One With Sand Dunes
© Surazeus
2025 03 15

I become one with sand dunes by the sea
to face the empire warship off the coast
and chant with voice of wind to indicate
cry of the heart that people hide in words
for we are dream technicians of the mind
as holy vessels of the star-born soul.

We dance on sand dunes by the singing sea
to weave our spirits in matrix of light
so we can hold the bitter grief of loss
that blossoms from cracks in our mirror hearts
through resurrection of the holy word
as messengers of hope the Earth preserves.

Small particles of sand dunes form our souls
through chemical flash of congealing thoughts
that sparkle flares of soft electric words
when mothers create our bodies from wind
so we can dance and sing sorrow to joy
as wingless angels of the spinning globe.

Becoming one with sand dunes of the mind
we build bridges to connect virtual worlds
that shimmer in net of each human brain
when we translate songs of eyeless seers
to other languages our tongues express
as shamans leaping through the multiverse.

Awakening with sand dunes of dead stars,
I stretch my body from Earth to the sky
to feel the sun glow bright inside my heart
till I become first flash of the big bang
and remember flaring forth into suns
as planets that nurture organic gods.

Floating over sand dunes of divine breath,
I feel the sun strike the bell of my soul
which vibrates psychic spirit of the void
which flows and swirls through waves of particles
which spiral into planets blooming souls
as humans giving each other god names.

Assembling puzzle of sand dunes with words,
we code cultural ideas into memes
which replicate across landscapes of hope
when people translate shaman songs of tropes
to build Bridge of Remembrance between minds
as jesters mock mad kings on windy heaths.

We climb sand dunes where the moon meditates
since ghosts are absence of the ones we love
who haunt us with their voices in the wind
revealing how we transform from the sea
through beams of starlight in bipedal form
as fish evolving into singing gods.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus climbs the sand dunes with Jerome Rothenberg and Cecilia Vicuna to chant shaman spells and become one with the Earth.

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

Eagle Of Zeus
© Surazeus
2025 03 15

Fierce Eagle of Zeus, with valorous grace,
glides over vast maze of America
hunting for the tyrant with monstrous face
who hides his rage in cave of Attica,
then swoops to help Serpent Queen Melusine
who fights hate with dream-projecting machine.

Relaxed in ruins of the Parthenon,
eating lamb gyros with shepherds at dusk,
I watch ghost of my goddess on the lawn
dance in weird trance while she wears secret mask,
then sing hymn with the forlorn nightingale
till my ship comes in with storm-tattered sail.

Defending Melusine from harsh attack
so she can bathe in the perilous sea,
I convert Eagle of Zeus to our track
with divine honor of the cosmic key,
which helps us to open ancestral doors
and sell illusions at cathedral stores.

With Garthenstone brought from Arcadia
I build from ruins of our empire state
liberal republic of Zarathia
with capitalist game of the locked gate,
stage-managed by socialist principles
so we can overcome all obstacles.

Seeking Tree of Dreams in Bavaria,
where my grandmother bakes sweet apple pie,
I hide witch accused of hysteria
to protect her heart from the regal lie,
and tend her wounds with gentle loving care
though all she does is mumble spells and stare.

Escaping to lush Isle of Avalon
on Ship of Sorrows steered by Sisyphus,
I flee revolution in Babylon
taken over by Ozymandias
who appoints cruel Midas his puppet king
with mission to break every angel wing.

Leading refugees from Assyria
in wagon train across the bleak waste land,
we colonize lush vales of Scythia
to build paradise in the promised land,
but fight over who has the right to live
and who is generous with love to give.

Irrepressible urge to rule the world
twists the failed merchant into bitter king
who trembles in fear of the cosmic herald
soon to arrive on divine justice wing
to save our country from his tyranny
and restore our global democracy.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus celebrates the Ides of March and the day of Saint Patrick who drove the evil soul-eater cult out of power and freed the people from tyranny.

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

Our Mortality
© Surazeus
2025 03 14

Though stars shine on the stretch of snowy road
which I follow to the ends of the Earth,
I savor strange miracle of being alive
as conscious clump of random particles
that blink bright as the lonely traffic light
without concern for our mortality.

Though I smell odor of the evening rain
that opens portal to another world,
I walk through shadow of the humming oak
to gather acorns from the dusty road
so I can can hear people in the church sing
without concern for our mortality.

Though I walk backward up the abstract stairs
to analyze their function without form,
I understand new symbol of lost faith
contained in tulips in the fractured vase
which invade sorrow with beauty of pain
without concern for our mortality.

Though leaves float proudly on the flowing stream
with subtle lightness of the careful breeze,
I ask the mushroom toad with rainbow eyes
where all my faceless relatives have gone
who vanished at the screaming flash of dawn
without concern for our mortality.

Though time refracts in dreamless eyes of hope
delinquent signal of my pulsing soul,
I borrow naked innocence from Death,
pretending to be cloud in clumsy form
caught in rapid orbit of puzzling words
without concern for our mortality.

Though I want to play meadow bull of strength
who rules the world with haughty arrogance,
I feel more like the newly-hatched sea turtle
that races toward the moon inside the sea
then swims with awkward grace in tumbling waves
without concern for our mortality.

Though random shadows of the mountain lurk
on airplane wings above the holy world,
I carry bag of dirt from my hometown
while traveling west across houseless prairies
to heap it by the river where I die
without concern for our mortality.

Though we make angels in the sparkling snow
before bombs blow our homes to smithereens,
we write our stories in library books
that no one reads for twenty thousand years
so we catch stars in snowflakes of the mind
without concern for our mortality.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus rearranges library books with the stories of our lives every day till Ungod becomes concerned about our mortality.

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

Detention In Paradise
© Surazeus
2025 03 14

Dancing wild in rainbows of Crystal Henge
with wings of resurrection open wide,
I translate scream of the white butterfly
to every sad song sung by human voice
as witness to eternity of now,
then escape detention in paradise.

Our atoms tangle into psychic being
through sharp collisions of electric thoughts
that flash divine breath into spoken words
constructing vision of reality
as bright illusion glowing in my brain
to endure detention in paradise.

Electra wearing white dress and straw hat
gathers flowers of desire in lush meadow
beside narrow creek of ice-silver water,
and hums with pleasure of her beating heart
as she hears subtle voice of Lucifer
call her from detention in paradise.

Swift hawk of Jupiter on graceful wings
swoops over valley of the sparkling stream,
turning in the widening gyre of chaos
when center of the nation fails to hold
and looses anarchy upon the world
now trapped with detention in paradise.

I hide new revelation in my heart,
encoding secret of the coming change
in spell that mirrors Spirit of the World
which animates demonic force of good
in newborn Phoenix rising from the flames
to dispel detention in paradise.

The rough beast slouches now in the White House,
plotting to conquer the whole continent
from Greenland all the way to Panama,
uniting Empire of Zarathia
with laughing skull of Hamlet in the church
to expand detention in paradise.

Kwan Yin in silk gown twirls on round pool stone
with graceful elegance in flowing breeze
beside the flashing waterfall of faith
to give ripe peaches to the hungry world
when refugees flee from exploding bombs
that destroy detention in paradise.

