Raven In The Apple Tree
© Surazeus
2026 05 20

Because the raven in the apple tree
speaks ancient language of water on rocks
that frame mysterious beauty of the world
in tangled sentences of faithless words
that mirror reverse image of my soul,
I always walk backward through every door.

Though I left homeland of Gothinia
one hundred thousand years ago at dawn,
I still feel frosty wind of snow-capped mountains
swirl down across the endless steppes of sorrow
which makes my heart ache with strange memories
that leave me stranded on the Caspian shore.

In eerie darkness of the endless night,
as sparkling waves of hope swirl round my legs,
I see bright angel descend from the moon
in wind-blown dress of ambivalent wings
to embrace my body with eager love
that sparks soul of our child inside her heart.

Yet star-eyed seraph hovering over me
bestows on fragile mirror of my soul
sacred name that signifies my dire fate
which glows as lamp I bear in trembling hand
to light my way across rough wilderness
till tread of my feet blazes road of hope.

Each road my feet blaze sea to shing sea
becomes wheel-worn way across the land
now paved with asphalt in the blistering sun
where billions drive cars in circles of faith
along passionate river of true love
where we construct homes to shelter our hearts.

When flock of swallows threads words of my heart
across the endless steppes of shining wheat,
I follow trail of wings through loneliness
to find home of the sun beyond the sky
with ache of longing in my homeless heart
to eat sweet apples with you by the lake.

While you dance gracefully in flowered field
and laugh with ache of joy to be alive,
I play uncanny melodies of love
by twanging taut strings on turtle-shell lyre
to sing of beauty in your smiling eyes
that wake my heart from grave of bleak despair.

Electra smiles bright as the morning sun
as we embrace with hope by flowing stream
to kiss in harmony with sparrow song
that drenches our lithe bodies in sunlight
so when we sink in nothingness of death
we leave our children alive in the world.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus sings to himself while sitting on shore of the Caspian Sea, hoping to one day see his love Electra again if she returns from vale of singing skulls.

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

New Heaven On Earth
© Surazeus
2026 05 20

The strange star-eyed angel, nobody sees
walking crowded streets of America,
hands out slick pamphlets about Kingdom Come,
to sell illusion of national pride
to Vikings working in car factories
who prefer to build New Heaven on Earth.

Physical objects of material substance,
delimited by bounds of time and space,
arrange molecules based on ideal forms
designated by words we conjugate
in sentences that conjure virtual model
we write to describe New Heaven on Earth.

Prometheus climbs pyramid of eyes,
where Ishtar rules all nations of the Earth,
and casts flames of fire in cables of thought,
weaving world wide web into internet
that links billion computers in One Mind
which dreams itself as New Heaven on Earth.

Bound tight to tall mast of his sailing ship,
Telemachus sings with Sirens of Hope
who ask him to legislate equal rights
for people of every gender and race
who struggle to survive in game of wealth
that we all play in New Heaven on Earth.

When I ask Jesus when he will return
to manage United Nations of Earth
that ensures freedom and justice for all,
he explains how his spirit incarnates
in leaders who nurture skills of all people
who help construct our New Heaven on Earth.

Ishtar on shining ziggurat of Ur
extends both arms in welcoming embrace
as Rising Sun of Truth illuminates
jeweled crown of her mind with countless eyes
that link our minds with grand vision of love
so we unite in New Heaven on Earth.

Though greedy dictators around the world
seize control over sprawling governments
to exploit the people for their own gain,
cruel tyrants always fall from mad despair,
so we transform broken America
in Zarathia as New Heaven on Earth.

Cherub of Wisdom, shining eyes of truth,
hovers over land of Zarathia
with vision of hope that inspires our hearts
to cast greedy thieves out of government
so we can build from problems of the past
democracy in New Heaven on Earth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus displays large model of New Heaven for all the people who attend his presentation of his new community development project as he begins his reign as Emperor of Earth.

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

World Tree Of Everywhere
© Surazeus
2026 05 19

Despite slow maladjustment of the mind,
contrived by journal entries of dead trees,
Niskus, son of Neptunus, steals fake coins
from the mad king in cold castle of stone,
and gives them to poor people by the river
who buy televisions that never work.

Leaving creepy basement of skeletons
that crawl wailing from television screens,
Niskus searches for the mysterious road
that would lead him back home to Ruritania
where travelers and thieves in tavern of ghosts
discuss philosophy of Heraclitus.

Because every vast city on the Earth
has merged in one global metropolis,
Niskus walks beyond walls of paradise
to wander in savage jungles of beasts
through stifling heat of arrogant dismay
till he finds cave behind the waterfall.

Resigned that he was born cursed child of fate,
to avoid brutal tests of worthiness
Niskus hesitates to search labyrinth
of broken idols for the ancient relic
that proves his journey is not for false heroes,
stuck in bright mirror world of anywhere.

Happy in sprawling library of ghosts,
deep in mystical forest of proud bears,
Niskus decides to play reluctant hero
commissioned to rescue Princess of Pears
because she is the secret heir of Hera,
destined to fight all evil overlords.

When he finds necklace of seven sapphires,
that seem to twinkle eyes of the Blind Maiden,
Niskus chants magic spells from Book of Dreams
to release trapped soul from jewels of hope,
so Litavis appears before his eyes
who demands he solve riddle of the pear.

Wearing Cape of Invisibility
to help her escape marriage to his father,
Niskus takes her to mountain of cracked skulls
where they join secret school of alchemy
to learn lost magic of the emerald
so Litavis gives birth to our new world.

Once they both find World Tree of Everywhere,
that blooms from rotting corpse of Neptunus,
Niskus and Litavis construct quaint cottage
from gingerbread, gumdrops, and candy canes,
then raise three children in Garden of Eden
who carry on their family legacy.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus and Ophelia bring cake and wine when they visit Niskus and Litavis to celebrate the birthday of their daughter Tamesis who wants to be goddess of her own river.

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

Treasury Of Broken Dreams
© Surazeus
2026 05 18

Though travelers with magic telescopes
may ransack treasury of broken dreams,
we will all gather for Thanksgiving feast
to feed ancestors in the Underworld
who watch our lives in television shows,
then weep when Albert plays the violin.

If stock traders who want strawberry pies
still pilfer treasury of broken dreams,
their teenagers may threaten suicide,
then hitchhike to the Allegheny Forest
with hope to join the Rainbow Gathering
where bankers exercise fake privilege.

Yet brave physicians in the marathon,
who find no treasury of broken dreams,
decide to maximize their lottery
pursuant to new federal regulations
pertaining to unauthorized regret
that has no place on the luxury yacht.

