Reluctance Of The Fool
© Surazeus
2025 05 02

Daring to boldly look Death in the eye,
I sing new lamentation for the lost
with helpless agitation of one soul
shocked at dissolution of the world view
our grandfathers built from skulls of dead gods
to play god with reluctance of the fool.

Orpheus dances at edge of the cliff
where his pet fox leaps about him in glee
while he twirls staff of Mercury he stole
from tomb of that god, dead three thousand years,
till he finds demon wings in the gold chest
to play god with reluctance of the fool.

Returning from the diamond mine in Hell
as hungry jester with the radio brain,
Narcissus sings last holy hymn of faith
to save humanity from the mad clown
who plays with nuclear missiles as his toys
to play god with reluctance of the fool.

Chewing gum as she writes on order pad,
Echo echoes items with nonchalance
while Pluto grills burgers on flames of Hell,
then she recites poems Sappho never wrote
which inspires the lonely man with no face
to play god with reluctance of the fool.

Comforting silence of the Underworld
excites cute children killed by falling bombs
who play chase among pomegranate trees
where ravens invent new philosophy
till Persephone chooses the weird girl
to play god with reluctance of the fool.

Existence of forms in the universe
appears to be deliberate design
by Supernatural Mind humans name God,
so we keep old myths in museum hall
where the blind man pretends he is a ghost
to play god with reluctance of the fool.

Dream rivers in the labyrinthine cave
refuse to reflect faces of the dead,
so we give each other new demon names
for priests to conjure us from our lost graves,
though I should follow the messiah sleuth
to play god with reluctance of the fool.

Electric vibrations in the void
transform atoms of my body to dirt
so roots may mold my spirit into fruit
which lovers eat to generate new life
so my molecules become their new child
to play god with reluctance of the fool.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/05/…

Orpheus gives tourists from America tours in the labyrinthine caves of Hell where they can pose for selfies with devils in red silk gowns holding pitchforks, who drink cokes on break.

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

River Full Of Fish
© Surazeus
2025 05 02

Strange stories of boys and their fathers bleed
sap from trees of ancient forests they saw
with sharp-toothed tool of mute fear to construct
one lone temple by river full of fish
that expands into the vast city maze
which I catalog with crow quill by lamplight.

Each boulder of memory cut from clouds,
which I roll up the hill of eager hope,
rings with the voices of men without names
who build enormous castles on high hills
where they enforce authority of theft
through violent assertion of their law.

Whichever direction I choose to go
away from oppression of greedy thugs,
who call themselves the holy knights of god,
I measure distance beyond prison walls
which they insist will protect me from harm
to find paradise outside their fake Heaven.

Bells in the monastery of blind ghouls
shock angels awake from graves of despair
so they dance laughing in the sudden rain
till they bring baskets of fruit to their mothers
who recreate the world of dream machines
into sprawling cities of shining towers.

When I enter the small temple of wood,
hidden deep in maze of wide asphalt streets,
I find idol of every famous man
venerated by teachers as wise gods
who taught us angry apes how to be human,
so I smash them all with Mercurian wand.

I walk toward radiance of the glowing screen,
fixed as oval mask over face of god,
to read weird history of the human race
written in constellations seers invent
to give fluid apparitions of faith
special habitation with divine form.

Laughing at me with eyes that glitter stars,
three Fates unravel network of my brain
to weave with tangled threads of memory
new tapestry of truth that frames my actions
through strict ontology of moral rules
with reprogrammed narrative I embody.

Reflected clear in blue frame of the sea,
my face embodies psychic energy
which Earth programs into my dreaming brain
so I fold water through wings of desire
by listening to voice of humanity
that whispers secrets in vibrating waves.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/05/…

Orpheus teaches algebra to high school students who are eager to attend the weekend football game against their long-time rivals.

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

Cyclic Patterns Of Return
© Surazeus
2025 05 02

My ancestors once lived on river boats,
spending all day floating on silver waves
to flow with the current of constant change
that swirls in cyclic patterns of return,
day after day catching fish from the dark,
then roasting them on shore under bright stars.

Thousands of years later I spend all day
sitting at the desk in my cozy home
before the bright glowing computer screen,
designing maps that imitate the world
for my job supporting our state defense,
then writing poems to record history.

If I grow angel wings out of my beating heart
and soar into the sky among wild clouds,
I could gaze down on spinning globe of Earth
to dream its evolution over time
in how we organic creatures evolve
through generation of our conscious brains.

Then I could sing about the sparkling rain
that drenches fields of dreams where children play
hide and seek in primitive social games
that foreshadow how we live as adults
when we perform tense political games
over who wins power till we all die.

Too often as I work designing maps
while contemplating current world events,
I feel my heart ache with nostalgic hope
for spending all day on the river boat
to float with currents of self-controlled change
predictable with formulas of fate.

No individual can control world change,
though some assert their vain authority
by threatening violence sanctioned by laws
that should maintain social stability
except when people struggling against hate
revolt against oppressive tyranny.

Ignoring tales on internet news sites
expressed through conflicting narrative frames,
I walk alone my quiet neighborhood
to feel soft breezes of May kiss my soul,
and wonder when gangs of mad boys with guns
will kick in my door and drag me to jail.

How lucky I must be, I grimly smirk,
that no one pays attention to my dreams
smeared in black blood of demons on the wall
inside cathedral of the laughing clown
where howling skull of Hamlet prophesies
rise of Zarathia from ruins of war.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/05/…

Orpheus strums lyre of Mercury and prophesies rise of Zarathia on the ruins of America.

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

Bleeding Hands Of Faith
© Surazeus
2025 05 01

Wandering so long in the Other World
shaped from memories of the distant past
my ancestors programmed into my brain,
I gaze amazed at this world of machines
that transformed feudal kingdoms of farms
into computer-powered superstate.

While waiting around for the cosmic herald
to explain why territory-based states,
exerting pressure of commercial gain,
nurture power of wealthy oligarchs,
I map vast ecosystem of the mind
to record ever-changing state of being.

The overall progress of social rites,
which define nature of societies,
is formed from countless threads of energy
embodied by each individual person
who performs daily routines of production
to fund safe haven of their family home.

We are animals in sheltering cages
that we construct with intentional prayer
to protect our bodies from exploitation
by keeping our prison key in our pocket
so we can hide in walls of paradise
our parents built with bleeding hands of faith.

With honest expertise of cherry blossoms
that fool our eyes with vision of soft snow,
we analyze psychic process of faith
refracting light of objects we perceive
so we impose state ideology
to mask demonic nature of desire.

So millions of people with star-lit eyes
open their hearts to energy of dreams
with mental focus of shamanic source
to channel Voice of God through poetry
that we all sing in global choir of seers
which beams our national soul in one brain.

