Spells Of Psychic Dreams
© Surazeus
2025 04 11

Wind is the language of hope and despair
which is why I do not understand a word,
so I stand in the wind outside my house
and watch strangers drive their cars somewhere else
while I become the tree no one can see
when I sing the stories no one can hear.

Earth is the language of take and receive
which is why I give everything away
till I become the richest soul on Earth
because I have nothing since the world is mine,
and I possess everything that exists
since I am empty of anything real.

Light is the language of see and believe
which is why I name everything I see
to label ideal pattern of its form
in category of things I perceive
because I measure matter with my hands
to box everything in realm of ideas.

Water is the language of truth and dare
which is why I drink spirit of the sky
to expand my conscious sense of being
till I become divine with common sense
framed by the knowledge of evil and good
on which I base theology of fate.

I fool myself with rhetorical tricks
that Socrates taught in his dialogues
to analyze true nature of the world
through clarity of logic-ordered words
which defines ontology of the real
to create representations of truth.

The real world composed of bright molecules
that swirl in clumps of chemical concepts
seethes in vast universe of constant change
while I arrange words in lithe sentences
that describe detailed vision of the world
which I generalize with sequence of facts.

The special manifestation of tree
that grows on lush lawn in front of my house
reflects pattern of its eternal form
from the Idea of Tree that persists
in Heaven based on the Realm of Ideas
which can be found in all organic brains.

Our planet teeming with organic life
wakes from atomic trance of flashing light
as conscious sense of self I know I Am,
so I will name this temporary being
with label that defines my divine soul
which I encode in spells of psychic dreams.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus listens as Socrates and Plato discuss the psychological linguistics at the heart of philosophy on which we base the Realm of Ideas now called Heaven.

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In The Ardent Zone
© Surazeus
2025 04 11

Unnecessary logic of the heart
increases temperature of wordless hope
that renders moot the wonder of respect
which filters anguish from old memories
at rising level of the swirling flood
that leaves us stranded in the ardent zone.

Through civil disobedience of the heart
opposing tyranny of selfish greed,
we dance with laughter in the lightning storm
where ghosts are drifting in the naked hills,
pursuant to the clause in section nine
that maps our journey in the ardent zone.

Trapped by huge trade deficit of the heart,
we struggle to escape doleful mindset
with secret messages of innocence
to people in the future who recall
how we trashed the greatest empire of all
by wrestling terror in the ardent zone.

Downriver from the cave of divine dreams,
where wingless angels plot to rule the world
with policies that benefit the poor,
we build new paradise from apple seeds
to prove we are good enough to exist
as faceless humans in the ardent zone.

Regretting windless arrogance of faith,
the metal horse with fast computer brain
assigns me mission to unmap the world
so no one knows the righteous way to go
down rigid highway of the burning sign
that always guides us in the ardent zone.

Hearts swelling rich with isolated angst,
designed to evade false submissive fluke
with electric engine that measures time
between our hearts still rumbling out of whack
despite intense horsepower of true love,
we greet each other in the ardent zone.

Contrived performance in the theater,
Ishmael designs with money-making scheme,
deceives hard-working people to believe
the state interferes with benevolence
based on self-reliance of the strong man
gone mad for power in the ardent zone.

Though life will break our hearts with clemency,
we protect our bodies from contempt
by eating apples from the Tree of Truth
that we must steal from serpent of the heart
who curates our skulls on library shelves
that record our time in the ardent zone.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus conducts tours in the ardent zone for economic refugees who flee collapse of the American Empire.

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Wall Of Eternal Hope
© Surazeus
2025 04 10

With subtle arrogance of honest lust
I stumble drunk on Dionysian wine
down shadowy corridors of desire
past marble idols of cute goddesses
whose stony eyes pierce my heart with true love
when I fall off wall of eternal hope.

Reluctant anguish of conceptual faith
sparks my stone heart with electric regret
that spurs my pilgrimage of torpidity
to find Urania singing in the rain
while dancing on the rocky ocean shore
when I lounge on wall of eternal hope.

Through expectation of reliant jokes
I give my credentials to the tree ghost
who unlocks door to the house of detention
so all the demons escape caves of Hell
to eat hotdogs and drink beer at the bar
enclosed by glass wall of eternal hope.

Despite persuasion of the Holy Ghost,
who binds our aching hearts of wretched love
with barbed dogmatic wires of loyalty,
Grendel kicks down iron cathedral door
to drink the blood and eat the flesh of Christ
and smear mud on wall of eternal hope.

Trembling naked on wind-blasted sea shore,
Augustine shouts at the blind thunder god
with optimistic prayers of eager horror
to understand the noble sacrifice
made by the Fisher King to save the world
after breaking wall of eternal hope.

Confidence founded on complex chess games
lures refugees from brutal civil wars
to sail the seven seas in whaling boats
through project to colonize jungle lands
where everyone votes to end slavery
when Jesus builds wall of eternal hope.

Fragments of history shattered by bombs,
organized by states of divinity,
contain scenes where honest men conquer tyrants
and rule the people with generous trust
till revolution of the bourgeoisie
who redefine wall of eternal hope.

Twanging strings of his electric guitar
and screaming curses in the microphone,
Apollo performs in huge stadium
where eighty thousand devils rock and roll
till they transform into angels with wings
who fly beyond wall of eternal hope.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus joins Jesus and Apollo to eat hamburgers at the bar to watch the World Cup soccer tournament.

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Pilgrim Of Eternity
© Surazeus
2025 04 10

While writing rhymed verse in the leather book,
in small wood cell under the tall oak tree,
where ravens discuss soul theology,
Otfridus whistles eerie spell that swirls
sudden gust of wind from shadow of truth
that scatters book pages across the field.

Small whirlwind of pages dances on shore
narrow creek winding through forest of oaks,
along sparkling riffle of smooth white stones,
then out across broad lake blue as topaz
to rock the boat that young Adonais sails
toward mossy cavern where Urania dwells.

Bearing bright lamp, fueled by sprites of hope,
Adonais climbs steep narrow winding trail
past skulls of gods and kings with thorny crowns,
but pauses halfway up stairway to Heaven
to wear gold mask smeared with blood of desire
that Phoebus dropped when he fought with Despair.

Now dressed as Pilgrim of Eternity,
whose fame was hurled in seething sea of Chaos,
Adonais proceeds to Cave of Illusions
where laughing skeletons of Liberty
dance wildly weird in fruitful ecstasy
against the tyrant slouched in Hall of Power.

Enduring gusts of winds that tear his face,
Adonais fights for Justice based on Truth
by pushing into dark polluted smog
toward paragon of Liberty, Urania,
whose face shines bright as beacon of respect
which fills his heart with courage of the hero.

Just as he stumbles almost to his knees
when fierce tornado batters him with rage,
Adonais feels firm hand of noble wisdom
grip his hand to help him maintain his balance
as Otfridus lends strength of honest faith,
and together they progress against hate.

