Hope To Visit Shadowland
© Surazeus
2026 09 23

If I should hope to visit Shadowland,
where ghosts of all the nameless people sing
hymns to the fallen god of thunderstorms,
I may have to purchase tickets with love
to watch myth of the Dream Kingdom dissolve
to pages in old books devoured by Time.

Alone with ancient Lyre of Mercury,
I sit beneath the old fruit-laden Tree
of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, heart
pulsing with compassion for the world,
and sing hymns that depict in secret verse
life of every person who ever lives.

Since Death is searching for light of my soul
that glimmers faintly in vast gloom of fate,
with plan to snuff flame of my humming mind,
I sing strange visions flashing in my eyes,
composed of memories my ancestors dream
through sparkling nodes in network of my brain.

My conscious soul of self-aware insight
glows bright with passion of mortal desire
as radiant emanation from my brain,
fueled by conceptual chemicals of faith,
with delusion of immortality
conjured from my ancestral memories.

This sense that I have lived since dawn of time
is powered by dreams programmed in my brain
from three billion ancestors who designed
my body to this state of clumsy grace,
evolving four hundred million years to me,
but I shall vanish to nothing at death.

Since I will sink deep in dark senseless sea,
and atoms of my body dissipate
from fragile frame of flesh that constitutes
organic being of chemical respect,
I breathe celestial spirit of our world
and sing in orchard of my solitude.

When functions of my body cease to flash
with hot atomic ardency of faith,
I want roots from the Tree of the Knowledge
of Good and Evil to reintegrate
deconstructed molecules of my soul
so I become fruit yet-born souls will eat.

Earth will recycle molecules that form
my soul to basic elements of thought,
so I become gusts of the curious wind,
and I become drops of the fertile rain,
so atoms forming me in my short life
will form bodies of billions more to come.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/…

Orpheus celebrates is birthday by dining with his wife and children at the Thai restaurant where he eats Pad Thai and thinks about strange beauty of the Earth.

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

Evicted From Their Homes
© Surazeus
2026 09 23

After he climbs down from Mount Helicon,
still clutching broken lyre of honesty,
Devus crawls through back window of his house
and lies on soft grammar of loyalty
to calculate the flow of capital
that might dissolve chemical bonds of oaths.

Eager to map out rival charts of value
to inherited forms of thought control,
Devus weaves lines of credit from despair,
which renders unbearable flash of being
light as wingless ghosts tangled in oak limbs
whose cries shock him awake just at midnight.

Almost shocked awake from delirium
at time-tangled arrogance of regret,
Devus leaps from frenzy of mocking jest
in darker fields of imperial concern
for imposing amazement of comedy
on various cultures infesting the world.

Trapped by Pax Americana through greed
to build towers of glass on rainless moons,
Devus looks back down at our lonely globe
where faceless people hunger for new hope,
dominated by capital compromise
to live in gardens of rubbish from games.

Clutching fragments of war atrocities,
decontextualized by the evening news,
Devus visits pastures of wounded souls
where refugees, evicted from their homes,
search for sacred books lost in empty tombs
to paint churches white with national pride.

Tricked by bland concealment of uniforms
to accommodate unvoiced victimhood,
Devus prepares bread and wine for the ghost
who screams with smoke of rage that he is king,
but no one notes his bond of care annulled
by sentimental laughter of the dead.

Through bodies dismembered by heartless laws
as ten commandments of the Fire-Cloud Ghost,
Devus channels souls of the suffering
through television shows on the dream screen
that people watch before they go to bed
so they can conquer the world before dawn.

Because he now has nothing to his name
as claim to fame in anthem of our land,
Devus scatters credit cards on town squares
where millions of people stare at war tanks
that crush idols of their gods to smithereens,
then they laugh and become stuffed animals.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/…

Orpheus works as customer service representative for Karma Kredit Korporation of Amerika, offering deals to homeless refugees of war.

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

His Star-Eyed Child
© Surazeus
2026 09 23

The angel in the stone cottage perceives
how the hill swells up to the swirling sky
with changeless solitude of hungry trees
that always seem to know what he desires
before he can express it in soft wind
that tangles his heart with branches of hope.

Alert to song of sparrows among leaves
that argue about who best understands
miscalculations of fate through how clouds
contradict design on grand temple walls,
the angel ponders why things fall straight down,
then whistles nonchalantly when death laughs.

When nameless Goddess of Fertility
appears with new-born baby in her arms,
the angel with three eyes provides goat milk
after he buries her among red tulips,
then wonders what to name his star-eyed child
who always climbs in trees to shout at clouds.

Smoothing mud in wood frame with gentle hands,
the angel without wings carves pictograms
relating how the child came from the sky,
and leads great army of wild homeless boys
on quest to unite all nations of men
in glorious empire of the singing sparrow.

While boiling apples in cauldron of faith,
the angel with stone heart remembers why
fame rises from trickling stream in the ditch,
then invites the bold bearded king to eat
rye bread he bakes in oven of his heart,
smeared with honey from rotten tree of truth.

When the bold bearded king with jeweled crown
kneels before him in early morning light,
he peers close enough to see beaming face
of his star-eyed child he forgot to name,
so he laughs with delight and hugs him close
while generals and soldiers stare in surprise.

When the child inside the bold bearded king
asks him if he had fallen from the sky,
the angel takes him to the unmarked grave
where his mother lies under tulip blooms,
so the glorious emperor of the world
kneels and weeps that he never saw her face.

Pointing to young woman beside the king,
the angel with three eyes smiles with calm joy,
and tells bold bearded king that he can see
face of his mother in face of his daughter
whose eyes gleam bright as lightning in the storm,
so she gives her grandfather egg of time.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/…

Orpheus strums lyre of Mercury and sings tale of the emperor who rose from poverty as son of the rye farmer to become ruler of the world with justice of wisdom.

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

Hymn To Save The World
© Surazeus
2026 09 22

If I could sing the hymn to save the world
with soft mercurial voice of wounded pride,
I would rise from stone bed of my cold tomb
and walk the crowded streets of everywhere
to recite endless tales of tragic heroes
when people tune in every afternoon.

I will show you where the dragon lies curled
in peaceful slumber, since blind tyrants hide
treasures they steal from Tellurian womb,
though Gandalf experiments in glass lair
with computer pulses through ones and zeroes
that compose solemn American tune.