Bright eye of Heaven always shines so hot
we feel immortal conscious Mind of God
radiate from temporary brains that dream
millions of ancestral lives in one play
that we perform in our brief hour of light,
gazing through eternity at the lake.

Rich green of shore plants gleam in trickling stream
that leads me far from city maze of streets
to timeless stillness of the forest glade
where I find basic concept of my soul
as uncarved statue of stone by the lake
that leads me home safe from the Other World.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/05/…

Orpheus sets up a booth on Dead Poets Boulevard to sell roadmaps for the soul since we all must journey to the Other World to attain salvation.

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

Alligator Of Ambition
© Surazeus
2025 05 01

If the indifferent butterfly of chaos
remembers riddle of the secret name
my mother invented from scattered stones,
then I can gather apples of the mind
from lonely grandmother tree by the lake
who teaches me how to discern the fake.

Yet pretty horses of the Renaissance
tell cute jokes about me behind my back
so I spread cape of Mithras to the wind
and surf on alligator of ambition
to chase the Holy Ghost to halls of Heaven
where she grills hamburger for me to eat.

Two boys, who are the sons of rival sisters,
leave the river village to join the army,
and one returns a mutilated corpse
while the other returns on a white horse
as the general who conquers the whole land
and crowns himself the King of Everywhere.

Though watchers in wheat fields disturb the sun
with angry rain from the storm-breeding seas,
the sky unfolds as banner of wild flame
that guides the refugees from brutal wars
to invade valley of the singing skull
where old people sell loaves of loneliness.

Descended from son of the Teuton king
who threw his broken sword into the lake,
the boy, who pretends he is the fierce wolf,
gives ring of his mother to the sad girl
who waits in the carriage with broken wheels,
so she runs away with him to the moon.

Since I am son of the blonde Gothic girl
and the black-haired Hun on the wind-winged horse,
I declare myself king of the whole world,
then beat everyone who laughs in my face
till they give me their sisters as my wives
then burn down my feasting hall at midnight.

After they all vote for the narcissist
whose face overshadows ghost of their souls
in the fractured mirror of world events,
we scatter chess pieces across the sand
because Death will always win game of life,
then eat apple pie as the sun burns out.

The shrieking whistle of the passing train
fades into sunset of the movie screen,
so I dream how the world changes the rules
to restore the Roman Empire today
from Europe, Russia, and America
forged by the shining son of Taranis.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/05/…

Orpheus plays lyre of Mercury in the court of Taranis as the presidents of all the countries in the world assemble to feast at his coronation as Emperor of Earth.

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

Puzzle Of Astarianity
© Surazeus
2025 05 01

The history of human civilization
begins with Amen, Mother of Mankind,
sitting on her small flat-top pyramid,
sheltered by four pillars of tall palm trees,
and describing creation of the world
in song while worshippers feast from her hands.

After Ishtar completed quest for truth,
stripped of illusions in the underworld,
she implemented first religious rites
in temple on the ziggurat of Ur
from which all religions of mankind grow
with priests who cook food for the sacred meal.

With Abraham and Sarah going west
Astarism sprouted into Judaism
from which Christian denominations spring,
including Islam, that respect bold voice
of the Prophet who teaches men with faith
to exercise self-control in the law.

With Brahman and Saraswati going east
Astarism sprouted into Hinduism
from which spring Krishnaism and Shaivism,
and all the gods that multiply in form
from one immortal Spirit of Mankind,
with Buddhism teaching men self-control.

When Akkadian culture began to bloom
in lush Mesopotamian fields of wheat,
and recording priests fought over which system
to use, ideograms or the alphabet,
Shin lead fleet of ships to colonize China
where Taoism and Confucianism bloomed.

Amen on her pyramid in Egypt,
and Ishtar on her ziggurat in Ur,
developed strict rites of social control
that sign every religion in the world
which are all sects of our one global cult
formed through faith of Astarianity.

The ruins of temples, where humankind
worshipped great spirit of the universe
at communal feasts for ten thousand years,
lie scattered across waste land of our faith,
for we have found that Cosmic Mind of God
shines as the consciousness in our own brains.

Though nations crowded on our spinning globe
are fractured into fierce opposing sects,
we all came from one original hall
where Ishtar sang Creation of the World,
so let us reassemble one world faith
from puzzle of Astarianity.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/05/…

Orpheus travels the world to preach the faith of Astarianity, uniting all religions with the generous heart of Ishtar.

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

Chains Of Selfish Greed
© Surazeus
2025 04 30

Bewildered and spellbound by striking clocks,
young woman, wearing fallen-angel wings,
flings fake medallion of the Lonely God
on pile of trash in alley of grand greed
to prove she loves the willow-warbler more
than the clown crucified on the phone pole.

Assured she might, with shocking score of fate,
prise out of hope clear insight into love,
sad Stella hides new mask of mirth in purse
made from skin of the silver wolf who knows
why she is nervous as the graceful deer
who clatters hoofs in cathedral of glass.

Yet when she lays on altar forged from gems
fresh lilies plucked from world obscurity,
tall Stella dares peer up at Face of God,
carved from marble into idol of faith,
that shines with aura beamed in rainbow rings,
to see if he can see into her heart.

Still capable of managing with spells
unending cosmic process of rebirth,
Faceless Ungod who reads thoughts of her heart
obscures unnatural light of human brains
with blazing wings of wordless arrogance
because he walks on water of the mind.

Drinking ambrosia from the Holy Grail,
brewed by the one-eyed witch of Avalon,
sly Stella boasts ancestry of her soul
while rearranging puzzle of events
that would reveal in coded prophecy
who soon will overthrow the tyrant king.

For eighty years ago on this dire day
grim Adolf, hiding in cave of the wolf,
fired bullet of justice into his brain
to end disgraceful tyranny of greed
that cleansed the world with his blood-sacrifice
as demigod who roared with dragon voice.

Then fifty years ago on this dire day
fierce dragon of the mountain, Lac Long Quan,
drove cruel invaders from streets of Saigon
to free the ancient land of Vietnam
so Au Co may walk across war-torn hills
and bless her children with baskets of fruit.

Unbound from chains of selfish greed at last,
wise Stella finds Prometheus by the lake
where they consider state of world affairs,
discussing how to build new global state
where every person living on this Earth
lives through liberty and justice for all.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus finds Stella fixing the universal clock to give her instrument of irony so she can rewind fortune of the global state.

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

Snowboard Of My Heart
© Surazeus
2025 04 30

Gliding down the mountain slope of bright snow,
I cruise with grace on snowboard of my heart,
then shred gnarly hills with aggressive style
to leap into the vast indifferent sky
and soar with wingless poise of elegance
beyond this world, but stump on Earth again.