Though pioneers study the molecule,
which unspools treasury of broken dreams
with nominal profits we monitor,
memory modulates how Nirvana frames
daily routine of laborious survival
that we engage with frantic narrative.

Honest puppeteers on gold pyramids,
who hoard our treasury of broken dreams,
strictly stick to religious protocol
when they record satellite images
essential to our stellar syllabus
designed to synthesize disparate creeds.

Persistent ministers with social cause,
who conceal treasury of broken dreams,
deny ownership of symbolic jokes
outlined on our quarterly questionnaire
that models pinnacle of mutant minds
which employ objective analysis.

Surprised musicians without gasoline
consider treasury of broken dreams
reliable source of illegal thoughts
which none dare think of on their honeymoons
despite expansion of mental control
that dismisses the brutal holocaust.

Sharp-eyed guardians in tower of the watch
calculate treasury of broken dreams
with intent to fund national health care
and free education for all to learn
creative skills of weird ambivalence
because Jesus now drives the ambulance.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus stands guard over our treasury of broken dreams which is kept safe in the Zarathium, temple where people gather to worship Earth Empress Ishtar.

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

Shepherd Who Nurtures Sheep
© Surazeus
2026 05 18

Because his heart begins to atrophy
at how his body writhes with bitter hope,
Thyrsis considers why sheep love to play
in meadow near the oven factory,
then plays heart-wrenching tune of futile love
that will never be heard on the radio.

If his sheep ever die out from disease,
Thyrsis decides he will never go work
in vast hall of the oven factory
where his father worked for thirty-eight years
till he died on his way to work one dawn,
stricken by the corona virus plague.

Aching to transcend sufferings of this world,
and experience sublime beauty of nature,
as recorded in ancient pastoral poems,
Thyrsis explains to Daniel on the phone
that his name is no longer Thomas Jones,
then sighs as he glares at jets in the clouds.

Strumming guitar while watching his sheep graze,
Thyrsis improvises song about Daphnis
who grows in love with graceful Xenea
till her mean older sister, Aphrodite,
aims gun at his head to drive him away,
so he jumps off the Tallahatchie Bridge.

Parking white Honda on the country road,
Chloe hobbles through meadow of tall weeds
to bring bags of hamburgers and root beer,
then grumbles how she wishes he would work
again teaching English at the high school,
then nestles in his arms when Thyrsis grins.

Instead of explaining to her again
how he wants to get in touch with the Earth,
and savor calm of timeless afternoons
as bees gather pollen to brew sweet honey,
Thyrsis hums enchanting tune he composed
while contemplating how all empires fall.

We build global economies of goods
based on extracting from soil of the Earth
precious minerals and nutritious crops,
so someone must operate farms and ranches
to sustain firm foundation of exchange,
or it will all collapse from weight of greed.

The shepherd who nurtures sheep in the field
still remains one of the oldest professions
that men have worked since dawn of history,
so I will carry on noble legacy
attended by the savior of mankind
though civilizations on Earth collapse.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus photographs Thyrsis and Chloe as they pose in the field of sheep to advertise his sheep for sale on social media during Easter and Eid al-Adha.

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

Volunteer God Of Nowhere
© Surazeus
2026 05 17

No time traveler from the distant future
would hesitate to play tactical games
with people who claim they are always right
against common sense of state tolerance
though few survive surgery of the heart
since I am volunteer god of nowhere.

Attempting to prevent psychic abortions
from synthetic analogs of free will,
men who strive to control bodies of women
bankrupt birth clinics all over the country
so thousands of mothers die in childbirth
when they fool volunteer god of nowhere.

Taxable income of clever programmers
procures mental oxygen of dream code
for sale in the marketplace of ideas
contrary to logistics of state health
combined with growth of social luxury
performed by volunteer god of nowhere.

Leverage administered by frantic pundits,
concerned about decay of family values,
reformats world view of functional artwork
to highlight glory of fake billionaires
who challenge legislators to compute
new script for volunteer god of nowhere.

Compliant clerks in consequential banks
discuss biblical prophecies that shape
how citizens view political strife,
now less adaptive to brave compromise
except to exploit activists for labor
who pray to volunteer god of nowhere.

Crowned King of Nothing by state architects,
with letters from dynamic embassies,
government Jester stores digital dreams
in legal journals of soul institutes
to test our loyalty against Big Brother
who envies volunteer god of nowhere.

Moderate vision of objective facts,
designed to imitate orthodox creeds,
fails to focus attention of our fears
on ethics forged by patriarchal goons
to build empire of wealth on bones of slaves
jilted by volunteer god of nowhere.

Deserted houses along the cracked road
invite hungry refugees from state wars
to open movie theaters with foreign cash,
dependent on oil of the desert genie
who laughs at wishes we articulate,
insured by volunteer god of nowhere.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus goes to work at the government office every day for forty years till he retires and plays volunteer god of nowhere at the mall every Christmas.

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

Underworld Of Happy Clowns
© Surazeus
2026 05 17

Stuck in dark underworld of happy clowns,
Achilles buys soda from time machine
that always asks him if he feels all right
because blind ballerina never frowns
though arrogant Ares is always mean
about taxing us for using sunlight.

Amid mounting evidence of regret,
Achilles rides the happy dinosaur
to temple of radiant uranium
while he plays keyboard with fake alphabet
so we remember long-forgotten lore
by selling us land in Elysium.

Stuck in happily-ever-after land,
Achilles wears strange uniform of pride
to prove negotiation skills are good
when ships wreck on the wild Oregon strand
through infinite laugh on the playground slide
since foxes play chase in the misty wood.

Latest fashion of potential success,
Achilles ponders with fire of his mind,
prevents sweet summer romance of despair
to stop his thunderstorm of happiness
from cracking stone walls Apollo designed
with arguments for why God does not care.

Stuck in refrigerator of brave faith,
Achilles augurs no calamity
through leagues of silent forest, canopied
by steel beams welded into web of truth,
to sell confusion based on vanity
though he pretends to know the Nicene Creed.

Voluminous brain vital for regrowth,
Achilles claims Cleopatra conceals
when bankers buy our foreclosed properties,
shapes its own fate with inaudible oath
based on cognizance of electric wheels
that disavow empire atrocities.

Stuck with bland ultimatum Death decrees,
Achilles catches snowflakes with bruised hands
to dance with glee at permanence of death,
contrived by speedometer of glass bees
so he can use his psychedelic glands
to free Sibyl from cage of wordless breath.

Vague outlines of clouds that imagine us,
Achilles sketches in sand with cracked bones,
express consistent energy of joy
because we choose to ride Hadean bus
from Oslo to Paris with rolling stones
though my ghost still dwells in palace of Troy.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus photographs the Constitution Day Parade in Oslo where thousands of people cheer victory of justice and liberty for all against tyranny.