No one explains what emotions are called
that shelter me safe when I feign to brood
about sacrifice of the haughty lamb
so I forge key of wisdom from star core
which beams excessive proverbs of fake sorrows
since library truth has become my bane.

Engine of my Pegasus heart has stalled
during flight to fortress of solitude
were I learn to write spells from Abraham
who assigns me to manage the bookstore
while he digs for jewels in mist-veiled barrows
because no one wants to stay in their lane.

Minerva teaches me how to be bold
because everything I create will fade
and disappear at brutal curse of fame
that she observes as omen of star
that pierces hearts of children with faith arrows
when Jesus descends in hot-air balloon.

As Castle Skald it is my job to scold
shocked artists who refuse to escalade
assault of justice to expand the frame
of social progress when I drive my car
to escort grandchildren of divine pharaohs
who operate world empire of the commune.

Though I sign petition to save the wild
from development of the psychic mode,
I annul despair with the solar term
Apollo gives me so I play the seer
mapping dreams to navigate weird tomorrows
which I program to run my brain machine.

Long after the fake report has been filed
about homeless angels on the world road,
I partner with Zeus to found new law firm
so we can profit from conceptual fear
based on importance of rain-glazed wheelbarrows
though Earth is united by Melusine.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/…

Orpheus composes hymn to save the world, then conducts tabernacle choir of blind angels who sing heart-inspiring ode to anguish in the Cathedral of Dead Gods.

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

Heart Clock of Limerence
© Surazeus
2026 09 22

Energized by heart clock of limerence
to prove with anguish of my wounded heart
that I am loyal to Persephone,
I count each snowflake swirling at my face
from mirror mask of her innocent moon
as if they symbolize our mortal souls.

Excited by heart clock of limerence
to find the Emerald Tablet of Untime,
I follow moon-bright horse of tragic love
across vast Manitoba to the lake
where murdered lovers dance in Raven Wood
with bonds unbroken by cruel jealousy.

Vitalized by heart clock of limerence
to channel radio signals through my brain,
I chat with Manipogo about faith
that animates our bodies with desire
to live free from oppression of the state
by writing screenplay for our chosen fate.

Elated by heart clock of limerence
to study lives of creatures in the woods,
I dislodge holy word of arrogance
from pulsing monster of my hungry heart
that drives me to wade deep in lake of ghosts
where faces of blind strangers stare at me.

Enfranchised by heart clock of limerence
to clamber over river-polished stones,
I listen to relentless Water Song
discuss strange silence of obsessive pines
that dare me to hang blinking lights on them,
so I stack stones in walls of paradise.

Astounded by heart clock of limerence
to misinterpret songs mad angels sing,
I steal electric cows of brittleness
to bargain with Persephone for wealth
who commissions me to legislate love
since I contrive new tales from ancient lies.

Authorized by heart clock of limerence
to rebuild Herculaneum in glass,
I follow sweet Persephone through Hell
where she reveals strange mysteries of truth
about how atoms function to program
weird dreams that flash across my scattered mind.

Actualized by heart clock of limerence
to wield Voice of Vajra with honest hand,
I twirl bright thunderbolt with diamond eye
to battle demon of cathedral truth
who tries to crush my mind with clear insight,
but I laugh from in my tomb of tangled words.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/…

Orpheus stops Pluto from pursuing Persephone into the Library of Singing Ghosts at the University of Zarathia where she paints idols of dead gods.

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

Muffled By Sly Zephyrus
© Surazeus
2026 09 22

Bright rill of water fills up skull of God
with tears of children killed in global wars,
so Sibyl strings cracked lyre of Mercury
with threads of memories from rotting brains
that weave our myths in Terran tapestry
which traps me in persona I design.

Blind ghost in doorway of abandoned home
decides to open window of the egg
so Sibyl hears soft whisper of the snake
explain how purpose causes us to bloom
from seed of sorrow sparked by tear of hope
so I feel essence of my body glow.

What we ignore is what we value most,
Sibyl decrees with holy voice of wind
that blasts sharp jagged peaks of mountain minds
so we transform from farmers in wet fields
to analysts at computers in towers
who calculate how soon great gods will die.

Blind seers with old guitars on city streets
provide support with hungry songs of hope
to people who must work in factories
to build the infrastructure of our world
so every brave community depends
on clowns for survival of truthfulness.

Weird books that summer-sleepy Dryads write
provide new paradigm for global faith
that highlight zealous deeds of fabulists
who strive to conquer Earth for their Cloud God
whose priestess floats in deep Leucadian grave
to sing our sorrows in calm hurricanes.

No hidden harvest of luxurious time
wakes stricken spirits of our frantic age
from strange dream of aggressive tyranny
that rises huge as Cetus from our hearts
in this tumultuous year of social change
when Sibyl writes our tales on scrolls of blood.

Since she is now our global gardener,
who cultivates strange flowers from our hearts,
brave Sibyl nurtures warriors in shy souls
who vow to Proserpine with honest tears
to build new nation of Zarathia
from shattered ruins of America.

Since my immortal soul of genes has sprung
as curious Orpheus from Niobean womb,
I join wise Sibyl with sharp-shooter eyes
to wage clandestine war of honest faith
against harsh tyranny of gold-hand thief
whose voice is muffled by sly Zephyrus.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/…

Orpheus wears mask of my face as he maps whole process of human society on time-animated atlas of world history for people to navigate their life goals.

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

Mountain Of Divine Grace
© Surazeus
2026 09 21

Reluctant to descend on signless road
to misty underworld of faceless ghosts
who whisper stories of their suffering,
I linger at the twisted iron gate,
and pluck at strings on broken lyre of truth
while memorizing scenes of their disgrace.

Purged by obsessive anguish of despair
that writhes from wounded hearts of mortal souls,
killed in ten thousand wars of thought control,
I wander blithely down the signless road
to cavern of illusions stuffed with souls
who beg me to record their bitter lives.

Heart numb from endless scream of suffering,
I stare mute at their twisted souls of rage
and try to understand their wordless howls,
but they just blast past me as ocean wind
that pierces to my bones with blades of ice,
so I shiver with horror at bleak death.

Bones stretched too rubber-taut in agony
at unjust death of body-searing pain
that billions of mortal humans endure,
I swell into enormous cloud of rage
that flashes with memories of harsh death
till I condense to iron core of Earth.