Spiraling around in the silver sky
with bold defiance of cruel gravity,
Belenus snowboards down the mountain slope,
sliding back and forth among slim pine trees,
then notches arrow in his taut yew bow
to shoot the swift red Cervus in his heart.

After cutting Cervus meat in thick steaks,
which he wraps inside large bags of its skin,
Belenus guides one-horse sleigh in old woods
toward hilltop fort that smokes in gleaming show
where Andarta and their son Grannus wait
for him to return with their winter feast.

Just as he approaches the long wood bridge
that arcs over river of gushing ice,
Taranis skis suddenly swift down the hill
and hurls long ash spear to impale his chest,
but lithe Belenus somersaults backward
and lands on field of snow with spear and shield.

Chasing Taranis up the mountain slope,
Belenus finds him waiting at the top
where they glare at each other in fierce wind,
then race each other back down to the bridge
to prove who reaches wagon of meat first
and who gets wiped out on the frosty grade.

Eyes squinting as they slalom down the hill,
racing each other in elegant curves
through grove of spruce trees, kicking up snow
as they lean sideways to swerve around stones,
fierce rivals hurtle gracefully intense
in feverish competition to win.

Hotblooded with vehement zeal to win,
Belenus curls his body into coil
by leaning forward to soar through the air
with energetic passion to succeed,
then glides sideways in half-moon curve to stop
beside his horse and wagon near the bridge.

Embracing with laughter after their race,
Belenus and his cousin Taranis
drive wagon of meat into fort courtyard
where everyone cheers, having watched their race,
then roast steaks and drink mead in the feast hall
while he dances with Andarta all night.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus brings wagon of copper pots to the hilltop fort where Belenus and Andarta welcome him with joyful laughter, and give him mead to drink.

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

Four Hundred Apples
© Surazeus
2025 04 30

Four hundred apples fall into my hand
so I scatter their seed cores in soil
along the road I walk to Neverland
to play life of leisure instead of toil
in cheerful valley of the singing horse
who guides my journey to the river source.

Sitting on wood floor in the living room
while curtains sway in afternoon spring breeze,
I watch television show about doom
that rises as Godzilla from wild seas,
then ride my bike in the small Texas town
where no one has ever heard of the clown.

Ten thousand years the Earth spins in the void
while I walk west to find Cave of the Sun,
then after math class I play the android
who wants to learn more about having fun,
but in the schoolyard we watch the plane fall,
burning as it destroys the Berlin Wall.

Sometimes while sitting in mid-morning class
I stare out the window at tall oak trees
and think about hunting snakes in the grass
to gather honey made by humble bees,
but then I focus on grammar of thought
so I can program the demon robot.

The question remains in the Book of Boats
whether Fusang is coast of Oregon,
so I drive my Chevrolet to herd goats,
then crown myself Crow King of Avalon,
since Jimmu taught me how to shoot yew bow
while standing nobly in the swirling snow.

With leaping laughter I play in soft rain
to gather cherries in basket of hope
while counting human time based on the reign
each tribal sovereign adjusts to cope
with disasters, and protect us from harm,
though people still purchase the magic charm.

Wandering among mossed rocks in low tide
on the beach of Cape Alava at dawn,
Otokichi decides he cannot hide,
so he constructs the psychic cosmotron
angels use to translates weird song of stars
to human passion that fuels motorcars.

Four hundred apples sprout from Tree of Life,
so I purchase from Lucifer Estate
Garden of Eden for my Java wife
who manages fruit trees to calculate
fortunate process of cause and effect
that garners rewards of social respect.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus learns Japanese from Otokichi while living in Shanghai to compile anthology of minyo folk songs.

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

Four Hundred Apples
© Surazeus
2025 04 30

Four hundred apples fall into my hand
so I scatter their seed cores in soil
along the road I walk to Neverland
to play life of leisure instead of toil
in cheerful valley of the singing horse
who guides my journey to the river source.

Sitting on wood floor in the living room
while curtains sway in afternoon spring breeze,
I watch television show about doom
that rises as Godzilla from wild seas,
then ride my bike in the small Texas town
where no one has ever heard of the clown.

Ten thousand years the Earth spins in the void
while I walk west to find Cave of the Sun,
then after math class I play the android
who wants to learn more about having fun,
but in the schoolyard we watch the plane fall,
burning as it destroys the Berlin Wall.

Sometimes while sitting in mid-morning class
I stare out the window at tall oak trees
and think about hunting snakes in the grass
to gather honey made by humble bees,
but then I focus on grammar of thought
so I can program the demon robot.

The question remains in the Book of Boats
whether Fusang is coast of Oregon,
so I drive my Chevrolet to herd goats,
then crown myself Crow King of Avalon,
since Jimmu taught me how to shoot yew bow
while standing nobly in the swirling snow.

With leaping laughter I play in soft rain
to gather cherries in basket of hope
while counting human time based on the reign
each tribal sovereign adjusts to cope
with disasters, and protect us from harm,
though people still purchase the magic charm.

Wandering among mossed rocks in low tide
on the beach of Cape Alava at dawn,
Otokichi decides he cannot hide,
so he constructs the psychic cosmotron
angels use to translates weird song of stars
to human passion that fuels motorcars.

Four hundred apples sprout from Tree of Life,
so I purchase from Lucifer Estate
Garden of Eden for my Java wife
who manages fruit trees to calculate
fortunate process of cause and effect
that garners rewards of social respect.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus learns Japanese from Otokichi while living in Shanghai to compile anthology of minyo folk songs.

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

House Of The Lost
© Surazeus
2025 04 09

Searching empty houses on road of time,
that leads me deep in crowded city maze,
I pause at sudden mystery of soft chime
that makes me wonder why this wordless daze
leaves me stranded on Bridge of Charity
without the faintest sense of clarity.

Though I have searched ten thousand empty homes
for faceless father who designed my soul,
I find nothing more than cute garden gnomes
who tell confusing jokes to fool the troll
who scribbles stories on the bleeding page
while locked in structured safety of the cage.

My mother told me just before she died
the name he told her in the apple grove
after they made love, till they had to hide
from her mad father with the treasure trove,
because to save his life he ran away
so she often wept as she watched me play.

My tragic story never breaks your hearts
when I lament my state as orphan child
while we load baskets of apples in carts,
so I smile and play the clown, meek and mild,
to hide the bitter anger of my wound
which winds my heart till I am too attuned.

My heart ticks twisted with these maudlin tears
when I lounge placidly in garden fane
with Spirit Fox by fountain of lost years
while flowers bloom with suffocating pain,
so I gaze forlornly at golden haze
that shrouds my world with faith in the next phase.

