Monster Of My Fantasy
© Surazeus
2026 01 19

We have to be cautiously cynical
in order to survive this hostile world,
always keeping mental radar alert
with attitude that evil ever lurks
in shadows of hate to attack our souls
and suck our bodies dry of energy.

Easily startled by shadows of rage,
I jump out of my body on wild wings
and flap around in frantic ecstasy
in search for monster of my fantasy
that always haunts my path to somewhere else
as I breathe pure celestial energy.

Fortuna, pulling loaded apple cart,
senses gang of boys lurking behind trees,
so she grabs stick and twirls it just in time
to whack their heads as they rush quick to steal
fruit of her labor, causing them to groan
and flee as she continues on to town.

Selling her wares at the small market stall,
along with farmers, tailors, and craftsmen,
Fortuna stares at distant silent woods
with strange anxiety at something wrong,
so she leaves with baskets half full of fruit,
and hides in copse of oaks near the town gate.

Trembling in terror at shadowy ghost
that causes her to shiver in despair,
Fortuna stares in shock when gang of thieves
on fierce horses attack the market town,
beating people and stealing all their goods,
then racing wagons to their secret fort.

Noting where gang of thieves base operations,
Fortuna hurries back to market town
and joins assembly of angry townsfolk,
who vote to form army of self-defense,
then leads them armed to hidden mountain fort,
where they approach with stealth of cautious hope.

Striding alone to guarded fortress gate,
Fortuna shouts that she punishes crime
and comes to kill them all, but they all laugh
and carelessly leave strong protective walls,
so townsfolk attack and kill every thief,
then take their goods home to victory feast.

Crowned as their noble hero of defense,
Fortuna sits on throne in feasting hall,
remaining cautious as they sing and dance,
fighting back when surviving thieves attack
to kill assassins with sharp justice sword,
then drinks wine as townspeople cheer her rule.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus plays lyre of Mercury and sings tale of Fortuna whose cautious alertness keeps her market town safe from thieves.

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

Beyond The Seventh Wall
© Surazeus
2026 01 18

When I have arrived at the seventh wall,
that shimmers between my Spirit and God
who wears mirror mask of my secret face,
my primal conscious sense of Other-Self
will wake at center of the metaverse
as persona my songs invent from dream.

I am no Orpheus, Hamlet, or Balder,
nor Jesus dancing on the Rainbow Bridge,
because I create my persona mask
from fragments of mythical characters
to assemble puzzle of who I am
so you can see your true self in my face.

Whether I am faceless ghost of I Am
which replicates my self as many selves
seen by people in every town on Earth,
or I am one human being with hot brain
who wears many faces of long-dead gods,
I am always the person you perceive.

Brave human performing my self on stage,
as stereotype I pretend to play,
I am the director, the backstage crew,
the stage, the camera, and the bright screen
of the television and the computer,
as well as the actor who plays all parts.

This role of myself I perform each day
is nothing more than puppet of my brain
completely separate from the outside world,
though tears of rain seep on my cluttered stage
where I assemble fragments of the world
in global puzzle of our new world order.

Because I am the Theater of Hope
on which I play character I design,
I freeze into the idol of my soul
so I still stand in temple of my tale
ten thousand years after my body dies,
for torso of Apollo I remain.

I see you reading words of this dream verse,
feeling your eyes scan thoughts of my sponge brain
with passionate desire to understand
anxious fears that motivate how I write,
for poems that I compose with ardent faith
spark conscious sense of my self in your brain.

Beyond the seventh wall of my dream play
I walk the endless maze of psychic myths
that humans of the past built from their lives
so you see statue of Surazeus
when you read my words bleeding on this page
every year for the next ten thousand years.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus turns to the audience in the Temple of Artemis and asks the people if they know their secret names, then resumes strumming lyre of Mercury to sing epic tale of humanity.

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

Statues Buried In Mud
© Surazeus
2026 01 18

We build our empire of contending states
on grand revelation that liberty
should be enjoyed by every dreaming soul
born from the fertile womb of Mother Earth
to share fruits of our labor in the fields
while we ensure equal justice for all.