Up steep obstructing slope of bitterness,
I struggle to assert each rage-weighed step
of heavy horror oppressing my heart
against blast of grim angelic contempt
to climb massive mountain of divine grace
in futile search for cleansing clemency.

Alone without witty word-smith as guide,
who could steer my faltering steps of fear
safe through rage-tangled limbs of screaming trees,
I stumble blindly toward the Promised Land
that gleams too faintly in Tower of Hope
for me to see its Flame of Liberty.

Exhausted from my ten-million-year quest
to seek salvation on the mountain top,
I randomly arrive at peak of truth
where I watch empires of men rise and fall
countless centuries of wars to play God,
laughing as I float up in empty sky.

Bouncing against planets in timeless void,
I flail wildly in erratic progress
as I careen up nine celestial spheres
to tumble awkwardly in Paradise
where no Beatrice scolds me for my vice,
so I sit by Tree of Knowledge and eat.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/…

Orpheus finds Sariel under Tree of Knowledge so he gives him lyre of Mercury and teaches him how to play tunes while improvising spells that conjure visions of truth.

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

Nowhere Road Of Hope
© Surazeus
2026 09 21

If I get lost on nowhere road of hope
while searching endless maze of fractured dreams
for flourishing garden of your wild heart
that blooms somewhere far from the Promised Land,
I will listen for voice of your Star Soul
that hums in winds and waves of everywhere.

I find my ghosts on nowhere road of hope
which multiply from each stage of my life
so all my past selves wander nowhere now
without this body that conjures my soul
for I progress beyond phase of my dream
as I evolve to become Faceless God.

I catch raindrops on nowhere road of hope
to fill deep rifts with ever-flowing streams
that swirl in lakes where children play and sing
as we become new people we invent
on journey to become god self of faith
till we all dissolve in vast sea of souls.

When I find you on nowhere road of hope
as beam of light your life has left behind,
I gather glowing ashes of dead stars
and mold them into idol of your soul
to capture vibrant essence of your mind
so I remember you long after death.

Though I am not on nowhere road of hope
where we leave masks of our sorrows behind,
I search for potent shadow of your mind
that dances among trees from beams of light
so we embrace with joyful trust to know
essential spirit of our strange homeland.

Since I become our nowhere road of hope,
I build from aching sorrow of my loss
safe haven from stones of enduring faith
to shelter your frail soul of wounded pride
with watchful shield of my attentive heart
so you may thrive in refuge of my trust.

We walk enjoined on nowhere road of hope
as separate angels bound by one brave wing
for we glow with whole light of sacred faith
to warm each other during storms of fear
and shine as light that guides the other home
with loyal love vast as our galaxy.

So we emerge from nowhere road of hope
that leads our quest to everywhere on Earth
for we all sing in harmony with light
and dance in sync with ocean waves of truth
as we merge in global family of ghosts
composed of lonely souls who find their way.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/…

Orpheus finds Durga riding her lion in the mountain valley so she offers him cup of peach juice, then they stroll together to the lake of singing dragons.

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

Star Mind Of Our Universe
© Surazeus
2026 09 21

The way we rise from passion of the Earth
on wings we weave from crippled words of hope
reveals pure cosmic energy of light
that beams through our frail bodies as desire
to transcend limits of our mortal being
so song of love glows long after we die.

The way you rise from sorrow of the sea
on wings of light that angels weave for you
inspires my wounded heart with balm of love
to help lost people find their way back home
so I lay flowers, picked beside the road,
on grave where you dream one with the Star Mind.

The way we rise from rubble of our dreams
in swirls of gray smoke battered by harsh winds
exposes suffering humans must endure,
whether we extract strength of hope or not,
to carry on and build from what we lost
new garden flourishing with trees of fruit.

The way you rise from tangled words of fear
by strapping language on your weary arms
expresses vital confidence you bear
to transcend sorrow of this crowded world
beyond sight of blind jealousy from greed
so you find haven of peace where you grow.

The way we rise on ocean waves of faith
through intense pulse of love powered by moons
that form our souls from mystery of light
frames how we grow from verdant trail of change
as we expand to fill vast space of life
with routine duties of necessity.

The way you rise from fractured house of sighs
to scatter mercy on lost wanderers
who follow bright light of your ardent love
inspires my heart to break free from hard chains
and walk again with balanced honesty
this globe that wobbles through eternity.

The way I rise from wisdom of your words
that shows how I may build world view from truth
maps complex journey of the human soul
evolving shape from fish to singing god
so I glow with each atom in my brain
refracting Star Mind of our universe.

The way we rise from mourning of despair
to reassemble puzzle of our hearts
spells universal myth of human courage
that programs how we overcome our fears
so we join hands and celebrate this life
at feast that honors souls we love who die.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/…

Orpheus strums lyre of Mercury sings elegy before grave of Eurydice to lament the tragic loss of the most beautiful and compassionate woman in the world.

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

Savior In The Sycamore
© Surazeus
2026 09 20

Skipping in the autumn evening rainstorm
is how we can find out we are still real
even though events in our mirror world
spiral out of fictionalized control
that transform people into hungry gulls
who search for Heaven in the wilderness.

In the field of flowers blooming from graves
I am more than the absence of the field,
though I am missing from puzzle of truth
where I walk as air in the empty space
filled with the wholeness of the long-dead souls
who animate my body with desire.

I should not trouble younger hearts with hope
that fractured strangeness of our social game
will readjust our world view where we play
noble heroes in dramatic events,
watched by the savior in the sycamore
who bids us farewell as he flies away.

Since silence is impossible this year,
demanding that we howl with principle
against relentless anger of cruel men
blind with rage that story of our state
is based on exploitation of the poor,
then we shall gather by the moon and hum.

If we sink deep in shifting sands of change
by laughing at forbidden laws of love,
then we shall grow flowers from wounded hearts
so we can write new universal laws
for every person in the world to live
free from delusions of religious creeds.

When snowflakes flutter from the faceless sky
to prove God is delusion of despair,
I gaze in windows of suburban homes
where they share meals at tables of respect
beside the pine that blinks with fairy eyes,
then wander past to sleep in Raven Wood.

Since Shamash lives as flame inside my heart
that widens cope of my subconscious vibe,
I gather force of psychic energy
from millions of minds frantic with surprise
that world view we have shared for eighty years
collapses into gibberish of lies.