While Otfridus protects him from attack,
Adonais twirls brass wand with emerald jewel
to battle against mad Midas, whose touch
of greed turns everything to rotten trash,
till strike of justice energized by love
inspires him to excel in fight for truth.

After he frees Urania from gold chains,
Adonais leads her safely with strong heart
to Hall of Power where she begins reign
enforcing Justice against greedy thieves
to secure equal rights for every soul
who dwell together in Zarathia.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus watches in awe as Adonais and Otfridus defeat Midas and free Urania so she can reign with justice for people of Zarathia.

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Garden Of Dead Books
© Surazeus
2025 04 10

Too much combustion of the ardent kiss
leaves us stranded in garden of dead books,
poison of love stinging our eyes with trust
as we create ideal lover from hope
in masks we wear to keep us interested
in constant fever of the flowering moon.

Remote from malice of the naive tree,
our bodies are yoked to fountain of secrets
which traps us in gold cage of honesty
as our hearts transform each dagger-sharp word
to seeds that heal excessive wounds of faith
with each heart-rending howl of hungry hope.

We zigzag through reckless maze of our hearts
with untamed horse of hope that fools our eyes,
amazed by vapor of untruth that veils death,
invented by metallic tongues of fear
in time to catch the falling star of fate
which discombobulates our marriage vows.

Beneath the hazardous tree of despair,
where we find shelter from the evening storm,
we gather black feathers of ravens to weave
new pairs of wings for our hearts to attain
freedom from gravity of arrogant hate
while waterfalls erase our souls from time.

Shadow of horror transforms into swan
who soars into thundering clouds of rage
to strip our minds from garments of false faith
when sunset rays stipple lake of our hearts
with vibrant passion we cannot deny
since we keep on kissing reluctantly.

Fallen into flood of terrified tears,
we feel our bodies transform into stones
exploding with children of eager hope
who carry that concept in trembling hands
to retrieve our bodies from tangled roots
of trees that scream owls of eternity.

Huddled after rain on the river shore,
beneath the willow that will never die,
we tell each other we will be all right
because we hide our stories in the book
that sits unread for twenty thousand years
on hidden shelf in library of ghosts.

We cannot own the field that bears our names
except when we bury with trembling hands
bones of our ancestors in unfenced soil
so carrots and corn may grow from their brains
to provide nutrition for fragile bodies
supported by framework of unborn hope.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus and Ophelia rip tangled vines and wild plants from the field of bones to create a garden of organized crops in the wilderness of fake hope.

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Flap Of Devil Wings
© Surazeus
2025 04 09

Startled awake by flap of devil wings,
my heart slithers with photosynthesis
upward in spirals of atomic rings
which conjugates fate through analysis
deconstructing grand world view of state power
for old disheveled king who eats the flower.

Beautiful lightning that reveals my face,
masked by bone-white glamor of cold moonlight,
cracks naked mirror of terrorized grace
projecting water gush from egg of night
that scents our bodies with elegant lust
concealed in contours of the marble bust.

Undeserved blessings from thin grasping hand
free my soul from worship of loyal thieves
who scatter counterfeit coins on dry land
where prim attendants comfort none who grieves
honest adversaries jailed for contempt
through intellectual games by hope exempt.

Pragmatic mess of my recursive life,
constraining eagerness of my failed quest,
requires application of civil strife
through execution of the virtue test
involving program of routine regret
that plans to reinvent the alphabet.

Procedure to expand my consciousness
contrives spectacular display of grace
through fraught assurance of unloneliness
designed to structured code of cyberspace
which nurtures hunger of the Holy Ghost
who hosts refugees stranded on the coast.

No curfew tolls the bell of buzzing night
to glimmer darkness tinkling in our hearts
though we listen for moping owl of right,
then wander far from bower of star charts,
longing for hearths that blaze no more with hope
while we huddle on the steep rain-drenched slope.

Since all paths of glory lead to the grave,
I prefer to dwell in quaint forest home
by signless road that empires never pave,
for whether young or old I long to roam
where my heart guides my seeming random way
with book that contains memories of our play.

No pealing anthem swells our souls with pride
while Death stalks thieves in halls of government
so we build new state where Truth may abide
with Liberty in stately monument
that rings with voice of our national choir
while I play mercurial tunes on my lyre.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus lounges in the country churchyard while he writes an elegy with dragon blood on demon-skin scrolls.

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Sparkle Our God Wraith
© Surazeus
2025 04 09

Though I walk one thousand miles in the desert
to repent needs of my animal body,
I rejoice in beauty of rain-drenched hills
that sprout trees providing fruit for my heart,
so I feast till I become cosmic mind
as disembodied spirit of mankind.

I dance across dark skies of timeless night,
becoming vastness of the star-bright void
in graceful journey that weaves countless worlds
in psychic constellations of our hearts
that form our souls from formlessness of faith
through chemicals that sparkle our God Wraith.

Unfrenzied by ecstatic love for life,
I open wide with elegant respect
iridescent wings from dragon-egg brain
with solemn approbation of concern
through vibrant aspiration to transcend
corporal body of love I comprehend.

Crowned with laurel wreath of accomplished pride,
I stride the sacred promenade of fate
to bear my epic of philosophers
for display in Museum of World Faith
which I compose with mythic precedent
as new book for Tellurian Testament.

Combustible thoughts jeweling my heart
fuel rocket engine of ambitious faith
since I spend forty years of discipline
constructing vehicle of psychic verse
to soar on wings of Tiwaz around Earth
while bearing Holy Grail of soul rebirth.

Evaporated tears blind angels shed
frame frantic ocean of forgetful faith
when I sail restless waves of honesty
by navigating tropes of social myths
to find first homeland of my childhood dream
mapped on face I see in the flowing stream.

Encasing memories of my secret life
in polished oak-wood box Pandora made,
I hide wyrd fragments of my broken heart
so howling spirits of surprised despair
may mend it with commercial enterprise
reprogrammed by loyal religious spies.

Attempts to see clear features of my face
will fail suspicious inquiry you spell
for I am every soul who ever lives
on every planet of our multiverse
till you realize how this persona role
molds special mask that expresses your soul.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus gives mask of his face to Ophelia who molds their son Odin from river mud and breathes life of her soul into his body.

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Temple For Every Soul
© Surazeus
2025 04 09

Since every one fights to control the sky
I want to rise on wings of Icarus
and dwell on swirling clouds of ecstasy
with haughty confidence of conscious faith
to strum the lyre of Mercury and sing
hymns that praise the noble deeds of good souls.

Driving my stylish compact vehicle,
powered by engine Barsanti designed,
I glide down winding roads on rolling hills
in maze of buildings, steered by traffic signs,
accomplishing daily routine of tasks
to maintain status of my conscious dream.