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

Time Of Broken Clocks
© Surazeus
2026 05 17

If I am born in time of broken clocks
in log cabin beside the sparkling river,
my heart will crumble into flakes of rust
each time I walk past ticking stone of fate
that drinks the salty tears of fallen angels
who stitch fractured watches on tattered wings.

Though I drift lost in time of broken clocks
in cathedral of shattered pendulums
that toll no twisted hour of unspooled grief,
I ride the graveyard carousel till dawn
on weeping horse with crackling bones of glass
till my hands become turtles in the pond.

Before I laugh in time of broken clocks
as midnight stitches paper masks from moons,
composed from writhing clumps of bitter snow,
I swim in ocean of unmoving hands
that drown pulsing face of eternity
with graphic weight of arbitrary words.

After I cry in time of broken clocks,
while stumbling dark halls of the floating castle,
I find hourglass on legless desk of fear
that coughs ashes where it once poured pure gold
at sudden misalignment of six kites
that veil blind cherub hovering over me.

Never awake in time of broken clocks,
I climb staircase that melts upward in clouds
of black water, comprised of eyeless gods,
to cluttered meadow where electric birds
with lanterns glowing in transparent ribs
explain why every faceless human dies.

Stuck alone outside time of broken clocks,
I crawl across the windy plain of homes
where violins grow roots through their floorboards
to reassemble puzzle from our dreams
into graceful church with four tall white steeples
where no one ever sings hymns about death.

Trapped by truth outside time of broken clocks,
I map sizzling rivers that flow backwards
through libraries where every book bleeds sand
instead of pages wrapped around glass moons
that hang suspected above bovine fields
where eyeless statues play chess with my shadow.

Since I will die in time of broken clocks,
I polish mirrors in numberless houses
that are filled with thunderstorms of desire
brewing inside brains of innocent boys
who aim guns at photographs on dead trees
and shout to imitate sharp sounds of shots.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus goes all over the world repairing broken clocks that misalign conceptual fates of strangers who get married and talk about the weather.

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

Shape Of My Hungry Flesh
© Surazeus
2026 05 17

If this world of water and wind and light
is all for me, my shadow on its hills,
then I will write my name across the sky,
but keep it secret that I fall from clouds
each day I rise up from soil of its hope
and wander among ruins of the past.

This great tree reaching toward the faceless sky,
that drops ripe apples in my hungry hands,
harps brightly humming in soft gusts of wind
because its roots curl down to core of time,
entwining bodies my ancestors left
when their spirits beamed back up to the stars.

My lamentation echoes between hills
where I rest in heat of the glowing sun
since fire is fundamental principle
that animates all beings with conscious life
for we appear from strife of opposites
to spiral through cycles of birth and death.

This animating flame of energy
that flares forth from first flash of the big bang
evolves into shape of my hungry flesh
so I sing clear with loneliness of heat
that urges me to roam around the world
till I know curve of every sparkling stream.

I record elements of day and night
through unlocalized images of time
which conjures thunderstorm of social change
to flash assertive rain on towns of men
who bury sorrow under roads of wealth
when floods erase buildings from ancient land.

I walk the signless road of everywhere
to visit every city in the land
that flourishes from sea to shining sea
so I record name and deeds of each life
to preserve their memories after they die
and vanish into dust on rain-drenched hills.

Now I am dreamer of all that is lost,
obsessed with singing tale of every soul
who rise as generations from the sea
in endless waves of strife to gain world fame
at piercing cry of hope that cracks the sky,
then sink in silence of indifferent graves.

Ephemeral flames of bodies glow at dawn
when our brains fuse with stones of nameless roads
till millions who strive to survive each day
are merged in idol of one faceless god
who represents our spirits in weird myths
that gleam as shadows on tree-shrouded hills.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus keeps the cemetery clean where millions of his ancestors are all buried together in meadow where hippies hold rainbow gatherings every summer to dance and sing about love.

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

First Mother Of Earth
© Surazeus
2026 05 16

Sitting in church on Sabbath afternoon,
heart beating at reception of weird light
that beams slantwise through window of all time,
I see descend on flaming wings of faith
First Mother of Earth with eyes of bright stars
who fills my mind with visions of survival.

When the pastor declares with Father Voice
that good obedient wives with humble hearts
should submit to will of his husbands with love,
I stand up and reach out my aching arms
to embrace First Mother of Earth with faith
who animates my heart with ardent truth.

Breathing celestial energy of faith,
I turn away from male authority
and exit stage of global patriarchy
to walk the signless road of everywhere
in brave quest to find the Garden of Eden
where First Mother of Earth tends apple trees.

Offering assistance of my strong hands
to help First Mother of Earth tend fruit trees,
I narrate my name and path of my life
that seems so random in my clumsy hope,
so she accepts me in Garden of Eden
where I stand guard in Watch Tower Of Faith.

When gang of thieves surround our paradise,
demanding we submit to righteous rule
of their male privilege with guns of hate,
I open gates of heaven wide, and bow
to welcome them to feast in Hall of Faith
where First Mother of Earth offers them wine.

While I play Lyre of Mercury and sing
on stage before crowd of wild revelers,
First Mother of Earth offers guests sweet wine,
so they dance with joy at their victory
till they all slump drunk and limp on the ground,
so I hang them upside from the tree.

Screaming in rage at clever trick we played,
arrogant men demand we let them go,
so I explain how First Mother of Earth
has always ruled cycles of life and death,
then slit their throats and fill grail with their blood
which I pour on roots of the Knowledge Tree.

Though men form gangs in terror of Kind Death,
and take over national governments
to legalize their spurious right to rule,
First Mother of Earth, with power of Nature,
sends the Grim Reaper to erase cruel thieves,
so children may thrive in Garden of Eden.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus leads souls of angry men down to Hell where Hades forces them to excavate minerals and jewels so world economy managed by First Mother may flourish.

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

Energy Of Fervent Faith
© Surazeus
2026 05 16

From book that records every human dream
I extract energy of fervent faith
to travel life of every conscious soul
till I arrive at zero mark of time
that flashes from the negative prelude
so I know how you feel inside your heart.

From ocean waves that sing electric light
I gyrate energy of fervent faith
to measure patterns left behind by change
which undulate in bodies we become
so we invent new questions to preserve
truth that water sparkles our brains awake.

From seeds of apple trees in pungent soil
I blossom energy of fervent faith
to reassemble mirror mind of God
fractured by experience of painful death
through tilted curvature of messy love
since drops of rain reflect my divine soul.

From lake of dreams on adjustable wings
I spiral energy of fervent faith
in vain attempt of pulsing fortitude
to repair broken hour of misfired words
though tangled bodies writhe with attitude
that we shall live forever on this Earth.

