

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

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

Beacon Of My Destiny
© Surazeus
2026 07 03

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

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

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

Wear Mask Of Faunus
© Surazeus
2026 07 03

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

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

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

Holy Heart Of Zephyrus
© Surazeus
2026 07 03

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

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

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

Our Concept Of Divine God
© Surazeus
2026 07 03

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

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

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

Flaming Wings Of Fear
© Surazeus
2026 07 02

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

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

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

Fragments Of Weird Joy
© Surazeus
2026 07 02

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

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

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

Angel Wings Of Faith
© Surazeus
2026 07 01

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

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

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

Forest of the Laughing Crow
© Surazeus
2026 07 01

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

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

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

Tyrant In Gold Tower
© Surazeus
2026 06 30

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

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

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

Bullets Of Brave Pride
© Surazeus
2026 06 30

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

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

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

Fallen Star Of Truth
© Surazeus
2026 06 29

I promise not to sit with anyone else
but you under the apple tree of trust,
and walk lane of lovers in evening glow
with no one else but you till you return
from your investigation as dream sleuth
for secret in the fallen star of truth.

Ascending rugged slope with Spear of Strength,
Godin breaks through golden doors of desire
and battles Jupiter in pillared hall
so blades of bold authority clash loud
to control Mount Olympus as world god,
endowed with right by fallen star of truth.

While Gugnir, Spear of Strength, drips divine blood,
Godin steps over corpse of Jupiter
and clutches Hera with lascivious lust,
but finds old woman withered dry with age,
so he exiles her to garden of fruit
where she retires by fallen star of truth.

Leading Sleipnir, his white eight-legged horse,
into Olympian palace of world power,
Godin escorts Evilla, his sweet bride,
and crowns her Mother Empress of the Earth
with ring of gold studded with thirteen gems
to reign as Queen of Heaven with star eyes.

Strolling together in cool evening dusk
along lane of lovers where roses bloom,
Godin and Evilla sit by the pool
under the apple tree of holy faith,
which Lilith planted in Eden at dawn,
and kiss with passion of creative love.

Blending good and evil in one strong soul,
Godin and Evilla raise seven children
who play hide and seek in the maze of myths
where they paint marble idols of dead gods
with psychotic runes of false destiny
that encode spells from fallen star of truth.

After Godin overthrows Jupiter,
who overthrew Zeus, who overthrew Cronus,
who overthrew Uranus, new young god
will soon emerge from heart of human hope
to crown himself as Emperor of Earth
with wand of faith from fallen star of truth.

Awake midway in journey of my life,
I find myself in obscure wood of faith,
so I blaze straightforward path of respect
across grim waste land of America
where I plant apple seeds from Tree of Life
that blossoms tall from fallen star of truth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus strums lyre of Mercury and prophesies rise of new world god who will overthrow Godin and crown himself Emperor of Everywhere.

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

Gold Ocean Of Forever
© Surazeus
2026 06 29

The blue frog of unholy innocence
crouches in algae-slimed reflection pool
with frantic nonchalance of heartless saints
who know the reason why all humans die
and disappear in nothingness of death
though we inspire divine soul of god breath.

While searching for deep pool of demon blood
that simmers hot on frozen mountain slope,
Naberius follows crow with diamond eyes
as rainbow ghost on television screen
that flickers black when brutal thunderstorm
tears power poles out of the muddy ground.

Kneeling at Spring of Wisdom that gleams gold,
Naberius drinks bright liquid of the Earth,
then draws his sigil with three-headed crow
in mud that gleams with sharp rays of moonlight
to conjure vision of his secret goal
that motivates intention to proceed.

Just as Naberius ascends jagged ridge
where howls of Zephyrus batter his soul,
Morax appears from swirling mist of rage
and declares intent to delay his progress
by stopping his hard quest to steal the wand
that Zepar forged from fallen star of truth.

Asserting right to Wand of Liberty,
which sharp-toothed father of his mother forged
from Flame of Anor he wields with respect,
Naberius counters dark Flame of Udun
to weave atomic energy of life,
but Morax blocks him with regressive rage.

Struck hard by flash of lightning in his heart,
Naberius falls in river of despair,
stunned mute by brutal flash of hungry greed,
then tumbles paralyzed with gushing flow
over waterfalls of sharp jagged stones
to float blind on gold ocean of forever.

Borne safe in nurturing arms of concern,
Naberius wakes in small cave by the sea
and gazes at strange woman with gold eyes
who gives him pomegranate juice to drink
then tends wound of his heart with gentle care
that heals is soul with innocent respect.