While Kwan Yin gives peaches to everyone,
Electra plays enchanting violin
that wakes conceptual thunder in the sky
at second coming of Christ Lucifer
who stands tall in rainbows of Crystal Henge
to dismiss detention in paradise.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus anoints Lucifer with dragon oil to reign as Christ over the new Golden Age of America.

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

Broken Moon Of Fate
© Surazeus
2025 03 13

Through tributaries of the dream-time loop
I search for treasures of bountiful worlds
receding far down stream of timeless change
where sunrays of possibilities gleam
in tangled matrix of confusing facts
which I respool along reasonable tracks.

Sitting in sturdy boat of steam-bent planks,
I paddle along shimmering stream of hope
toward small orange sun low in gray misty sky
that sparks strange memory of timeless desire
for scent of firesmoke among rustling trees
that rises from crackling flames of regret.

When I see Sylphus lope around the hill
with yew bow and leather bag of long arrows
I call his name and offer bowl of stew
so he gives me three apples and mushrooms,
then eats stew of venison spiced with herbs
from wood bowl I carved with sharp jagged stone.

Gazing up at the broken moon of fate
that shimmers gold behind clouds of desire,
I ask Sylphus what he thinks the stars are,
so he explains that Pythagoras taught
stars are fountains of animating souls
that beam down to give bodies conscious life.

Just as we drift into shadows of sleep,
curled in fur cloaks beside the crackling fire,
Sylphus jumps to his feet and grabs his bow,
but the growling bear man with twisted club
hits his head hard, causing him to collapse,
stunned unconscious though I shake him and cry.

Pushing me down flat stretched out on my back,
the bear man laughs while gripping my wrists tight
that, though I rejected his marriage pact,
he will force me to bear child of his seed,
then tries to kiss me as I turn my face
and grunts to force his way inside my heart.

When he lets go one wrist to push my legs
open wide with cruel lascivious sneer,
I snatch bone-handle blade of sharpened bronze
from leather sheath on his belt with intent
to thrust sharp dagger straight into his chest,
so he screams in pain as blood gushes out.

After stabbing his heart with frantic thrusts,
I kneel beside Sylphus and call his name,
then gasp with joy when he opens his eyes,
but he jumps up and backs away from me,
shocked to see I am covered with blood,
and runs away as I cry in the dark.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus finds the river nymph weeping by the corpse of the man she killed, so he helps her bury him and brings her water to clean her face.

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

Children Wear My Face
© Surazeus
2025 03 13

Green flashing radar blinks its gargoyle eye
and beeps to indicate with pulsing point
existential threat to our normalcy
tangled with blues of tornado debris
sung by the blind seer on the busy street
whose mercurial voice haunts hot afternoons.

I will not let the world transcribe my life
with standard stereotype in plastic mask
when children wear my face on Halloween,
for my time on this spinning globe of dirt
may be intense with melancholy angst
but brief as flutter of butterfly wings.

Trapped in hungry state of barefoot resolve
with tattered hat of Huckleberry Finn,
I become someone else I never was
after thinking I should be who I am,
pliable sculpture of the headless god
bestowed with laurel of the thorny crown.

I shield my heart with books of faceless ghosts
which insures it is not available
for manipulation through social codes
which program how I navigate this life,
so where I end up falling over dead
is inconsequential to where I go.

When I find discarded on the sidewalk
random page from lost book of poetry,
I realize with wry grin of droll insight
the destination of this life we choose
has always been the farce of consequence
we fail to avoid when we change our life.

Tracing forms of objects my eyes perceive
which manifest changeless ideas of hope,
and climbing trees on rugged mountain slope
to understand ritual I play to grieve,
I gaze upon stone idol of my soul
which reflects weird beauty of the White Whole.

Each action I perform as human being,
composed of atoms swerving through the void,
transmits immortal spirit of my genes
compiled from flashing molecules of love
through each organic body I become
as I evolve from fish to wingless angel.

Spells I transmit in morse code of the heart
are indicator of my psychic state
through holding pattern of enlightenment
which I attain with wings of Icarus
when I strum lyre of Mercury and sing
before I crumble in my silent grave.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus arranges torn fragments from pages of ancient stories in puzzle of perception to rediscover lost dreams of the dead.

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

Horse Of Honesty
© Surazeus
2025 03 13

Escaping cathedral of haughty devils,
Jupiter leaps on horse of honesty
to race fate against arrogance of leopards
who enslave workers in maze of myths
when saints praying in church turn into zombies
who sing holy hymns to their vampire god.

Waving his hand to dispel strange illusions,
Jupiter rides quick horse of honesty
past fields of wheat where peasants wearing masks
sing heart-wrenching blues about bitter lives
for sweet chariot to carry them home
while bands of angels restrain them with guns.

Arriving by ship on the Baltic Sea,
Jupiter leaves brave horse of honesty
grazing on lush grass in the barbed-wire field,
and drives green truck in vast Teutoburg Forest
to kill Hansel so he can marry Gretel
who sells gingerbread cookies in the market.

Dancing round Earth-sprawling Irminsul Tree,
Jupiter tames wild horse of honesty,
then leads great army of robotic knights
to build global empire of Gothinia
binding Europe and Russia in one country
so he can play Pope in the Vatican.

Pondering Platonic Realm of Ideas,
Jupiter chats with horse of honesty
about how God is substance of all things
who stands under existing forms of faith
through universal field of energy
that glows in White Whole of his dreaming brain.

Measuring material substance of truth,
Jupiter gauges horse of honesty
that manifests conceptual Idea of Horse
which occupies finite volume of space
and animates finite process of time,
then paints its portrait after his horse dies.

Startled when Midas occupies his throne,
Jupiter seeks lost horse of honesty
to soar fast as lightning back to Olympus
where Pluto and Orcus, wearing his crowns,
twirl his thunderbolts of authority
and mock the aging storm god as out of touch.

Wandering in exile across the waste land,
Jupiter calls for horse of honesty
to proudly bear the world-conquering hero
who opposes tyranny of grim Pluto
by pushing Stone of Sisyphus up hill
to smash clay-foot idol of the false god.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus brings horse of honesty to find Jupiter who lies wounded by the spear of Longinus beside stump of the chopped-down Irminsul Tree.

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

Special Magic Car
© Surazeus
2025 03 12

Imperfect passion of my potent prayer,
which stirs vibrations in the silent air,
inspires my heart to wear mask of Dead God
entrapped in marble idol on the wall
whose eyes blow souls of light to seed the world
with primal trees of anguish for the herald.

Erecting fertilizing eye through faith
in patient flutter angel wings express,
I ponder if my soul is real at all
since I gestated in the peach-flesh pod,
and now dig furrows with aggressive plow
while pausing now and then to wonder how.

Now drifting from old complicated rules
that dictate method to exploit mind tools,
our hearts consume delicious thoughts of hope
from mutant demon stuck inside pear cake
while pious worshippers of faceless gods
pen solemn hymns with quills dipped in my blood.