Retrieving it from mirror of my eye,
I slip my soul back in its secret place,
but it remains as twinkling star of faith
that quivers bright in vastness of deep space
since light of atoms flashing in my brain
remains dream key to my infinity.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/…

Orpheus strolls on the beach by the Pacific Ocean and ponders political events that are quickly devolving into absurdity of tyrannical greed.

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

Girl With The Cloud Heart
© Surazeus
2026 09 20

Bright girl with the cloud heart knows my true name
when her black eyes see essence of my soul,
so I lie flat on spinning Earth of fate
and feel cool kisses of refreshing rain
wake my immortal soul of genes from dream,
so I attend needs of her hungry mind.

Fierce girl with the cloud heart writes writhing words
of wisdom on soft parchment of my skin
with sharp-tipped quill of angel-feathered faith
that finds subconscious sorrows my mind hides
in thirty Cupids with adoring eyes
that flock around her head on cloudy wings.

Sad girl with the cloud heart swirls ocean waves
with vision-crafting hands of ardent faith
to mold my body from mud of lost time,
then breathes ethereal spirit of Shamash
inside frail frame of my aggressive flesh
so I provide assistance to her dream.

Lithe girl with the cloud heart dances ballet
on phonelines that connect ten billion homes
in flashing web of individual minds
bound in whole matrix of her dreaming brain
because she is first mother of our world
whose memories program how we perform.

Brave girl with the cloud heart lies on soft bed,
dressed in long velvet gown of stoic dread,
and cradles wounded swan of urgent fear
with gentle embrace of thought-healing truth
while I chop wood in swirls of voiceless snow
to treasure her existence with concern.

Mute girl with the cloud heart in crumbling house,
alert in polished chair by glowing window,
watches turtles float in pool of green tears
while record player vibrates with weird spell
revealing lost road to the Promised Land,
so I give her glass of moon wine to drink.

Blind girl with the cloud heart grips hard seashell
to hear song of the ocean in my heart,
then types blood-lettered verses on blank pages
which I arrange to pave long road of faith
to secret garden where she hides my key
which I forged from core of our spinning globe.

Deaf girl with the cloud heart in black-lace dress
explains with voice of wind how eyeless stars
flash dreams of our romance in my brain cells
till Moon Raven emerges from her breast
and gives me jeweled ring of psychic power
so I crown her as Empress of the Earth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/…

Orpheus walks as thin faceless shadow wraith on endless road toward house by the sea where the girl with the cloud heart writes his story in her dream book.

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

Renegade Star Of Fate
© Surazeus
2026 09 20

While strolling down the busy city street
past shiny stores filled with trinkets and clothes,
I feel ancient spirit of Shamash glow
from tangled turmoil of my pungent heart,
so I organize our corporate empire,
inspired by my renegade star of fate.

Through fractured porcelain mask of plain beauty,
I gaze at spotted pear of innocence
to program formula from moral law
which binds intense emotions of despair
with time-unspooling grace of self-control,
confused by my renegade star of fate.

Paused in forgotten graveyard of sad ghosts,
Ishtar lingers among rain-streaked tombstones
from which all names and dates time has erased,
then gazes up at tall trees of her faith
to ask if I could record their lost tales,
deterred by my renegade star of fate.

Heart floating in breath of the misty moor
as wordless thoughts she wishes were not hers,
Ninhursag gestures magic of her hands
that causes fruit to bloom from trees and hills
then strolls with her lion to Eden Lake,
defined by my renegade star of fate.

While sweet Ninhursag bakes hot loaves of bread
and Enki patrols Ocean of Tiamat,
I climb Mount Dilmun to the Cave of Stars
to contemplate political events
that began when Marduk built new world state,
contained by my renegade star of fate.

For ten thousand years of our spinning globe
I meditate on ziggurat of stars
while watching empires rise and fall in waves
of men fighting to write the narrative
though all our stories crumble into dust,
destroyed by my renegade star of fate.

While Zeus plays chess with Anu over lands
where humans cultivate gold wheat of faith,
Adonis searches forest of pear trees,
but finds Britannia bathing in the pool,
so she bears his daughter, America,
driven by my renegade star of fate.

As Shamash reborn in this present life,
I sing ten thousand years of memories
that codify in moral tragedies
universal laws of human respect
that program how we fight the next world war,
refined by my renegade star of fate.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/…

Orpheus meets Shamash at the Crippled Pegasus Bookstore where they read their narrative poems about the gods of ancient history, then eat pad thai afterward.

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

Dream Puzzle Of Truth
© Surazeus
2026 09 20

Since I assemble dream puzzle of truth
from fractured memories of forgotten days
that you discard on endless road of time,
I feel no guilt when I sell them to you
as holy book in church of solemn faith
that guides as light you forgot you have.

Expelled from valley of lush apple trees
by gangs of thieves sent out by castle lords,
we wander on the nowhere road of hope
with no direction to survive and thrive,
till I assemble dream puzzle of truth
in goal that shines as city on the hill.

Assembled in warm hall of glowing hearths,
we feast on fruit from labor of our hands,
while I sit on high judgment throne of faith
to organize our homeless family
in company of honest citizens
based on our secret dream puzzle of truth.

Turmoil of social change in seething crowds
of hungry people clamoring at the gates
sweeps us along vast tides of global growth
that smashes ancient kingdoms into dust
so we build new world order of respect
from principles in dream puzzle of truth.

Albert drives horse-drawn wagon into town
where he sells bags of grain for silver coins,
then buys new copper pan and rolls of cloth
for Catherine to sew elegant gowns
for their three daughters with long shining hair
to attend balls in dream puzzle of truth.

Raising sword toward gold clouds with lofty pride,
Albert declares the Coming of the Lord,
then leads brave cannoneers to fire lead balls
that smash hard stone walls of cruel tyranny,
then kneels before World King on jeweled throne
whose face shimmers in dream puzzle of truth.

Now he has come to see the Christian faith
is political party that insists
descendants of Jesus, God of the Sun,
have divine right to rule nations of men,
driven to conquer the world for their Christ
whose ghost weaves their whole dream puzzle of truth.

I disassemble dream puzzle of truth
from basic principle on which it builds
that states function on hierarchy of men
controlling land where workers produce food
and bodies of women that generate
children lost in strange dream puzzle of truth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/…

Orpheus mans booth in great market of ideas around the Ziggurat of Ishtar where he sells Dream Puzzle of Truth to children who want to understand why.