Behind calm mask of my beautiful face
I conceal seething passion of desire
to weave my anguish in this peaceful place
till terror seeps away with hope less dire
than pulsing wisdom of my vanity
that molds the sublime from profanity.

Though I sing charming hymn of holy awe
with soul-enchanting voice of divine truth,
I vow to punish abusers with law
designed for Justice by messiah sleuth
who mocks tormentors for wounding my heart
by tracing way of fortune on my chart.

Abandoned by my father before birth,
I struggle against harsh odds to survive,
then counterbalance tragedy of worth
with even fortune my choices contrive
by building haven from house of the lost
because my father is my inner ghost.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus finds Ophelia smiling calmly as she lounges with her Spirit Fox by the fountain of lost years and gives her strawberries to eat.

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

Their Names In Clouds
© Surazeus
2025 04 29

I hear sad Rachael singing in the field
while weeping at the tomb where Jacob lies,
so I record the verses of her voice
that women for their dead husbands still sing,
even as their homes are destroyed by bombs,
yet the Enchanter writes their names in clouds.

I hear Miranda singing by the sea
where the grand ship sank in tempest of hope
till Ferdinand rises dripping from waves
and brings her the diamond of star-god eyes
which she transforms into the child of faith,
yet the Enchanter writes their names in clouds.

I hear Dulcinea singing with joy
as she milks cows by the giant windmill
where Knight of the Woeful Countenance sighs
with anguish of love that grows in his heart
for illusion of the Woman he fears,
yet the Enchanter writes their names in clouds.

I hear Asenath singing in grove
where dates ripen in exotic sun glare
as ibis flap wings among river reeds
when Joseph arrives after storing grain
and gives her gold grail with three emeralds,
yet the Enchanter writes their names in clouds.

I hear Ophelia singing by the river
where she tends lush garden of blooming herbs
while Hamlet lounges by the willow tree,
strumming lute of the lonely troubadour,
and compares her to the bright summer day,
yet the Enchanter writes their names in clouds.

I hear Anahita singing at dawn
in cave of illusions where demons dance
so Mithras enthrones her on the chariot
which he drives in the streets of Kangavar
where thousands sing hymn of praise to her name,
yet the Enchanter writes their names in clouds.

I hear Cinderella singing folk ballads
while tending castle hearth in vestal robes
till she finds Mercutio in the goat shed
hiding from fierce brothers of Rosaline,
so she bathes him and holds him in her arms,
yet the Enchanter writes their names in clouds.

I hear lonely girls singing in their rooms
as they write gothic poems in jagged lines
which they post on their social media sites,
then dance with aching hearts in weird moonlight
to hide from toxic masculinity,
yet the Enchanter writes their names in clouds.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus reads his book with Songs of Heartbroken Women at bookstores across the country sea to shining sea with Ophelia by his side.

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

New Starting Point
© Surazeus
2025 04 28

I cannot wait for the new starting point,
so I rebuild intricate state of mind
through articulate clarity of love
by sprouting demon wings from broken hearts,
for I can see the new world order bloom
from foul corpse of god that fell from the stars.

Though you may not be able to hear me,
I speak the words of love I want to share
so they vibrate across the universe
and weave our alien minds with secret tales
through advertisement of religious faith
designed by my ancestors from despair.

Startled by exact angle of new gain,
that traps my sorrow in the ringing bell,
I measure vastness of the perfect lake
that bridges distance between our two hearts,
animated by feelings we exchange
with strangers we meet on the signless road.

When beautiful Lamia with gold eyes
slithers from Lake Lemanus at midnight,
I follow sweet enchanting song of hope,
she sings in weird mercurial voice of fate,
to hear dire prophecy with aching heart
when I gaze in sparkling swirl of her eyes.

When luminous phantom of mute regret
cries out with sorrow of her broken heart
to find her child who disappeared from time,
I build another bridge from rainbow beams
while all the evil people of the world
kill each other so we can live in peace.

Till ghost of ringing bells enters my heart
with animated passion of esteem,
I stretch my soul beyond my comfort zone
to allocate fractured portion of life
with honest dedication to transform
from snide indifference to kind respect.

Untextured loneliness of moon-gold light
urges me to dig roots to core of Earth
so I can reinvent my naked soul
with special new mask that conceals my pain
while I wander with Death in drenching rain
because she knows what I have always loved.

Attaining valuable insight to pain,
I decide how people define my soul,
framed by social context of liberty
that shimmers in ethereal air we breathe
because I map the golden way of angst
which leads me back to the new starting point.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus finds thousands of bodies of the disappeared washed up on the shores of the River Styx, so he writes their names and tales in Book of Justice.

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

Gold River Of Faith
© Surazeus
2025 04 28

I love the little gold river that flows
between grassy banks of bushes and trees,
so I strip off my name and social class,
and swim nude in the cool water of faith
which cleanses my heart of sorrow and fear
where I float with the cheerful tweets of birds.

Though our great land from sea to shining sea,
teeming with people who work to create
Heaven in their homes to live safe and free,
is now oppressed by vicious tyranny
by greedy thief who hates our Liberty,
I love the little gold river of faith.

Every eighty years in turning of time
we must join forces of our frightened hearts
to fight for justice and freedom for all,
against monarchy, against slavery,
against fascism, and against oligarchy,
so we live as we will, if we harm none.

While I float mute in gold river of faith,
I feel spirit of water forged by stars
shimmer with immortal soul of sunlight
that weaves bright threads of fortune in my heart
to bind my conscious mind to core of Earth
till I begin to sing old hymn of love.

This water flowing in river of dreams
has formed the bodies of organic souls
over four hundred million years of life,
rising as cold mist, floating as huge clouds,
falling as bright rain, flowing in wide streams,
then pulsing in neuron cells of our brains.

Soil soaks water from torrents of rain,
roots suck water in networks of cells,
fruits swell pungent with water of life,
animals eat grass and leaves from thick trees,
and people eat animals, herbs, and fruit,
so we are the water of Earth that dreams.

Following Mercury through swirling mist,
I walk along the river against flow
to explore its way from the mountain vale
where water springs from cavern of the mind
and winds around hills to the sunlit sea
where humans build their stately pleasure domes.

I row my small boat gently down the stream,
past walled gardens where children eat and play
while everyone waves and calls out my name
to offer their thanks for my guardianship
adjudicating peace for every soul
who thrives at home by gold river of faith.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus floats in the soul-sustaining waters of the sacred river where he patrols to maintain peace as River God who guards the people with love.

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

Find My Blind Angel
© Surazeus
2025 04 28

I lose my blind angel down by the sea
who gives me tomato sandwich to eat
so I drive my expensive sports car fast
through endless shining maze of city streets,
then lie in grass beneath the apple tree
and throw pink petals in the sky with joy.