Yet portraits of gods on museum walls
display no delicate features in forms
that mimic bodies humans animate,
nor resemble statutes buried in mud
by avalanche of fate which cracks stone walls
that should pertain to code of paradise.

Convinced the secret treasure, Jesus forged
from meteor that almost cracked the Earth,
is buried lost in wind-lashed field of snow,
young girl travels halfway around the globe
to walk the treeless waste land of deep hope
where she finds nothing more than one shy deer.

At thrilling conclusion of her vain quest
she finds quaint haiku written in the snow
by feet of dark-eyed Junco that describe
how friends gather around warm glowing hearth
and linger late in moonlight to share tales
from their childhoods in Television Land.

Amused that she misunderstood cruel joke
she heard from Tengu in the mountain cave,
young girl sails Argos east across the sea
to ask the bearded men beside the lake
how we can trust intuition of signs
based on clever twist of dire prophecies.

Then just as she stands on the frozen hill
to watch the train glide slowly with the sun,
she feels how cherished daughters of our hearts
are incarnations of the ancient Earth,
so she cries out to beauty of the light
despite how truth is always in our eyes.

Because the ocean bares sharp teeth of ice
we ask if mothers always know the way,
appalled by bitter anguish of soul birth
when seeds break open with demonic faith
that sucks sweet sorrow of the endless rain
each hour we are reborn to thrive and die.

Beneath the oak that blooms on river shore,
her father planted at hour of her birth,
Persephone measures deliberate wind
as breath transformed from ravens into words
which teach us how to taste cerulean fruit
because we know that all great empires fall.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus finds Persephone in Television Land where plays the Manic Pixie Dream Girl in the tale of her quest to find the secret treasure of truth.

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

Knock On The Scary Door
© Surazeus
2026 01 18

Each morning I knock on the Scary Door
to ask the Happy Ghoul for Hour of Death,
the Weeping Woman in White Tattered Dress
answers instead with box Pandora made
from which my secret desires swirl as bees
that lure me to Gate of the Twilight Zone.

Each morning I knock on the Scary Door
to purchase Weird Truth from Fiery Redhead,
the Southern Gator, plucking banjo strings,
tries to sell me Cool Crown of Psychic Power,
but I search for the Blind Girl in the Tower
who keeps the Holy Grail in her heart.

Each morning I knock on the Scary Door
to map the Golden Way to Fairy Land,
the Sad Clown points Rubber Gun at Thor
who flees to Shining City on the Hill
to wear Mask of Secret Identity
as Car Mechanic for the Techno Wizard.

Each morning I knock on the Scary Door
to give my heart to Damsel in Distress,
the Evil Queen sucks spirit of my brain
to float as shimmer in Mirror of Lies
till Quirky Bard with Lyre of Mercury
tries to rescue me from the Underworld.

Each morning I knock on the Scary Door
to trade Ring of Invisibility,
the Jungle Princess, with Bow of Desire,
recruits me to rescue from House of Rubies
Innocent Nuns who weave Basket of Bones,
so we defeat Good King in the Glass Castle.

Each morning I knock on the Scary Door
to answer Call to Adventure in Hades,
the Mystical Waif at the Burning Bush
gives me Sacred Scroll with Riddles of Ruth
so I can program how brains perceive life
to imitate Principle of the Thing.

Each morning I knock on the Scary Door
to deconstruct prudish Victorian Novel,
the Time Wizard, who repairs Tree-Trunk Clocks,
explains how to contrive the Happy Ending
for the Knight Errant and the Femme Fatale
who married in Church of the Vampire God.

Each morning I knock on the Scary Door
to wrestle Lame Bull of Anxiety,
the Wandering Minstrel on the Signless Road
calls the Shrinking Violent prone to tears
who transforms to Uncanny Valley Girl
when we kiss in Cathedral Ruins of Faith.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus presides over the wedding of Romeo and Cinderella after he is released from the International Hospital of Ghosts on Desolation Row.