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

God We Strive To Be
© Surazeus
2026 09 19

Now is the hour to readjust my brain
so I perceive electric soul of time
that laughs with shimmer of the waterfall
about sad suffering of the human soul
who kneels and prays to empty sky of blue
at sudden sorrow of the swirling snow.

I wonder if my mother is alive,
safe in walled haven of her wounded heart,
because I find words scattered on the floor
that she was just arranging with her mind
in ever-changing puzzle of false faith
defined by strangest questions children ask.

Through random splats of red paint on the wall,
which accidentally form math formulas
our brains employ to calculate how far
we wander lost in wilderness of lies,
my eyes assert new meaning of old truth
by weaving constellations from bright tears.

Now that the long-established way of things,
that formed foundation of our politics
collapses into crimes of haughty pride,
we gather in large crowd of shocked surprise
to reassert faith in grand principles
that govern how we should cooperate.

Or else time may unclock our firm beliefs
that we held sacred since the dawn of time
at slow unravelling of solemn scenes
when wingless angels wearing jeweled crowns
shall deconstruct assumptions we hold dear
to prove that ocean waves know how hearts feel.

Dispersed by humble wind of bitter fame,
our tight-knit tribe of honest carpenters
sails ships of sorrow to the Promised Land
where we build empire of the nuclear bomb
that causes lizard of the sunless sea
to rise as Godzilla, new god of Earth.

Each Sunday at flash of the rising sun
we gather on the ocean shore of faith
to sing hymns to fierce monster of the deep
till hungry dinosaur evolves its form
to clucking chicken that provides fresh eggs
we eat for breakfast with orange juice and toast.

If I succeed in program of respect
to readjust perception of my brain,
I may see face of God in silver clouds
that glimmer with divine agility
which emanates from every human heart
so we become the God we strive to be.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/…

Orpheus wears mask of Jupiter when he appears on stage in the Temple of Apollo to perform tragic tale of his assassination by Pluto to gain power.

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

Embodied Monster Of Fear
© Surazeus
2026 09 19

Rain falls on head of every conscious soul
who wanders maze of dreams on spinning globe
alike with bland indifference of fate
so all our love and hate dissolve to tears
when we seek shelter under apple trees
till we transform into angels of light.

Because the moon howls at my aching heart
with laughter that would banish from my mind
mute agony at haunting doom of death,
I camouflage my fear with helpless love
that transforms into courage of despair
as I glide cautiously in shadowed woods.

Strange visions of ancestral memories
flash bright in cold awareness of my brain
as pattern that guides how I might perform
evasive actions of attentive care
to preserve structure of my pulsing soul
when I face embodied monster of fear.

Alert to sudden danger of fierce death,
I fight against aggressive grasp of rage
through lithe evasion of destructive strikes
when I oppose demonic arrogance
and kill the monster with intense respect
as stark necessity to preserve life.

Awake with effervescent nonchalance
at hard-won victory against hungry rage,
I mediate on hillock by the sea
to feel soft murmur of star-sparkling waves
soothe aching horror of my wounded heart
so I bloom bright in shadowland of faith.

If water lily in black lake of fear
unclocks time back to primal state of faith,
I may achieve secure respect of fame
that curses my frail soul with ardent hope,
which all disperse to meaningless unthought
when I build temples from bones of dead gods.

White sheet of wisdom on taut wire of faith
escapes my back yard on angelic wings
and flies to crystal palace where God plays
harp of eternal truth that weaves my brain
with memories of survival against death,
programmed by my ancestors to be me.

If I hear you call me in fog of dawn,
I will turn mask of my psychotic ghost
to answer your inquiry with bright smile
for we are brave companions on the road
of progress bound with loyal sign of love
to translate song of rain to earnest poems.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/…

Orpheus tends his wounds after killing the wolf that tried to attack his children as they played hide and seek outside the walls of paradise.

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

Grand Temple Of Apollo
© Surazeus
2026 09 19

Resounding sorrow of silent sea waves
vibrates from engines in one million cars
so wingless angels rise from flashing screens
to gather close in crowd of broken hearts
around Temple of Apollo that glows
on eastern bank of the Potomac River.

King Midas with his gang of greedy thieves
attempts to smash with hammers of contempt
glorious temple of that shining god,
bright-eyed Apollo of the Emerald Isle,
who wrestled Python of demonic hate
to save Earth from dire nuclear holocaust.

Emerging alarmed from cave of illusions,
Minerva leads with Lamp of Liberty
the reverent people of America
to save Temple of Apollo from harm,
and stands with Sword of Justice in her hand
to guard grand Hall of Muses from his greed.

When brave Apollo, reckless warrior,
sailed Argo far across Marawa Sea
to stop cruel demon Otakemaru
on his wild rampage to destroy the world,
that monster smashed his ship with spear of hate,
but he clung to his lyre with ardent heart.

Helped by Nareau, star-eyed spider of truth,
swift Pegasus swooped down from clouds of hope
and bore Apollo safe to Helicon
where Aphrodite healed wound of his heart,
then wise Minerva crowned him King of Earth
for saving mankind from Python of hate.

After jealous Pluto, snarling in rage
that our beautiful sun god reigns in peace,
shoots bullet of contempt from grassy knoll
as he rides chariot by Tower of Books,
Minerva builds marble temple of faith
to preserve memory of his noble deeds.

With reverence for deeds of his victory,
musicians from lands all around the Earth,
invited by Calliope to play,
appear on stage in Temple of Apollo
where they perform with solemn dignity
that swells our hearts with faith in honesty.

Though mad King Midas, jealous of Apollo,
whose divine light shines in each honest heart,
fumes in rage that we worship that sun god
as representative of our great spirit,
we will remember beauty of his song
that glows from lush land of America.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/…

Orpheus plays lyre of Mercury and sings Hymn to Apollo as Minerva leads protesters to protect the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts from demolition by King Midas.

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

Wander With Bohemian Heart
© Surazeus
2026 09 19

Now that we have, for eighty stringent years,
passed our souls through the thousand darknesses
of death-bringing talk by oppressive thieves,
we sing again with radioactive faith
by leaping on Icarian wings of joy
to fall with grace of humble dignity.

With analytic pliers of respect,
which I forged from contempt for trickery,
I sing about the tragic fate of men
who live by principles of honesty
so I may wander with Bohemian heart
as minstrel transgressing borders of words.