With key that opens door of arcane fate
I walk toward vacant seat of prophecy
to scrutinize truth through infinity
so I can build strong bridge across the rift
where river of change flows down to the sea
while I pontificate weird truth of love.

Wise Helius with long hair white as snow
tells each tree in wild forest on the Alps
how beautiful they are with shining leaves
that radiate spirit of gold molecules
which beam from every star in the night sky
to link our hearts in network of bright souls.

With graceful elegance of calm respect
Helvetia bears tall Spear of Guardianship
and leads her people in the wilderness
away from slavery in gem mines of Hellas
to build new haven on lush rolling hills
beside silver waters of Lake Lemanus.

Tending sheep on hills around Lake Lemanus,
Gebrinius strums lyre of Mercurius
and sings with eerie voice of haunting hope
hymn to praise swift forest-hunter Arduinna,
while red-haired Visucia gives pear juice
to travelers who rest in their small fane.

Standing guard on stone walls of Turicum,
Visucius peers through large crystal sphere
as wind flutters his long cape of raven feathers
when he negotiates peace from arguments,
while Cissonia bakes bread and suckles child
who plays with yew bow as his father grins.

Bearing Caduceus with two coiled snakes,
Cissonius drives carriage heaped with goods
for sale to people in small villages
as clever Dream-Bringer with winged feet,
while Gebrinia heals the sick with medicine
and chants spells to conjure soul of Alauna.

I find my blind angel down by the sea
when star-eyed Alaunus teaches my heart
how to analyze current state of being
by observing flow of cause and effect
so I can prophesy future events
to protect tribe of Helvetia from harm.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus journeys to meet three sons of Mercurius, Visucius, Cissonius, and Gebrinius, who welcome their uncle with feast and song.

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

Hestia Tends The Flame
© Surazeus
2025 04 27

Throwing mask of her face on pile of skulls,
Hestia tends fire in hearth of the wood fane
while ravens caw in oak trees by the lake,
then places wolf-fur cloak on her old father
who snores in harmony with cricket song
that rings in blue shimmer of evening dusk.

Tending eternal flame of our world state,
Hestia maintains fire of the family hearth
so billions of women around the Earth
my cook delicious meals to preserve health
of their husbands and children with pure love
who celebrate her skill to nurture life.

Face glowing from warm fire in the stone hearth,
Hestia prepares feast for rebirth of life
when trees blossom again with leaves and fruit,
and supervises Ceraon mixing wine
with Matton kneading dough as Deipneus
brings food on plates for everyone to eat.

Startled awake from sleep in dark midnight,
Hestia finds bold Priapus in her bed
as he attempts to spark her soul with child,
so when she screams for help Apollo runs
to drag the old man from the vestal fane
and punish him with justice of respect.

Wandering signless roads of planet Earth,
Hestia preserves eternal flame of life
that lights every hearth in homes of the world,
till Adonis erects electric lines
on poles of pine in network of hot wires
which powers every home in maze of myths.

Arriving after twenty thousand years,
Hestia wanders streets of America,
still bearing ancient Torch of Liberty,
where homes are powered by electric lines,
so she kneels before lost idol of Zeus
and lays ancient flint stones before his feet.

Tending eternal flame of our world state,
Hestia weaves vast network of copper wires
to power computers which calculate
spiritual truths that flash in vatic eyes
when all our brains dream life with one world view
which process as nodes in her global brain.

Wearing mask of her face with shining gold,
Hestia tends the flame of civilization
which glows in heart of every dreaming soul
who dwells with hope for pleasure and respect
in towns connected by electric wires
spread out from her heart in Cave of Illusions.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus brings wagon of pine logs as offering for Hestia to preserve the flame of civilization in hearth of our world empire Zarathia.

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

Weird Door Of Hope
© Surazeus
2025 04 27

The road of life that winds into the mist
too often seems to randomly go nowhere,
yet if I follow bright light of my heart
that reveals big picture of my dream chart,
I find myself with the people I love
safe in lush garden we create with faith.

Beneath the Tree of Truth where we first kissed
we soon began to feel how much we care,
so we hold hands on winding road of life
to help each other overcome all strife
as we share fruit we pluck from limbs of hope
so trees grow from seeds we drop on our path.

Entranced by dazzle of the flowing stream,
that blocks the signless road of cautious hope
we think leads to our secret happiness,
we sway in beauty of weird dizziness,
then hold each other tight with loyal trust,
charged with essential transience of our lives.

Our years together swirl into sweet dream
as we assert fraught sessions we must cope
with leaps of faith across dark emptiness
that teems with rich bounty of loveliness
so we attend lush garden of our needs
that blooms with fruits rewarding our hard work.

Though we advance on separate paths of toil
in project to enclose our paradise,
we link our hearts with voices of our souls
to ease production through our mutual roles
arranging plants with clear cosmetic plan
to build artificial Heaven in Hell.

Because we speak with language of the trees
to record chaos of experience
in simple catalog of complex thoughts,
we find ourselves becoming strict robots
trapped in hierarchic duty of blind fate
society expects us to fulfill.

To manage sadness of swift-passing years
we frame our sorrow as weird door of hope
so we can hide from monsters in the woods
by carving them as idols of our gods
whose fierce demonic faces make us laugh
when we recount the terror of their eyes.

The road of life that lead us to each other
contrived through random fortune of our hopes
to bring us face to face beside the sea
where we ate fish we roasted on the fire,
so we made meadow of our meeting place
to be garden home of our paradise.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus and Ophelia reminisce about the last twenty-five years of their life together while roasting fish by the lake in their secret paradise home.

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

Humming Room Of Fate
© Surazeus
2025 04 27

With nothing better than love to believe in
Thor creeps along the fence line round nine hills
to find the angel fallen from the sky
who howls in anguish at loss of his star
that burns in aching furnace of his heart
till rain drenches us on the lonely road.

Unwanted places of the dancing dead,
who follow dazzle of the screaming river,
supports the silver sunlight in the wind
that leads Thor to the humming room of fate
where children play board games forever, bored
while their parents work in car factories.

Threading haze of morning with soft voices
of factory workers trudging on wet roads,
the chestnut angel, bearing bowls of doom,
gives poisoned food to children by the prison
who transform into mushrooms with red eyes
that sprout from televisions in the mud.

Venus weaves living moment of perception
with conscious passion of the clinking glass
to drink the whiteness of the boundless sky
while laughing cats congregate in the church
to ask the dead man writhing on the cross
why he never returns till end of time.

Regret for sorrow of the rain-blurred hills
inspires the fallen angel with one eye
to rebuild walls of Heaven from cracked skulls
of dinosaurs who once roamed hills of Earth
despite the promise they may win the prize,
trapped in glass cubicle of fractured eyes.