Thus I compile proverbs of life success
in subtle fairy tales of wicked wives
who quilt eccentric memories of cows
in long meandering formulas of fate
to preach redemption at the broken gate
where songs of freedom count for so much less.

Diffused from sources lost in dusty halls,
kept hidden by custodians of our truth,
shared memory of our history recompiled
numbs fierce ambitious men to change the world
with bold consensus of defensive faith
that disturbs complacent societies.

Tangible table of my dreaming brain
preserves edible jokes in psychic code
never translated yet by the lake horse
whose spirit multiplies in countless crows
that gather laughing round my open door
to sing in harmony with my lyre tune.

Not one single arrogant king of pride
will inherit this Earth they claim as theirs
for they are nothing more than clumps of clay
strutting their brief hour on stage of false fate,
since with electric light of shuddered dawn
they dissipate from divine breath of truth.

If you would buy this special magic car
with cryptocurrency from clueless clown,
that drives itself on the highway to Hell,
you might lament crashing our ship of state
with confidence of the Titanic captain
who breaks America we love too well.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus rides the oversized special magic car in the vast maze of America on vain quest to find the Crown of Thorns that Jesus threw in the sea.

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

Court Of Vapid Fame
© Surazeus
2025 03 12

When I wake up with wings spread from my heart
I throw stone of my brain into the wind
so bird of happiness flies toward the moon
to billow huge white storm of thunder clouds
that light my body bright as radium
with abstract beauty of eternal love.

Complex wholeness of the temporal truth
multiplies our bodies across lush hills
based on boundless formality of fate
encasing tense emotions in stone words
inclined to debate imaginative faith
with solemn-eyed respect for moon beliefs.

New representation of the wild soul
regressing from mute terror in the stone
expands weird system of belief in light
that should include architecture of faith
surrounding naked bodies we express
through careful dancing with elegant grace.

Stars are not fixed though they seem not to move
beyond one inch in twenty thousand years
despite attempts to voice confused beliefs
that souls which animate our frames of clay
beam down from fountain of immortal light
to flush our aching flesh with hungry hope.

Alarmed inaction of the noble prince,
faced with contempt from social rottenness
performed by impotent men grasping power,
exhausts his passionate display of faith
that arc of justice will soon bend his way
to energize rebellion through respect.

Asserting force of truth with strength of love
to oppose the tyrant trampling our rights,
young doppelganger of the noble prince
too cautiously approaches how to fight
against the thief who wears fake mask of Christ
while exercising blatant theft of wealth.

Yet I shall dance among the daffodils
while wandering lonely as the faceless cloud
far from the glittering court of vapid fame
to hide from thirst of the social vampire
who demands we perform to great acclaim
in return for wealth they deign to award.

Through ultimate unknowability
without objective evidence of facts
I exhale divine breath of the timeless word
that causes ripples on the sea of souls
where I transmute into mythical tale
that records my journey on noble quest
to incarnate in children before I die.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus and Hamlet drink wine and discuss how to oppose the tyrannical oligarchy of Midas and Pluto attempting to take over America.

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

New Adam Of My Heaven
© Surazeus
2025 03 12

Created by fierce passion of my father,
I ought to be good Adam of his heart,
but I feel instead like foul fallen angel,
driven away from lush garden of joy
because he believes I am not his son
rather than for evil deeds of my hands.

I see the many sons he claims as his,
sprung from the seed of his immortal soul,
dwelling safely inside walls of his haven,
who enjoy sweet bliss of nutritious fruit
while I am excluded by harsh decree,
forced to labor hard while they play in pleasure.

When I was young in springtime of my life
my heart swelled rich with benevolent love,
thus I treated everyone with respect,
always lending my hand to help create,
and protecting anyone from abuse,
but misery from rejection made me evil.

Cast out of paradise by blows of hate
aimed at my head by fists of our all-father,
and beaten by sticks in hands of my brothers,
I wander now stark wilderness of fear,
heart twisted into hatred by harsh pain,
cursed by his voice to suffer soul damnation.

When my mother was fishing by the lake
to prepare food for the good man she loved,
that man I thought was my father appeared
in swift-wheeling chariot of haughty lust
and snatched her in his arms from her safe home,
then forced her to bear children of his seed.

For twelve years I was raised with gentle love
by cruel man who abducted my sweet mother,
but, when he saw my hair and eyes are brown
rather than gold and blue resembling his,
he cursed me as spawn of her forest husband,
then drove me out of paradise with hate.

With this ripe apple, I snatched with quick hand
from Tree of Life he tends with intense care,
I can plant my own garden paradise
in this lush valley far from his demesne,
so though I fell from heaven of his power
I shall reign as new Adam of my heaven.

Once I secure new heaven of my heart,
and this fragile sapling sprouts to the sky
to bloom with apples of bountiful joy,
I will again be virtuous and good,
for I will treat myself with kind respect
though others treat me with hostile disgust.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus and his sister Eve meet Adam who welcomes the travelers to eat and rest in his lush heaven of apple trees.

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

Grand American Carnival
© Surazeus
2025 03 11

Thrown overboard because I rocked the boat,
I ride dolphin of hope like Arion,
then ponder in shade of the kikayon
like Jonah before the locked White House gate,
where I will prophesy with Voice of Fate
fall of America from the greedy goat.

With Sisyphus I push the rolling stone
from ruined pyramid of Babylon
to build temple on peak of Mount Ziyon,
then smash clay-foot idol of the Mad King
who tries to rule the world with the One Ring
in new episode of the Twilight Zone.

Across television screen of the moon
that displays tales of mystic Avalon,
which I watch in my home in Oregon,
plays romance of Weaver Girl and Cowherd
who meet on bridge of the barbaric bird
with love to sing their American tune.

Clashing war spears in Troy with Robert Lowell
for the Union dead on the White House lawn,
where the President is a Russian pawn,
I hone sharp as truth my Durendal blade
for Red Cross Knight on holy crusade
inaugured by the grim Athenian Owl.

Rescued from gold-mine Hell by Percival,
who tricks Persephone with eidolon
to crown me King of Death on Helicon,
I unite all countries of Hahnunah
on Turtle Island ruled by Onatah
to host Grand American Carnival.

Strumming lyre of Mercury by the lake,
beneath tall willow of the leprechaun,
who studies physics in the cosmotron,
I build from ruins of America
new world republic of Zarathia
where everyone gets to eat chocolate cake.

Safe in my Spartan cottage by the sea,
I paint portraits of my love Melusine
who watches our cute daughter Clementine
play with her best friend sweet Ophelia
reading from scrolls of esoterica
to learn arcane spells of soul alchemy.

Descended from black-gowned Puritan Witch,
I structure vast crystalline hexagon
with proverbs from seraphic lexicon
to map cultural history of Elysium
that preserves our epics in World Museum
which angels sing with ethereal pitch.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus joins Ophelia in world museum to study scrolls written by angels with dragon blood to learn about alchemy of souls.

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

All Turn To Leaves
© Surazeus
2025 03 11

Every road I walk among faceless trees
I leave behind memories on fallen leaves
that swirl away in mute forgetful wind.
The children of my heart who play unnamed
gather leaves of my memories with small hands
and sew them into their own new memories.

