Time-Crooked Harp
© Surazeus
2026 06 05

Confused by turpentine of psychic thoughts
that mangle phonelines without alphabets,
Phoebus extricates from pages of books
conceptual phantoms of princes and priests
who leech off farmers tending fields of wheat,
then plays haunting tunes on time-crooked harp.

Excited by oxygen of dream codes
that divert attention of business clerks,
Gandalf guards broken gate to paradise
by stealing apples from the Tree of Life
and selling them to pilgrims in black robes
who seek salvation from the laughing skull.

Disturbed by acetone of ardent faith
that Angry Storm Man watches over us,
Lucifer patrols maze of city streets
with lamp of truth dispelling gloom of hope
in garden of weeping idols to find
last happy child of the apocalypse.

Inspired by nitrogen of angel blood
designed as ink for mad philosophers,
Faunus chases shadow of his dead wife
deep in Abbatia Sancti Michaelis
where Sibyl lounging on gold velvet couch
reveals prophecy of the Scarlet Horse.

Unsettled by helium of holy light
that beams from nuclear reactor of power,
Belenus climbs steep Stairway of the Dead
to marble Portal of the Zodiac
where refugees of war beg for peach pies
baked by the woman with ten thousand eyes.

Delighted by krypton of stellar tones
that radiate from galactic spheres of souls,
Orion calculates romantic scale
expanding scope of dream analysis
we need to comprehend divinity
inherent in programming of our brains.

Troubled by chlorine of religious creeds
that reframe moral values of cult clowns,
Sagittarius masks his rebellious heart
with stolid posture of obedience
till he escapes glass walls of paradise
and wanders lost to find Elysium.

Electrified by neon of true love
that emanates from every human heart,
Percival strums gold lyre of Mercury
and sings epic tale of the Measurer
who maps whole history of humanity
by weaving names in tapestry of fate.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus finds the Scarlet Horse grazing on shore of the Volga River, so he offers her apple of paradise as they chat about philosophy.

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

Faceless Ghost Of Hope
© Surazeus
2026 06 05

Descended from exiled wanderers,
driven away by politics of power
over who controls bodies of the state,
I feel their passion to explore the world
that drove my ancestors ten thousand years
forever westward to the Promised Land.

Since I left Garden of Habaeleon,
driving long train of horse-drawn wagons west,
to build haven of mounds in apple groves
now paved over on Isle of Avalon,
I traveled ever on to Oregon
to find Dawn Land at the end of the world.

Where shall I go now with my restless heart,
I wonder as I stand on ocean beach
and listen to weird song of ceaseless waves
that urge my heart to animate my mind
with vision of Heaven we build on Earth
in stone castles that have crumbled to sand.

This globe that was so empty long ago,
endless valleys of rivers and vast woods,
now teems with more than eight billion humans
in five thousand cities and countless towns,
each person striving to gain happiness
in fractured nation-states where gangsters rule.

I hear voice of the prophet in the wind
who speaks with authority of the sky,
where many believe some god rules our lives,
explain how we can unify the world
in one religious vision of fair justice
for every person breathing air of hope.

This voice I hear I know is nothing more
than echo of the faceless ghost of hope
programmed by visions of Heaven on Earth
where One World God rules all humanity
which my ancestors conjured in their hearts
as they struggled to survive times of unrest.

New age of empires controlled by bank kings
threatens frail system of democracies
when greedy tyrants grasping crown of thorns
hijack institutions of government
to enrich themselves by exploiting us,
as mortal men perform role of Storm God.

Exiled by power games of thought control,
my ancestors bore Light of Lucifer
to found new colonies in the waste land,
but now I must join squad of Liberty
who leads our fight against grim Jupiter
to support United Nations of Earth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus follows his heart to the end of the world on a beach in Oregon and laughs to find Land of the Rising Sun on the other side of the ocean.

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

Calmness Of Red Koi
© Surazeus
2026 06 04

Purple irises sway among large stones
white as dragon skulls in green shallow creek
that glistens dark among maple and pines.
Kyoko in furisode kimono
with white and yellow blossoms on dark red
kneels gracefully on large flat white stone.

Seven hariwake koi slowly glide
circles in dark green pool among white stones,
scales shimmering with platinum vibrancy.
Kyoko holds slender hosofude brush
with patient stillness of the wind-bent pine
to paint koi spirit on mulberry paper.

Metallic scales of the koi with red tail
gleams silver among heart-shaped lotus leaves
to mirror timeless glow of the Sky Eye.
Kyoko contemplates calmness of red koi
while people murmur praise for sincere curves
that reveal beauty in painting and haiku.

Young girl holds apricot in mud-smeared hand,
but cries as her drunk father snarls in rage
and hits her mother with his one good arm.
Kyoko shields her bruised mother, Sakura,
and shouts with fearful courage at Chuzo
that he should find his lost arm in the sea.

Metallic roofs of cars gleam in hot sun
as they whiz roaring on gray narrow road,
honking as they race to control the wind.
Kyoko in torn jeans and long purple hair
stands on white cement bridge that arches high
above the frantic traffic flow of glass.

Though I was expelled from public high school
because I punched math teacher in his face
for groping me, I will mold my own future.
Kyoko wearing black skirt suit with white blouse
sits prim before glowing computer screen
and quickly types handwritten documents.

I was trapped in my painful memories,
stuck blind in the past, but I turned around
and walk on my own feet to claim my life.
Kyoko stands on white stone in dark green creek
and stares at white koi swimming in small pool
while tears splash sun-white mirror of her heart.

Purple irises bloom beside green creek
with graceful elegance of fragile faith
while bees hover with pollen-dusted legs.
Kyoko bows to Sora in brown tweed coat,
pours bancha tea in white porcelain cup,
then gives him onamori amulet.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus gazes at painting of red koi in a pool, reads the haiku about calmness of koi among lotus blooms, then feels strange ache of sorrow in his heart, so he smiles.

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

Ancient Child Of Sight
© Surazeus
2026 06 04

Though ringing shadow of my faulty mind
transforms from star to stone of silent truths,
I hurl spear of my unblessed heart to pierce
reluctant mirror mask that frames this world
with tangled formulas contrived by time
that plot how atoms weave our dreaming brains.

Go wild with passion of the laughing crow,
my father shouts at me with wounded heart,
so I flap tattered wings of desperate faith
to understand who molds me from earth clay
till I become new heaven-ravaged bloom
that flowers toward infinity of light.

With shield shaped round as full moon of despair,
I step across hot stones of silent rage
since light erases shadow of my soul,
though I must celebrate aggressive thirst
when moonlight gleams from silver bones of fate
that cannot save my soul from nothingness.

Heart bound by gloom of silence before dawn,
I reach pale hands to bale dark emptiness
with flower-fragile words of timeless truth
that flow with fluid nonchalance of water
at strict trajectory of hammer words
which I swing straight at adamantine fear.

I map lost land where moon-fish slither swift
among stiff reeds of whistling innocence
at shock of night-eyes open in my hands
since I am born as ancient child of sight
trapped in fractal shell of Plutonian ice
till I reach home in swirls of wordless snow.