From iron core of spinning pulchritude
I magnet energy of fervent faith
through flashing coils of rainbow avatars
to choose my own assertive destiny
when star stone fractures crystal shell of time
so I may resurrect from dragon eye.

From radiant brain of my angelic ghost
I typhoon energy of fervent faith
to weave ten billion globes of conscious souls
from whirling galaxy of goddess light
who generates our bodies from her lust
to wake in flashing diamond of her womb.

From hurricane of political change
I ordain energy of fervent faith
when hungry people conjure paradise
from ordinary routines of concern
while clouds glide over hills of apple trees
where we journey signless road of desire.

From Garden of Gethsemane at dawn
I plunder energy of fervent faith
to prove my random way of life is right
though I may wander clumsily nowhere
so I sing vision of some perfect world
that we could build from fragments of weird dreams.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus finds Jesus hanging out by the fountain in the Garden of Eden, so they have a jam session with Phoebus and Siddhartha to sing quartet gospel songs to the evening crowd.

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

Dream Code Of Cleverness
© Surazeus
2026 05 16

Though I still learn dream code of cleverness
to understand sublime beauty of Earth
that dreamers write in magic spells of truth,
I know ideal Heaven of perfect peace,
where every soul is equal in brave grace,
can never be achieved in swirl of life.

I carve on stone dream code of cleverness
to outline patterns of social behavior
that strengthen bonds of each community
as bold foundation for strong institutions
that support each generation of humans
who spring from heads of our grand fantasy.

While I program dream code of cleverness,
that designs blueprint for new global state
based on liberty and justice for all,
I sense chaotic swirls of potent wills
that clash in brutal contest to control
essential elements of life on Earth.

Stricken down by dream code of cleverness,
I fall from grace in Tower of Paradise
with tattered wings of Icarus in my heart
to hollow space of Hell where I may reign
as bold authority who speaks Good Law
in brave rebellion against the Blue Sky.

So I translate dream code of cleverness
in solemn riddles of transcendent odes
that honor ideal forms of human souls
so lovers almost kiss in timeless youth,
entranced by holy songs of nightingales
with ache of hope for our paradise lost.

Though God and Satan, as soul stereotypes
of mortals, compete to rule crowded nations
in contest between Nurturer and Oppressor,
I tend my garden on the river shore
with my Wise Companion in home we share
where we raise children of our loyal love.

Unraveling dream code of cleverness,
I deconstruct systems of mind control
inherent in language rich elites use
to exploit common people as sad slaves,
so we can reframe psychic privilege
that narrates success of all who create.

Reconstructing dream code of cleverness,
I design new world view with sacred myths
that highlight creative actions of builders
in whole ontology that integrates
all gods in ecumenical religion
that supports United Nations of Earth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus joins Keats and Milton on stage in Cathedral of Zarathia to recite grand myths of the new world religion before crowd of solemn worshippers.

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

Crying Elm Of Sorrow
© Surazeus
2026 05 16

We see him under the crying elm of sorrow
as if his body has transformed to stone,
yet nobody understands what he says,
so we cover him with eglantine vines
that bloom with delicate petals of faith
that remind our hearts of Ithilien.

Horses under the crying elm of sorrow
discuss philosophy with Socrates
who teaches them to question what is real
but they are too innocent to rebel
when humans harness them to pull fruit wagons
in our journey home to Ithilien.

Emerging from the crying elm of sorrow,
we gather on the lake shore every summer
to dance by starlight among apple trees
and share stories about our families,
then part with tears to our home villages
scattered through valleys of Ithilien.

Strange ghosts under the crying elm of sorrow,
far off in shadowed woods of yesteryear,
speak with voices more enchanting than flutes
which haunt our lonely afternoons at home
while we tend lush gardens of vegetables
that bloom by rivers of Ithilien.

World Queen under the crying elm of sorrow
sings heart-aching melodies about loss
to children who sit at her feet with eyes
wide as the silver moon behind rain clouds
who remember her voice when they grow old
and wail for spirit of Ithilien.

Phoebe walks toward the crying elm of sorrow
with hesitant steps of perceptive grace
to offer bowl of milk with kind intention
to old bearded Wulfgar, wounded by war,
who accepts her gift, and weeps as he drinks
to think of souls lost in Ithilien.

Stalled car beside the crying elm of sorrow,
that Mercury once drove across the land
to perform at concerts in every city
before adoring crowds of hungry ghosts,
now rusts in silent stillness of hot air
and decays in woods of Ithilien.

Dancing under the crying elm of sorrow,
Draupadi glides with grace of secret love
to express lamentation of her heart
for all the people killed in civil wars
whose names vanish in spring winds of tomorrow
though they linger mute in Ithilien.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus chops down the crying elm of sorrow to build river boat that he sails over sea of dragons to his new home in valleys of Ithilien.

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

Become The Eyeless Ghost
© Surazeus
2026 05 16

Tangled in roots of the ancient pear tree,
scroll of sorrow swells with hydraulic tears
of nameless people in forest of shadows
whose suffering has become the eyeless ghost
that haunts the solemn courtrooms of old law,
so I preserve the scroll in hall of glass.

Each time I gaze at ghost of some dead soul,
whose face is painted with colorful goop
smeared on wood panel and hung on the wall,
I see reflection of immortal soul
encoded in the human genes we share,
so I smile till their soul wakes in my heart.

Arrhythmic beat of wounded angel wings
asserts free will my heart preserves in code
of static words that I repeat each day
in rote routine as groove of legacy
which scratches when I skip confining phase
to weep with nostalgia for frantic dreams.

Trapped by hope in dark evening of the mind,
I chase fireflies twitching in sunset blood
to hide from shadow slithering among trees
till I find Apple Witch with golden eyes
reading book of spells by the garden wall
who gives me last martyred peach of her heart.

Though I wander somewhere in her dark woods
without purpose, except to understand
why every living creature has to die,
she calls my name no one else knows but her
till I wake in circling aura of her heart
where she makes me wear mask of her desire.

Trees represent stillness of stoic grace
we cannot keep with our time-anxious hearts,
she explains to me with confusing words,
so I sew leather skin of angry bulls
into basketballs on courts of warfare
that symbolize this civil war we fight.

Magnified by strategies to gain fame,
her mission readjusts focus of fate
to avoid flaws in dilemma of truth
that vague concepts trap our minds in grand creeds
in which we dare indulge against regret
with inconclusive utterance of faith.

Thus I shall quaff moon ale from pewter stoup
to taste sweet blood of angels with mad hearts
who fall from Heaven every day or two
then trudge to work at the cold factory
to transform bones of dragons into tools
we use to build empire of howling ghosts.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus remembers how Ophelia likes to visit the folk museum in Oslo where ghosts of her ancestors haunt the ancient log cabins of innocent faith in honest love.