Gathered with my two children and my wife
at booth in restaurant by the city park,
we talk about the nature of the world,
and how our plans for life fit in time frame
sustained by our global society
that nurtures creative Song of the Self.

What fantasy Utopia we live in,
to maintain aggressive production flow,
recent generations of humans built
based on bitter experience of world wars
to control wild chaos of energy
that balances opposing wills to power.

Global system of sovereign governments,
aligned by United Nations of Earth
in loose federation of nation-states,
composed of fragile alliances
of socialist and capitalist networks,
jostles in fractured puzzle of control.

Assertive programs of authority,
that range from liberal democracies
to fascist monarchies of tyranny,
contend for dominance of their world view
personified by their concept of God
as greedy Satan versus nurturing Jesus.

When Pluto sends Midas to overthrow
free institutions of America
so he can crown himself Earth Emperor,
Jupiter sends Lucifer to arrest
his volatile rampage wrecking our state
so Minerva can build Zarathia.

When Jupiter confines Pluto in Hell,
binding capitalist lust with socialist laws,
Minerva builds temple for every soul
based on Liberty and Justice for all
to construct from ruins of America
new global empire of Zarathia.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus assists Minerva in building new global system of cooperative governments she names Zarathia.

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Meadow Of Rejuvenation
© Surazeus
2025 04 08

Head aching from frantic activity
racing all day in the vast city maze
to chase elusive butterfly of wealth,
I stumble outside gates of paradise
to seek calm solace in Neorxnawang,
heavenly meadow of rejuvenation.

After revving loud engine of my car
to drive with tense aggression of desire
in rumbling herd of metal-shelled machines,
I glide with elegant grace of sweet bliss
among broad-canopied trees full of fruit
with leaves that whisper in the river breeze.

From walking quickly on cement sidewalks,
talking in meetings, and composing code
on computers to meet looming deadlines,
I go lie down on grassy sloping shore
to relax among sweet delicate flowers
and eat juicy fruit in Neorxnawang.

Ears buzzing from roar of factory machines,
clanks of forklifts, bangs of tall metal doors,
and shouts of bosses declaring commands,
I listen to soft thrum of taut brass strings
as angels strum melodies on spruce harps
and sing enchanting tunes of peaceful dreams.

Throat stinging from billows of car exhaust
as I drive crowded smog-veiled city streets
and cough from factory-polluted air,
I breathe fresh wind tinged with salty sea waves
that fill my exhausted body with scent
of divine beauty in Neorxnawang.

From narrow canyons of steel and glass towers
crowded with people in small cubicles
who enter data in spreadsheet reports,
I travel Glaesisvellir, Glittering Plains
in bright Undying Lands of Odainsaker,
to dwell with my family in our safe home.

Driving vast urban landscape of tall buildings
where millions wear masks of fake superheroes
in fierce competition to gain more wealth,
I search outside high gold walls of Heaven
on roads that wind around Elysian Fields
to my fruit garden in Neorxnawang.

Exhausted from working in maze of hope,
forever running fast against the clock
to gain power and wealth in game of death,
I journey outside gates of paradise
to seek salvation in Neorxnawang,
heavenly meadow of rejuvenation.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus and Ophelia meet Odin and Idunna in apple grove by the river in paradise of Neorxnawang to rejuvenate their souls.

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Garden Of Secret Love
© Surazeus
2025 04 08

Though you are not always right by my side
you are always near me within my heart
faithful as the moon I cannot always see,
for you come and go, weaving through my days,
in phases of nearness that wax and wane,
tugging with love at the sea of my heart.

Though you are sometimes near invisible,
you are everywhere I go in this world,
dependable as the mountain of truth
that supports my journey to be myself,
secure as the air that inspires my heart
with empathy for every living soul.

I cannot always clearly see your face
and I wait anxiously, thinking of you,
but I feel warmth of your attentive love
bright as the sun that shimmers in the sky,
so I imagine you are watching me
with careful concern of the Guardian.

Light gleaming in leaves on lattice of limbs,
and tracing timeless visions of far lands
through quiet curtains on clean painted wall,
luminates faceless shadow of your soul
to assert confirmation of our bonds
so I dance with your absence as the ghost.

I sail boat of my heart with cautious hope
on lake of free-floating anxiety
to fish for secret monsters of the heart
so I can roast despair on flames of faith,
then feed the people of my family
who watch me cook with eyes of hungry hope.

The greenfinch on the branch of loyal trust
explains to me where you are at these days,
describing how you wrestle with despair
and walk with courage on the jagged air
to bring redemption in your open hands
so we can understand chaos of fate.

Ache of nostalgia for the wordless past,
that conjures from ancestral memories
emotional vibe of energetic love,
frames this bleak timeless hour of loneliness
with vibrant beauty of your absent soul
as my brain beams your ghost to haunt my heart.

Overwhelmed by pleasure that you exist
more than your ghost my brain designs with love,
I cherish every memory of our times
together walking hand in hand with hope
since we escaped mad paradise we lost
to build our own garden of secret love.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus returns with basket of fish he roasts while Ophelia sings heart-aching song about how much she misses him when he is gone fishing.

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Faceless Pool Of Love
© Surazeus
2025 04 08

If truth removes the longing from my clay
I might feel shimmering wings arched overhead,
and know this is the last season of life
while waiting for the signal from the world
to leave my anger crawling in the dust
when I return from stark unfinished lands.

No guardian angel at the gate of faith
remains to watch me leave lost paradise,
though I take seeds from sweet apples I stole
to start new garden on the river shore
where I will invent concept of the door
that divides pleasure from horror of death.

While standing still on gateless shore of time,
I realize with surprise of obviousness
that water always flows beyond the scope
my eyes record with breath of glowing clouds
till hope transforms into body of flesh
which I employ to explore this strange world.

She whispers softly in my sudden ear
of shadows that flee back up to the sky
with sharp instinct of animal desire
which animates our passionate embrace
to generate new bodies from our hearts
who bear our souls beyond eternity.

More terror-stricken than blossoming trees,
she teaches me the light of absolutes
which shimmer deep in liquid of her eyes
to reveal sacred wisdom of godless skies
though we sense someone always watching us
whose weird voice howls at us in windy rain.

My longing stabs my heart with thorny faith,
so I speak the first word my heart invents
to tell her, "You" are the one I love most,
though all my words blow away in bleak wind
that pushes us helplessly toward blank fate,
so we hold hands to bind our souls with love.

Weaving vines among trees in circled fence,
we enclose our hearts in safe garden space
to hide from monsters lurking in dark woods,
because her face glows bright with eyes of light
when she gives me berries and nuts to eat
as we lounge by the faceless pool of love.

The tree that blooms from heart of anguished hope
declares itself with endless voice of wind
to be the sacred oracle of love
whose fruit reveals the meaning of desire
as children spring from passion of our kiss
to populate this world with warring tribes.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus and Ophelia clear away underbrush to organize plants in the hidden garden of their hearts where the singing river flows.