Strange feeling pierces heart of mirror ice
at gust of wordless wind that blows and blows
across vast shapeless field of tangled wires
where frightened gods transform to twisted trees
with stone feet rooted deep in jagged soil
against brave ardor of fantastic speech.

Gasping for ethereal breath at dawn,
I claw hard clumps of clay out of my heart
to capture fleeting flash of endless days
in flame-baked jar in which I capture rain
as water I transform to bitter wine
by crushing grapes with calculator hands.

No heart more wounded by shadow of fate
than mine expands from fractured seed of faith
at sudden tone of fraught analysis
that sings with hoarse assertion time uncoils
while I row coffin boat across cold lake
to where my father hangs from tree of lies.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus erects statue of his father in marble temple on high hill above valley of seven rivers where people roast fish and listen to the bard sing elegies and hymns.

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

Ethical Fortune Of Failure
© Surazeus
2026 06 03

Short ordinariness straight beyond fusion
functions well to stretch elastic contraption
adjacent to abandoned pale of peonies
against aggressive balance that collides
with decommissioned clarity of resolve
each time desire delays collaged success.

Clara chuckles with customized concern
at coded riddle of complex compliance
that she contrives from tangled countenance
devised with ethical fortune of failure
out of fashion with gospel guiltiness
disguised as glorious character she plays.

Empty except for fraught franchise of fame,
based on unexplained expense of regret
forecast by maudlin devil who steals freedom
from business-minded buyers of past sins,
her heart expands chambers of mimed cassettes
enough to enclose curious councilors.

Compared to concrete evidence of circuits,
compiled by desperate brokers with intent
to sell insurance based on hardcore humor,
her sense of justice displays civil charge
through well-equipped degrees of separation,
less inconclusive that digesting death.

Exposed by glorious garage gate of fate,
Clara ponders how to explain forgiveness
she purchased with thirty pieces of silver
that all become full moons of bitter nights
flashing with foreign assets of fake books
awarded for deconstructing the state.

Acquired blueprints for temple of acceptance
reveal busy methods of management
which traffic engineers of soul awareness
consider vital to adjusting flow rate
within budget of all our broken hearts
reviewed by browsers who would never buy.

Confirmed by custom-made conservatives,
professional devils pilfer state coffers
under cover of discountable projects
that fuels complex program of deference
in celebration of our empire state
that Clara redesigns to nurture women.

Acknowledged license to judge market art
through problematic outlook pending payment
for private program of progressive puzzles,
stultifies unproductive corporate meetings
in which the one-eyed giant proclaims laws
designed to wake soul of God in our brains.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus sells licenses to farmers so they can judge market art for sale at the Zarathian Museum of Fake Antiquities stolen from decolonized countries.

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

Tricks Of Standard Words
© Surazeus
2026 06 03

If darkness bursts in cavern of my heart,
expelling me from world of swirling eyes,
I crawl through grass of moonlit ardency
to find elusive absence of your face
so I float up on wild ethereal breath
to touch what cannot exist outside words.

That stranger with fear-startled eyes of hope,
reflected in vast pool of sky-flashed thought,
must not be me because I am not real,
though ache of anguish twists my hungry heart
with stubborn laughter of our island world
enclosed by wall of hills that hide my words.

Bright sheen of thoughtless waves big as my eyes
decide to swallow vastness of my mind,
yet I hold still in gusts of angry wind
that push my frame of self against contempt
at sudden spark of wings untwisting hope
that writhes in heart Orion seals in words.

Since flock of ravens, white as silent snow,
pass through expansive cavern of my heart
at brute attention to details of peace,
I feel my body stripped of name and rank
so I am no one stranded on lake shore,
tormented by false pride of naked words.

Rain showers trapped by laughter of black clouds
assail time-fractured frame of my mute mind
with expectations I should conquer fate,
inspired by courage of progressive plans
to manage profit of expanding gain
contrived by puzzling tricks of standard words.

We enter cave of dreams to search for gods,
but find dim shadows of assertive birds
that teach us how organic beings disperse
by leaping swift with carousel expense,
undone by fleeting concept of bold faith
that spools reflections of our minds in words.

Edge of my soul that brushes shore of time
recedes in swirls of storm clouds after dawn
to prove my journey far from cave of faith
requires attentive caution of regret
that spurs evasive action to transcend
frame of my body, safe in ship of words.

If I should hesitate with cautious faith
while nearing portal beyond mindless stars,
my wounded heart may grow too fond of fate
at slow descent to desolate vale of thoughts
where I ponder disorder of cracked stones
from which spring howling angels of dream words.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus invents another puzzle of secret truth every day for ten thousand years to inspire humans with passion to transcend limits of the mind.

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

Time Of The Happy Crow
© Surazeus
2026 06 02

My wingless angel of oblivion,
who beams ecstatic stars from dreamless eyes,
will resurrect my heart from anxious fear
at crack of lightning that splits our world view
so we sing in time of the happy crow
about the New Earth we will build from hope.

Bright jeweled scepter in hand of Shamash
beams blinding light of truth in humble eyes
when we walk fleeting valley of tall trees
that scatter apples on the signless road
so we eat in time of the happy crow
beneath weird constellations of our hearts.

Strange words that slither in our startled minds
reveal face of the vagabond at dawn
who bears world civilization of faith
in scorpion-quick hands of frantic wings
so we build in time of the happy crow
time machines powered by engines of fear.

Brave ship of hope we sail across the sea
soars high across enormous waves of change
while I leap far on winged feet of faith
to catch elusive butterfly of love
so we play in time of the happy crow
chess game with Saraswati on the beach.

Fabulating scenes of heroic deeds,
I lift high Lamp of Liberty to beam
sacred light of welcome through black storm clouds
that lead lost refugees from distant lands
so we feast in time of the happy crow
on pyramid of eyes where angels cry.

Searching for truth in vast amusement park
lit by electric moon over Seattle,
I give free fish to everyone who asks
which I had caught while walking on the water
so we laugh in time of the happy crow
before the tyrant tries to crucify me.

I sail glass ship across the sordid sea
to catch the angel falling from the sky
whose spirit represents America
since she drowns in tears of your bitter hearts
so we weep in time of the happy crow
by singing hymns about new civil war.

Since I set Sibyl free from golden cage
to marry me in cathedral of ice,
she prophesies fall of America
and rise of Zarathia from its ruins
so we dance in time of the happy crow
to celebrate that we are still alive.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus chronicles historical events that occur in time of the happy crow in school text book for children of the future to understand why we live free.

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

Shadow Of The Ragged Clown
© Surazeus
2026 06 02

Zeus chases shadow of the ragged clown
down foggy beach of sorrow to the town
where children play with skulls of ancient gods
whose bodies regenerate in glass pods
so time-cycling war between Dark and Light
recalculates morals of Wrong and Right.