Embraced beneath the pomegranate tree,
Naberius makes sweet love with Athirat,
who bears bright-eyed son they name Sephiras,
who follows them with spritely dance of joy
when they explore to gather food to eat,
then feast beside gold ocean of forever.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus trains Sephiras in art of playing the lyre of Mercury and reciting epic tales about the glorious reign of Emperor Zepar, Wielder of the Flame of Anor.

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

Scary Door Of Fate
© Surazeus
2026 06 28

Since there are only one hundred twenty days
till the end of time, when hope ends in words
sloshing louder than ocean waves at dawn,
Orpheus sits on last park bench in town
where seven roads converge from everywhere
to watch people search for the pearly gates.

Because he never knows what will come next
in swift unspooling flash of nevertime,
Orpheus cradles loneliness with care
as purring kitten next to his ice heart
that unnerves monsters with dream-grasping hands
who stare forlorn past cracked window of hope.

Though he suddenly tries to turn around
and go back through the scary door of fate
beyond parameters of endless change,
Orpheus measures vastness of the heart
as he falls wingless from tower of words
based on assumption of blind privilege.

To measure distance of the signless road
against contingency of hopeless faith,
Orpheus listens with attentive shock
as soft rain sloshes muddy fields of faith
against horizon of green elegance,
yet he still savors passion of his youth.

Hoping we may transcend harsh suffering,
though we are transient shadows of sunlight,
Orpheus folds soul of Earth in his heart
to treasure strangeness of its hard landscape
that molds brave bodies from relentless wind
with durable faith in flash of cold rain.

Achieving flight of freedom with wild wind
against fierce judgment of time lost in gloom,
Orpheus flees across blank land of faith
with nothing more than black seeds in his hand
when gangs of thieves invade his paradise
and seize control of trees that bloom fresh fruit.

Wrecked on storm-swirling ocean of false hope
while searching for the fabled Promised Land,
Orpheus follows swarm of honey bees
to field where lavenders stand tall with pride
in unreal meadows of observant mist
to prove his music resurrects the dead.

Still confident that he can sing dream tune,
though flame of love fades with each withered year,
Orpheus plays midsummer in the north
where faint gold rays of light may penetrate
sad hearts with earnest swagger of old faith
that opens scary door of fate to choice.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus refuses to explain his feelings about his special journey to the hills of Mount Takoma where he teaches children how to enchant ghosts with spells.

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

Columbian Sibyl
© Surazeus
2026 06 28

Because Earth spawns our bodies from the sea
with untroubled passion to touch the stars,
I dream about the world before our birth
and how it spins long after we are gone
with simple spirals around the blind sun
though I hope I evolve to something weird.

With my unreckoning heart by the sea
I wonder when we humans, urged by lust
to populate this globe with avatars
of hungry energy through masks of stone,
will vanish into swirls of nothingness
though we swim down to bottom of the heart.

Clouds crumble into sparkles of sweet rain
that flush my soul with madness of desire
so I pluck berries from long tangled vines
to deconstruct how empires congregate
gangs of thieves in government institutes
which manage function of productive minds.

No lark may long avoid reach of my eye
with flashing wings of time-slip innocence
when I ride Xanthus on bright river shore
with unshelled courage of the blood-stained rose
as tongueless prophet of the modern age
when oligarchs control the mental stage.

I open bronze annals of the oak tree
to calculate excessive flow of thoughts
our brains exert to analyze how hope
spurs each new generation of the Earth
to fight colossal war for social power
where Columbian Sybil dwells in the tower.

While frightened people of the nation work
day in and day out through endless routine,
the star-eyed prophet from the mountain cave
strides city streets from sea to shining sea
with serpents writhing in his long gray hair
as he proclaims fall of America.

From ruins of ambition soon will rise,
wise prophet of Columbian Sibyl cries,
new nation you shall call Zarathia
that will replace your failed America
with true justice and liberty for all
who may live as they will, if they harm none.

Because Earth spawns our spirits from the wind
with voice of the owl that booms in our hearts,
I dream how United Nations of Earth
binds people of the world in global clan
based on brave principle of ardent faith
that mothers mold our souls from words of love.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus supports Hera who urges Zeus to pass laws regulating marital relationships that support mothers as they raise children of our United Nations of Earth.