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Mask Of Secret Agony
© Surazeus
2025 04 07

The woman in the scarlet gown of faith,
who might wear mask of secret agony,
holds flame of contemplation in her hand
till moon-white dove emerges from her heart
in sudden misdirection to conceal
intense desire to ransom truth from hate.

The oldest woman in the world reveals
electric heart that operates the globe
with flashing gears of subatomic words
from urgent message that we throw ourselves
in sea of stars to cleanse our rotten souls
with jubilation surpassing regret.

Each falling star that shatters spaceless time
guides us to plumb bright depths of our abyss
with weightless lamentation of new clouds,
though we are weighed down by exhausting fear
to sacrifice reluctant praise for death
with intimate pretext of secret love.

Outbreak of song from vibrant lungs of hope
reflects unusual action that heals pain
before indigenous touch resurrects
diminished stature of our shared respect
with tender aspect of unnoticed praise
since angels mark our doors with tears of ghosts.

Grim demeanor unexpressed before dawn
allows too much collapsing states of trust
abundant with excessive graves where love
bleeds unchangeable wealth for sleepless hours
before excluded moments satisfy
pretension to knowledge unearned by prayers.

Alone on sleepless landscape, circled tight
by savage gods still thirsty for our hope,
we give each other fruit we steal from death,
and playact why we have angelic wings
strong enough to carry our heavy hearts
along the winding river bright with tricks.

Fabulous with tales of the avalanche
that realigns our world view fate designed,
we languish in conventions of sad trees
to share idle gossip about dead gods,
foolish enough to believe we might find
diamond of unbelievable respect.

Latent honesty of unchanging jokes,
confounded by cerebral hemispheres
that distract graceful dancers in glass rain,
inspires determined purpose to transcend
internal quietude of wordless books
that fly away on raven wings of faith.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus asks Eurydice if she will marry him, and she gives him the apple she stole from Adam as a token of her acceptance.

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Headless Idol Of God
© Surazeus
2025 04 07

Oblique intellect of the rose-gold moon
reveals the vast distance between our hearts
which writhe with revelations of true love
to frame this beautiful weird world of ours
with shocking sensation of blooming flowers
rooted in tales of our lost memories.

When colors leer in sunlight of my room,
transformed by my fatal imaginings
to furtive creatures lurking in dry books,
I hide conceptual sprites in wood word box
till they sprout gossamer butterfly wings
and fly through spiral of eyes from my mouth.

Effectual consequence of fertile thought
completes excessive meaning long untouched
by proper rhetorician strolling home
in neatly trimmed rose-garden maze of ghosts
to unwind logical clock stuck in trunk
of my most graceful willow by the lake.

Desiring trivial power to control
dreams that motivate hunger of our hope,
we build huge marble monuments to truth
so bold performers, terror-struck by love,
may better calculate which way to go
through strict analysis of empty words.

Collecting words from caverns of your minds,
fragile as eggs from which serpents of faith
slither forth through church-cluttered avenues,
I breathe oxygen from bright mountain caves
when clouds of words congeal in holy books
open on tables of unexplained fear.

Passion that frames emptiness of the home
with shapeless shadow of dire honesty
adjusts backward direction time expands
for angels still forgotten on the moon
to play chess game of arrogant respect
though we consider this haven our right.

Immense success of meaningless play
contains stark signs of intelligible life
trapped in symbols everyone wants to buy
to hang as paintings on cathedral walls
based on hallucination I design
which imitates headless idol of God.

No more original than falling snow,
that purports to final contrariness
of false perfection dazzling in its truth,
my heart begins with vivid elements
of natural light to weave reluctant code
which programs how I invent unique fate.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus digs up headless idol of God from under the parking lot of the old abandoned car factory that pollutes the river.

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

Always Fight For Freedom
© Surazeus
2025 04 07

Touched by unimaginable touch of time
that monitors mutation of my soul,
I climb corruptive scale of anxious care
to meddle with avarice of my mind
expressing hidden passions of my heart
through outward forms that no one understands.

Woke in sublime tower of everyday,
I program tranquil anguish of my heart
to adore beauteous evening we all share
where no mighty Being outside human brains
broods over oceans and mountains of truth
except my own solemn thought about light.

Though no immortal Being exists to know
immense structure of our cosmic white whole,
this world of changes is no less divine
than concept of perfection our minds share
because we program how we view the world
with linguistic system of ideal forms.

Thus humble at inner shrine of my heart,
symbolized by pillared temple of faith,
I worship mindless spirit of the Earth
that gleams with beauty of is changing forms
composed of flawed objects my words describe
in visions which expand my consciousness.

The periwinkle trailing wreaths of hope
inspires my soul with breath of honest love
to sing in harmony with silent notes
that trees of many kinds in shady groves
sing into thousand blended notes of truth
to enchant my heart with knowledge of death.

Creatures motivated by simple needs
express thrill of pleasure in being alive
through quick aggressive motions of their souls
which fuel graceful dance their lithe bodies feel
since all organic spirits of this globe
exist as vibrant flash of chemicals.

Sharp gushing song of rivers in dim woods
explains patient hope of my sovereign cry
to note with evidence of subtle proof
right to exist that every creature feels,
asserting justice against cruel assault
in heart-pounding fight to evade contempt.

Bitter-sweet it is with uplifted eyes
to survey course of human history
as constant travelers on long road of life
to know with lamentation of respect
that men oppress men with thought-control games
so we always fight for freedom to love.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus plays lyre of Mercury while William Wordsworth sings with tremulous voice in the shadowed woods of human history.

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

Golden Age Of Greed
© Surazeus
2025 04 06

If alphabets eat our worm-writhing dreams,
the faster way to find rebirth from silence
might be to drive all night on desert roads
while scattering apple seeds along the highway
since wind knocks down every legible sign
to lament faces of gods on the vine.

Overwhelmed by thoughts no one dares to speak,
I breathe excessive laughter of the moon
in pursuit of profits bleeding from trees
propelled by infinite hope for true love
as humble contortion of endless tales
disguised by optical freedom of whales.

Catalyst of life with battery brain
observing skeptical truths redesigned
by carefully controlled sadism of faith,
I wonder why my weird concept of life
reflects reality no one else sees
except for me with television eyes.

Illusion of trampled dreams by the lake
reveals exponential profit from hope
extracted by screaming media that cheats
with selfish luxury of swirling snow
through insurance purchased from the blind king
who tries to sell me his last broken wing.

My mother tells me just before she dies
that every spirit still remains alive
until their name is uttered by the dead,
but all I hear outside the fractured window
is demons howling in the hungry rain
so I keep doing the things that are vain.

Returning from dark boundary of despair,
I bring the golden fleece of nothingness
as prize I stole from the sad mountain seer
who throws our holy books in desert dust
to prove wisdom topples idols of gods
who scorn our worship from their seedless pods.