Still stranded in imperium of the past,
lost immigrants from many diverse lands
dwell peacefully as one great tribe of souls
within expansive paradise of love,
so many languages of babbling hope
merge into universal tongue of faith.

We shall not mortgage time without death-pledge
against collapse of social boundaries
which trap our bodies in addressless homes
in vast suburban maze of fear-locked doors
where endless saga of death from despair
beats against windows that frame flashing trees.

When tyrant in crumbling castle of pride
obliterates borders of social rules,
he tries to absorb dramas of our lives
from family home to prison of the state
when he preaches sermon of our great land
through faceless voice on the harsh radio.

Annexed to system of the social game,
brave sovereignty of my body is bound
by legal liens of state identity
when grim enforcers of cruel tyranny
violate personal space of wounded hearts
through psychic domination of contempt.

Though libertarian impulse of our minds
are all assimilated in grand state,
ruled by huge invisible cloud god
who wields nuclear missiles as thunderbolts,
we hide as blind ghosts in our House of Being,
shrouded by smoke of never-spoken words.

Obsessive guilt of my heart-tortured tongue
transforms into fierce dragon of respect
escaping murky pool of wordless rage
when bitter tyrant strutting in contempt
destroys grand temple of the shining god
whose ghost fades into stark light of the moon.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/…

Orpheus strums lyre of Mercury and sings epic of philosophers at the Kennedy Center of the Performing Arts as King Midas bulldozes the temple with contempt.

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

Atomic Flash Of Being
© Surazeus
2026 09 18

Awake from mindless dream before my birth,
I sing to beam atomic flash of being
that spirals wide as halo of sunlight
around frail shell of my god-conscious brain,
so I walk humming in lush field of flowers
where wingless angels dwell in crystal towers.

My sponge brain, forged by hungry waves of light,
floats high on vast continuum of love,
though tangled with taut tendrils of despair,
so I write formulas of faith in sand,
then dance as seething mass of molecules,
intense with passion of vast galaxies.

Dressed in white gown of holy innocence,
young woman glides with graceful elegance
in rain-wet field of flowers that bloom thick
from corpses of ten thousand warriors
whose ghosts flock round her on gossamer wings
when she recites their names with gentle smile.

She loves the lake of eyes that glimmer gold
through eerie glory of the silver moon
with aching sorrow of her bitter heart
that longs for ghost of her love to return
though he has vanished in mute swirls of dust,
yet sighs escape her heart as melodies.

Her song lures me through angel-haunted hills
because I beam atomic flash of being
contained behind my grotesque mask of faith
that shocks sad wanderers with secret truth
designed to guide our feet to welcome halls
where Death waits for us all with bloody wing.

Amazed at shocking beauty of this world,
she holds her breath in timeless ecstasy
while hummingbird of frantic fantasy
floats just before her face on beating wings
that slow down to unclock eternity
so we become one mind of tender love.

Unlike concern for fraught ontology
contained in pulsing seeds of energy,
our bodies, which are molecule machines,
urge us to hunt in battle to consume
organic bodies of innocent souls
that writhe in agony on flames of faith.

Expanding scope of pungent ardency
contains vast multitudes of buzzing souls
who each feel glow of God inside their minds
so we loop threads of stellar fervency
through hollow hearts to balance ballet pride
that blossoms from atomic flash of being.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/…

Orpheus admires Ophelia for how she calmly spirals cosmic energy of love into her mortal heart so she becomes atomic flash of being that makes us human.

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

Feast of Apple Hope
© Surazeus
2026 09 18

When the gray sky tells her she is not real,
Rayanne explains to Brownie in the hearth
that our brains are molecular machines
which temporarily glow with conscious soul
who feels they are immortal from old dreams
programmed by our ancestors in our genes.

When the gold sunrays tell her she is real,
Rayanne invites everybody she knows
to come and share her apple feast of hope,
but sits alone at table in the glade
till they appear as ravens from the moon
and mock her with sly laughter of the doomed.

When the blue raindrops of arrogant faith
spark life again in mud-corpse of her mind,
Rayanne walks to the forest pool of ghosts
where sad Narcissus weeps with longing ache
for Echo to return again from Hell,
so she walks to Helicon with his mask.

When the purple mountain majesties bulge
enormously against skin of her breast,
Rayanne learns to sing through dream synthesis
based on recursive process of desire
that links sounds to concepts when she invents
language for wingless angels to trick death.

When the white lightning strike her mirror eyes
with endless visions of atomic swirls,
Rayanne replaces her young childhood self
with new mature self forged by suffering
that crowns her World Goddess of Liberty
who leads the People against tyranny.

When the red code of socialist ideal
resurrects hippie Jesus from the dead,
Rayanne campaigns to reign as President
with scepter of Ishtar in her right hand
though Mary Magdalene wins far more votes,
so she kisses Hansel while Gretel laughs.

When the black cloud of spiritual concern
deconstructs religious world view of faith,
Rayanne designs new dream puzzle of truth
from scientific formulas of facts
that better help us navigate the world
so we build Heaven from ruins of Hell.

When the green tree weaves sparkle of her soul
in matrix of our cosmic tapestry,
Rayanne performs role her heart executes
so brave love initiates kintsugi-weave
that generates new god soul in her womb
who is born as her wild unruly son.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/…

Orpheus strums lyre of Mercury while Rayanne stands on stage in Museum of Dead Gods and chants her riddle-poems with enchanting voice of Aphrodite.

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

Wordless Wind Of Why
© Surazeus
2026 09 18

To invest in emotional regrowth
when flocks of ravens search for tree of faith,
I follow river-flow of innocence
to understand abandonment by wind
each morning I cross vast liminal space
to hide my soul with temporary face.

To listen to the dreams of birds at dawn
before sunlight reveals grave of my heart,
I ponder why I wanted to be born
through brave attention of romantic hope
that drives our bodies to generate life
in struggle to transcend mute nothingness.

To live as reaper and sower of truth
by cultivating myths from dreams of gods,
I pray through clumsy strife against despair
to laugh and cry through cycle of rebirth
till I float blind in grief of pleasant joy
that morphs my body to symbol of faith.

To swell beyond limits of time and space
on frantic wings of fierce angelic lust,
I build small church of stone on river shore
to shelter homeless refugees from war
who gather for the Feast of Apple Hope
in shining presence of the eyeless sun.