Rose-cheeked Adonis returns home at dawn
with wild boar he killed on the mountain slope,
then hosts grand barbecue for everyone
who works with his son at the factory,
while Venus, his aging wife in blue jeans,
gives beer to all while smoking cigarettes.

Rain adds rank wisdom to the gushing river
that overflows weed-tangled banks of hope
when Venus sees young Thor lounging alone,
so she embraces him with eager arms
and begs him to expand her state of mind
while bald Adonis fries steaks at the grill.

Falling in the river as they embrace
after rolling on the steep primrose bank,
Thor and Venus drown in flood of desire
while kissing their own shadows in the brook,
so Adonis eyes Juliet with a wink,
but she runs away with Sir Lancelot.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus fishes bodies of Thor and Venus from the river, prays for their souls, then buries them behind the abandoned church.

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

If I Find God In Apples
© Surazeus
2025 04 26

If I find God in apples of the tree,
and not in empty weirdness of the sky,
I cut the apple in half with sharp knife
but find instead the shining harvest moon
where butterfly angel with ardent wings
flies immaculate city of the dead.

Astonished by secret light of the heart
that names dead bodies in the city streets,
I sing love tunes to the sad pregnant moon
who lounges on the broad beach at midnight
after the dream-trippers all fall asleep
swimming in hallucinations of words.

Loud voices of teenagers in the dark
expose awkward passion to transcend fear
by gambling with fate to win the lost key
that opens every house door in the world
depicted in the million-dollar movie
written with broken pencil of the ghost.

Excruciating silence of the sea
hisses frantic with radiator voice
despite ceramic flower pots on the sill
that dream the rainy nights of Arkansas
depicted in the film where ever soul
who thinks they will live forever still dies.

When enormity of this moment shocks
even the cynical prophet of doom,
I walk toward the paralyzed king of greed
whose face will vanish in the swirling fog
that shrouds skyscrapers of the world empire
when curse of blood drips down windows of glass.

Fragile shadow of passionate respect
extends conceptual door of skeletons
to welcome son of Jupiter to Hell
where he stars in the movie about Death
who breaks our bodies into pulsing atoms
which migrate dirt to fruit to human brain.

I gather emptiness of naked hearts
on sculpted pages of atrocious books
to highlight point of utter tedium
where all the myths and legends that sustain
foundation of our culture with grand tropes
collapse in puzzle pieces scattered far.

If Jupiter picks mushrooms in the woods,
where Romulus hunts tragic deer of fate,
I may find my mother and father lost
on ice-frosted Bridge of Forgetfulness
who show me God in apples of the tree
that fall into my hand without remorse.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus explains to children of the refugees from Eden that God is in the apples of their hearts.

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

If I Find God In Apples
© Surazeus
2025 04 26

If I find God in apples of the tree,
and not in empty weirdness of the sky,
I cut the apple in half with sharp knife
but find instead the shining harvest moon
where butterfly angel with ardent wings
flies immaculate city of the dead.

Astonished by secret light of the heart
that names dead bodies in the city streets,
I sing love tunes to the sad pregnant moon
who lounges on the broad beach at midnight
after the dream-trippers all fall asleep
swimming in hallucinations of words.

Loud voices of teenagers in the dark
expose awkward passion to transcend fear
by gambling with fate to win the lost key
that opens every house door in the world
depicted in the million-dollar movie
written with broken pencil of the ghost.

Excruciating silence of the sea
hisses frantic with radiator voice
despite ceramic flower pots on the sill
that dream the rainy nights of Arkansas
depicted in the film where ever soul
who thinks they will live forever still dies.

When enormity of this moment shocks
even the cynical prophet of doom,
I walk toward the paralyzed king of greed
whose face will vanish in the swirling fog
that shrouds skyscrapers of the world empire
when curse of blood drips down windows of glass.

Fragile shadow of passionate respect
extends conceptual door of skeletons
to welcome son of Jupiter to Hell
where he stars in the movie about Death
who breaks our bodies into pulsing atoms
which migrate dirt to fruit to human brain.

I gather emptiness of naked hearts
on sculpted pages of atrocious books
to highlight point of utter tedium
where all the myths and legends that sustain
foundation of our culture with grand tropes
collapse in puzzle pieces scattered far.

If Jupiter picks mushrooms in the woods,
where Romulus hunts tragic deer of fate,
I may find my mother and father lost
on ice-frosted Bridge of Forgetfulness
who show me God in apples of the tree
that fall into my hand without remorse.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus explains to children of the refugees from Eden that God is in the apples of their hearts.

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

If I Find God In Apples
© Surazeus
2025 04 26

If I find God in apples of the tree,
and not in empty weirdness of the sky,
I cut the apple in half with sharp knife
but find instead the shining harvest moon
where butterfly angel with ardent wings
flies immaculate city of the dead.

Astonished by secret light of the heart
that names dead bodies in the city streets,
I sing love tunes to the sad pregnant moon
who lounges on the broad beach at midnight
after the dream-trippers all fall asleep
swimming in hallucinations of words.

Loud voices of teenagers in the dark
expose awkward passion to transcend fear
by gambling with fate to win the lost key
that opens every house door in the world
depicted in the million-dollar movie
written with broken pencil of the ghost.

Excruciating silence of the sea
hisses frantic with radiator voice
despite ceramic flower pots on the sill
that dream the rainy nights of Arkansas
depicted in the film where ever soul
who thinks they will live forever still dies.

When enormity of this moment shocks
even the cynical prophet of doom,
I walk toward the paralyzed king of greed
whose face will vanish in the swirling fog
that shrouds skyscrapers of the world empire
when curse of blood drips down windows of glass.

Fragile shadow of passionate respect
extends conceptual door of skeletons
to welcome son of Jupiter to Hell
where he stars in the movie about Death
who breaks our bodies into pulsing atoms
which migrate dirt to fruit to human brain.

I gather emptiness of naked hearts
on sculpted pages of atrocious books
to highlight point of utter tedium
where all the myths and legends that sustain
foundation of our culture with grand tropes
collapse in puzzle pieces scattered far.

If Jupiter picks mushrooms in the woods,
where Romulus hunts tragic deer of fate,
I may find my mother and father lost
on ice-frosted Bridge of Forgetfulness
who show me God in apples of the tree
that fall into my hand without remorse.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus explains to children of the refugees from Eden that God is in the apples of their hearts.

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

First Word Of Her Heart
© Surazeus
2025 04 26

Though not yet born from silence of our hearts
she sings in heaving harmony of waves
that rise from lucid fire of ocean depths,
pale purple in thick lilac foam of fate
that blooms from bright unbroken bond of life
as Aphrodite with her star-bright eyes.