Anger wild as ocean waves smashing stones
insults the honest executioner
sent to restore the golden age of greed
betrayed at dawn by alligator clowns
who scream at their faces in mirror time
that we are angels who evolve from slime.

Words I paint with blood on the stone church wall
reflect pure splendor of the godless sky
with consolation of the bleeding star
while I repeat incantations of faith
that Gilgamesh carves in clay of my heart
so I can navigate life with my chart.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus builds ten thousand car factories in the desert of alphabet dragons who eat televisions of religious faith.

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

Wind Of Endless Sorrow
© Surazeus
2025 04 06

Flapping his arms as if they are crow wings,
he follows her into the bitter sunset
to find the tattered remnant of his soul
snagged on the bare branch of the apple tree
that grows twisted sideways from the steep cliff
and flutters in the wind of endless sorrow.

Alone in darkness of the everywhere,
he drinks sweet sadness of the flowing stream
that chills his heart with memory of her eyes
deeper blue than ice on the faceless pond
where tattered remnant of his soul floats pale
as eyeless fish of eternal desire.

Kneeling carefully in terrible pain
beside the pond with mask of fractured ice,
he reaches out to touch shimmer of light
that pierces his uneasy heart of hope
with wordless horror he cannot accept,
but stares forever at her tangled hair.

Too late to know the laughter children steal,
he watches young girl twirling in sunlight
with charming laughter of spring rain on flowers
whose eyes create the world of truth he loves,
whose words design the tree of faith he loves,
but wakes alone at dawn beside her corpse.

Returning to walled fort on the hill top,
he strides forcefully through the busy crowd
to grab fur cloak of the tall laughing boy
and shouts, "I saw you shove her off the cliff
when she offered you sweet fruit of her heart,"
then punches his face with snarl of disgust.

Grim father of the tall laughing boy growls,
drags him out to the twisted apple tree
where tattered dress of the girl flaps in wind,
then binds his arms and legs with leather straps,
and hangs him upside down over the cliff
where he sways back and forth in chilly wind.

Hanging from twisted apple tree of love
over abyss where the girl he loves lies
broken by the frozen pond of his heart,
he sings mercurial melody of sorrow
in eerie wail beneath the weeping moon
till he becomes the crow who understands.

After hanging high for nine days and nights
from the twisted apple tree of his heart,
he finds himself unbound on rain-wet grass,
so he stands and hobbles past judging eyes,
and walks ten thousand years on signless roads
to find her spirit dancing by the pond.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus buries Eurydice beside the frozen pond and lays crow feathers on the stone to mark her grave.

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

Merely To Know
© Surazeus
2025 04 06

Because false and true are merely to know
the swooping elegance of wordless flight,
then we could carelessly find the sea glow
extracting wisdom from demonic light
concealed in book of psychic mystery
that pretends to record world history.

Cracked open stone of falling river flash
reveals inviolate truth the Sibyl bears
with tartless mind of phenomenal cash
half-glimpsed by children on unwinding stairs
who measure lightyears beyond death of time
to kiss with pulsing heartbeat of each chime.

Stray thoughts of vastly undeluded hope
contrive how almost pain is obsolete
for shadowed virtue of malice to cope
with nameless clue of misremembered wit
too late for human beings to unevolve
so we pray to blatantly circumvolve.

Staccato speech exact with wandered force
preserves no proverb mending eager love
as patient ambience quick untiming source
expresses how we hide our treasure trove
in hearts of children springing from our brains
who mold dark miracles from sudden rains.

Forever snow of leafless mountain trees
reflects strange timeless gleam of jagged peaks
which never bluster condescending breeze
beautiful with faces that waver creeks
when we step slowly in cold riffle flow
since we contend true and false is to know.

Faithful in frogless ditch of gleaming wait
when woods explode with shriek of endless crows,
we lick honey combs to trick eyes of fate,
if death writes code on quickly melting snows
radiant with math formulas of huge quarks
which statues witness not in lampless parks.

Since face of the moon has shadowless holes
reborn in fireflies swirling on glass lake,
we analyze how everything has souls
which hum soft requiems mordantly fake
while winds of mountain valleys play charades
based on economic theories of gods.

Thus none shall share blind agony of truth
through convolutions hungry brains employ
despite increasing symptoms ruling ruth
pierces honest hearts with grief for lost Troy
because false and true are merely to know
how to perform in the last picture show.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus wanders the Alps with his children who ask him a thousand questions about the nature of reality and the human soul.

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

Golf While America Burns
© Surazeus
2025 04 05

The young woman eager to be a mother
sews dresses for her child soon to be born,
but, while shopping at the grocery store,
she miscarries and collapses in anguish,
so she is arrested and charged with murder,
and Midas plays golf while America burns.

The old man and woman in their quaint home
who worked forty years and raised honest children
stop getting social security checks
and are called frauds when they call to complain
so they freeze homeless by the highway bridge,
and Midas plays golf while America burns.

The lawyer who handles cases of fraud
protests when his law firm capitulates
so he is framed for securities fraud,
tried, convicted, and imprisoned for years,
then his wife and children drown in a flood,
and Midas plays golf while America burns.

The agent who works to protect consumers
from unfair charges by financial banks
is fired and marched out by security,
so he flees to the mountain wilderness
when bankers send assassins to kill him,
and Midas plays golf while America burns.

The playwright who applied for a grant
to present plays about difficult lives
of people abused by white privilege
shuts down his show when the grant is withdrawn
and flies to Ireland when his home is doxed,
and Midas plays golf while America burns.

The economist who writes articles
discussing complex system of world trade
denounces tariffs that twice caused depression
and will lead to economic collapse,
then cries as the stock market tumbles down,
and Midas plays golf while America burns.

The soldier who works with global allies
to support Otania union of nations,
protecting our national security
by blocking cyber attacks on state computers,
declares he will not help invade Greenland,
and Midas plays golf while America burns.

Millions of people in thousands of cities
assemble in public squares with calm purpose
to cry out with one voice, hands off our faith,
protesting destruction of institutions
that support the People so we can thrive,
and Midas plays golf while America burns.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus produces documentary showing how Midas plays golf while America burns till the People work together to build Zarathia on the ruins of faith.

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

Attached To The World
© Surazeus
2025 04 05

Attached to the world of star-breathing beings,
I plant the peach pit in soil of my heart
so tree that blossoms from sorrow of my flesh
provides fresh fruit for the People to eat
who dance and sing with spinning of the Earth
till we all dissipate back to star dust.

Attached to the world of water-drunk trees,
I float in sun-glittering river stream
that flows among tall vine-entangled oaks
where ravens explain the meaning of life
till I catch the brown trout with hungry hands
and roast it to eat in cricketing dusk.