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

Beyond The Promised Land
© Surazeus
2026 01 18

Below the hill where fortune waits for me
rain puddles shimmer in the morning sun,
so I gaze down in mirror of my mind
to ponder how human history is based
on the Mother and Child beneath the tree
that blooms with holy apples of the sun.

Iridescent sheen of beautiful hope
inspires my heart to construct from strong wood
home of four pillars on firm pyramid
to shelter bodies of my family
from harsh conditions of indifferent weather
so we can thrive in garden of the light.

Ascension up scale of authority
to manage domestic scope of insight
provides elevated view of the world
composed of wheat fields divided by roads
that channel water from the lake of dreams
where farmers cultivate soul sustenance.

To protect the Mother and Child from harm
I build safe house on pyramid of skulls,
then plow fields with solemn strength of cows
to bake bread from wheat that gleams with sunlight
which I store in warehouse as the loaf-ward,
and thus build world food-production machine.

We cannot return to that Eden state
as we connect all cities on the globe
in teeming web of wealth-computing towers
where we drive swift piston-engine machines
in endless chess game of productive strife
ruled over by thieves in gray business suits.

Still alive after sixty centuries,
World Pharaoh stands on pyramid of gold
to rule the Earth as Demon of Desire
whose faceless mask of great authority
controls state presidents as puppeteer
through statue of gold with soft feet of clay.

Blind singer homeless on the White House lawn
strums lyre of Mercury with crippled hands
and sings with crackling voice of radios
psalms of David and hymns of Orpheus
to lead lost refugees of civil wars
on signless road beyond the Promised Land.

Escaping prison camps of feudal farms,
ruled by tyrants in castles with gold crowns,
we sail the wild Atlantic Sea of fear
to colonize Edenic Promised Land
where we crucify our messiah sleuth
on the telephone pole of the waste land.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus writes hymns on gold plates that shimmer deep in collapsed cave of illusions for one hundred thousand years as code that programs how humans compete for resources in game of thrones.

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

Wild Electric Heart
© Surazeus
2026 01 17

Muted tone of my wild electric heart,
loaded with anguish of harrowing loss
from laughing flames that hammer at black sky
despite unfinished business of sad rain,
hums soft with spooky honesty of fear
when blind angels escape in sudden flight.

Awake in pulsing endlessness of pain
sliced into searing hours of gloom and glare,
I measure changeless beauty of the sea
with each assertive step of cautious hope
as I pray to the path my feet design
in stubborn innocence of wordless rage.

Because I am not self-portrait of God
reflected in clear pool of silver gleam,
I eat ripe apple from the Tree of Fate
to understand why flowers bloom from seeds
with anxious burst of supercilious leaves
which dare explain why I must not be real.

Overwhelmed by flashing rays of sunlight,
which beam from enormous eye in the sky
watching me with relentless glare of truth,
I check my privilege with nervous hand
that I reach helplessly to touch the light
which pierces me with frantic energy.

Inspired to collect proof the sun knows why
ache of sorrow converts my bitter rage
to shocked surprise at sparkle of cool rain,
I must accept that God Mind in the sun
sees my body with original love
though I reverse my journey from my birth.

So I kneel by small pool in Shadow Wood
to cup sweet water with tingling hands
and drink invisible darkness of faith
till I see face of Narcissus by mine
who kisses me with gentle ardency
as we both levitate above the world.

Immortal spirit of my dreaming mind
swells ripe in secret pocket of my heart,
morphing through each evolutionary form,
fish to lizard to mouse to cat to monkey
to wingless angel suckling at my breast
who echoes every breathy word I speak.

Syncopated hymn of humble respect
blooms pure as lily from mud of my flesh
when playful daughter of my soul matures
to young woman with the same silver eyes
Narcissus opens from mask of the sun
when we bury him by pool of our tears.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus visits grave of Narcissus where Echo and their daughter Electra boil apples into sauce they can in jars which they sell at the market just outside of town where the river sings.