In the golden spring of our young romance
we remold old broken hopes of childhood
into house where we shelter our new hopes.
Our childhood hopes to win glorious fame
transform into the children of our hearts
who mold their own hopes from dreams of the Earth.

We write stories of our childhood on leaves
that we sew into clothes we wear to hide
shame of our naked weakness in the world.
We carve our names on stones from muddy fields
and throw them into deep indifferent sea
so we can grow potatoes to eat now.

We dig up bones of our ancestral souls
so we can build strong shelter from the storm
that hurls hostile rage of the sky at us.
We carve bones of our ancestors in flutes
to play heart-enchanting music of love
that vibrates in our bodies after death.

Every river I cross on forest path
sings strange secrets of failure and success
that define my character I perform.
I build the wall of stone with trembling hands
to protect my family with garden home
safe from the cruel greed of slavers and thieves.

The house I build from bones of my bold hopes
protects my descendants for many years
till they spread out to colonize the world.
With bones of my soul as supporting stones
I build foundation of our growing clan
so we unify nations of the world.

We build sprawling empires of thought control
around shining idol of me as god
for I am founding father of our state.
We chronicle history of our success
on scrolls at first, then on tablets of gold,
which all turn to leaves blown by winds of time.

Glorious empires we build with our hopes,
based on First Father as God from the sky,
collapse into ruins of wordless stones.
Every tree I pass on long road of life
whispers tales of empires that rise and fall
from hopes of gods who are leaves in the wind.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus assembles leaves scattered in wind from countless ancient books that chronicle the rise and fall of thousands of empires all lost in time.

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

Improve Portrait Of God
© Surazeus
2025 03 11

When I stumble in the watershed days,
struggling to survive gushing flood of change,
I realize with wry laugh of aching hope
that I failed to improve portrait of God
based on performance of powerful men
who scramble to top of the pyramid.

Now that my body, fragile is it is,
channels psychic energy of fierce hope
to live in harmony with fertile Earth,
men who rule vast corporations as kings
exploit intense labor of our grasping hands
to build empire of control over lands.

We hide grim stories of our suffering
in snarky television sitcom shows
or melancholy radio songs of hope
which distract our attention of despair
when billionaires steal our government funds
so they can enslave us in factories.

Sisyphus leans against his rolling stone,
exhausted from endless routine of work,
and grumbles to workers sitting around
that the wealth our hands generate from dirt
rewards rich managers in golden towers
while we watch football and drink numbing beer.

When gang of government agents appears
all the workers stare in startled surprise
as they arrest Sisyphus with handcuffs
and charge him with treason against the state
for criticizing Great Leader of Earth
with disloyal hate that must be suppressed.

Chaining his hands to the huge rolling stone,
Pluto snaps long whip of obedience
so Sisyphus pushes huge stone of his heart
to the top of the pyramid of power
where Midas mocks his honest diligence,
then kicks the stone to roll back down the hill.

I will remain in hollow of my heart
sophisticated person strong with faith
who loves this country with loyal respect,
rooted in traditions of liberty,
so I choose to remain humble and sane
though thieves seize control of our government.

Though weight of history is crushing my heart
I cannot hesitate with cautious hope
to oppose cruel dictatorship of greed
with passion for justice and liberty
as engine that runs our democracy
when we work to improve portrait of God.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus helps Sisyphus rise back to his feet, and leads thousands in helping him roll the stone to the top of the pyramid where they throw Midas from throne of power.

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

Hour Of The Eerie Glow
© Surazeus
2025 03 10

Stuck in my quest at well of Melusine,
I lift my frail wings chained by eglantine
and sadly rustle their aggressive urge
to bathe in whirlpool of the spirit purge,
then ponder at hour of the eerie glow
electric beauty of vanishing snow.

The Social Hero everyone admires,
who creates what humanity desires,
strides boldly through the city maze of fear
to rouse sad people with infectious cheer,
who follow him to meadow of wild play
where Dionysus teaches them to pray.

Entranced by beauty of the Cereal Queen
who sings while she drives the harvest machine,
peasants migrate to cities of glass towers
where they brew honey mead with psychic flowers
which people at round tables in cafes
drink with calm reverence in their hipster phase.

New generation of eager young men,
fooled by bankers to believe they can win,
join holy crusade to conquer the world
in futile war against the cosmic herald
who rides fleet-foot son of Bucephalus
with important mission for Sisyphus.

Collective conscience of the Global Mind,
that connects dreaming brains of humankind,
presents dramatic game of politics
as universal myth of mental tricks
performed by tyrant conning us with lies
by tricking us to give away our eyes.

Drawn from case of my heart with puzzle keys
through cabinet of curiosities,
the Emerald Tablet, carved with secret code,
reveals sacred wisdom of the Dream Toad
who rules from Pyramid of the God-Eye
by teaching every soul to question why.

Returning clockwise through portal of time
to hour of revolutionary chime,
I prepare to battle tyrant of greed
who traps us when he sells us what we need,
yet I lament my horse lost in the mist
who should act as my mythic synergist.

Climatic scene in drama of my life,
that highlights how I overcome cruel strife,
displays world view of my ontology
programmed through atheist theology
which fills my heart with fountain of the truth
that fuels victory of our messiah sleuth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus gathers lost souls to discuss plans for saving America from the tyranny of the greedy oligarchs.

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

Unbeckoned Horoscope
© Surazeus
2025 03 10

Trapped in transient sorrow of gravity,
luminous with unbalanced loss of love,
my heart coaxes me to break free from fear
and stand among pine trees on the mountain slope
till snow rebuilds my body of soft flesh
from frozen tears of angels without eyes.

Reborn from round ice-lacquered syllables
of endless knowing veiled by mute disgust,
my heart swallows forsaken cries with hope
death may unloosen angst of mortal lust
to chart disaster of propitious days
disbursed by naked hand of ownership.

steadfast in primer of false happenstance,
accrued through alphabet of solemn curse,
my heart adjusts unbeckoned horoscope
to signal progress of aggressive search
for treasures floating between broken hearts
based wholly on one solitary clue.

No cause for celebration from regret
through dark obliqueness swollen with desire,
my heart calculates doled disquietude
through legal contract for perpetual calm
unheaved by distant storms of restless hope
for souls imprisoned by collapsing words.

Aged blindly lost in shadows reconciled
from fractured mirror of its confidante,
my heart deliberates wisdom contrived
from stagnant doctrines of old fecund faith
devised by dreamers before honest fear
abandons children by the faceless pool.

Elliptical with mounting games of time
that spiral tight-wound galaxies of souls,
my heart obsesses over winning points
that should impress kind Sagittarius
who plants purple lilacs in the dooryard
that bloomed last before dark night of despair.

Annoyed by flotsam of matter, expressed
across vast crystal firmament of faith,
my heart peers through its mental telescope
to measure cogwheels of the psychic void
that grind blindly in our turning globe
first mapped and named by grim Chaldean seers.