Phoebus beams shadow of the ragged clown
with holy flashlight of the eyeless saint
while mapping Cave of Illusions to find
ghost of Plato molding Ideas from words
through linguistic psychology of truth
though Venus dances with the tambourine.

Odin twists shadow of the ragged clown
with ardent wisdom of serpentine runes
that flash psychotic spells of fractured moons
above vast city maze where people roam
between conceptual bridges beyond home
till he grasps Wheel of Fortune with the crown.

Shamash weaves shadow of the ragged clown
with diamond scepter on the ziggurat
from which he rules world empire of the bat
that flourishes Egypt to Mexico
where millions dance around Star Eye of God
in world wide web of computerized brains.

Hat-Hor casts shadow of the ragged clown
in neon rainbow demon of our hearts
that arches high from Pyramid of Eyes
to urge Coatlicue in serpent skirt
to welcome refugees with fruitful hands
who build world empire on her singing skull.

Nuwa grasps shadow of the ragged clown
that glitters from five jewels of Blue Sky
as pillars that support star dome of gods
so we plant wheat and herd rich flocks of sheep,
then feast and dance with spinning of the Earth
through secret ritual of Spirit Rebirth.

Surya hurls shadow of the ragged clown
to woo Xochiquetzal with honey wine
who teaches women to weave tapestries
depicting deeds of heroes in grand scenes
unspooling social tensions with new faith
to balance liberals and conservatives.

Shiva dreams shadow of the ragged clown
sparks atoms awake as God in our brains
so we assemble on the misty down
in rainbow gathering of all global tribes
who celebrate birth of America
by building new state of Zarathia.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus dances with Bob Dylan on the beach of twisted sorrow to chase the shadow of the ragged clown who leads us all beyond the Promised Land.

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

Atoms Of The Earth Awake
© Surazeus
2026 06 02

Time molds my body from Mud of the Earth,
desire weaves my soul from Wind of the Sky,
faith forges my heart from Light of the Sun,
death dissolves my name in Waves of the Sea,
and love translates my deeds to Words of Fate,
for I am Atoms of the Earth awake.

Hope generates our new bodies in birth,
so we explore the Earth to map the Why
with exuberant passion when we run
and fight oppressors to gain Liberty
by translating fruit of love from cruel hate,
for I am Atoms of the Earth awake.

Though threads of light swerving in boundless void,
that spiral from first flash of the big bang,
present no individual consciousness,
their pulse of interacting chemicals
evolve organic brains that comprehend,
for I am Atoms of the Earth awake.

When mortal humans dream new state of being,
efficient through communal exercise,
they organize their fellow citizens,
then rule new institutions of the state
to personify Tribe Leader as God,
for I am Atoms of the Earth awake.

God is mythic concept humans design
as ideal type of social character
who represents noble leader of men
attentive to nurture talents with skills
instead of exploiting people for gain,
for I am Atoms of the Earth awake.

Divine Mind of the entire universe,
that pulses from black hole of the God Eye,
radiates in galaxies of the White Whole
with vibrant energy of love to form
bodies that evolve fish to singing god,
for I am Atoms of the Earth awake.

Whole universe of swirling galaxies
emanates no consciousness in itself,
yet molecules compose neural network
which conjures virtual model of the world
from memories I organize in tales,
for I am Atoms of the Earth awake.

I narrate story of humanity
morphing from tribes of hunter-gatherers
to global civilization of states
which plots mental progress of our minds
devising language to communicate,
for I am Atoms of the Earth awake.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus feels atoms of the universe vibrate in every flash of neurons in the tangled memories of his electrified sponge brain of psychic energy.

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

Leave Bones Of My Mother
© Surazeus
2026 06 01

If I consider how orange sunset glow
explodes as flowers in my pulsing brain,
I might fall in love with your timeless eyes
that understand strange beauty of this world
and value unseen essence of its vibes,
yet I do not exist in pageless books.

While I wander nowhere in flaming woods
I gather words people lose from their tongues
when they escape catastrophe of time
since angels deconstruct their precious worlds
because we are no longer real as stones
smoothed by the endless flow of bitter tears.

I leave bones of my mother in the land
where I was born from sparkle of dawn rain
when I flee alone on the signless road
with nothing in my hands but sticky dirt
I scattered on her body without prayers
because she no longer exists as light.

My mind is nothing more than passing cloud
that haunts my nothingness of urgent hope
with mutant shadow of the eyeless sun,
so I continue walking somewhere else
as I pretend to live with wounded heart
to prove I am not real as words in books.

Trees offer bounty of indifferent care,
so I take gift of wisdom from their limbs,
then sit by laughing river of respect
where I consume sweet fruit of bitter hate
to taste revenge I cannot execute
because I disappear in wordless fate.

Discarded scraps of precious memories
fall from my hands and clatter on the ground,
which fractures sheen of safety I once felt
so I am zero that time calculates
through fraudulent formula of desire
which deflects force of psychic energy.

Another soul that dissipates in wind
accelerates new count of circumstance
my brain attempts with weird seraphic code
of faith that helps decipher manic spell
to readjust projection we assert
though misdirection of the ocean wind.

With sticks and stones that bruise my naive heart
I build enormous palace of state power
enclosing garden of the apple tree
to guard my secret family from harm
who waits for me to kill the snake of lies
because we do not exist in your mind.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus explains to visitors to the Museum of Zarathia why he does not exist except as shadow of words in the ever-changing labyrinth of their minds.

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

Each Time I Lose Myself
© Surazeus
2026 06 01

I find myself each time I lose myself
so I run across the waste land of the heart
and leap abyss of nothingness to soar
laughing at the crystal moon of faith
which vanishes to mist as I approach
so I fall back into my throbbing head.

I find myself each time I lose myself
so I dance laughing on the sands of time
with one hand waving free to grasp the wind
and scatter seeds of flowers so they sprout
as rainbow angels wearing human masks
who dive for memories in sea of dreams.

I find myself each time I lose myself
so I stand blindly on cliff of despair
to map the ancient streets of Neverland
where faceless children search for Kingdom Come
that slips away in cold of morning dawn
at flap of angel wings above my tomb.

I find myself each time I lose myself
so I strum Lyre of Mercury with sass
to chant psychotic spell of eyeless clouds
that beam elusive riddle of the mind
when I chase shadow of the ragged clown
who wants to preach salvation without faith.

I find myself each time I lose myself
so I explore fog-swirling ruins of time
where zombies gather in the Church of Glass
to worship Vampire King with Crown of Thorns
who drinks Blood of the Lamb in Holy Grail
to resurrect our characters from books.

I find myself each time I lose myself
so I drive piston-engine time machine
on winding mountain Road of Honesty
to find Cave of Illusions in the Alps
where God-Eye Diamond of my divine heart
beams first flash that flares forth from the big bang.

I find myself each time I lose myself
so I write epic of philosophers
depicting heroes who quest for the truth
when they perform in circus of the mind
amazing acrobatics with weird words
that formulate atomic principles.