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

Mission To Play Clockward
© Surazeus
2026 05 15

Floating formless in alphabetized wind
with stringent arrogance of morbid laughter,
I map bluffed apertures of my fake mind
to guard peach pie of my celestial daughter
who assures me she show knows how to perform
unexpected code through cuneiform.

Asking how our bodies are born seems gauche
but Jesus always makes it seem so awkward
because my character is still ebauche
despite my holy mission to play clockward
if my soulmate says I am sinister
since I choose to become world minister.

Without angel wings I am more adroit
at building boats with glass hands of the jester
who defies oligarchs when they exploit
objective ambition of the beast-master
who trains his daughter to be dexterous
though she thinks no state can be prosperous.

With crystal eyes I know I cannot lose
through fraught calculation of sincere passion
disguised as fractal ballet of the rose
which inspires me to go against the fashion
and play Light-Bearer role of Lucifer
who defies tyranny of Jupiter.

Born to always play the wise scullion
who never escapes crystal walls of Heaven,
I organize our world rebellion
with wise direction of the Silver Raven
who teaches me the method used to save
mankind from laughing demon in the cave.

Too clever to win with the wizard card,
that illustrates well the human condition,
when I accept Minerva as my ward,
I harmonize tumult of god ambition
against better judgment of the Blind Queen
who demands I design her time machine.

Looking for another mirror to break
through psychic anguish of the sordid circle,
I wear glass mask of the angelic freak
who prophesies American debacle
erased from history by the famous scribe
who buys insurance for our Dream Archive.

Make me your lyre tuned to the ocean flood
that tones each flushed season with solemn humor
so I hover over your world and brood
to escape celebrity of fame glamour
that curses impetuous souls with fate
to play the Fisherman instead of bait.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus squints his eyes to better perceive accurate essence of material objects so he can invent words that accurately describe the vast complex world of concepts.

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

Weird Spirit Of The Stone
© Surazeus
2026 05 14

While crawling through thick tangled bush of hope,
Samael breathes deep celestial air of faith
when giant serpent with electric eyes
slithers along river flow on short legs,
and gasps surprised when she arches high
to commune with weird spirit of the stone.

Rainbow-colored feathers along her trunk
flutter in sudden breeze along the river
as two-horned dragon with electric eyes
expresses weird heart-aching song of trust
when she reaches short arm to grasp ripe fruit
offered her by weird spirit of the stone.

Amazed that he can see for the first time
angular face on long thick coiling trunk,
Samael gazes at dragon with two horns
that sings mercurial melody of love
in sweet eerie wail that reverberates
with passion from weird spirit of the stone.

Peering through leaves of the thick tangled bush,
Samael sees large woman with curling hair
who stands before serpent with crystal eyes
and offers watermelon she devours,
then caresses her neck as the snake purrs
since she adores weird spirit of the stone.

Seven men who grip brass spears in their hands,
with diamond spearheads sharp enough to pierce
and penetrate scaled skin with rainbow feathers,
surround curly-haired woman and huge dragon
with grim intention to enslave them both
so they can claim weird spirit of the stone.

Blowing cool breath of his worshipful heart,
Samael plays mind-entrancing melodies
on dark-green jade flute his grandfather made,
diverting attention of dragon-hunters
who stare at him in mute paralysis
as he channels weird spirit of the stone.

Twirling swift with sudden assertive grace,
Samael strikes with sharp blade he forged from steel
to behead seven hunters in quick play,
then bows low before electric-eyed dragon
and curly-haired woman with bag of fruit
who embody weird spirit of the stone.

Pregnant with baby from seed of his soul,
Lilith dances slowly with elegance
that emotes her serpentine curves
with sinuous cadence of fluid motion
while Tiamat coils with delicate grace,
and Samael guards weird spirit of the stone.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus dreams about his great-grandparents Samael and Lilith while Tiamat sings romantic story of their love to him as he plays lyre of Mercury.

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

Woke In The Anxious Zone
© Surazeus
2026 05 14

Woke in the anxious zone of my bruised heart,
mind twisted by healing wisdom of rainbows,
I gather ghosts of children killed by bombs
so they can assemble puzzle of dreams
from fragments of distempered photographs
that conceal immortal soul of their genes.

Woke in the anxious zone of dancing homes,
doors flapping wild as wings of Icarus,
I number every home on signless roads
that all lead to ziggurat of Ishtar
where she designs new masks for us to wear
when we perform our role in game of life.

Woke in the anxious zone of wordless books,
soaked black with blood of people killed in wars,
I organize in conceptual framework
every trope based on character and scene
that stereotypes our personalities
in standard plotlines where everyone dies.

Woke in the anxious zone of flashing bombs,
unspooled by formulas of righteous prayer,
I support United Nations of Earth
based on justice and liberty for all
through equal opportunity from birth
for every soul to optimize their skills.

Woke in the anxious zone of radio ghosts,
brains buzzing voices of demonic faith,
I chat with every person in the world
to understand strange motives of their hands
concerned with shaping thoughts in clever toys
when sorrow challenges our right to love.

Woke in the anxious zone of humming trees,
designed to conjure fruit of sacred truth,
I translate riddles of the Eyeless Snake
who whispers code I forge in key of jokes
so I can open box Pandora made
where my heart flutters arrogant wings.

Woke in the anxious zone of singing skulls,
crystal egg of draconic fortitude,
I join justice squad that Orpheus leads
with Apollo and Hamlet to detect
crimes committed by greedy oligarchs
so we administer justice on Earth.

Woke in the anxious zone of my glass eyes,
that beam time-animated globe of Earth,
I cartograph whole history of mankind
to analyze rise and fall of great empires
till we create Heaven that unites all
in vain attempt to manage civil strife.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus holds up skull of Jupiter and contemplates how death takes down even the most powerful god-man who obtains power through being a cruel bully.

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

Fields Of Singing Skulls
© Surazeus
2026 05 13

I want to dance in fields of singing skulls
who tell me about how the world could be
so much better in how people may thrive
with joyful passion of pleasure from pain
even in the sorrow of freezing rain
that makes the ugly Earth more beautiful.

I stumble lost in fields of singing skulls
who tell me about the glorious war
when glamorous Satan with serpent eyes
rebels against grim tyrant on gold throne
yet strives to crown himself king of the world
as architect of his own suffering.

I exercise in fields of singing skulls
to transcend limitations of this flesh
so I can gaze in mirror of my mind
and see the glorious god I could become
if I strive hard to overcome weak faith
though I may fall from heights of false success.