Her ocean breast that heaves with each deep breath
designs the primal song of aching hope
our hungry hearts still sing with unstained love
reborn again each day inside our hearts
as word of truth we sing with honest shame
that binds soul of the universe in us.

Bright tulips dancing in the mountain wind
call us to rise from graves of memory
and leave vast city maze of cement streets,
where twisted shadow of mute human souls
refuse to answer screaming telephones,
to swim in ocean waves of cleansing faith.

Though I am fleeting flame of consciousness
that glows brief hour from all eternity,
wild ocean waves preserve song of my voice
forever in each curl of foam on sparkling sand
since I am outcast from society
as morbid conscience of its hungry fear.

Trapped in frail fragments of the shattered mirror
that flashes bright with television shows,
I call to Aphrodite with storm voice
who rises singing from wild ocean waves
to pull me wriggling from her bloody womb
and wash me clean in moon-white waves of love.

Born from aromatic womb of the sea,
contrived from tangled coils of psychic genes,
I crawl on blistering sand of timeless faith
toward woman dancing on the giant shell
who forms my body from soil of the Earth
and breathes ethereal visions in my mouth.

She wakes in every human brain on Earth,
First Mother who rose from the swirling sea,
and sings her primal song of star-blind love
in every complex language humans speak
that all spring from the First Word of her heart
in sprawling tree of tongues programming songs.

Now every woman living on this globe
smiles at me with her original soul,
immortal goddess in each mortal girl,
so we hold hands and run down to the sea
to lie on sparkling sand and kiss with love
as lilac foaming waves wash over us.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus plays lyre of Mercury while Aphrodite dances in swirling ocean waves and sings primal song of human consciousness.

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

We Must Love One Another
© Surazeus
2025 04 26

We must love one another with respect
or fight each other in fierce civil war,
Wystan exclaims with soft uncertain voice
in the smoky dive that radiates with jazz,
then glares out cracked window at the dark sky
where waves of anger and fear circulate.

Dancing wildly drunk with odor of death,
Wystan throws stones from old cathedral walls
at idol of the psychopathic god
who looms forever on high pedestal
above vast empire that rules half the world
with aggression of nationalist pride.

Crude spirit of dictatorship, that roared
eighty years ago from dark German woods,
though banished and sealed tight with global laws
in Cave of Illusions where Pluto lurks,
now rises from vast swamp of Washington
in the Golden Calf on the White House lawn.

Bright skyscrapers, filled with computer banks
that calculate stock market of our worth,
express toxic strength of Collective Man
in fierce competition to control land
sparkling with rich minerals for factories
to generate intelligent machines.

Awake from euphoric dream of world peace,
Wystan stares in mirror of politics
at mask of imperialism he wears,
and remembers his teacher in grade school
declared that those to whom evil is done
do evil in return through endless wars.

Standing bleary-eyed in bleak glow of dawn,
alone on the Brooklyn Bridge where cars speed,
Wystan tries to speak for the voiceless mass
of people stuck in strict survival routines
to unfold with bold words the folded lie
that America is land of the free.

Composed of Eros and dust of the Earth,
beleaguered by cruel negation of despair,
Wystan grips fallen Torch of Liberty
and relights with love its affirming flame
so he can stride through streets of honesty
and lead resistance to cruel tyranny.

We must love one another with whole hearts,
Wystan preaches to huge crowd on the Mall,
so we can live with dignity and hope
or we will kill each our friends in civil war,
so fight for equal justice for each soul
as we build new state of Zarathia.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus and Wystan walk the snow-blasted mountains of Greenland to find the broken wings of Lucifer.

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

We Must Love One Another
© Surazeus
2025 04 26

We must love one another with respect
or fight each other in fierce civil war,
Wystan exclaims with soft uncertain voice
in the smoky dive that radiates with jazz,
then glares out cracked window at the dark sky
where waves of anger and fear circulate.

Dancing wildly drunk with odor of death,
Wystan throws stones from old cathedral walls
at idol of the psychopathic god
who looms forever on high pedestal
above vast empire that rules half the world
with aggression of nationalist pride.

Crude spirit of dictatorship, that roared
eighty years ago from dark German woods,
though banished and sealed tight with global laws
in Cave of Illusions where Pluto lurks,
now rises from vast swamp of Washington
in the Golden Calf on the White House lawn.

Bright skyscrapers, filled with computer banks
that calculate stock market of our worth,
express toxic strength of Collective Man
in fierce competition to control land
sparkling with rich minerals for factories
to generate intelligent machines.

Awake from euphoric dream of world peace,
Wystan stares in mirror of politics
at mask of imperialism he wears,
and remembers his teacher in grade school
declared that those to whom evil is done
do evil in return through endless wars.

Standing bleary-eyed in bleak glow of dawn,
alone on the Brooklyn Bridge where cars speed,
Wystan tries to speak for the voiceless mass
of people stuck in strict survival routines
to unfold with bold words the folded lie
that America is land of the free.

Composed of Eros and dust of the Earth,
beleaguered by cruel negation of despair,
Wystan grips fallen Torch of Liberty
and relights with love its affirming flame
so he can stride through streets of honesty
and lead resistance to cruel tyranny.

We must love one another with whole hearts,
Wystan preaches to huge crowd on the Mall,
so we can live with dignity and hope
or we will kill each our friends in civil war,
so fight for equal justice for each soul
as we build new state of Zarathia.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus and Wystan walk the snow-blasted mountains of Greenland to find the broken wings of Lucifer.

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

Vision Of Dream Light
© Surazeus
2025 04 26

The simplest way to rebuild the lost truth
is measure shape of objects with the eye,
and thus apply perception of the heart
to structured concept of assembled water
which manifests as conscious souls in flesh
fueled by psychic energy of sunlight.

The honest way to explain our desire
to generate new body from weird dreams
is fortify strict formulas of facts
through buzzed assertion of linguistic tricks
designed by subject of the dreaming brain
that conjures virtual world from puzzling light.

While Phoebus, dressed in tweed professor suit,
sits casually before the camera lens
in bright lights on the television stage,
the audience of well-educated minds
attends his complex theories of the soul
with analytic eyes that love the light.

Disgruntled agent of the fascist state,
whose simple vision of the complex world
expands with love, distorted by new truth,
runs up the aisle and shouts his words form lies
then fires big gun of arrogant dismay,
attempting to assassinate the light.

Amused by anger sparked by words of truth,
lithe Phoebus dodges bullets with calm grace,
somersaulting on demon wings of faith,
then hurls apple seeds from the Tree of Truth
which pierce pungent soil of his fractured brain
and blossom into vision of Dream Light.

Our swirling globe of psychic energy
is formed of atoms swirling in the void
that swerve from straight trajectory of fate
on undulating curves of ardent lust
in planets that nurture organic beings
whose brains emanate conscious sense of self.