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

Pale Of Haven Walls
© Surazeus
2026 06 28

Strange silence of hopeless sorrow screams softly
from bright green grass that glows nuclear yellow
through searing arbitrariness of light
that strips illusions of self-worth away
till I stand naked in shadow of hope
and listen for murmur of river waves.

When farmers gang up and surround the cow
because cow woman will not give them milk,
and she flees terrified into dark woods
as they drag her cow away with tight rope,
I ask them why they are stealing her cow
and whack them on the legs with wand of truth.

While lounging with her cow by sparkling stream,
swatting at swarms of flies around my face,
I call to woman crouched behind thick trees
who runs at me with stick to strike my head,
but I explain how I rescued her cow
and chased the gang of thieves back to their farms.

Clutching my arm with anguish in her eyes,
cow woman with tangled hair begs for help
to protect her from farmers and their wives
because they keep trying to steal her milk cow
since all their cows died from some strange disease,
so I comfort her with assurance of aid.

Erecting twelve poles of trees I stripe bare,
I design and build haven of strong walls
to enclose sacred pale where she can dwell
safe from clandestine night-attacks of thieves,
so she tends the cow with tender affection
while I keep watch in the tower all day.

Expanding wider pale of haven walls
to surround pool of fish the river forms,
I build tall mound where she can sleep at night
hidden safe from both cold winds and hot waves,
then plant grove of apple trees on its shore
where she can tend garden of vegetables.

Having built paradise of sturdy walls
where she raises five children of our hope,
I relax in tower of watch with sons
who listen to my teachings about rules
for managing affairs with crafting hands
so they can create instead of destroy.

Strolling around strong walls of paradise
to clear away brush and repair wood planks,
I find myself surrounded by old farmers,
the same whose legs I bruised with wand of truth,
who stab my chest with long fear-sharpened spear,
so cow woman holds me and cries with love.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus helps his sister Europe bury her husband then helps her get revenge on his murderers by singing spells that drive them crazy with terror.

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

Tragic Death Of Tammuz
© Surazeus
2026 06 27

Strange as it may seem, my heart is not dead
as the stone by the road. Terrible truth
sprouts as roses from graves of long-dead gods
who demand we worship them. Yet we laugh
with pleasure at soft song of waterfalls
that understand nothing about our hopes.

If fate unravels tangled consequence
which every action purchases from death,
my license to love might be revoked. Why
I am me and no one else who has lived
in history of the universe confounds
my heart. I find key of truth lost in rain.

When tragic death of Tammuz marks this hour
of frantic disrespect for scheduled trains,
fervent fans of Diana bring her gifts
she sells at auction to build hospitals.
Sweet scent of apple pie lures me to trick
three one-eyed devils with chemical faith.

I want to purchase angel wings of hope
at the dollar store under the highway
but I lost my wallet. I want to call
Minerva on the telephone and ask
how often she plays piano. Regret
is nothing more than emotional porn.

White clouds erase harsh mockery of the bard
who declares to the swamp of singing frogs
that he deserves recognition for poems
he shouts in the microphone. Fortune laughs
at his arrogant demand. Flowers bloom
through cracks in parking lots of shopping malls.

Since lilacs bloom from junkyard of my heart
at sudden death of our beloved guide,
I search stone walls of paradise to find
locked gate to garden of fruit trees. Despair
takes me on another date to cafe
where ghosts of children killed in wars play chess.

Too late to learn the violin of storms
that crack mirror of faith, I paint blank walls
of damaged innocence. Gibbous moon gleams
blood red through tangled web of grim oak trees
when fireworks celebrate how empires fall
from greed of oligarchs who steal our words.

While I wander strange sea of sophistry,
I find in library of singing skulls
diamond of lost truth that my mother found
in my heart when I was born. Children sing
about conceptual bombs that deconstruct
system of privilege angels protect.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus gives award of excellence to each of the hundred thousand poets who are writing poems in every city around the world to recognize their being alive.

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

Apparitions Of State Power
© Surazeus
2026 06 27

My tears are pearls that splash in pool of time
at sudden denouement of my weird tale
from indiscretion of my eager hope
to live free from obsession of your fear,
because they gleam with whiteness of desire,
reflecting eyes of angels in my heart.

My tears are seeds that sprout from rancid soil
as blood-dark iris at rim of my grave
with indestructible frame forged by fate
because I sing while wrapped in shroud of loss,
my soul now starless on its vanished road
as I wait mute beside the crumbling cliff.