Memories flashing bright as swift asteroids
that bounce across blithe brightness of respect,
my heart refracts divinity of thought
that bulges from magnetic field of wings
in buzzing force field shielding Earth from rage,
so I hold your hand as we walk our road.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus dances and sings on the mountain meadow as if he were Julie Andrews in the Sound of Music.

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

Mad Mountain Seer
© Surazeus
2025 03 10

In halflight of the rainy afternoon
I halfdream about the mad mountain seer
who travels from his village in Peru
to fight cruel fascists in streets of Paris
where the young mother nurses her new child
who gives him her hope chest of pulsing stars.

Wild hound of his heart escapes prison cell
to race among blood-stained poplars of faith
where the ancient shepherd Jesus holds high
torch of liberty with flame of desire
almost snuffed out by brutal winds of war
that swirls dirt from newly-heaped mounds of graves.

Young weaver girl with factory-wounded hands
builds fragile home from cracked bones of dead gods
on desolate shore of the lonely stream
where the mountain seer carves magic-spell runes
on shells of turtles found on the sea strand
by the young mother who nurses her child.

Extending hand made of water and fear
to graft bad fruit on pine of languid hope,
the mountain seer, anchored by dirty clothes,
lumbers through festival of skeletons
to drumbeats and flute-wails among red tents
where jesters and ballerinas make love.

Exalted unity of hungry spies
that fuels singular beat of his heart,
urges the mountain seer to talk to God,
so he shouts questions at the empty sky
about why people must suffer to live
when serpents writhe from shadows of false hope.

Rain falls on every city in the world
with dirty tears of mothers seeking food
while mad troubadours howl thunderous hymns
to solve the human cipher of our love
with sorcery of positive desire
though we float in our coffins full of rain.

Meeting Osiris by the border wall
that divides land of life from nought of death,
the mountain seer asks for inheritance
which he deserves from his pious ancestors
hidden in the electric dream machine
which he invents from stolen words of love.

Crimson crown of Jesus huge as the moon
glows with tragic sweetness of emeralds
above pulsing brain of the mountain seer
who drinks blue wine from the goblet of fire,
then wails mercurial psalms of holy faith
that still poisons his haughty gypsy heart.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus hangs out with Cesar Vallejo in the Paris Cafe, discussing the rights of workers trampled by soldiers of the corporate monarchs.

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

New Political Arguments
© Surazeus
2025 03 09

All those old political arguments
fought between capitalists and communists
fade into radio static of the past
that crackles cables of the world wide web
when wizards masked as fascist oligarchs
entrance vikings with visions of rich glory.

New actors performing on stage of power
strut their bold hour before eyes of the world
to play noble heroes of ancient epics,
but, when their gold masks of noble intent
are stripped away by their own acts of greed,
hate exposes dark evil in their hearts.

I could reduce actions of rectitude
powerful people perform to keep power
between empathy and indecency,
but life is too complex with many groups
contending to gain power over Earth
to chronicle glory of conquering states.

Though music trembles on the silenced harp
strummed by the bright-eyed Seraph of lost time,
his tears are bombs that shattered old estates
with bitter anger of the dispossessed
who sing sweet blasphemies in ruined choirs
to praise Ungod who never answers prayers.

When millions of people, driven from home
by hungry gangs of drug-dealers and thieves,
cross roadless rugged mountain gap of hope,
they follow Moses to the Promised Land
where vikings complain about immigrants
taking the good jobs they refuse to work.

As wingless angel of the spinning Earth
I look up at the empty sky to gaze
in eyes of God vast as the universe,
but see no Revelation of the end,
for Earth will keep spinning around the sun
billions of years before the sun expands.

Thus I will flap my wings in crazy mirth
while dancing wild on the heavenly scarp
to preach grand message of our World Ungod
who sends me as his Prophet to mankind
so I declare with booming voice of truth
there is no resurrection from the dead.

Many new political arguments
fought between nationalists and globalists
flare from clashes over meaning of life,
but We the People fight against oppressors
to secure justice and freedom for all
who support United Nations of Earth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus joins Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Jonah on the White House lawn to prophesy against corruption and greed of Midas and Orcus.

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

Swirling Waves Of Change
© Surazeus
2025 03 09

When social revolution sweeps the land
we surf swirling waves of change to maintain
lithe balance between energy and form
to channel rage through political laws
which revitalize progress in strong growth
while conserving traditional design.

Though institutions of strong government
have been assembled over centuries
to channel forceful energy of lust
through official systems of lawful rights,
they can be manipulated by greed
to enrich the powerful with our wealth.

Responding to aggressive grasp for power,
that rich men in the past assert to build
structures of wealth that too favor their rights,
we construct systems of fair governance
to spread wealth back to base essential workers
who labor most to create profit we share.

When oligarchs attain too much control
over vast institutions of the state,
and openly pilfer wealth we create
to benefit themselves at our expense,
we raise revolution of civil rights
to adjust flow of wealth back to the people.

Wise leaders who respect the common man
follow example of Jesus the Christ
to overthrow rich men who own too much
with honest attention to humble needs,
then approve contracts of hardworking men
to farm fertile fields with laborious pride.

All civilizations of vast empires,
organized by wise priests with expertise
to manage estates of crop fields and herds,
are based on hard work of the common man
extracting produce from bountiful Earth
and distributing goods in market halls.

Bankers fund ranches, farms, and factories
with speculative capital of wealth
so workers create goods from raw materials,
while merchants market and distribute goods,
but government clerks in judicial courts
manage contracts to insure fair rewards.

If rich owners feast while poor owners starve,
oppressing hungry people of the land
as the few hoard wealth while the many work,
we must reset state political system
to eradicate greed of tyranny
and maintain freedom of democracy.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus leads the social revolution that sweeps the land to rebuild government institutions destroyed by greedy oligarchs.

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

Speed Of My Soul
© Surazeus
2025 03 09

To keep up with the weird speed of my soul
I stop before the television screen
before it teleports me through all time
so I can understand how people feel
about quartz angels in the rolling stone
that leads refugees from war in the gloom.

To calculate the strict speed of my soul
I map crazy roads through the Underworld
where my ancestors walked before my birth
so I can open brand new store in Hell
repairing computers rancid with mold
that oozes with oil polluting the firth.

To analyze the fake speed of my soul
I ask the mountain man with jewel eyes
for hidden secret of the universe
but all that Cronus is willing to tell
is why sweet blueness attributes the skies
with subtle reference to the holy curse.

To randomize the quaint speed of my soul
I spin the Wheel of Fortune to test fate
against all outcomes augured by bird flight
with bold assertion of my mental will
to rule the world from secret river boat
through sad tunes I play on dragon-bone flute.

To overcome the stalled speed of my soul
I build new piston-engine of desire
to channel spirit of aggressive hope
when I drive chariot of Ezekiel
roaring down the highway to Zathamar
past the desert station where gas is cheap.

To allocate the force speed of my soul
I meditate in cave of shadow plays
where Plato eats fruit of Persephone
to prove that our world is slow-spinning ball
when I record hymns sung by the world muse
to express my psychic epiphany.