To analyze the fall of Icarus
who wears the broken mask of Lucifer,
I calculate new route through maze of Hell
to gather treasures from tombs of dead gods
which I deliver to the Queen of Life
who reigns on ziggurat of singing skulls.

To sail away from hills of Ithaca
long after endless journey to my home,
I study constellations of the heart
providing safe road to the Promised Land
where old bearded man by the Burning Bush
insists Jehovah speaks in flames of awe.

To redesign view of our universe
that represents its true reality,
we hang out in lush field of confused ghosts
with pamphlets that explain the Afterlife
because our conscious sense of Special Self
will vanish in the wordless wind of why.

To become one with Infinite Eye of Light
that beams through every atom of my soul,
I swim in sea of demons to explore
uncanny wisdom of subconscious realms
where all my ancestors dream in my cells
so I remember evolving through love.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/…

Orpheus captures the wordless wind of why in the leather bag of eagerness so he can sail the wine-dark sea to Elysium where Ophelia bakes apple pies.

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

Eyeless Clock Of Wisdom
© Surazeus
2026 09 17

At the glass piano she finds his ghost
alphabets of unattainable faith
expressing by wild finger-dance to trace
through writhing matrix of their pristine minds
cluttered junk of dreams he discards with hope
that eyeless clock of wisdom will teach why.

Yet backward up reversed play they regress,
alert to scams of mocking telephones
by sorrow undeterred since twist of fate
considers why fools gamble treasures lost
since they decide to question with soft voice
how eyeless clock of wisdom knows their names.

Startled when Minerva opens his door,
Isaiah hides half-finished scroll of prophecies
behind his back while cheeks blush apple-red,
so she grins softly with adoring glance
at lily in his tweed jacket lapel
since eyeless clock of wisdom chimes their love.

Noting how lily of his heart blooms white
to preserve one galaxy in its grail,
Minerva weighs his brain on scale of faith,
then gives him pair of scissors as her gift
to celebrate his birthday before dawn
when eyeless clock of wisdom reshapes time.

Once Isaiah and Minerva accept
bonds of love weave their lonely souls in one,
they stroll together to the grocery store
where she buys new piano keys of fate
so he can play Starlight Sonata Eight
which eyeless clock of wisdom still records.

Shocked by delusions of the hungry crowd
who wait for Jupiter in quick starship,
because he promised to return to Earth
and found new kingdom of the laughing crow,
Minerva gives Isaiah harp of gold
though eyeless clock of wisdom puffs the flame.

When strange song of the nightingale transfers
psychic code, advertised by human brains,
to computer banks of authorized truth,
Minerva wanders in garden of skulls
where fairies dance around the fountain pool
till eyeless clock of wisdom burns their wings.

Hired as political analyst by Zeus
to prophesy fall of America,
Isaiah runs through twisting maze of myths
till he finds Jesus on the motorbike,
ready to broadcast his late evening show,
if eyeless clock of wisdom programs hope.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/…

Orpheus finds Isaiah and Minerva hanging out with John Keats in Garden of the Nightingale, so they all drink wine and share psychological formulas of self-awareness.

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

Wheelbarrow Of Hard Work
© Surazeus
2026 09 17

To find out how my body was transformed
by the gossamer ghoul with thirty eyes
who lives on highest mountain of the moon,
I stroll downtown among the lunchtime crowd
and give my heart to every soul I meet,
who each plucks one feather from my fake wings.

Since nothing that ever happens depends
on the rain-glazed wheelbarrow of hard work,
I stand on street corner of Fear and Hope
to watch the blinking traffic light all day
till I begin to float into the sky
because I forget the true name of God.

Strange children I have never met before
steal glass masks from museum of dead gods,
then ask me with weird voice of secret rain
if I know the way to Sesame Street,
so I point to the camera on the pole
that records writhing rainbows of the soul.

I go through glass doors of the Spirit Bank
and ask if I can withdraw with Dream Key
enough credits from my psychic account
to buy the latest pair of angel wings
that Icarus designs in his workshop
because I want to explore the galaxy.

Climbing the stairway to Heaven nine years,
I whistle merry tunes of innocence
about my lonely Brickleberry Friend,
then stand before Odin on jeweled throne
and ask for job as scribe in Hall of Dreams,
presenting my credentials on silk scroll.

When Odin gives me most important job
of washing dishes for the Feast of Gods,
I walk through Valhalla with humble pride,
where Achilles and Sigmund drink and laugh,
to join Lucifer in the kitchen hall
where we talk about the magic of lamps.

After I finish work just at midnight,
I stroll above Tintern Abbey some few miles
to find Minerva on banks of the Wye
where she translates murmur of mountain-springs
to cosmic prophecies in arcane code
which I transcribe as psychic formulas.

If beauteous forms that manifest Dream Glow
in conscious bodies of organic hope
shine with immortal absence of my love,
then I shall pose in studio of glass skulls
for author photo on my latest book
which I toss in the Well of Melusine.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/…

Orpheus steps outside the back of Valhalla to smoke after working twelve hours washing dishes for the endless feast where Zeus and Jesus arm-wrestle for dominance.

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

No Second Chance In Life
© Surazeus
2026 09 17

While walking somewhere on my road of fate
I look back down where my heart-steps have trod
so I can make the future happen right
because there is no second chance in life
since I can never loop back on myself,
then I become the sky of wordless wind.

I wake in sunshine of the flashing mind
and dance with carefree nonchalance of faith
on lush lawn of the river that reveals
ten thousand ghostly angels of the past
who linger in paradise of my dreams,
but vanish when I look straight in their eyes.

I stroll with millions of angels at dawn
on golden road of opportunity
up winding way to palace on the hill
where God the Holy Emperor of Earth
sits on the jeweled throne of timeless truth,
conceptual trope for global politics.

Ten thousand kings who ruled vast tribes of men
all vanished in the changing winds of time,
yet shadows of their vital being remain
as pristine portraits on museum walls
and tales of deeds in dusty chronicles
on shelves in libraries of made-up myths.

God is delusion of the frightened mind
because cruel tyrants wielding wands of fear
beat anyone who defied their commands,
enforcing strict obedience on mankind
through six thousand years of harsh monarchies
where mortal men claimed to be divine gods.

We hope this more enlightened age of facts
allows us to cooperate through faith
without oppressive tyrants chained by crowns
demanding we obey their selfish will
because we vote for honest-seeming men
to preside in councils guiding our states.