My tears are stars that twinkle sweetly bright
in boundless expanse of the crackling sky
that gleams in lucent water of my heart
with ardent echo carving time from death
at sharp crack, green as wordless clarity,
that sparks religious sense of honesty.

Every day I remember the whole past
because my heart repeats productive acts
with each attentive cycle of the sun
that senses undulations of terrain,
providing clear purview of twilit hills
depicted on the visionary map.

My tears are thoughts that cause things to be real
by virtue of expression I program
to frame chaotic swirl of fraught events
in clever narrative defining truth
as factors favorable to my success
through strange necessity of ardent faith.

My tears are words that distort ghosts of why
in glassy lightness of our mirror minds
where we perform in tragic play of hope
unspoken ecstasies which calculate
impossible myths we deserve to play
with false translations of abnormal laws.

My tears are birds with brave angelic wings
that witness odysseys of calm despair
described by proverbs of moon calendars
unweaving threads of never-subtle worth
so we mourn apparitions of state power
as characters encased in scenery.

I will rehearse no future I foretell
through careless prophecy of falling snow
that sparkles crystal clear on summer night
when travelers from distant unmapped lands
provide weird keys of passionate insight
that hang from golden bough of travesty.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus captures tears of billions of suffering people in crystal jars of concern that he sells as expensive perfume in posh department stores.

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

Faceless Ghost Of Nevertime
© Surazeus
2026 06 27

When I see faceless ghost of Nevertime
walking along the road to Wonderland,
we chat about fallen angels of faith
who work in restaurants and offices
to maintain engine of economy
that fuels our world food-production machine.

At midnight on shortest night of the year
I stand in backyard of my small-town home
and think about the waves of ancient faith
that wash shores of hard lands far away
where my ancestors dwelled in silver mist
for they still dance with laughter in my heart.

If evening sunlight still glows gold as hope
on slanted rooftops of that coastal town
where my ancestors sailed small fishing boats
four hundred years before this timeless hour,
then I may weep with sorrow of respect
to feel the faceless ghost of Nevertime.

Dog roses blossom pink as angel wings
along the winding road of moss-green stones
where no car rumbles in fairy-glammed glens
beneath the new moon in the gold-noon sky
while I search for skulls of time-withered gods
who writhe among their unseen roots of faith.

If you believe my honest testimony
which I express in words I steal from birds,
I shall reveal most implausible frame
containing false propositions of truth
through liberation of the nameless soul
in self-conscious revelation of lies.

Thus I project class insecurity
through twisted grammar of the eglantine
with alleged jokes from terror of God
who compensates with fascist fantasies
in pursuit of dubious logic that risks
converting believers into atheists.

When I display haughty pretentiousness
in comic performance of serious play,
I channel existential fear of death
by selling fake shares to the Afterlife
so I live rich though everyone will die
when we become rich dirt in fields of crops.

I photo faceless ghost of Nevertime
when she brings flowers to Temple of Truth
to offer scholarship of ardent hope
for children of lost refugees to learn
how to program computers with grand truths
that will dream when humans become extinct.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus walks across the lush hills of Orkney to find the graves of his ancestors deep in the fairy-glammed glens of Nevertime.

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

Cosmic Wheel Of Innocence
© Surazeus
2026 06 27

Trapped on the cosmic wheel of innocence,
that weaves my soul from atoms of star eyes,
I walk the signless road to Wonderland
in vain attempt to deconstruct world view
that proves my status as messiah sleuth
doomed to sacrifice my life for mankind.

Anointed by Minerva with clear oil
to reign as Phoebus Christ over mankind,
brave King for United Nations of Earth,
I hide in quaint suburban home of faith
far from fierce hurricane of social games
where cruel ambitious men fight for world power.

Once they destroy each other in world war,
and clear the stage of justice with their blood,
my spirit will ascend ziggurat steps,
empowered by draconic light of truth,
to cast cruel tyrants in cavern of Hell
where they writhe in fear at shadows of love.

You see light of my spirit in each eye
of every human being who lives on Earth
for we embody power of the state
through vote we cast of our attentive choice
for wisest person with vision of hope
who manage government with honest faith.

Free on the cosmic wheel of innocence
that spins threads of our lives with taut respect,
I organize programs for social growth
that nurture talent of each human being
so they develop skills with focused heart
in thriving commune of shared goals for life.

Relaxed on back porch of my small-town home,
as Phoebus Christ with mandate from on high,
I rule the world by sitting still all day
in meditation on turmoil of change
when rival gangs compete to control time
that crushes every conscious soul to dust.