I find myself each time I lose myself
so I decide to run for president
to rebuild institutions through respect,
constructing from ruins of America
state of equal rights as Zarathia
where everyone eats from the Tree of Life.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus wins election for President of the United States of Zarathia because he finds himself after he loses himself in the endless maze of myths.

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

Seven Sons Of Jupiter
© Surazeus
2026 06 01

Driving across waste land of history,
I find the Third Man of Antarctic Quest
still hitchhiking across America,
so I give him ride to Zarathia
where he gives me lost Lyre of Mercury
as reward for helping him escape Hell.

Though I am entirely my own real self
who speaks with voice of fake authority,
I hide behind cracked mask of Orpheus
so you cannot see who I really am,
as if it matters after I am dead,
since I am ghost of sorrow in your head.

I stride along strange river in bright woods
to map new strategy for civil war
in noble mission of the broken heart
to restore democracy in our land
pilfered by gang of thieves in business suits
who proclaim their right to control the dirt.

Shocked by excessive arguments of faith,
I flee cathedral of the mocking clown
to find Ahura Mazda in dark cave
where he plays eight levels of psychic chess
against the seven sons of Jupiter
over who controls fields of bubbling oil.

Ever since Orpheus with nimble hands
saved Ophelia drowning in the river,
they have established infrastructure base
on which we will construct our new world order
which helps the seven sons of Jupiter
overthrow all greedy tyrants and kings.

Inside the Crippled Pegasus Cafe
in Paris down on the Parc Rives de Seine,
I find Hegel, Marx, and Lenin relaxed
as they watch current world events unfold
according to their social formulas,
so I steal wings of Icarus to fly.

Just as I soar above bright golden clouds
to bring Good News to Lord Hyperion,
Orpheus shoots me down with Gun of Fate,
then teaches me to map the water pipes
which channel fresh water to every home
while Jesus and Odin fight for World Crown.

As seventh son of Jupiter, I play
role of the jester who exposes crimes
committed by the hungry oligarchs
who hoard wealth of the Earth in crumbling tombs
where skeletons of dead gods dance in rain
that washes all our graves down to the sea.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus teaches the seven sons of Jupiter how to organize workers of the world who unite to assert their legal rights to life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness.

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

One Eternal Vibe Of Light
© Surazeus
2026 05 31

After I ride the slow afternoon train
among house-cluttered hills of lonely towns,
I walk shores of the ocean through my dreams
to feel the ebbing tide of life recede
with hoarse voice of the old sibilant song
that sparks electric self out of my heart.

When dust of Me becomes land of the globe,
which fascinates my eyes with slender light,
I wonder what name ancient people called
this river that reflects mask of my face,
since I still hear dirge of the ship-wrecked souls
who ask me for secret of global peace.

I merge my soul in drifting sand of change,
baffled by uncanny thoughts of desire
that lure me to find soulmate of my heart
who walks as distant shadow on the beach,
so I call out to them with plaintive cry
but I find they have become the Real Me.

Loud voices echo against trunks of pines
when thoughts my mouth projects recoil as fear
that bursts in peals of thunder over hills
with cold ironic laughter of false pride
so I extend my hand with trembling faith
to grasp elusive fish of timeless truth.

Strange essence of this whole beautiful world
eludes perception of my eager mind
to understand flash of cause and effect
when light reflecting off things I define
stings my heart with sweet shock of ecstasy
that we are one eternal vibe of light.

Star-eyed Ocean Mother within my heart
expresses riddles through analysis
to translate murmur of the mocking waves
refracting light through prism of my brain
because I contradict my alien self
beyond capricious attitude of faith.

Vast ocean breathes my swollen soul with faith
though I become invisible to eyes
of human scope expanding beyond code
programmed to bind safe haven of my heart,
because I am the new moon no one sees,
no more than subtle voice on evening breeze.

I drift at random on long road of life
but always find myself on ocean shore
where ghosts of my ancestors haunt my steps
because I follow path they blazed with hope
through fathomless workings of secret codes
expressed as aching dirge to accept death.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus decides not to take the train back into town, and instead tries to live in the cave on the beach where humanity first sang dirges of faith.

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

Matrix Of Dreamless Souls
© Surazeus
2026 05 31

If Hate falls off the Cliff of Honesty
and floats unloved on undulating waves
of brute despair for growth of human minds,
we gather in lush mountain grove of faith
to share sad tales of tragic nonchalance
since Mindless Fate strikes down the arrogant.

With nimble fingers of perpetual pride
I strum taut strings on lyre of Mercury
to finetune melody of cosmic gears
which powers how spheres spiral among stars
in stellar machinery of mental hope
that spurs my quest to find the magic word.

If Love leaps up the Hill of Travesty
and swirls unfeared in stabilizing frame
of dexterous confidence in soul decay,
we scatter on the river shore of doubt
to hide happy tales of romantic zeal
since Mindful Fate lifts up the innocent.

With crippled legs of fleeting modesty
I twist loose threads on tapestry of Eris
to unravel matrix of dreamless souls
who crowd in panic on the river shore
and beg for Charon to escort them all
safe to the rugged hills of Arcady.

Sporadic laughter echoes down the hall
where studious ghosts read tales in tattered books
recording how they met their tragic ends
in clumsy accidents that Fortune plans,
which proves our rich lives are ephemeral
as mute dust scattered in blind wind of time.

Artificial intelligence contrives
slick package of plastic stereotypes
that mimics word games of robotic thoughts
which leads to uncanny vale of tears
manufactured by vampire god of faith
in psychic performance of false respect.

Though mute Pierrot with single leap of faith
falls in love with elegant Clementine,
she should seek asylum in Notre Dame
where white bear of salvation breaks the cross
which frees the people from creed of despair
to roast goat for feast of the sacrifice.

Human intelligence gathers evidence
that seem unrelated in scheme of things
till heartless ballerina conjugates
disparate elements through alchemy
to comprehensive vision of the truth
which includes every conscious soul alive.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus leaps off Cliff of Honesty to swim in swirling sea of memories till he remembers why Eurydice left him at the altar to marry Rodomont.

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

Mirror World Of Anywhere
© Surazeus
2026 05 31

When I steal fruit of that Forbidden Tree
to taste sweet passion of Death in the world,
and dance wild on secret top of Oreb,
inspired by oracle of vision stones
with faith to soar above Aonian Mount,
I sing in mirror world of anywhere.

When I analyze what romantic cause
moved my parents to generate my life
by eating fruit from sacred Tree of Life,
seduced by Infernal Serpent of Love
who revealed secret of eternal life,
I dance in mirror world of anywhere.

When I assert ambitious aim of hope
with pious courage of faith to contest
critical verdict of artistic seers
by chanting epic of philosophers
presenting quest for nature of the world,
I write in mirror world of anywhere.

When I aspire to transcend hideous ruin
compelled by headlong flight on valiant wings
flaming from ethereal sky of ideas
that hollows space for my words to construct
grand temple where heroes are valorized,
I fly in mirror world of anywhere.