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

Secret Scroll Of Tiresias
© Surazeus
2026 01 17

Driven mad by the sweet laughter of truth,
I walk around the town of faceless ghosts
who might be real people with secret names
if I look close enough in their bright eyes
to see one deity our bodies share
animate them with passion to sing their pain.

Scribbling parables from the new age creed
that programs how people perform their roles
in framework of religious fantasy,
I throw book of lies, forged with valency
from myths of miracles, in lake of tears
where fish devour them with rapacity.

Back from lush garden of insanity,
where children struggle to escape dream stones
to play hide and seek in temple of fate,
I knock on locked doors of suburban pride
to sell salvation of the Buddha Toad
who teaches why creatures are free to choose.

Carefully observing forgotten clues
in fragments of tales scattered on the road,
I seek the crippled angel where she hides
in wrecked car on the crumbling bridge of hate
who keeps in her body oracle bones
on which are written spells of vanity.

Purchase dreams that increase capacity
of your brain to analyze bogus fears
preserved in folk beliefs of fulgency
which fester truth in global fallacy
that more than atoms alchemize our souls,
or else admit that love is all you need.

If I see spark of light in cymophane,
retrieved from Persephone on a dare,
I might fall upward in soul-slippery skies
to land in Heaven where devils play games
with humans in cathedrals without hosts
who wait for coming of messiah sleuth.

Though I retreat in labyrinth of fake words
to find secret scroll of Tiresias
on quest to find most fertile Holy Grail,
I always end up at the faith-locked door
to grand cathedral with slant rays of light
where Emily sings hymns of broken hearts.

Young girls in markets sell apples from carts
while I learn magic art of airplane flight
so I can photograph the cosmic core
where God sorts our intergalactic mail
with psychic map designed by Pytheas
who translates riddles of religious birds.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus operates poetic machinery of the mind to project ontological visions of the world on walls of arrogant cathedrals where people weep for fall of Lucifer.

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

Indifferent Nature Of Life
© Surazeus
2026 01 17

Tangled in relentless progress of change,
I move through maze of life on puppet strings
in search to find the master of my fate,
but sense no super-conscious puppeteer
other than indifferent nature of life
that drags me into the future of hope.

My brain projects the future of the world
I want to see on blank wall of desire,
but everything that happens in the past
erases fancy dream of paradise
so I am blinded by strange light of truth
that leaves me stranded in a strange new world.

I wake in future world of strange events
I never imagined in wildest dreams,
so I outline on mirror of the sky
complicated status of social being
to help me understand where I am now
somewhere in endless maze of nowhere else.

While I look at the mirror of my mind
I get in the way of who I should be
when I remember who I used to be
because I know myself better than me
though I am still alive with flame of faith
that twists my body into what I am.

My body flows with endless stream of time
so I research true nature of my being
and find unmeasured strangeness of my heart
embodied by ancestors of my soul
as numberless characters who make me,
indifferent with compassion of the dead.

My inner demon dictates tale of life
I want to play regardless of the rules
so I invent advanced conceptual tools
that help me build vast paradise of truths
composed of stories that depict in scenes
life of every person who ever lived.

I have no answers for questions you pose
about strange beauty of this world we love,
surprised by glory of the flaming clouds
that illuminate silent mountain peaks
with secret honor of the falling god
who wakes inside my body as me now.

Inseminated with pure cosmic light,
my brain expands beyond bounds of belief
so I know name of everything that is,
programmed by circuits of existent souls
who follow routines of heart-breaking grief
to offer pamphlets on the end of time.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus stands on street corners and preaches the end of the world as we know it, and birth of the new world order where all are equal in justice and liberty.

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

Echoes Trapped In Vows
© Surazeus
2026 01 17

In bitter rain of the cold morning hour
all I know are thick mud and tangled trees,
so I search the world for the last gold flower
that intoxicates me with scented breeze,
till I ask ghost of the horse with gold eyes
how she unveils dizzy sun in the skies.

Enclosing me with ancient eyes of light,
snow horse explains how angels without wings
explore our dream world in fantastic flight
as mushrooms bloom in moon-round fairy rings
because I speak in echoes trapped in vows
while writhing with hope under golden boughs.