Attached to the world of arrogant gods,
I carve their souls on marble monuments
where starving people bow with bowls of food
till we rise up from slaving in their fields
to break the shackles of bitter despair
and follow our savior to paradise.

Attached to the world of exploding flowers,
I unfold wings of my ancestral bodies
till I assimilate their dreams of hope
in virtual model of our perceived world
so I can run with horses on the prairie
when I escape death maze of Babylon.

Attached to the world of curious explorers,
I climb the highest mountain in the world
to find the cloud-hidden stairway to Heaven
but I find no god outside of my brain
so I become clear thunder of the truth
that programs the world wide web of computers.

Attached to the world of Democracy,
I march with millions in ten thousand cities
to declare with holy voice of the People
that we will fight for Liberty and Justice
against the thieves disguised as oligarchs
to make them keep their foul hands off our lives.

Attached to the world of ghost-painted books,
I chronicle fall of America,
destroyed by greedy gangs of control-freaks,
which cultivates birth of Zarathia
that will usher in our new Golden Age
where everyone lives together in peace.

Attached to the world of psychotic kings,
I struggle to rise from grave of my fear
till Muse in glowing robe of honesty
gives me sword of Beowulf to fight
dragon of greed to arrest his destruction
so we gather to sing among fruit trees.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus measures our attachment to the world of confusing events to analyze sociological process of fighting for freedom against tyranny.

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

Map Of Everywhere
© Surazeus
2025 04 05

The house that became the house of my heart
in the town that is the town of my heart
provides safe haven for my secret dreams
that bloom delicate as exotic flowers
in ontological hothouse of truth
that lures honey bees from forest of gloom.

The signless road that goes through my heart town
will lead me to every town in the world
if I journey far enough beyond home
to find every house where I used to live
has disappeared from map of everywhere
which leaves me stranded in the wilderness.

Thus with the lyre of Mercury in hand
I act as guide for refugees from wars
who flee from houses their ancestors built
when greedy tyrants bomb their paradise,
but they refuse to follow me back home
and scatter far across the crowded land.

Because I make up spirit-cheering songs
while wandering lost in land of everywhere,
I realize each road that leads somewhere else
will take someone back to once was their home
unless they decide to go anywhere
unmapped by rich men who control all land.

The house that was the house of happy lives
weeps for its walls and doors blown out by bombs,
and calls the names of those who lived there once
with claim it is their destined paradise,
and though they stop on some far distant road
they turn away and will return no more.

One hundred thousand years of spinning time
my ancestors walked along flowing streams
from mountain valleys down to ocean shores
to understand the hydrologic cycle
where water circulates the atmosphere
so life may flourish on breast of the Earth.

The Lake of Dreams in valley of bright stars
is destination of my aching heart,
so I compose new map of everywhere
to navigate my course from birth to death
for every conscious soul who ever lives
to dwell in houses we build from our dreams.

With open door of honest insolence
I welcome no one to my secret home
where I protect my family from harm
when gangs of thieves with weapons of desire
rampage across the land of hopeless faith,
yet I will sell you map of everywhere.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus teaches me how to cartograph the landscape of the heart so I can map the history of human life on Earth since we emerged from the Lake of Dreams.

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

Truth-Wounded Heart
© Surazeus
2025 04 04

Ten thousand waves crash against island rocks,
adjusting righteous order of door locks
with broken masks of arrogant disdain
that reflect spirits of humans in rain
who give each other stones with secret names
to understand the horse no devil tames.

Ten thousand winds swirl trees on rugged hills,
expanding consciousness of human wills
with rich experience each ancestor lives,
recorded in our brains, which pain retrieves
to program how we analyze events,
that threaten our lives, with bold confidence.

Yet still rock of salvation bears my soul
with nurturing passion through maternal role
that provides support so I can stay strong
when I get entangled by right and wrong
in staged performance I am forced to play
by earless Fate who mocks me when I pray.

So I map web of roads that bind the Earth
in social communes based on psychic worth
we explicate with volatile contempt
despite our request to remain exempt
from patient attitude of honest Death
who stalks me while I practice with deep breath.

Thus I dispense with meaning spelled by words
in mental tunes charming as songs of birds
to focus your attention on this spell
compiled by serpentine runes in the well
that brims with water of the sacred Earth
through revelation of our second birth.

Awake this sultry Appalachian eve,
I teach my truth-wounded heart how to grieve
when nations collapse into civil war
since some have nothing when others want more
in legal game of theft employed with tricks
since every soul must cross the bloody Styx.

Sometimes I want to pack my memories
and sail back east across the stormy seas
with plan to return to my first homeland
where apple trees bloom I tended by hand,
but land of Scythia is under attack,
so I lament I can never go back.

Thus I remain in land where I was born,
though our great Constitution has been torn,
to build from ruins of America
inclusive state of free Zarathia
where everyone lives together in peace
with the Holy Grail and the Golden Fleece.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus feels ocean wind blow through the apple trees on the hill where his family gathers around the bonfire to drink cider and sing with fireflies.

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

Mindless Winds Of Hope
© Surazeus
2025 04 04

While I gaze at the shy flowers of Earth
that bloom in the Georgia spring-evening heat,
I want to cherish beauty of wild Nature
and forget about the greed of mankind,
ignoring how the man who runs the show
is breaking all that we value as good.

Though flowers that bloom from soil of the Earth
may seem to be imperishable things
that mimic stars exploding in the sky,
I feel their fragile passion to survive
hoary-frosted nights of unexpressed anguish
that unwinds sorrow of the spiral whorl.

Ten thousand years of flowers blooming bright
measure rise and fall of empires men rule
so I must cultivate with stoic care
calm patience when our present empire falls,
corrupted by greed of embittered men
who grasp in vain to control rainbow beams.

No loving care can force flowers to bloom
for they spring naturally from soil of death
to uncurl beauty hidden in their seeds
as rich potential inherent within,
so, when illusions of wealth crumble, we
toil together in harsh fields of hope.

We ride our ether-gliding ship of Earth
to sail from Atlantis as towers fall
crashing into swirled chaos of the sea
with helpless faith in mindless winds of hope,
inspired by tale of Aeneas in Rome
to found new nation in the Promised Land.

Though vision of America we built
collapses into anarchy of greed
when bitter oligarchs steal everything,
we build from ruins of bold principles
new nation of Zarathia that bears
treasure of freedom and justice for all.

Through wastes of hungriness and rancid blight
we search for somewhere we can call our home,
but, though we settle on some river shore
for one or two generations of peace,
we always flee, uprooted from our garden
by refugees who drive us from our land.

Despite resolute hearts of hungry faith
that justice will be served with honest law,
because we toil to extract from rich Earth
wealth of success we deserve to accept,
time crushes everything we build to ash,
and throws our holy books into the trash.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus presents new constitution of the Republic of Zarathia where everyone is equal under the law.