When I decide with courage of brave faith
to reign as Bard in Hell of confidence,
rather than serve in Heaven of compliance,
untangling secret codes in vibrant verse
with verve of esteem that dispels foul curse,
I rule in mirror world of anywhere.

When changed from naive youth of arrogance
to stoic maturity of respect,
ensconced at peace in happy Realms of Light,
clothed with transcendent brightness of weird truth,
to hazard Glorious Enterprise of song,
I dwell in mirror world of anywhere.

When I wear gleaming mask of Lucifer
to perform role of Light-Bearer for Truth
as Potent Victor in this global age,
and raise from bottomless abyss of faith
innumerable force of characters,
I charge in mirror world of anywhere.

When I lead star-eyed Seraphim of Earth
to battle tyrants grasping at state power
with project to exploit all working men
as slaves to their vain plan to defeat death,
and cast them from Almighty Throne of Right,
I shine in mirror world of anywhere.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus finds John Milton in Temple of Truth on the Aonian Mount, so he gives him glass of wine, then they jam tunes on their lyres and improvise hymns to Lucifer.

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

Proxy Puzzle Of Prudence
© Surazeus
2026 05 31

Each time I hear daylight sing out of tune
I see past range of what my eyes perceive,
essential vibes of truth that flash in brains
with pure angelic wings of thoughtless faith,
so I give tears of wisdom to lost souls
and chase wild butterflies in pouring rain.

Though I am no wise philosopher-king
attending needs of people in my care,
I ache with sorrow at their suffering
so I beam lasers from passionate glare
to spark bright flames on stone altar of prayer
with passion of Elijah on Carmel.

Though refugees from war on fenceless road
call Dispeller of Sorrow with brave prayer,
she hides with humble heart in hollow lair
to gather honey in the Holy Grail
that bleeds as blood from angels without wings
who trick my heart with tunes I cannot hear.

I wear mask of flame-caster at the pyre
and chant holy hymns of the devil choir
with plan to catch the newest falling star
before it fractures egg shell of the Earth,
since each material object has its worth
though fate cannot guarantee second birth.

As Smith of Hearts with Hammer of Respect,
I trace essential vein of curving thoughts
to map ordinary light of our brains
that seek permission to endure harsh pain
from faceless spirit in the empty sky
who never answers when we question why.

Adjusting vibrant strings of psychic faith,
I try with secret code to tune my eyes
through beams of fiscal light that harmonize
intense desire to expand consciousness
with humble need to extract from the Earth
potent material that could fuel my heart.

Pending payments on mortgage of my mind
alert my guardian angel with sharp chime
to analyze proxy puzzle of prudence
consistent with regulations of growth
defined by math clerks with strange formulas
which calculate my cost effectiveness.

Undone by death on Bridge of Clarity,
we hurry to our offices at dawn
to broker compliance with divine law
that should suppress bold curiosity
so when daylight sings in tune with the sea
we can unite to fight for liberty.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus pauses on London Bridge to snap a selfie with the crowd of people undone by death in the background, then continues to the Museum of Fake Art.

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

Riddles Of The Why
© Surazeus
2026 05 30

I like to float on wordless breath of thought
as I pretend my soul cannot be bought,
though children chasing shadows in the woods
leave broken dreams in doorless neighborhoods,
so I lie prone on couch of innocence
to plot new revolution of good sense.

I take my face off when the moon returns
to look for lost book among rain-wet ferns
since elevators drop me to my day
because I still refuse the right to pray
with fervent faith to no one in the sky
who never answers riddles of the why.

I want to make Sarmatia great again
but I cannot find my gold fountain pen
to write about how Queen Amage fought
invaders with the sword her wisdom wrought
that gleams invisible inside my heart
with love for Alba and her apple cart.

My heart resides in hills of Avalon
though I was born in vale of Oregon
so I hitchhike back east on signless road
that leads me to dark lake of the God Toad
who teaches me to play the Hermean lyre
that channels energy of soul desire.

When I row boat across the sloshing sea
to forest where the white crow with glass key
reveals strange secret of the golden flower
that blooms from sorrow in the doorless tower,
I legislate the sacred right to vote
for global savior on the floating boat.

We struggle to survive since hour of birth
through strategic fight to control the Earth
by constructing food-production machine
designed to favor all by Melusine
who guides my heart with riddles of the why
so I project my god face at blue sky.

My global revolution of good sense
inspires brave souls still stuck in reticence
to risk calm state of their healthy life style
by tricking Satan with the clever guile
concerning strict obedience to the law
though we try to evade the lethal jaw.

Desire to live beyond death of the soul
drives fierce fanatics to attain this goal
by grasping vainly at ethereal wind
that misdirects the greedy king who sinned
by smashing palace where First Ladies dwell
so I throw snake runes in the dreamless well.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus manages reconstruction of the East Wing of the White House from crystal bones of beautiful angels fallen from Heaven that does not exist.

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

False Roads Of Innocence
© Surazeus
2026 05 30

Untwisting breakdown of the fragile hour
we swallow stones of dream-exploding hopes,
preserved as mushroom, bellows marginal
to frantic wisdom shot from bowls of rage
too fast against declensions, unpossessed
by freedom-ordered words disguised as ghosts.

Contained by complex articles of faith,
too soon to craft new lecture on muckwork,
my pulsing heart chews maps of ardent eggs
smudged red with portents of forced arrogance,
though we dance through Inferno of regret
in threadbare souls extinct in cleansing rain.

Concealed blade of my alabaster heart
thirsts bleakly for resilient memories
teeming thick with unwatched electric sparks
from atoms smashed against my spasmic skull,
still starving for bland obligations bought
by trembling hands of futile arguments.

Diminishing warmth of starkly blurred rain
at scuttled promises that should retreat,
discarded on false roads of innocence
despite determination to endure,
alerts my thoughts to understand strange words
that disappear when I shout lies at Death.

Against advantage purchased from blind death
I preen with fractured confidence of stones
to argue for hardships that mold our frames
fierce as steel gears screwed in engine blocks
fueled by dark possibilities still ignored
by flash of sunlight cracking doors of fate.

Pressed hot against vast world of spinning fear
by radiant gravity of muddied clouds,
I wonder if my tarmac-soldered brain
could drink disoriented waves of hope
fast enough to map lost trail of ghosts
where angels slip and break their haughty wings.

Young boy who bikes on dusty narrow road
through small town, not on any Texas map,
stops by college library after noon
to write on yellow pad of paper spells
contrived from plots of television shows
about Sad Cowboy who explores the stars.

Young girl who walks beside tree-mirrored pool
through temple complex, in Cambodian hills,
ascends on Garuda with rainbow wings
to scatter flowers on the Texas plain
where Phoebus gazes with astonished faith
as Vasundhara takes his hand in hers.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus presides over wedding ceremony of Phoebus and Vasundhara by the pool in the temple complex of Angkor Wat while Asparas dance.

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

Aeolian Melodies Of Love
© Surazeus
2026 05 30

I hear sweet voice of Maya in soft wind
that blows through trees lit by the gold noon sun,
so I feel timeless spirit of Hermes
ache to sing about Bride of Quietness
who dances gracefully on uncracked urn
forever in cool dales of Arcady.