If I can play baptism of the brain
to understand strange riddles of the clown,
I might arrive at work unwet from rain
at oldest crowded restaurant in town
where I bring plates of food to hungry souls
who excitedly discuss social roles.

The countless selves that separate their masks
from faceless core at center of my mind
imitate me when they perform weird tasks
that sustain social system men designed
because I hide in home of doorless fear
at second coming of the puppeteer.

My younger self on swing of ardent faith
attempts to leap into bright sky of joy
but disappears in mirror of the wraith
to challenge God with puzzles seers employ
in mental game of chess in tune with Death
who teaches me key of celestial breath.

Sad orphans wait for parents to return
from grand amusement park of bankruptcy
despite noble expressions of concern
church leaders sell to steal dream gadgetry
sealed to hide bloodline of the holy grail
through lost heritage of the great white whale.

Awake at hour of midnight outside Heaven,
I search for mask from ancient gallery
designed to enchant spirit of the Raven
whose secret project of world wizardry
realigns structure of great nation-states
to tangle genes that favor divine traits.

Enwrapped in satin cape of princesshood,
I name each person on the signless road
who wants to live in pleasant neighborhood
where every soul bears the same heavy load
in struggle to transcend our mortal state
since we choose how stars reprogram our fate.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus realizes how amazing Ophelia is as he watches her waitress at the popular crowded restaurant every rainy Saturday morning after Sabbath services.

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

Vibrant Spirit Of My Bride
© Surazeus
2026 01 16

Of all the souls whom Artemis has loved,
mortals who shine with favor of her pride,
my bride outshines them all with character
based on attention to practical needs
grounded in concerns of body and soul
fostered by nurture of respectful trust.

While she is still alive with breath of hope
her brave brightness illuminates my world
with rays from Phosphorus, the dawning star,
and after she joins me in Neverland
her memory will guide children of our hearts
with beams of Hesperus, the evening star.

If Chiron makes blind Phoenix see again
then he could take me back across the Styx
so I may bring fruit from tree of Tantalus
to give ripe apple to bride of my heart
whose warm embrace could resurrect my soul
so I can lead her home with Orphean song.

When I compare true beauty of my bride,
which emanates from her confident heart
through deeds of care for children of our souls,
to glamourous Venus with her graceful stance,
I pray mad Goddess of Beauty accepts
that I prefer blunt woman I adore.

With swift-foot courage of bold Perseus
I would save from aggressive beasts of hate
frail spirit of my bride with humble wiles,
preventing thugs from chaining her with greed
so she remains free in haven of faith
to craft her vision of this world in art.

No haunted Semele, doomed by fierce fate
to burn at flash of knowledge about love,
my bride prepares nutritious meals with care
to nourish us with selfless diligence,
inspired by signs of Zeus Semaleus
that guide our journey home to Wonderland.

Since I can take no wealth my hands acquire
to afterlife in lush Elysian Fields,
which is fraudulent fantasy of fear,
then I bequeath as legacy of love
earthly treasures to coffers of my bride
so she may live well long after I die.

Honored by choice of her pragmatic heart
to guard hearth of her adept sovereignty
with generous endowment of selfless love,
I cherish vibrant spirit of my bride
so we share cups of juice with mutual trust
as Mercury and Artemis in love.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus strums lyre of Mercury and sings song of love to Ophelia who ignores him as she grills fish for their children Orion and Ostara to east for supper.

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

Justice Of The Cosmic Wraith
© Surazeus
2026 01 16

We spring from timeless dream of Mother Earth
at song of wingless angels in vast sky
who celebrate our special spirit birth
with vision of love in our ancient eye,
so we feast in grand temple of our faith,
inspired by beauty of the cosmic wraith.

When thieves attempt to crown themselves grand kings
and strut in shining palaces of gold
we pray for Fate to spread wild angel wings
that cast them howling on the storm-wracked wold,
because we fight with bravery of faith,
inspired by passion of the cosmic wraith.