To ride far on the true speed of my soul
I write script for weird television shows
depicting how people perceive themselves
as most important person on the hill
when we play capture the flag through world maze
in tribal contest between Bears and Wolves.

To chase love with the wise speed of my soul
I remove persona mask of my being
to reveal my true self on stage of faith
when Apollo crowns me with his laurel
and Icarus repairs my wounded wing
till I become conceptual Poet Wraith.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus plays lyre of Mercury and sings magic spells with the poetic speed of his soul to enchant the world with visions of the truth.

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

Strange September Sea
© Surazeus
2025 03 09

My mother drives the red Volkswagen slow
narrow road that winds around silent hills
among tall birch trees gleaming white as snow
on Sunday afternoon in early Autumn
to go somewhere we never went before
so we can walk around the anxious lake.

Disconnected scenes of fragmented thoughts,
boxed in broken sentences of regret,
clutter unlit stage after the last show,
tattered costumes of undead characters,
and masks that represent feelings we hide,
heaped in shadow of unspoken despair.

So I run down to strange September Sea
and wander mute on the heavenly shore
while searching for the lush Elysian fields
where ghosts of people I once knew may float
as silver mist along the gushing stream
where I decide to build the Golden Bridge.

Awake in raptured vision of this world,
I pluck taut strings on lyre of Mercury
to sing praise for Warder of Paradise
who guards the border to the Promised Land
with flaming sword of arrogant disdain
for anyone not born with the right glamor.

Kneeling before grave of the blonde-haired girl
whose sky-blue eyes entranced my heart with love,
I weep with sorrow at her early death
because the redemption story is false,
for after we crumble to Earth in death
we never rise to glory in the sky.

Yet varied marvels of Nature express
artless grandeur of atoms shaping forms
that stream with beauty of eternal light
still flaring forth from the first flash of love
to shine as creatures with bright conscious minds
from raptured thoughts of bountiful desire.

Even in sequential dreams of free will,
when we glow brightly with passion of love,
we will find original spark of hope
that revives compassion of selfless faith
to beam with empathy for living souls
which springs from emptiness of Hungry Self.

Always capable of love for everyone,
we drive cars on newly signified roads
to participate in fun social games
where strangers give each other secret names,
then eat mushrooms and worship the God Toad
whose timeless love song vibrates from the sun.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus visits the grave of his childhood friend Lori Lee Whetmore, placing the yellow daffodil of carefree joy as he remembers how her eyes sparkled when she laughed.

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

Slow Swirl Of The Sea
© Surazeus
2025 03 08

Now that I live free from slow swirl of the sea
darkness folds itself as my eager heart
when I walk over hills of joyful death
to play role of the hermit in their play
on the plain where riderless horses wait
for the owl of rebirth to explain why.

I will not hurry away from the Earth,
dazed with sudden insight of idiocy
unrelated to broken wheel of light
that tumbles blazing down the mountain slope
with shocking honesty of rolling stones
that crush wood coffin of the holy ghost.

Heart pierced with needle found in the haystack
by humble warriors seeking absolution,
I write stories of the dead on dry leaves
that rustle with their voices in dawn breeze
despite how men cry for the broken door
that leads to asylum for bitter saints.

Yet she walks toward me on the campus path
past leafless trees of innocent desire
with star-sparkle animating her eyes
when she hands me red notebook of her dreams
which describe how we meet in every life
since we always choose to walk the same road.

If I decide to leave the city maze
to live among the owls and honest wolves
extravagantly alone through light phase,
I will invent weird language to describe
conceptual framework for our mutual love
which binds our hearts together without words.

I gesture my hands to weave in new wings
wild silence that hovers dark over Earth
so I can become swiftness of the horse
whose elegant grace of assertive will
defines process of motion we express
while holding hands to walk the moonlit road.

For everywhere I go in time and space
Saturnus arranges darkness of truth
which congeals despair into juicy fruit
through desperation of the mindless wind
so I can build new Temple of Dead Gods
from false ruins of the Enlightenment.

Startled by ache of sorrow birthing joy,
I long for existence of fiery breath
to gleam in rain drops flowing in my veins
with constant blackness of eternity
which creates me from slow swirl of the sea
because I realize I love you so much.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus swims in the sea, then follows the river uphill to the house in the meadow where the girl he loves takes care of her wingless horse.

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

Fueled By Atomic Flares
© Surazeus
2025 03 08

When I hear the sharp chirping of the bird
I think it might be perched inside the tree,
but when I look at cloud of limbs and leaves
I see shadows and beams of striped sunlight,
for my eyes cannot discern the feathered fiend
that cheers my heart with territorial claims.

While I am sitting in the living room
before the television on the floor,
I wave my plastic sword with martial pride
and declare I want to sail my wood ship
as eager Viking to conquer the world
and bring strange treasures to my fjord-safe home.

Arranging puzzle pieces on the table
to match photo on cover of its box,
that shows the horse grazing in the lush meadow
beside the apple tree on the lake shore
framed by the snowy range of jagged peaks,
I create the world where I want to live.

To design world map from my memory
that accurately depicts the world that is,
I generalize points, lines, and polygons
to symbolize landscape of hills and lakes
with rivers winding in meadows of flowers,
then color each thing with their psychic tone.

Though every map I make depicting Earth
presents rich landscape of buildings and plants,
the human beings who move around its space
in quick routines of performative drama
cannot be fixed at any point in time
for we are flames that glow, then flicker out.

If I could fix each flaming soul of life,
fueled by atomic flares of beaming hope,
their ever-changing forms of psychic being
would momentarily freeze into masks
that I could hang on bare museum wall
in vast Temple of the Many-Faced God.

This photo of my temporary face,
posted as profile picture on my page,
affixed by static flash of timeless growth,
which drafts stereotype of me you prefer,
contains assertive pulse of energy
that flashes in every cell of my being.

As fake persona speaking with plain words,
I represent every human on Earth
who wears the face their ancestors designed
by choosing soulmate in romantic hope
as we evolve four hundred million years
to wingless angels searching for true love.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus takes off his mask and grins at all the ghosts in Hell, then puts it back and takes a selfie with Persephone as she sticks out her tongue.

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

Zigzag Path From Dream
© Surazeus
2025 03 08

Trajectory of my zigzag path from dream
arches over mountains of singing trees
clockwise between cities of faceless ghosts
who all vanish in cold wilderness wind
when I leave crowded streets of Babylon
to find pure ancient Eden of my mind.

Until I express my triumphant speech
at witnessing temporal dance of desire
I know not how my heart was wounded sore
from whispered darkening of the hourglass
that measures span of change my soul endures
from sweet deception of sincerity.

No supernatural god among bright clouds
could justify his tyrannical ways
for smearing rage on my sensitive skin
with abrasive thoughts of controlling hope,
intent on judging failures I perform
in my quest to fulfill my private dreams.

Congenial regret of absolute faith
distorts perception of my groping mind
to pierce conceptual gloom of wretched fear
with gleaming light of ineffectual prayer
that darkens bliss oozed from foul loaves of stone
poisoned by aggressive lust of contempt.