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

Soul Of My Ancestor
© Surazeus
2025 04 04

In my heart I feel soul of my ancestor
wise Puritan Poet-Witch Anne Bradstreet
who sailed the ocean blue in Sixteen Thirty
to write magic spells in the misty woods
where ghosts of Massachusetts natives sing
eerie lamentations by moon-white ponds.

While ancestors of mad seer Robert Lowell,
descended from sister of Anne Bradstreet,
stayed within the staid Boston Brahmin world,
where he transformed into wild Caliban,
my ancestors journeyed west to Idaho
two hundred years in wagon trains of hope.

Escaping gloomy streets of Boston maze,
shrouded by grim Puritan moral code,
my ancestors walked in the wilderness
on signless roads toward hills of singing ghosts
to find the Promised Land of Paradise
that flows with milk and honey of hard work.

Hawk-eyed pioneers, in tanned buckskin pants,
warm coonskin caps, and beaded leather boots,
clutched flintlock rifles and sharp tomahawks
as they lead wagon trains through rolling hills
far west across wind-swept prairies of prayers
along the Oregon Trail of new faith.

Three hundred years later in Palouse hills
I walk in small university town
at the far western edge of ancient Rome,
and see Solaria Sun Spider Goddess
transform to Tenth Muse of America
Anne Bradstreet floating on Takoma peak.

Extending hand of wisdom to my heart,
Anne, dressed as Athena, gives me her quill
of raven feather with blank book of dreams,
and names me Surazeus Astarius
to wake spirit of Ishtar in my heart
so I write spells that chronicle the times.

As member of her ancient tribe of poets,
with Sir Philip Sydney, Edwin Robinson,
Oliver Wendell Holmes, and Robert Lowell,
I wake with spirit of our Mother Witch
to strum the heart-strung lyre of Mercury
and sing epic poem of philosophers.

While Anne Bradstreet stands in long Sibyl robe,
bearing Torch of Freedom and Book of Truth,
I journey east from Oregon to find
origin of my spirit in dark woods
lit by pure vision of her loving eyes
to chronicle rise of Zarathia.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus teaches Surazeus how to play the lyre of Mercury and sing epic verse to chronicle the history of humanity.

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

Church Of Money
© Surazeus
2025 04 03

Near the end of the way things always were,
were gather our memories in suitcases
and walk together on the signless road,
then stop beside the river of the dead
and build new homes from fantasy of Heaven
without addresses on the map of fate.

Loud voices among oaks, eager to prove
goodness motivates people to live well
in psychic harmony with birds and bees,
alert the wary to the trickster scam
thieves disguised as ministers of the church
employ to trap our bodies on their farms.

Enormous towers of glass windows sulk
unamused at how the stock market falls
in downward spiral of psychotic faith
in glorious rightness of capital gains
since everything we make with hungry hands
increases in value till the end of time.

Entranced on carousel of profit gained
with each aggressive spin around desire,
we blow the horn for our superior way
that cracks the fragile walls of paradise
which crumble into coins no one will trade
while gambling for the future of mankind.

Yet lonely trees on roadless hills of faith
contrive to uncurl roots of righteousness
that crack foundations of corporate clans
so Church of Money collapses at dawn
that leaves the faithful members of the cult
struggling to survive in menial jobs.

Heads sheltered from the blazing sun of greed,
migrants who journeyed across the waste land
pick fruits and vegetables in fields of song
till secret agents based in Church of Money
deport farm workers to gang-controlled towns
that leaves grocery-store shelves empty of food.

Blueprints drawn by the social architect
hang ignored on public library walls
now locked against young scholars eager to learn
engineering design of piston engines
which power our food-production machine
till greed destroys its global operation.

When new world order of the shining star
replaces institutions of the past,
every person in the chess game of power
decides to swerve from divine-sanctioned fate
and film in ruins of America
weird reality show called Church of Money.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus directs the reality television show Church of Money where the Traitor and the Thief destroy government agencies that support the People.

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

Ballet Of Falling Bombs
© Surazeus
2025 04 03

While star-eyed Clementine, spirit afloat
in surging tides of liquidated dreams,
sings heart-enchanting elegies of faith
for limbless children dancing in fire smoke,
Death films her graceful dance on stage of wealth
as she performs ballet of falling bombs.

Blind Nonsense Devil lurking in her heart
smirks at bromides of the priest in glass church
dressed in suit of dollar bills stained with blood
of children running without arms or legs
in ruins of their shopping malls and schools
to attend grand ballet of falling bombs.

Orpheus wearing white surgical scrubs
walks past the thousand open doors of pain
where amputee children with cheerful smiles
dance on phantom limbs with elegant grace
to catch sweet tears that fountain from our eyes
which they drink in ballet of falling bombs.

Bearing pans of gold from the River Styx,
that flows by the electric throne of God,
Clementine plays banjo in gingham dress
while wearing ruby size-nine dancing shoes
on stage in the Grand Riviera Hotel
where she performs ballet of falling bombs.

Indecipherable rings of the God Tree,
that record long history of human life,
vibrate with music of concentric spheres
when planets of the multiverse align
through gears of fate that crown Clementine queen
with message from ballet of falling bombs.

Eternal night of faith inside her heart
motivates her passion to create good
by helping lonely people lost in space
to find their home in the sheltering sky
so she can live happily in her body
while dancing with ballet of falling bombs.

We spin with anguish of excessive life
together on the carousel of hope
by joining hands around the teeming globe
to sing we are the world of naked souls
still radiant with compassion for the truth
demolished by ballet of falling bombs.

Our souls once linked by memory of laughter
stumble dazed through smoke of dismissive faith
to plant our body-trees in the waste land
of arrogant confidence in our Rightness
that props our empire on gold skeletons
who dance wild in ballet of falling bombs.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus leads the souls of amputee children home to paradise where they play games of chase in fields of Elysium.

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

Giants Of Jotunland
© Surazeus
2025 04 03

Aggressive valence of unspoken words,
which measures combining capacity
of strict conceptual meanings we create,
expands our world view through experience
to incorporate universal truths
within prehensive scope of fierce belief.

Cracked ice of ideology impounds
stray melodies of weird chaotic faith
insistent on procedural sovereignty
through passionate embrace of excess hope
to prove this land is mine since dawn of time
so you must pay to sell your apples here.

Monarch of Greenland, crowned by circumstance
of duty to guard heaven from jewel thieves,
I stand on jagged mountain of my heart
with staunch support of contract-binding trees
to block invasion of digging machines
bent on destruction of our wilderness.

Ice-shielded mountains of vast Jotunheim
protect rich mines of minerals in my heart
from greedy claws of marketeering bankers
who slaver over wealth in secret caves
with hands that grasp resources from the Earth
and give nothing back to valleys of lakes.