I meditate in fields of singing skulls
about the state of Limbo where I dwell
in wretched circumstance of endless strife
because I know with faith that I deserve
to dwell in Paradise of peaceful grace
forever inaccessible to me.

I strut with pride in fields of singing skulls
to climb great mountain of assertive will
that purges weakness from my noble frame,
proud my attempt to reach the height of fame
proves I deserve rewards I cannot win
that valorize my failure to achieve.

I lounge with grace in fields of singing skulls
to fetishize my longing as my goal
since fruitful Heaven is beyond my reach
therefore my journey to the Promised Land
is all that matters to my wounded heart
that beats torn wings against cage of despair.

I drift forlorn in fields of singing skulls
while I design grand world inside my head
that matches splendor of my divine heart
though efforts to attain this paradise
are doomed to failure of my vague desire
when I remake this world in my own image.

I play guitar in fields of singing skulls
to channel weird mercurial vibe of faith
through haunting wail of untuned honesty
in total acceptance of punishment
inflicted on me by indifferent Nature
who provides apples I can never reach.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus strums lyre of Mercury and sings psalms that David wrote to refugees of war who gather at the river that flows by the throne of Godin.

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

Righteous Way To Go
© Surazeus
2026 05 13

Stuck on the righteous way to go to Heaven
that winds through every city in the world,
I study statues of Satan and Hamlet
to understand romantic state of mind
that could fuel engine of my beating heart
when I want to leap from Tower of Hope.

Lying stunned on the righteous way to go
after I fall from Heaven for nine days,
I wake alone in Valley of Despond
with tattered wings of Icarus I stole
to find my crash created my own space
where I can sing solemn psalms of despair.

Lost on the righteous way to go back home
where ghosts of my parents forget my name,
I cast my bread upon waters of faith
but the birds with angelic wings of light
die from sorrow of poisoned promises
and I get nothing but handfuls of rain.

Mapping the righteous way to go to Hell
where Hamlet and Orpheus share bad jokes,
I design new ontology of truth
to conjure virtual model of the Earth
that represents the way things really are
instead of how Plato thinks they should be.

Eager to name the righteous way to go
that leads to paradise of apple trees,
I plant seeds in the wilderness of pain
that sprout into Seraphim of my heart
who stand guard on the marble walls of Troy
where Cassandra waits for me to come home.

Still waiting on the righteous way to go
through airport security with my passport,
I think about my bride Persephone
who meets Mona Lisa and Melusine
to paint statues at the Vigeland Park
beneath tall monolith of writhing ghosts.

Racing time on the righteous way to go
with the Third Man on cold Antarctic plains,
I find Hammer of Thor stuck in the ice,
so I proclaim myself King of Greenland,
and dare mad Nebuchadnezzar to fight me
whose statue of gold falls in the waste land.

Abandoning the righteous way to go
where Percival lies drowned on the sea shore,
I ask wise Urania to marry me,
but she is in love with Prometheus
who operates power plant near Lake Tahoe
that leaves thousands of people in the dark.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus goes on tour around the world doing standup comedy where he performs monologs of Odysseus, Jesus, Hamlet, and other romantic anti-heroes who defy tyrants.

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

Psychic Energy Of Love
© Surazeus
2026 05 12

Primal Spirit, born from infernal swirls
in seething chaos of celestial flames,
our Last Universal Common Ancestor
that first evolved in hot Hadean Eon,
still glows with psychic energy of love
in every cell of my atomized body.

Every organic creature, born from Earth
with immortal soul of genetic code,
operates machinery for protein systems
with shared chirality of amino acids
through fuel of adenosine triphosphate
as universal currency of cells.

Breaking water bonds with hydrolysis,
adenosine triphosphate executes
sharp energy beams sufficient to drive
biochemical processes of life
which animates our physical machine
through pulsing passion of emotive force.

Physical experience of our God Soul
buzzes deep inside every cell of my body
to spark aggressive assertion of will
through brave actions of creative design
since I feel original Force of Life
pulse in each action I choose to perform.

Since Primal Spirit first began to dream
four billion years ago in spin of time,
her spiral coil of genes accumulates
glow of experience in stereotype tropes
which illuminates righteous path of action
so I pursue Course of Honor to grow.

Driven by primal energy of hope,
that flares forth from first flash of the big bang,
our planet forms from solar nebula
to generate prokaryotic cell
empowered by stable machine of acids
as self-dividing vesicle of lust.

Inspired by psychic energy of love,
I play the lyre of Mercury and sing
hymn of praise to the Supreme Being of Light
that glows with nuclear power in the Sun,
so I worship Sun-Spider Solaria
who weaves our bodies from atomic threads.

My brain, nurtured by this chemical frame
of my temporary body, embodies
immortal flare of psychic energy
that we mortal humans have signified
with the weird word God to symbolize
mindless passion of our desire to live.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus explains how every organism on Earth all spring from our Last Universal Common Ancestor, our First Mother whose soul animates our minds with love.

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

Yellow Snake Of Truth
© Surazeus
2026 05 12

Dredged up from the past, strange memories,
strangers recorded in ambiguous riddles,
crawl wounded on hot highway of ambition,
and latch their bodies with obsessive lust
to pulsing antivirus of my brain
where they plant seeds that reprogram my mind.

Floating in colonial skyscape of hope,
dispersed across vastness of timeless thought,
I wear silver mask of the wise Ungod
to play Music of the Spheres on bone lyre
that shakes Poisoned Apple loose from my brain
so I become the Yellow Snake of Truth.

Brewing gloom in white hot Cauldron of Faith,
with tears of angels, and mushrooms that sprout
from corpses of gods men worship no more,
I wear Mask of Folly carved from glass skull
of the newest devil to walk the Earth
who claws diamonds from ghost mountains of fear.

When the Maimed King, still slouching on gold throne
of obsolete power, clutches Holy Grail
he stole from cracked Tomb of the Unknown savior,
I sweep back Curtain of Uncertainty
to reveal Faith Beggars wearing gray suits
who preach about salvation of the vampire.

Renamed Pilgrim of the Apocalypse,
I react with wild laughter of King Lear
against mechanical sterility
of our world industrial society,
then design weird blueprint to resurrect
Zarathia from ruins of America.

I bow with reverence of honest respect
before Supreme Being of the One-Eyed Sun
whose radiant light of life illuminates
our spinning Earth with atoms of desire,
since, unmoved by Eight Winds of Providence,
he floats serenely on Lotus of Love.

As latest descendant of Melkhizath,
whose spirit animates my heart with faith,
I contemplate Wyrd of our universe,
which is the only version that exists
out of all the possible variations
mirrored by fractals of the multiverse.