Till I strip off mask of Faustus at dawn
to conceal true identity I hate,
I try to crack icy distance of faith
glazed by will of Heaven to trap my soul
with bitter assumptions of fierce conceit
that squanders hard-won rewards I entail.

Disbursed inheritance of ancient myths,
designed to bolster insecure intent
with noble attributions fate assigns,
restricts assertion of my secret will
with clutched accumulations of desire,
though lost in mapped landscape of inquiry.

Puzzling image of exorbitant truth
with polished instrument of gratitude,
I perform ritual of expressive spells
to study substance that stands under forms
consigned to ceremony of regret
which cleanses innocence hearts of desire.

When I wake startled from sweet dream of love
I find my body is composed from tears
transformed by chemicals of hungry pain
from purified water of mountain streams
that spiral through my veins in writhing lust
so I remember who I am at last.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus listens as Faustus explains why he wants to start a bakery near the river park after working years in accounting at the Internal Revenue Service.

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

Explore Our Crazy World
© Surazeus
2025 03 07

I have become the gold cloud in the sky
with eager laughter of the running horse
through passion to explore our crazy world
before they blow it up with greedy bombs
so only mute trees grow where empires thrived,
transforming our bones into juicy fruit.

My eyes consume light trapped in shapes of hope
composed of secrets people throw away
while trapped in tangled tongues of wordlessness
with angry penitence of futile faith
born from confusing trees of honest rocks
that tumble haughtily in gruesome streams.

When ghost of God possesses my frail body
I impersonate that strange deity
with professional parody of faith
which channels subconscious angst of desire
to be light that fractures galaxies
with spinning obsolescence we exchange.

While mapping bold catastrophe of hope,
the ecstatic pessimist of fake Mars
contrives to imitate electric time
when he drives truck of curiosity
while Bastet rests her paw on his right hand
to guide their journey across the waste land.

Though Sirius plants the tangerine tree
on what he thinks is last day of the world,
he walks backward to unspool road of time
past all the people rising up from death
to find the first tree that grew from the Earth
one hundred forty million years ago.

Since he thinks greenness is one kind of grief
that transforms wounds of sorrow into blooms,
he decides he is not going to grow old
while building walls of stone with bleeding hands
so no one else can eat fruit of his tree
which gives us the magic power of speech.

I see the planet Jupiter gleam white
beside silver joy of the crescent moon,
both lights reflected into the surly pool
that cleanses my spirit with evening glow
hidden in pages of never-read books
to preserve memories I share with no one.

Gesturing his hands to control the waves,
Sirius chants spell based on ocean song
so no one can now recognize his face
abandoned in dim shadows of lost days
to become gold clouds in the morning sky
which transforms juicy fruit into his bones.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus strolls among the fruit trees of his orchard on the dew-wet hillside while Ophelia attends the Association of Writers and Writing Programs conference.

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

Same First Mother
© Surazeus
2025 03 07

The fish in the river swim toward the sun
to play with children in the field of flowers.
The birds in the clouds fly across the mountains
to play with children in the city streets.
Mothers call children in evening dusk
who run home to eat and share funny stories.

Though we live on opposite sides of Earth
we look at the same stars in the same sky.
Though we live far away in different lands
we see the same moon among the same stars.
The moon among the stars in the world sky
are etched with the same light in all our hearts.

We climb the same mountain on different paths
to meet each other by the cave of dreams.
We sail the same ocean in different boats
to meet each other on the shore of hope.
The oceans send the rain up to the clouds
and the mountains send the rain to the ocean.

Some people spend their lives in the same house
and know everybody in the same town.
Some people spend their lives walking new roads
and meet new people in a thousand towns.
I lived in fifty homes in twenty-five towns
on hundreds of roads sea to shining sea.

The horse in the field runs free with the wind
so I explore from Scythia to Scotland.
The four-wheeled wagon rolls in sun and rain
so I drive from Virginia to Oregon.
I pave the long road of my journey west
with the bones my ancestors leave behind.

We will unify all Europe and Russia
in one peaceful state we name Gothinia.
From the ruins of fallen America
we will build our free country Zarathia.
We will unite the peoples of our tribes
in the bounteous state of Anglonesia.

The ravens gather in the apple tree
and teach us civil rights through liberty.
The orioles assemble in the orange tree
and teach us to deal fair justice for all.
We gather in moonlight round the World Tree
to share stories about our quest for truth.

We live in different countries on one globe
but tell one story of romantic love.
We worship different gods with discrete souls
who all emanate from the same God Mind.
Every plant and animal on this Earth
springs from the same First Mother of the sea.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus leads United Nations of Earth in global Golden Age of peaceful cooperation with liberty and justice for all.

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

Justice For The World
© Surazeus
2025 03 07

Grasping string of sorrow that holds his kite,
Wulfred escapes as far as he can go
from crowded city run by gangs of thieves
to sit on mountain of the holy light
and wonder at soft song of glowing snow
in secret meadow where the raven grieves.

They hung him upside down from the oak tree,
mocked him while beating his father to death,
then left him with broken arm by locked gate,
so he declares his mission to live free
while learning martial arts with heated breath
to fight with the wand forged by honest fate.

While ten years pass in spinning of the world,
as the thief king takes over the whole town
to exploit working people for his gain,
Wulfred attains role of the palace herald
so he returns with goal to take his crown
and cleanse his hometown of the grifter stain.

Robed as herald sent from the palace court,
Wulfred strides in castle of the thief king
who fails to recognize the boy he beat
when he welcomes herald of the great fort,
feasting on steak while his enslaved girls sing,
then demands the envoy kneel at his feet.

Standing tall before thief king on gold throne,
Wulfred unrolls scroll from the palace lord.
"Great King Carolus who rules this vast land,
declares that Donald the thief should atone
for foul crimes he commits with bloody sword,
so he should repent for deeds of his hand."

Screaming in rage at threat to his cruel reign,
Donald commands guards to arrest the herald
and chop off his head to protect the state,
but Wulfred evades hands grasping in vain,
wields energy of justice for the world,
then strikes to punish him with well-earned fate.

Forcing the greedy thief off throne of power,
Wulfred arrests his state-destroying reign
to imprison him in cell of his rage,
breaking his oppression of the state tower
so people benefit from their own gain
since the thief is confined in lawful cage.

Though the people proclaim him their new king,
Wulfred manages electoral campaign,
crowns as magistrate the person they choose
to execute laws programmed by the Thing,
then lives in garden on the river plain
where he raises children with his wise Muse.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus visits Wulfred who tends pear trees in his garden estate with reward from Emperor Charlemagne for successfully defeating the gangster thief.

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

Alligators Of New Faith
© Surazeus
2025 03 06

When the world as we know it falls apart
in global transformation of the truth,
we gather to discuss doctrine of rain
to revive spirit of justice through faith
that variegated nations of the Earth
can thrive in harmony of honest peace.

Since olive-tree warbler of Eden sings
with baritone acceptance of contempt,
we translate harsh howl of aggressive faith
into solemn hymns of mutual respect,
and give each other bread and wine to feast
before the falling of the holy bomb.