Wild ecstasy of haunting melodies
still echo softly in my sensual ear
from summer days of my adventurous youth
when I attended rainbow gatherings
in Colorado and New Mexico
where no Arcadian priests attended rites.

While riding cars on winding country roads
across America, sea to shining sea,
I see stolid cows grazing in fenced fields,
undraped by garlands woven by young maids,
where generations of grim pioneers
have plowed thick fields that now serve as their graves.

Yet Attic shape with marble lovers gleams
still unphased in Museum of Dead Gods,
so I now long to wield artistic brush
and add John Keats and his love, Fanny Brawne,
to lounge together on the Grecian Urn
in cold pastoral of eternity.

Now my heart aches two centuries from when
John sank in Lethean waters of mute song
attempting to fly with melodious plot
beside light-winged Dryad of the trees
that lead him to the blushful Hippocrene
where I strum his lost Lyre of Mercury.

Pale specter of his Apollonian soul
has lingered by my side for forty years
with lustrous eyes of mind-expanding sight
that helps me translate weird Sibylline songs
to praise the Queen-Moon of my fairy land
whose sweet song radiates from my dreaming mind.

Why easeful Death is now in love with me
because she whispers in my sea-shell ear
harmonious murmurs of the ceaseless waves
that trick my heart with forlorn fairy haze
to think I am both emperor and clown
whose plaintive anthems fade unheard at dawn.

Through global halls of gold in sublime state
I strum the turtle Lyre of Mercury
to sing with Homer and Apollo hymns
about the human quest to understand
essential nature of our universe
that beams Aeolian melodies of love.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus teaches me how to guide souls of the dead to the Underworld where they vanish into the nothingness of death when I explain there is no Afterlife.

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

Make Sarmatia Great Again
© Surazeus
2026 05 30

When horses gallop on the windy steppes
along the Borysthenes River flow,
I embrace fierce heart of assertive hope
till I feel wings of Icarus expand
and lift my spirit to sun-glowing clouds
so I can make Sarmatia great again.

As star-eyed son of Oceanus and Tethys,
who taught me how to tame the wind-winged horse
with apple from Garden of Haballon
where Hebela gives me fruit of her heart,
I gaze entranced in her moon-golden eyes
so I can make Sarmatia great again.

Harnessing swift sky-dancer Pegasus
to chariot with round wheels Helios designed,
I race along wide river of fruit groves
to hall of Apple Queen Amarnakea
who welcomes me with cup of healing juice
so I can make Sarmatia great again.

Though I wander lost on vast treeless plain
I climb mountain trail to her fruit grove
when I hear sweet voice of Hebela ring,
who takes my hand with smile of honest love
and leads me home to lush Habaeleon
so I can make Sarmatia great again.

Ten thousand years ago in fruitful hills
I left my sacred home Habaeleon
with apples from Garden of Haballon
and traveled west in Helian wagon train,
planting apples from Scythia to Scotland
so I can make Sarmatia great again.

With golden apples of lost Haballon,
as wise Apollon, son of Ilius,
I tend vast orchards in lush Avalon,
then strum the turtle lyre of Mercury
and sing of Adam and Hebe in Eden
so I can make Sarmatia great again.

Far west across wild sea of Oceanus
I sail from Avalon to lost Atlantis
where I plant apples on lush river shores
from Tsenacommacah to Oregon,
where gentle Multnomah dances in rain,
so I can make Sarmatia great again.

From Sea of Zalpa where my soul was born
when Queen of Kanesh, mother of my heart,
commissioned me to map the world of dreams,
I travel west with Fruit of Haballon
to fill the world with Apples of the Sun
so I can make Sarmatia great again.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus and Ophelia travel to Almaty Mountains on pilgrimage to the original apple groves that still flourish in Garden of Haballon.

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

Entangled In Matrix Of Light
© Surazeus
2026 05 29

Though I am encased within shell of being,
enwrapped in wings of thought I do not have,
I float in all-inclusive Absolute
through interconnected totality
as brain entangled in matrix of light
that sloshes thick in sea of molecules.

I understand flexible principle
when I grasp writhing serpent of my soul,
and fix in thought concept of ardency
with rigid definition of beamed words
that binds elusive hope as stable truth
which urges constant motion of strict change.

Each rigid principle of truth I grasp
generates contradiction of its state
as mirror image of its ideal being,
sublating opposite in sudden form
that integrates their contrapuntal force
in higher comprehensive unity.

Subjective spirit of my private mind,
preserved through individual mask of being,
tracks growth of my personal consciousness
expanding scope of bold intelligence
fueled by emotion of assertive faith
to record perceptions of my special brain.

Objective spirit of my social class
molds vibrant energy of our zeitgeist
in social institutions of right laws
that manifest cultural realities
enhanced by abstract right of ownership
through fruitful conscience of morality.

Performance of my spiritual support,
when I choose to create and not destroy,
culminates in private ethical life
where I actualize freedom of my will
by building walls of Heaven to protect
my wife and children so they savor life.

Absolute spirit of my cosmic mind
beams highest stage of growth where I achieve
unified recognition of my Self
when I express intuition through art,
making imagery that represents life
in religion to bind our hearts with tales.

Events of world history humans perform
evolve toward goal of mental liberty
through exercise of justice for all souls
to gain progress in consciousness of faith
preserved in brave freedom we exercise
to soar with hope above vast maze of myths.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus attends lecture at University of Zarathia where Hegel describes how unconscious spirit of light motivates humans to design institutions of universal justice and liberty for all.

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

Angel Of Ever Time
© Surazeus
2026 05 29

Did you meet your angel of Ever Time
while wandering lost on Parc Rives de Seine?
Bright light of ancient stars gleams in her eyes
when she appears in flash from storm-black skies
to cast dark shroud of gloom from my burned heart
so I may read guide spells on my star chart.

Do you hear your angel of Ever Time
sing with clarion voice of the silver chime?
When I transform into the white-furred bear
to ascend the endless heavenly stair,
hordes of devils swarm from cathedral hall
to thwart me when I spell their minds in thrall.

Do you see your angel of Ever Time
emerge with demon wings from ocean brine?
Trapped in museum of infinity
by writhing words of fraught eternity,
I dance with Mona Lisa on lake shore,
two ghosts escaped from book of ancient lore.

Will you kiss your angel of Ever Time
when we free people from Plutonian mine?
When Jesus harrows Hell with Sword of Truth
with Dream Wand from Tree of Jesse and Ruth,
he leads his people to the Promised Land
where apple trees bloom from his tender hand.

Would you know your angel of Ever Time
if she appears without wings in her shrine?
Struggling on raft of Medusa with Fate
to extract honest love from bitter hate,
we sail Sequana River past the moon
while Orpheus plays Zarathian Tune.

Can you feel your angel of Ever Time
beam divine soul of God in fractal rhyme?
Ultimate origin of conscious being
spirals zillion galaxies on oval ring
which channels Star Mind through my pulsing brain
because I give it all away to gain.