Still echoing softly in Cage of Voices,
prophecies of the Sibyl with gold eyes
shatter illusions of national pride
because Spirit of Odin, bold Lightning-Caster,
is worshipped by people of America,
terrified of the Yellow Snake of Truth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus explains to people of America that they worship Odin who wears the mask of Jesus, but they insist the woke hippie is a holy warrior of nationalist pride.

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

Wounded Heart Of Everyone
© Surazeus
2026 05 11

The saddest soul in the world eats the stone
soft as the wounded heart of everyone
so no one else feels anguish of despair.
Children swim in the river of weird words
to understand why happiness of light
gleams on surface of the burgeoning sea.

Fragments of the broken mirror gleam blue
in white dust of the driveway. Hungry trees
explain to the girl in the yellow dress
why wind gets trapped in words of holy books
no one ever reads. Pipes where water flows
slither under yards of fallen road signs.

Each time he finds another jeweled crown
abandoned in the field of rubber tires
behind the car garage, he asks the crow
for name of the faceless ghost in his heart.
People driving cars wear innocent masks
since rain sounds like clack of typewriter keys.

Ghosts are not real, yet they are memories
of people we would like to see again,
the girl in the yellow dress tells the boy
in tattered jeans. They walk along the fence
and pretend to play piano on wires
of awkward flirtation till they depart.

When her aunt calls her Catherine again
the girl in the yellow dress shakes her head.
I am the incarnation of Isolde,
but this time Tristan and I will not die
of broken-hearted sorrow, for we choose
the life we wish to live against cruel fate.

When the boy sees the crow on the mailbox
where he puts letters he can never write
to his mother, he feels strange sense of fear,
so he runs into night of broken lamps
and hides behind the car-repair garage
where his grandfather used to drink cold beer.

Late each afternoon, before school is out,
Tristan and Isolde meet at the garage
where they eat hotdogs and drink seven-up
while Light My Fire plays on the radio.
Because no airplanes in the clear blue sky
are dropping bombs, they both decide to kiss.

She plays violin while he plays the flute
as strangers making music in the night,
till psychic energy swells huge as clouds
that crack at sweet electric flash of love
so silver rain drenches the world in hope.
They never agree to marry or not.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus plays banjo in front of the garage while Tristan and Isolde make out in the back where the river remembers how to cleanse the Earth.

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

Mauve Mask Of Morning
© Surazeus
2026 05 11

To wear mauve mask of morning without fear,
concerned about wordless pain people hide,
I sit before glowing computer screen
and map whole history of humanity
with points, lines, and polygons that depict
static image of our now-changing world.

I feel mauve mask of morning hide my face
while I search among jagged stones of hope
for deep well of immortal energy
so I can bring cup of juice in my heart
to Mother Gaya in four-pillared fane
where she weeps over death of the blind moon.

Without mauve mask of morning to reflect
spirit of water that nurtures my faith,
I play in backyard of my empty home,
happy as the child with apple of light
that mimics how the sun designs our minds
with aching gratitude for mystery.

I find mauve mask of morning in wet grass,
so I sit in museum all day long
sketching imitations of famous works
to see if I can wake genius of art
who gazes at me from blank eyes of ghosts
trapped inside frame of conceptual regret.

To build mauve mask of morning from sharp shards
of rose windows shattered by happy bombs,
I rearrange truths of reality
so everything I thought was true as wind
supplies oxygen when I breathe it in,
learning nature of soul carnality.

Behind mauve mask of morning Soul of God
wakes in vast neural network of my brain
so conscious sense of self I feel as me,
programmed by dreams that my ancestors lived,
fools me to feel immortal in frail flesh,
so I run laughing in lush field of flowers.

Shielded by mauve mask of morning with pride,
I stand on global stage of hungry fame
and sing transcendent spells of ecstasy
that flash through my brain as epiphany,
then vanish from dream of the turning world
after I play my part programming truth.

Inspired by mauve mask of morning from faith,
I follow Death on signless road of fate
with urgent passion, fueled by ardent pain,
to build from bones of gods sheltering fane
where I observe political events
as tricker who plays the opposite game.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus teaches class of students in the river park techniques to paint mauve mask of morning that conceals mystery of the human spirit.

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

Never Die Of Truth
© Surazeus
2026 05 10

Because my heart will never die of truth,
though my body and mind wither from time,
I wander fields of wheat till I meet Ruth
who teaches me psychic secret of chime.
We hold hands as we stroll along the stream
while troubles weave our hearts in loyal team.

Before I wake up, stuck in Tree of Life
while stealing apples from Lilith the Queen,
I learn from Hephaestus how to forge knife
of justice with my name in damascene.
Though she casts me out of high garden walls
I study secret of electric balls.

In Desolation Canyon of Utah
I build log cabin on Green River shore
where I write love letters to Onatah
who trades wagons of corn for iron ore.
When I escape castles on noble quest
I build democracy in the Wild West.

Riding my bike in the small Texas town,
I think about Brenda with eyes of gold
who giggles when I flirt as clumsy clown
then sing prophecies the Crow Witch inscrolled.
I see mask of her face on golden moon
when I ask Anne Bradstreet for sacred boon.

Our great empire now collapses from lies
since ideals of justice and liberty
are twisted from tricks spread by foreign spies,
which curses my tribesmen with poverty.
We build from ruins of America
new equal nation of Zarathia.

I do my part while wandering road of fate,
composing epic of philosophers
to highlight heroes who investigate
nature of life as truth geographers.
Now I can vanish from dream of this world
at thirteenth coming of the cosmic herald.

We should not wait for brave Lyterius
to save our nation from the tyrant thief
since democracy is precarious,
for justice requires sacrificial grief.
I search for Ruth in prairie fields of wheat
to calculate our wealth in the spreadsheet.

Since our nation will never die of truth,
we build new world view on verified facts
adjudicated by messiah sleuth
who notarizes all social contracts.
As thirteenth descendant of the Crow Witch
I chronicle truth with each hexastich.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus hikes along the Green River up Desolation Canyon in Utah to Rock Creek Ranch where he teaches young Edwin how to play the lyre of Mercury.

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

Obsessive Eyes Of History
© Surazeus
2026 05 10

The random events of my mundane life
occur so far outside standard template
of socially accepted stereotypes,
that I can only chronicle each phase
without application of ordered stamps
beyond frame of meaningful narrative.

No conceptual meaning assigned by fate
could be extracted from those bizarre scenes
if I detail each particular fact
against normal code of significance
contrary to nuance of legal aim
that motivates my actions to survive.

Each maladjusted purpose I assert
reverses message of psychic intent
with imprecise explanation of hope
beyond general drift of my argument,
which is to say I could never attest
to divine gist of consensual design.