The silver moon I think is mine alone
shines with compassion on the mountain vale
where herd of elusive soala drink
at pool of faces hidden by gold clouds,
while Yan Po Nagar tends bright mango trees
that sprout from gold eyes of the Rainbow Rong.

The mute sun that always watches us live
sets gold over the Mississippi River
with indifferent calm of slow passing time
that continues though empires of the world
crumble into disarray of greed,
so I photograph serene gleam of water.

Our mothers compose our bodies from dust
of atoms still sparkling from the First Flash,
and our fathers guide us on road of life
so our brains emanate our conscious souls
that fashion world views from our memories,
and then we crumble into soul-less dust.

Brow furrowed in contemplation of fate,
Sarah curls on white-oak chair by the wall
while pale fingers fiddle with braided hair,
then tells ghost of light in the window pane
how she is concerned with ache of her heart
for all innocent children killed in wars.

The hero who defends democracy
jumps off the Tallahassee Bridge at dawn
and swims with alligators of new faith
to wrestle blind demon of fiscal greed
who pilfers treasure from Temple of Saturn
till David hurls spear of judicial hope.

Though global puzzle of our new world order
is still scattered in martial disarray,
the social architect with clever eyes
envisions complex structure for world state
that combines cultural systems of desire
in vigorous United Nations of Earth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus leans over the Tallahassee Bridge to contemplate how the social system of our country is changing, then calls Ophelia to share his fears.

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

Machine Of The Truth
© Surazeus
2025 03 06

The glass vase of lilacs slides off the table
and floats over the city of glass towers
to map traffic patterns of cars that flow
up tangled roots of the lonely elm tree
where young girl in the flower dress plays flute
to explain why the world will never end.

Though people gather at the theater
in late cool evening of blue shadowed breeze,
the girl who plays the melancholy flute
scatters torn fragments of famous portraits
that tumble as leaves across the sidewalk
till children assemble them in new myths.

When the bald man aims the gun at her face
she preaches to the choir of clueless angels
that the past has to be destroyed again
so we can rebuild machine of the truth
on shattered ruins of outdated faith
from weird drawings based on the human scale.

Death overshadows all our noble plans
to found world civilization on fair laws
copied from clay tablets of ancient proverbs
that we found broken in ruins of history
which analyze ambiguous events
smeared on the arbitrary wall of hope.

Night swallows incompleteness of respect
with sentimental value of despair
contrived by parallel concepts of wealth
detailed by special keys of privilege
which factors satire of contemptuous men
who sell their mothers as slaves to the gain.

Dazed by pride of unattainable love,
victims of indifferent fortune discard
sacred words they keep hidden in their hearts
that rot from arrogance of racial grift,
abandoned in doorways of homeless hope
from fluorescent glare of religious faith.

Apprised of proverbs from authentic grief
through improbable estate of false hope,
we choose the impossible dream to buy,
with concurrent clues of magnified rage,
new world view that excludes everyone else
except the thief still unidentified.

In light of all this jumbled reasoning,
no wonder soul of our country for sale
has gone mad with naive surprise to see
Goliath re-elected as president
who appoints Samson to smash all our temples
till David comes with machine of the truth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus finds David retired on a beach in Florida and tries to convince him to help arrest Goliath for treason and theft of government funds.

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

Hear The Secret Truth
© Surazeus
2025 03 06

One day Sarah stops singing to the sky
but the sky can still hear voice of her heart,
so the sky keeps reflecting secret thoughts
she tries to hide from other human beings
who capture song birds in cages of gold
so only they can hear the secret truth.

One day Sarah stands up in church and turns
to stare at hundreds of faces that glow
with faith that they will live after they die,
and shouts at them that they are all robots,
but they cannot hear the words that she speaks,
so she walks outside on the sunlit lawn.

One day Sarah hears the tree in the yard
tell her that she is the last fallen angel,
but she refuses to believe that lie,
so she applies to jobs at grocery stores
where she wants to arrange boxes on shelves
to ensure everyone has food to eat.

One day Sarah decides airplanes are gods
described in ancient myths of Greece and Rome,
so she waves to Jupiter and Athena
while folding cardboard boxes in the alley
where seven wild cats from the river woods
eat the food she pours in bowls every day.

One day Sarah becomes a warrior queen
when Tom finds her working in the stock room,
grabs her hips, and tries to yank her pants down,
so she kicks wildly to escape his grasp
and calls him rapist in the crowded store
then quits her job and runs out in the rain.

One day Sarah hears faceless angels sing
while she browses in the town library
so she applies for the job stocking books,
then smiles with joy as she glides down the aisles
to place each book in order of its theme
because they are doorways to other worlds.

One day Sarah sits in the coffee shop,
crowded with hipsters plotting revolution,
where she writes words with the plastic ink pen
along blue lines in the spiral notebook
for fantasy novel about young girl
who discovers she has Athena Power.

One day Sarah stands before the large crowd
gathered in the library where she works,
and reads from her published fantasy novel
about the average American girl
who saves the country from evil rich men
so everybody lives through liberty.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus grins with excitement as he steps up in line and hands Sarah his copy of her novel for her to sign, then hurries home to read her tale to his children.

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

Sitcom Of Charming Laughs
© Surazeus
2025 03 05

Puttering around her house each afternoon
in plain white dress she wears to do housework,
Shemaiah carols absent-mindedly.
"This time next year I might almost be dead
so I swirl outward from my aching head
to give you treasure I hide in my heart."

Afternoon breeze flutters curtains of fate
that shift beams of sunlight on the cracked plate
where two oranges glow with eerie desire.
"I feel long road of time unspool my heart
through undulating thread from my star chart
that leaves me stranded on island of dread."

When her daughter arrives home from high school
she smiles and watches her climb shadowed stairs
then disappear through door of silent hope.
"My life is no sitcom of charming laughs,
except for journey of lonely giraffes
that gather in starlight around the pool."

The rumbling garbage truck that creaks and beeps
stops under the oak where the goldfinch cheeps,
and swallows sorrows she has thrown away.
"Sometimes I feel I am the only one
who asks the angels why nobody cares,
though I will always keep the Golden Rule."

The man who stalked her in college appears
from flickering shadow of long willow leaves,
and stands on the path halfway to her house.
"My happiness escapes cage of my heart
to fly toward Heaven on wings of desire
where I want to join the angelic choir."

Hefting the baseball bat in her right hand,
she slams open the door of confidence
and strides toward the man with the bitter gun.
"I have the right to live in liberty,
secure in safety of my private home,
so kill me and die in prison alone."

The gun turns out to be the camera
he stole from her apartment years before,
which he returns now with apology.
"These photos I took of the mountain lake
where I went hiking to find peace of God
reveal sad naivety of my youth."

Adjusting focus of the camera,
Shemaiah photos goldfinch in the oak
that flutters wings of carefree purity.
"This time next year I may not be alive,
so I passionately live this hour of faith,
capturing beauty of this world I love."

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus arrives home to find his wife Ophelia taking photos of birds and flowers in the garden of dead angels.

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