Shall we name our angel of Ever Time
with persona mask young children design?
After we stumble with diamonds of hope
through frantic faith on misty mountain slope,
we bury our parents in secret graves
then search for the true apple tree that saves.

Since I am your angel of Ever Time,
will you take my hand and always be mine?
I give you rainbow of the wind-winged horse
to gather energy of the Heart Force
so our love may heal wounds of brutal war
to buy milk and bread at the grocery store.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus proves to Jesus that death is the final end of all conscious minds, then he strums lyre of Mercury while Jesus sings Amazing Grace.

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

Writhing Agony Of Love
© Surazeus
2026 05 29

Shocked by how often angels fall from Heaven,
I express ardent anguish of concern
that Earth is now littered with wounded souls
who search for paradise of innocence
that may only exist in morning dreams
of lounging by the river eating fruit.

We dream of how life could be on this Earth
based on memories all our ancestors lived
life after life in garden of fruit trees,
plucking fruit from the wide generous world,
though always watching out for hidden snakes
who lie that we can gain eternal life.

Those golden eyes gleam bright with eager hope
that conjure visions of eternal life
each morning as we taste sweet fruit of faith
though our lithe bodies soon begin to fail,
and youthful strength withers as we decay
to stumble in decrepit solitude.

Writhing in anguish on the forest floor,
from helpless agony of bitter hope,
that like our parents we crumble to dust
after rotting flesh is consumed by worms,
we cry out to the empty faceless sky
for arcane secret to live beyond death.

Bright halo of the sun that blinds my eyes
surrounds head of strange angel who appears
as if they descend from gold clouds of faith,
so I grasp hand extended with concern
and stand to face the mirror of my face
that smiles at me with pure innocent grace.

Aroused by passion of conceptual plan
to share sweet pleasure of warm juicy kiss,
we open arms of lonely hearts with trust
to cling with gentle honesty of faith,
embraced in writhing agony of love
that merges separate bodies in one mind.

Dissolving boundaries between our souls
in frantic mission to transcend cold death,
we share excessive heat of loneliness
till soaring angel seed of ardent hope
penetrates global egg of singing truth
till we are pregnant with divine god soul.

New child born from our passionate embrace
grows strong and bright-eyed with innocent grace
so we teach them to describe what they see
till they perceive true essence of all things,
then we lie down to die in happiness
that we have gained eternal life in them.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus wanders from grave of Eurydice and sings agony of his loss, till Ophelia gives him apple of love, and they raise their son Orion with discipline of love.

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

Born As Adventist
© Surazeus
2026 05 27

Awake in endless desert forged from bones,
designed by swirls of agony and joy
in storm of sensation that blooms as trees
from urgency of faith in what is real,
I feel my body transform from weird words
that mold mirror mask over my flesh face.

Struck by epiphany of curling roots
that provide general guidelines in dream code
for submission of desire to world peace,
my mind expands from adventurous seed
to borrow wings of Icarus with pride
so I can fly above my memory maze.

Beneath wild sea of calm anxiety,
where angels invent mental telephones
from writhing tendrils of demonic clowns,
my family swims in swirls of holy hymns
through false argument of glib poverty,
constrained by social rules of hungry hope.

Lush meadow on credible sunlit moors
lures my enchanted heart to settle down
in vain attempt at prayer with humble trees
to buy salvation from the fractured stone
who still repeats forged riddle of despair
at taste of honey oozing from my tongue.

Born as Adventist in small prairie house,
composed of pine logs from dark Raven Wood,
I stare at glowing clouds of fearful faith
to watch for Phoebus Christ on beating wings
who may descend from palace in the sky
to cast all evil tyrants in hot hell.

Witness to turbulent eddies of change,
which surge from energetic hearts of souls
ambitious to assert bold right to dwell
by azure pond where honest demons lurk
with divine grace in morbid field of thoughts,
I lounge on porch of my cabin and laugh.

Not deep enough to shield my wounded heart,
too eager to escape dutiful play,
our secret pond conceals my naked mind
from privileged arrogance of stolen wealth
so I build houses on the roadless plain
for wanderers to dwell in tense accord.

Death carries me across the codeless plain
and lays my fragile soul on dire lake shore
where brave blue heron shields my humble hearth
with tender wings of innocent respect,
so I compose in secret book of lies
my fake memoir with blood of gods as ink.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus teaches me how to play lyre of Mercury and chant hymns of wisdom that teach lost souls how to invent some kind of meaning for their life to create rather than destroy.

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

Wake Through Weird Visions
© Surazeus
2026 05 27

Without any explanation for why
we wander endless maze of life on Earth,
we each invent our own reason for being
so our hearts blaze with blinding light of faith
that guides our steps through obstacles of fear
to eat and sing till we decay and die.

This glorious hour of timeless ecstasy
when we consume sweet fruit of wordless angst
and dance without restraint of social rules
in aching passion to transcend this world
and soar among high clouds to paradise
now seems to vanish in mute flash of dawn.

This cup of juice I lift with trembling hand
to toast strange beauty of our vibrant life
I drain to bitter dregs of final death
that crushes lithe bodies to nothingness
and scatters dust of our bones in dry fields
where flowers mock us with indifferent dance.

Bright dream of faith that swells my throbbing head
with awesome sense of pure divinity
convinces me my conscious sense of self,
by which my mind conceives immortal life,
will outlast transient pulsing of my flesh
so I might live again after I die.

That unknown country beyond bourn of death
from which no traveler ever returns
is nowhere in this realm of changing forms,
so I keep walking endless road of hope
to leap beyond abyss of nothingness,
yet I soon realize I deceive myself.

How sweet this weird enchanting sound of grace
which I express from wretched fear of death
that every human walking this vast world
is lost with me on signless road of faith
so we together overcome all snares
in toil to build our real Heaven on Earth.

Since we shall vanish from this spinning Earth
when conscious sense of self will dissipate,
though atoms of our bodies will transform
to soil applied by roots to conjure fruit,
we choose to celebrate with solemn joy
that we at least are still alive this hour.

I never find explanation for why
Earth generates our bodies from the sea
by weaving carbon strands of sparkling hope
in neural network of our dreaming brains,
so I decide light of the universe
strives to wake through weird visions my heart sings.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus strums lyre of Mercury before the crowd, and sings tale of how he tried to save Eurydice, but explains that death is final end of all organic life.

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

Ruined Temple Of Masks
© Surazeus
2026 05 26

If deviant people climb steeple of faith
with hope to fly on wings of Icarus
from sorrow of Earth to pleasure of Heaven,
they might wonder what faith really entails
as they fall back into turmoil of time,
soul trapped inside the sponge brain of the self.

Consider the horse that grazes on grass
and wanders meadow of arrogant wind
within sacred bounds of the barbed-wire fence,
and remember when we explored the world
racing across endless plains of desire
till we colonized ever river shore.