No story ever told in time-bound books,
nor shows presented on the glowing screen,
ever represents my experience
in typical sequence of measured scenes
that model paradigm of social tales
contrived by fabulists of absurd myths.

I will not compose memoir of my life,
spinning meaningful narrative of fate
from random assemblage of anecdotes
that highlight examples of clumsiness
when I interact with people in scenes
scripted to humiliate me with farce.

Each time I stumble into social scene,
where fearful people wearing bitter masks
direct burlesque of taunting disrespect
that stars their caricature of my soul,
I perform contrary to game they expect
that exposes their hate through travesty.

Thus I exit absurd drama they cast
by vacating stage of their haughty pride
and leave them to strut with false dignity
before obsessive eyes of history
that devours esteem of arrogant fools
with terrible curse of soul-twisting fame.

Long trapped in stories other people write,
unwilling antagonist of their heroism,
I leap from tower of religious faith
to soar on urgent wings of Icarus
till I fall singing in Ocean of Doom
and rise reborn on island of my heart.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus welcomes Icarus to temple of prophecy on Island of Avalon where they operate theater showing tragedy and comedy to everyone for free.

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

Falling Star Of Fate
© Surazeus
2026 05 10

Too late to catch the falling star of fate,
that blasts illusion of our noble state,
I leap across abyss of timeless truth
to wear changing mask of messiah sleuth
and play Lyterius on the global stage
to free Liberty from the golden cage.

After I trace the falling star of fate,
that exposes ghoul of long-concealed hate,
I gather wounded people of the land
so with strength of numbers we take our stand
opposing tyrant in castle of greed
whose idol of gold crumbles into seed.

Because I map the falling star of fate,
that cracks base of our continental plate,
I search for fragments of our old world view
to assemble weird puzzle from each clue
in blueprint for new world order of laws
that applies fair verdict to each crime cause.

Shocked awake by the falling star of fate,
that reveals location of my soulmate,
I overcome all obstacles of chance
so we can meet and share romantic dance
in sacred temple of fertility
to generate souls with civility.

Twisting time from the falling star of fate,
that inspires our new nation to be great,
I stand on street corner in every town
to play guitar and sing about the clown
who decrees we worship idol of gold
that portrays Justice without her blindfold.

Heart inspired by the falling star of fate,
that provides gold for the heavenly gate,
I stand guard at threshold of global change
to help angels of Ishtar rearrange
psychic system of world society
with tools that help manage anxiety.

Concerned about the falling star of fate,
that smolders in garden of my estate,
I pull sword of justice from glowing stone
with hammer of vision adjusting tone,
so I lead revolution of the brave
against hungry monster in the dream cave.

Empowered by the falling star of fate,
that helps my magnetic brain navigate
traps to treasures in labyrinth of myth,
I crown Ishtar beneath the monolith
as priestess who records our names at birth
to manage United Nations of Earth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus guides school children in Museum of Zarathia to explain how falling star of fate helped people of the land remove the tyrant and establish new nation of liberty and justice for all.

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

Safe On The Serpent Way
© Surazeus
2026 05 10

In this open field of battle for truth
between bleak wind and sorrow of the mind,
I build marble temple from dragon bones
where the clock, not yet invented by hope,
unspools salvation from seductive hearts
of those who long to walk the signless road.

Soft whisper of some voice in shadowed woods
explains quickening of life in dark rain
that causes mindless reel of being to spin
with sharp machinery of the hungry mind
because past events of outrageous crimes
occur again today that shocks our hearts.

Knife-eyed scientists of truth, who research
excessive opinions about state power,
scan vast emptiness of heavenly realms
with passion to observe how souls are born
from flash of chemicals in pulsing brains
that emanate with conscious sense of self.

Harrowing strain of electric regrets
reshapes crowded tenements of lost souls
who give up searching for the Promised Land
while gazing upward at arrogant clouds
that deny right to work and live at will
in any town along the restless river.

So many voices of the recent past
wait mute in cracked texts of long-unread books
that highlight fraught problem of ownership
fought between factions of corporate states,
so I walk barefoot on long pilgrimage
to find skulls of gods buried under roots.

When Sisyphus stumbles to his crippled knees
and rock of salvation begins to roll,
I will imagine how happy he is
to push the stone of wisdom up the hill,
then stand in line with joy to wait my turn
while I ponder how matter radiates essence.

Since Tiresias gives me wand of respect
and retires to watch television shows,
I strut the busy streets of business shops
till I see tall gold statue in the park,
but when preachers demand I worship it
I call out for help from Abednego.

Running from masked agents with eyeless guns,
I seek for Spirit of Lyterius
to wake inside hollow cave of my heart
and guide my way safe on the Serpent Way,
till I find myself at the pyramid
where lightning strikes gold idol of the king.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus melts down the gold idol of the king and gives coins stamped with face of Mercury to everyone in the land so they can buy new homes and food to eat.

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

Woke In Angelophanic Realm
© Surazeus
2026 05 09

Trapped in despondency of eager faith,
I follow Zadkiel with purple wings
along winding trail of hope-shattered stones
to snow-frosted peaks of Strobilus Mountain
where I find fountain of my sun-born soul
that fills my mortal frame with divine light.

Still chained to ragged cliff of anarchy,
Prometheus calls my name in howling wind,
so I open portal of my aching heart
which lures his flame-stealing soul to attend
phase of my project constructing world view
that beams radiation of primordial god.

Engaged with focus of attentive care
in brave adventure of curious growth,
which my ancestors practice through each life,
I map weird vision of ontology
that defines virtue of active respect
based on constructive process of design.

Through theft of fire from cave of ardent faith
I build assertive walls of Ilium
where we horse-traders evaluate pride,
immune to blood of dragons in our hearts,
based on clairvoyance of agnostic dread
still pertinent to moments of insight.

Interior vision from Spirit of Mundus,
which postulates sacred garden of ghosts,
provides supportive landscape for my heart
to dwell woke in angelophanic realm
where I translate encoded messages
as cosmic revelation few perceive.

Demonic shade, that emanates from me,
guides me through mirror cave of mental math
to mediate contract of my wounded heart
with cosmic Seraph of immortal genes
along the winding Serpent Path of faith
where Numinous Phantom of my heart sings.

When I receive weird truth that we choose fate,
I recite sagacious riddles of insight
while performing pageant of ecstasy
through narrative exposition of deeds
which portray my inner transformation
based on the friendly silence of the moon.

Freed from subterfuge of religious creed,
I walk with Zadkiel on mountain trail
to build devotional fane of respect
for soul of my ancestors in my heart
to glow as mirror that presents my face
which masks ephemeral spirit of the Earth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus joins Zadkiel in ring of stones where they teach me how to translate mysterious visions of the mind to ecstatic hymns of compassion for humanity.

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