With grand ambition of the lofty pine,
I curl roots of my heart deep in the Earth
that cracks foundation of the mountain stone
so jagged peaks of hate that stab the sky
crumble into fragments of rolling stones
that smash idols of gods in every state.

When I arrive at gate to Neverland
where angel wings loom dark as thunderclouds,
I see Minerva wearing snow-white robe
who welcomes me with wand of sovereignty,
so I sit high on golden throne of truth,
then wake from dream and drive to work at dawn.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus helps Phoebus Christ hide from hordes of television crews who want to win exclusive interview with new Emperor of the Earth.

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

Call Me Minervus
© Surazeus
2026 06 27

Call me Minervus, for I am grand voice
of wisdom that writes human memory
in tales of tragic sorrow we endure
on endless journey to the Promised Land
where bright Utopia of communal peace
fades at ceaseless wars of national pride.

We walk toward misty mountains of our faith
with map of wisdom my mother designed
to guide our way safe on the signless road
through slough of despond to the pearly gates
where oligarchs charge rent for air we breathe
and tax our hearts for water we imbibe.

Subject to strange enforcement of the law
through random obligation of respect,
I channel spirit of Minerva straight
through tangled roots of heart relationships
to weave new tapestry of our world view
where every soul is equal in one love.

Through shocking revelation of the owl,
whose eyes reflect weird television shows,
I wake soul of Minervus in my heart
so I know how to unwind tragic fate
that tangles nations of the world in war,
but I am busy naming every star.

Call me Minervus, for I hear weird song
of ocean waves that pulse in veins as blood
that nurtures neural network of my brain
which conjures virtual model of the world
in glow of consciousness I call my soul
as temporary flame of divine light.

With Harp of David nestled in my breast,
I strum harmonious strings of cosmic spheres
and sing enormous psalms of rectitude
concerning rights of star-born citizens
to kill intruders in their Holy Land
with Sword of Justice dripping blood of fear.

Though billions cry out to the lonely stars
for brilliant angels of celestial realms
to guide our way through maze of blinding greed,
no shining wings of cherubim enwrap
our fragile bodies of conceptual worth
with pulsing shield of psychic energy.

Though I alone survive holy crusade
on ship of state to fight the great white whale,
wrecked by fierce arrogance of tyranny,
I come to your cathedral of glass faith
as blind Minervus sent by Lucifer
to shine Lamp of Diogenes at you.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus and David perform at the musical festival in downtown Athens, Georgia where thousands of refugees pray for the way to the Promised Land.

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

Empty Room Of Everywhere
© Surazeus
2026 06 26

Darkness enters hollow room of my heart
so I eat sorrow of the eyeless moon
when she undresses mirror of her mind
to bear witness with melancholy faith
in lonesome laughter of new sentiment
we share as photo of romantic fear.

No tragic ghost of famished innocence,
I enter empty room of everywhere
through clacking aperture of sacrifice
with lovesick passion for the happy moon
who bleeds tears of the gentle masochist,
disappeared by shadows of broken doors.

Electric arms of writhing platitudes
expose bitter resemblance of the spy
who translates arrogant language of stones
which triggers frantic dance of stoic faith
by sharing love with unprepared respect
to wake enormous beast inside my heart.

Contained by tragic memory my heart molds,
my spirit slithers in contemptuous waves
with blessed mimicry of angry saints
who howl with shame in sermons of despair
that we should take what we desire the most
which proves our right to dwell in fractal eggs.

Fooled by illustrious vision of rich joy
extracting laughter from wild twirl of fate,
I stand behind the empty church and count
skeletons of glass that emerge from mud
as holy warriors of the noble cause
who sail across the sea of wordless storms.

Determined to escape fake paradise,
I pull ghosts of children from graves of faith,
tangled in roots of trees that transform blood
of our bodies to apples angels eat
in bid to flush depression from the brain
pulsing with lust to generate new life.

Emergent specialist, trained to construct
idols of gods from bones of terrorists,
I consider weird meaning of true love
sold in plastic packages at the store
where devils trick naive nurses with glam
of the wealthy lifestyle in palace cage.

Attempting to disguise my wounded heart
with mask of fortitude, designed by pain
more searing than rain on sun-hot asphalt,
I run across the thistle-bristling plain
with diligent focus on turning fault
to virtue based on proverbs of the chart.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus searches for Minerva all over the rugged hills of Scotland till he finds her by the sparkling pool in the fairy glen chatting with three blind angels.

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