When Manhattan dwarves in gray business suits
stalk gushing rivers that sparkle with gems,
the giant Jotun goddess Gertha calls
dragons of protection with gold-fire wings
to guard enclosed paradise of Greenland
from cruel invasive species with steel hands.

Annexed to empire of greedy King Midas,
our misty island, rich with liberty
of free spirits who guard our corn-gold land
to support proud rebels with noble cause
protecting soul of Onatah with love,
gains freedom through calm justice of respect.

Inspired by solemn hymns of liberty,
freedom-loving giants of Jotunland
join hands with people of Gothinia
in Scythia, Gerthmania, and Scotia,
to forge union as bold children of Odin,
oath-bound to protect our homeland from tyrants.

Since empires rise and fall in tides of time,
and tyrants who proclaim themselves grand kings
always fall from weakness of blinding greed,
We the People in every fertile land
establish United Nations of Earth
to ensure freedom and justice for all.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus joins Gertha to protect Jotunland on Greenland from marketeering thieves of Manhattan.

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

Punk-Girl Fashion
© Surazeus
2025 04 03

Tooting pipes in the deserted train station,
Pan prances down pink fractured marble stairs
in cluttered ruins of the Playboy mansion
to proclaim with joy how much he admires
her post-apocalyptic punk-girl fashion
when Minerva twirls among broken chairs.

Throwing wads of paper bills stamped by wisdom,
that flutter in lobby of the Swiss Bank,
Pan juggles skulls of nameless gods at random,
then hurls them as grenades at money tank
to organize opposing gangs in tandem
for revolution challenging their rank.

While star-eyed Minerva on the broken terrace
scatters cryptocoins forged from hopeless dreams,
she clandestinely eyes the phantom menace
that lurks by mineral-rich Greenland streams,
then twirls Wand of Zambor she swiped from Venus
to overthrow tyrannical regimes.

Spurred by divine call of the pristine desert
that pulses blood of passion in her veins,
Minerva plays violin at the concert,
spiraled from volatile stock-market gains,
till Pan considers program to invert
right and wrong on scales of social domains.

When King Midas takes America hostage
with threats to make us slave for lower wage,
frantic factories begin spewing garbage
that traps Hidden Dragon in iron cage
who breaks free with our votes so they can manage
world revolution of the Golden Age.

Riding his chrome horse with the psychic trigger,
Pan defeats Midas in museum hall
through clever diversion of gifted vigor
calculated by writing on the wall
to cripple the tyrant with legal rigor
that we solve with the apple-inspired fall.

Vowing with solemn words to not abandon
citizens of Earth who seek equal rights
in social system of Earth based on Heaven,
Minerva trains men to be honest knights
who respect cedar waxwing in the linden
where great heroes have been reduced to sprites.

To build peace on Earth with United Nations,
in system where no tyrant could prevail,
Pan supports Minerva with grand provisions
when she bites the apple while stuck in jail
which sparks world war of social revolutions
till she reigns in Hell with the Holy Grail.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus joins Pan and Minerva in the ruins of the Playboy Mansion to plot the revolution against greedy oligarchs.

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

In The Great Unknown
© Surazeus
2025 04 02

When the Phoenix of my heart spreads fire wings
and rises from nest of the Burning Bush,
I follow her flight to the Great Unknown
on signless road that leads us anywhere
till I stand weeping by the Lake of Dreams
where First Mother first taught me how to sing.

My mother keeps the secrets of my heart
that I have never revealed to myself
which I now scatter as seeds on the ground
so all my memories bloom in daffodils
that children pick where they play in the field
where skulls of gods have crumbled into dirt.

These fragments of forgotten history,
which I find strewn on hard cathedral floor
when its rose window was shattered by bombs,
contain dramatic scenes of psychic fate
that I assemble in collage of tropes
to create new world view from random hopes.

Concentric circles of haphazard thoughts
that drift in sparkling mist of wordless dread
radiate from center of the spinning Earth
so I become my most essential self
while standing in blue twilight by the lake
to feel subtle glint of stars pierce my heart.

Down lengthening path of my endless life
toward far horizon of my shadowed mind
I always walk with steady pace of fear
to gather courage in jewels of light
in which I see first flash from dawn of time
that luminates strange landscape of my heart.

Inviolate flower of the Burning Bush
transforms despair of hot volcano gas
to glorious garden of profuse respect
since I am surrogate mind for the Earth
inspired to breathe brave spirit of the sky
that cultivates nascent power of faith.

Emerging from grim shadow of soft grass,
she grabs my hand with tremulous concern
and asks if I know where the Phoenix flies,
so I give her the last pear of my heart,
then write weird verse in book of fairy tales
while the nightingale sings to us of death.

Living together in the Great Unknown
where the Phoenix nests in the Burning Bush,
we cultivate pure energy of love
that swells in juicy pears on twisted limbs,
then cuddle in the boat of our romance
and watch the sun rise from shimmer of the lake.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus draws map that shows the way to the Great Unknown and sells copies in the ruins of the cathedral that was bombed in World War Three.

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

In The Great Unknown
© Surazeus
2025 04 02

When the Phoenix of my heart spreads fire wings
and rises from nest of the Burning Bush,
I follow her flight to the Great Unknown
on signless road that leads us anywhere
till I stand weeping by the Lake of Dreams
where First Mother first taught me how to sing.

My mother keeps the secrets of my heart
that I have never revealed to myself
which I now scatter as seeds on the ground
so all my memories bloom in daffodils
that children pick where they play in the field
where skulls of gods have crumbled into dirt.

These fragments of forgotten history,
which I find strewn on hard cathedral floor
when its rose window was shattered by bombs,
contain dramatic scenes of psychic fate
that I assemble in collage of tropes
to create new world view from random hopes.

Concentric circles of haphazard thoughts
that drift in sparkling mist of wordless dread
radiate from center of the spinning Earth
so I become my most essential self
while standing in blue twilight by the lake
to feel subtle glint of stars pierce my heart.

Down lengthening path of my endless life
toward far horizon of my shadowed mind
I always walk with steady pace of fear
to gather courage in jewels of light
in which I see first flash from dawn of time
that luminates strange landscape of my heart.

Inviolate flower of the Burning Bush
transforms despair of hot volcano gas
to glorious garden of profuse respect
since I am surrogate mind for the Earth
inspired to breathe brave spirit of the sky
that cultivates nascent power of faith.

Emerging from grim shadow of soft grass,
she grabs my hand with tremulous concern
and asks if I know where the Phoenix flies,
so I give her the last pear of my heart,
then write weird verse in book of fairy tales
while the nightingale sings to us of death.

Living together in the Great Unknown
where the Phoenix nests in the Burning Bush,
we cultivate pure energy of love
that swells in juicy pears on twisted limbs,
then cuddle in the boat of our romance
and watch the sun rise from shimmer of the lake.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus draws map that shows the way to the Great Unknown and sells copies in the ruins of the cathedral that was bombed in World War Three.

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