I never see horses anywhere now
while I drive my car in vast maze of streets
past buildings of mysterious intent
where only long-dead gods are innocent,
so I climb the mountain of timeless truth
and sit in the ruined temple of masks.

So many moments of embarrassment
startle my daily strut of confidence
because I forget how clumsy I am
stumbling randomly on road of my fate
though I attempt to swerve from ordained track
through free will basic to my character.

Lost in dark forest with my Golden Wreath,
as savage beast transformed by curse of faith,
I wander nowhere past the Promised Land
till beautiful daughter of the Moon God
sees my human soul inside the white bear,
therefore her love restores my human form.

Wearing white-bear mask of King Valemon,
I play my role in television show
that people watch when Earth is veiled with snow
since I restore Kingdom of Avalon
when I defeat Cruel Troll in the White House
by tricking him to steal the Crown of Thorns.

When I am done uniting Earth in peace,
I return to my planet far away
which in Terrish is named Zarathia
because First Mother Zaratha creates
our bodies from electric rainbow eyes
with first flash that flares forth from the big bang.

So join me at kitchen table of faith
to feast well in ruined temple of masks
where face of every human who has lived
on every planet in the universe
sings story of their life in riddle-verse
preserved in Book of Souls by the Star Wraith.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus meets the beautiful princess riding the white bear in the forest of lost souls, so he leads her to the ruined temple of masks where her kiss transforms her husband to a human.

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

Futile Television Shows
© Surazeus
2026 05 26

Earth eats beauty and ugliness alike,
and grave of time abundant hope consumes,
since happiness and sorrow dissipate
together in vast sweep of mindless wind,
thus I maintain calm rituals of delight
to treasure ornaments till endless night.

Though pleasure increase beauty in new forms
from fertile fields of wisdom spurred by hope,
time crushes beauty into twisted lust
for aching urgency to transcend death,
yet I accept decay of vital flesh
that scatters atoms of my self in wind.

This self I build from memories of hope,
composed of actions I perform from need,
will crack in fragments of dismembered days
lit by sunlight of long-lost afternoons
in cities far from where I dwell today,
preserved in futile television shows.

I look in mirror of reflective thoughts
to study how mask of my face has changed
through sixty years of urgent ardency
to play grand role of potent fortitude
my mind believes Fate commissioned for me
to stamp my sign on documents of truth.

My golden prime decays to brazen mask
that hangs on walls of clean suburban homes
preserving moment of bright agency
that fades in voiceless rooms of timeless dream
contrived to flash beyond posterity
as traffic signal red with flame of truth.

Should rich bequest of Nature flush my heart
with noble legacy of solemn hymns
that hail true beauty pulsing in brave hearts
of voiceless people struggling to survive,
then light my soul casts to part veil of gloom
may guide staunch wanderers on road of truth.

Thus I attend my golden pilgrimage
to climb steep hill of heavenly respect
through strength of duty to enhance world view
that frames chaos of Nature with strict rules
designed to guide our quest on righteous way
where our deeds create rather than destroy.

Sweet music I sing to forge strong concord
in lithe communal network of brave souls
embraces every wanderer with hope
that honest nurture of talents to skills
disarms cruel exploitation of blind greed
so our faulty Heaven secures all life.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus strums lyre of Mercury and sings love songs to seduce Ophelia with wisdom of raising children of our souls before we decay and die.

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

I Want To Believe
© Surazeus
2026 05 26

False as devils wearing bright angel masks
are those who willfully misunderstand
specific statements that assert clear points
contrary to selfish motives through greed
their tangled words conceal in trite bromides
that dislocate perverted attributes.

While I keep my head in the stars of dream
I bind my body to the ground of truth
when I investigate uncanny tales
of alien beings from planets far away
who buzz our globe in saucers of star gems
to document the hoax of dreamless facts.

When the Men in Black appear in my house,
beaming down from starship in the sky,
they spread angelic wings of glowing silk
to gaze deep in my mind with crystal eyes
that project visions of the universe
so I see spiral coil of cosmic truth.

Ten thousand orbs of light flash in the sky
over ten thousand towns across the land
so journalists in cars speed lone highways
to chase gray aliens across desert plains
to end of the rainbow where ghosts of fear
vanish in sudden gust of wordless wind.

I want to believe, the agent declares,
while gathering evidence of aliens,
and photographs god in the flying machine
who arrives with wisdom of ancient souls
to usher in New Age of Peace on Earth
so all social conflicts evaporate.

Call them angels or devils in spaceships,
the crazy man in the tinfoil hat shouts,
but they are ancient demons from the stars
who rise up from the surging sea of fear
as Godzilla who rules Earth with despair,
while waving blurry photographs of planes.

Wide-eyed Icarus on the Silver Bridge
spreads white wings wide against storm-blasting wind
and howls with hope in grim Plutonian night
as millions of people gaze in his eyes
that hypnotize their minds with secret truth
so they call for aliens to save our world.

When storm clouds part at blazing flash of dawn,
Jesus beams down from Starship Enterprise
and walks among all nations on our globe
who proclaim him Emperor of the Earth,
so I turn off that television show
and sit on my front porch to play guitar.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus wears gray alien mask and floats down from the crane as Deus ex machina to land on outdoor theater stage where he plays King Lear proving to Hamlet that aliens are real.

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

Golden Apple Eris Threw
© Surazeus
2026 05 25

If I could but teleport anywhere
when my heart beats frantic with fear of death,
then I would visit soulmate of my heart
though she lives on the other side of Earth,
so in domestic quietude of love
we may embrace in garden of respect.

If no celestial light may inward shine
and through divinity of weird insight
irradiate my mind with ancient truth,
then I would record in conceptual spells
ideal social state fair laws should support
against which oligarchs forever fight.

If I may reconstruct this broken world
on noble principles of honest hope
that could heal damaged hearts of wounded souls,
then I would foil with repetitious tricks
greedy thieves that hijack our government
and free humanity from psychic debt.

If I escape loud television shows
on fierce angelic wings of Icarus
with brave intent of courage to oppose
cruel tyrants seeking to enslave mankind,
then I would drive my car to work at dawn
to map progress of human ardency.

If I hear song of brave Persephone
reverberate through halls of government
about her plan to free the human heart,
then I would walk bright Paris streets at dawn
to find the Golden Apple Eris threw
so I can choose Athena as my bride.

If I could step in the same river twice
to measure ceaseless flow of mental change
and map configuration of dream time,
then I would build bronze monument to truth
to share with Heraclitus chocolate milk
and ginger cookies in the Parthenon.

If I could spin fate by the ticking clock
that rewinds code of human history
which proves my crazy theory true at last,
then I would play role of new Thunder God,
vulnerable to emotional compassion,
while Phoebus plays organ in the glass church.

If I should hear the dead speak my new name
with mountain-echo voice of Raven Ghost,
then I will strum lost lyre of Mercury,
and sing while Empire of America
burns from pillage of cruel oligarchs
when the White House sinks in mud of contempt.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus picks up the Golden Apple he finds on the ground and gives it to Athena while she is analyzing new social policies designed to grow the world economy.

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