Malignant narcissists obsessed by power,
who seize control over vast governments
to impose their vision twisted by greed
on normal people struggling to survive,
always destroy themselves with haughty pride
since Fortune strikes them down with love for truth.

Yet God that theologians have designed
is trope that represents as character
the noble leader who loves every soul,
executing programs which organize
each person to play role based on their skill
so we generate life before we die.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/…

Orpheus visits tomb of Jesus in Church of the Holy Sepulcher, then holds his skull in his hand and proclaims, "Alas, poor Jesus! I knew him, Surazeus: a fellow of infinite jest."

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

Every God In Global Myths
© Surazeus
2026 09 16

So I believe in prophets, but not gods,
for I respect those mortal human beings
whose suffering sparked great visions in their hearts
to speak with courage against evil kings
and lead their people to the Promised Land,
providing framework to live better lives.

Yet I love every god in every myth
worshipped by people in religious cults
for they were once mortal humans like me
who performed such deeds of dramatic force,
defending their tribe against hostile greed,
that concept of their soul still glows alive.

Though their mortal bodies of bones and flesh,
fueled by passionate blood of honest faith,
have crumbled into dust centuries ago,
grand spirit of their performance remains
as vivid glow of light before our eyes
so they guide how we live our normal days.

Gods are immortal concepts in our minds
rather than real entities in the world
who glow as concepts of socialized tropes
that embody morals we value most
because dramatic actions of their hearts
remain imprinted on collective minds.

So I believe in mortal human beings
who wake from paralysis of despair
and transcend suffering with intense desire
to organize their people with bright goal,
through strict discipline of obedient faith,
to build paradise in waste land of fear.

No supernatural beings, with total power
to control flow of material energy
as mental thoughts in words of magic spells,
exist beyond bounds of limited shape
that defines bodies which conjure our souls,
nor can they resurrect the dead to life.

I value every god in global myths
as memories of great humans who once lived,
so they all shine as idols of success
in star-domed Pantheon of my world religion,
each one important node of psychic truth
that shines on stage of our world theater.

Gods, kings, warriors, prophets, seers, and scribes
all manifest our global institute
of storytelling that preserves in myth
productive actions of those mortal souls
whom we adore as gods of human lore,
great heroes for Astarianity.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/…

Orpheus plays docent in Museum of Every God, leading visitors through vast halls lined with idols of noble heroes in every religion that ever thrived in heart of humanity.

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

Judge Throne Of The Woke
© Surazeus
2026 09 16

Electric stars crawl spider-quick as words
from mud-paged books of mesmerizing tunes
toads hum from pulsing caves of human hearts,
so I forge diamond key of honest codes
from time-stretched urgency of rolling stones
when we sail lake of glass in righteous boats.

Star angels wearing masks of children play
hide and seek with gold tyrannical idols
that float above roofs of suburban homes
where blind gods mold obedient wives from clay
then send their brave sons with religious rifles
to conquer the world with capitalist memes.

Ignoring signs to make himself seem cool,
Gabriel gives sinners in Hell persimmons
to understand the nonchalance of love
that ploys each human being as useful tool
through strategic tactic of mental summons
to be vulnerable in the crystal cave.

I am only conscious in my own head
so I will never know what people think
with brave courtesy to the vigilant,
yet I hide secret scrolls in fresh-baked bread
with prophecies about the skating rink
where tyranny is crippled by the diligent.

Ten million ghosts, who purchase their dream fate,
bathe in sparkling pool to absolve the bitter
that lures their journey on the golden lane
till they arrive in Heaven where they float
in white robes, since the trumpet song is better
than glowing jewels beeping in my brain.

Bright angels pluck ripe apples from the tree
where humble swans float on the star-eyed lake
among domed temples on lush hills of grass
while angels feast at table of the free
where Jesus reigns on judge throne of the woke,
in heavenly tableau behind clean glass.

She almost understands how rivers flow,
so Eve carves boat of wisdom from pine wood
and takes me sailing to Elysian fields
while I explain cartographic work flow
which I employ to map dream of our world
in virtual model mirrored on brass shields.

Reborn as angel on this cluttered globe,
I ponder strangeness of the conscious brain
that gleams with multifaceted aspects
complex as diamond that refracts soul strobe
which beams from Cosmic Eye through atom rain
since Death translates our bodies to concepts.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/…

Orpheus wears mask of Lucifer to perform role of the rebel with a cause before Emperor Jesus of Earth on throne of the woke who lies about resurrecting bodies from death.

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

Angels Of The Apple Moon
© Surazeus
2026 09 16

Because my ancestors wake in my brain
and show me dreams of their experiences,
I learn to grieve for their strife to survive
and rejoice when they transcend weaknesses,
so the wolf transforms to bride of my hearth
who shows me how to love the apple moon.

Though eerie silver light of mindless eyes
dreams me through tangled branches of old trees,
I morph instinctive howl of anguished rage
to joyful ritual of collective grief,
so through the psychic switchboard of our hearts
we call wild angels of the apple moon.

Gathered together on the star-lake shore,
we cultivate weird silence of stone faith
while we reflect on how we interact
through collective awakening from fear
to sing through water language of the heart
wild laughter we drink from the apple moon.

Though we are blind from blazing words in books,
that veil our eyes to state of our real world,
we navigate its shadowy terrain
with fantasies our lost ancestors mapped,
till we pause on the precipice of fate
to hear new riddle of the apple moon.

Huge jagged mountain of dim memories
traps wild demonic energy of love
that whispers secrets in electric trees
who seem to know why we still search for peace
though pages of our books are scattered far
as seeds that sprout gods on the apple moon.

Since we are beetles on vast trees of time,
and crickets singing by deep lakes of souls,
we hurl our spirits at blind light of God,
then float of waves of childhood with new hope,
reborn from mothers and fathers of fate
who teach us wisdom of the apple moon.

Each day we rise with rhythm of the wind,
and flow with laughter of the water stream
while strolling in vast woods where demons lurk,
then listen to bright angels sing in halls
about fragile beauty of transient lives
because we vanish in the apple moon.

Blind clouds where no gods control human fate
break open hearts of anguish to release
refreshing torrents of rain that revive
lush garden of truth from waste land of lies
so we become the ancestors who sing
stories to children of the apple moon.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/…

Orpheus leads souls of the dead to Fields of Elysium where they assemble in crystal palace of glorious truth as ghosts of children of the apple moon.

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