When Science and Spirituality kiss
with passionate desire to create life,
where mindless light of cosmic energy
glows bright with conscious mind of divine love,
Religion tries to channel lust for life
with rituals of duty based on foresight.

Casting twelve bronze tablets for forum walls
with metered phrases in elegant verse
that outline basic principles of truth,
wise Phoebus stands before the restless crowd
to preach new age of multicultural peace
that forms social state of Zarathia.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus assists Phoebus in founding new government of Zarathia based on scientific principles that nurture spirituality in seekers of truth and love.

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

Ennui Of Word Punks
© Surazeus
2025 04 25

If the rotting corpse of myopic clouds
eats rotten grain and rusty screws with zest,
white horses may attach clocks to gateways
when spiders call their comrades to take arms
against aggressive ennui of word punks
who stagger drunk in dream-polluted smog.

After wandering the Earth for six thousand years
on separate roads of frantic destiny,
Adam and Eve meet again in the garden
that has turned into the desert of fear
where skulls of gods with television eyes
recount the endless wars mankind has fought.

Kissing with ardent lust of ocean waves
that shatter ancient cliffs of dynasties,
Adam and Eve gaze at each other long
with aching sadness of heartless surprise,
then sit together under the dead tree
that once provided Man with fruits of wisdom.

Eating mushrooms ravens bring them from caves,
Adam and Eve lounge in the Vatican
to share the stories of their endless journey,
how he went west and she went east to circle
our spinning sphere and build enormous empires
which they rule as immortal vampire gods.

Reaching out her hand with anguished respect,
Eve watches the curious hummingbird
explore arcane secrets of the white orchid
from which swirl faceless ghosts on frantic wings
of iridescent anger to seek truth
exploding from the radio of mad seers.

Wind blows her long hair tangled in her mask
as Eve walks winding country road of bitterness
that shimmers silver with repressive pain
while huddling in long coat against cold rain
as spray from the passing car of bleak fate
drenches her soul that becomes shrieking crows.

Bringing loaded gun hidden in his jacket,
Adam shuffles into college classroom
to teach world literature to business majors,
analyzing the folk songs of Bob Dylan
within the framework of social poetics
in satires of Persius and Juvenal.

Government agents kick down classroom door
and drag Adam away in steel handcuffs,
then lock him in the concentration camp
hidden in jungle of El Salvador
where he preaches gospel of poetry
in sacred scripture of Octavio Paz.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus leads crack team of warriors to break thousands of prisoners free from concentration camps in revolution of the Holy Lamb.

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

Lamp Of Holy Light
© Surazeus
2025 04 25

When proud Superbus struts in halls of power
to assert dominance of his contempt,
worms convert bodies of great kings to dirt
transforming arrogant flesh into flower
of beautiful indifference, exempt
from social laws of that blind angels exert.

Weeping over tragic fate of Lucretia,
I kneel in her temple by Nemi Lake
where Face of Diana gazes at me
from dark depths of emotional inertia
with knowledge to perceive the real from fake
I need to support world democracy.

Though none dare challenge bold Arician king
who reigns as tyrant of the Golden Bough,
yet Virbius trains in secret to defeat
arrogant bully who clutches Star Ring
in vain attempt to prove he owns the cow
that tramples his serpent soul with her feet.

The king who slays the slayer shall be slain,
declares Tiresias in the sacred grove
where Artemis weaves tapestry of fate
to show ambition for power is vain,
for those who hoard our social treasure trove
will be destroyed by their own bitter hate.

Still wearing short skirt and long hunting boots,
Diana treads wood path among tall trees,
and aims sharp arrow with her taut moon bow
with eye of perceptive insight, then shoots
swift leaping deer, that moans in soft spring breeze,
to defeat the mad king in mythic show.

Silenced by terror of harsh tyranny
that Superbus imposes on our land,
we wait for bold Orestes to return
from Parnassus and save democracy
by slaying the tyrant with his red right hand,
then wear the crown of power he must earn.

Despite attempts to twist verified truth
with lies through insults at his enemies,
the tyrant king who killed the bully king
hides with shame of crime when messiah sleuth
sends Strophius to retrieve psychic keys
and jail Superbus with Hadean Ring.

Heartbroken he could not protect Verginia
from lust of the tyrant in hall of power,
Icilius leads revolution to fight
for Liberty enforced by brave Justicia
who frees Rapunzel from the Ivory Tower
so she can bear the Lamp of Holy Light.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus leads Rapunzel as she walks with Lamp of Holy Light among ruins of America to guide refugees of war to Temple of Diana who welcomes all to the Feast of Freedom.

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

How To Fly Kites
© Surazeus
2025 04 24

Sorrow of children whose homes have been bombed
bloom into flowers from corpses of gods
whose monstrous minds lie silently entombed
in temples lost souls find on mist-veiled trods
deep in dark forests of fantastic sprites
who teach hungry orphans how to fly kites.

Laughter of children in schoolyards of fate
bleed into holy books of howling priests
who reprogram robots with creeds of hate
which chain with commandments arrogant beasts
dressed in pinstripe suits to work in the bank
supported by Grand General in his tank.

Breaking free from social constraints of fear,
so he can watch movies in theaters,
the Weeping Clown shifts his brain in high gear
to compete for wealth against Lucifers
who crown him great king of the puppeteers
when he waltzes beneath shocked chandeliers.

When his brother tries to kill him in rage,
in dispute over who rules seven hills,
Remus escapes from world chronicle page
to wander in mountains of sparkling rills
where his descendant invents the airplane,
elected pope after global campaign.

Lounging in his fishing boat on the beach
beneath the lighthouse on the rocky shore,
Phoebus decides he does not want to preach
salvation in temple of Numitor
who orders conceptual rituals of faith
while hiding in cave of the regal wraith.

Though she runs in forest of singing trees
to escape her fate by Sibyl foretold,
Verginia falls exhausted to her knees
in shrine of Cloacina forged from gold
where her proud father stabs her in the heart
to save her soul from curse of the star chart.

Gathered by chance in the desert road diner,
as strangers who converge by different paths,
Remus, Phoebus, Verginia, and the Clown
who weeps unceasing in his coffee cup,
ignore each other as they eat hamburgers,
and scroll social media on their eye-phones.

The ghosts of children killed in brutal wars
flock to lone diner in the desert vale,
lured by bright spirit of the Weeping Clown
who writes their names in his Book of Souls
to record unjust manners of their deaths,
then leads them singing to the Promised Land.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus walks a million miles over the waste land to the desert road diner, and gives each ghost the secret treasure of their heart which guides their journey to the Promised Land.

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

Exploitation Of Poor People
© Surazeus
2025 04 23