Awake at fulcrum of unbalanced change,
I wield feather of truth inside my soul
to oscillate through matrix of the strange
that nurtures enterprise as sacred goal
by which we compass progress of our faith,
inspired by wisdom of the cosmic wraith.

Thus we explore the world with curious zeal
to build republic of the common good
since clever Helios invented the wheel,
so we form Eden from ghoul-haunted wood,
encoding social laws in book of faith,
inspired by justice of the cosmic wraith.

We gather in great hall of standing stones
with honest intention to debate laws
designed to mold our electric bones
from demons into angels through first cause
with civil discourse on nature of faith,
inspired by prudence of the cosmic wraith.

Concerned at collapse of democracy,
when greedy tyrant grasps taut reigns of power,
we chant satires against hypocrisy
composed by Jupiter in Ivory Tower
with project to revive national faith,
inspired by courage of the cosmic wraith.

I map new world view by the roadless sign
that guides my quest to find the humming toad
whose riddles emanate the charged divine
which beams slant rays to light the signless road
where I lead refugees to land of faith,
inspired by mercy of the cosmic wraith.

My eye shapes symmetry of water drops
to crystal snowflakes through atomic force
when I float high on pyramid of Cheops
to channel through my brain the spiral source
from which springs all life at first flash of faith,
inspired by knowledge of the cosmic wraith.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus strums lyre of Mercury and sings enchanting spells that conjure from our brains divine spirit of the cosmic wraith who mirrors conscious passion of our souls.

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

Cove Of The Introverse
© Surazeus
2026 01 15

Arbitrary array of random thoughts
embodies ancient spirit of respect
awake in chemical shells with hot brains
that pulse attentively from sparkling words
so we become self-conscious clowns of love
happily awkward at confession time.

Round-about method for stacking concepts
as bricks in thick walls that protect our hearts
betrays naive trust in goodness of fate
that leaves our bodies vulnerable to fear
blasting excessive rates of ardent faith
which blinds my eyes to danger by my side.

Huddled safe in cove of the introverse,
where demon fish with arrogant eyes crawl,
I laugh assertively to dispel rage
swelling from strange darkness inside my heart
that knocks me sideways in sudden surprise
because I understand why creatures die.

Soft sand of the beach soothes my aching mind
with supple sorrow sagaciously caught
by thoughtless debates between faceless ghosts
aghast at dismissive whispers of leaves
which deign to shelter our bodies from rain
that always seems to know feelings we hide.

Startled by sudden beat of flaming wings,
I see demonic sphinx with scarlet feathers
glide gracefully above my secret cove,
so I hold my breath with terrified wonder
at what powerful leader of the world
will die at the coming of Gamayun.

Gasping for breath with curious despair,
I follow flaming wings of Gamayun,
who lands on jagged judgment stone of truth
where Perun sits proud on gold throne of power,
and watch amazed as siren with gold eyes
attacks great thunder god with tearing claws.

Astonished at sudden bloody demise
of that great king who ruled since dawn of time,
I stare down at his mangled corpse of bones
that once aggressively asserted power
with brute strength of spirit-controlling rage,
fierce god diminished to torn lifeless corpse.

Holding scepter of power in my hand,
and wearing cape of feathers Perun wore,
I sit on throne of power where he sat
before vast crowd of ghosts who praise my name,
till dream of glory vanishes in gloom
when the sun-bright Gamayun flies away.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus finds Zorya sitting on the throne of power so he plays lyre of Mercury and sings of her victory against Perun as the people feast in celebration of her new world order.

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

Till We Free Eden
© Surazeus
2026 01 15

Romulus has come to America
to steal sword of Spartacus from his tomb
and lead wild men who spring from dragon teeth
in holy war against tyrant of gold
since Midas has allied with Hannibal
to beat heads of upstarts with Bible clubs.

When Jason and the rowdy Argonauts
invade vast cities of America
to kidnap Alice lost in Wonderland,
brave Romulus stands before the locked gate
to face cruel Goliath in civil war
when he shoots David in back of the head.

If laughing Grendel breaks down jeweled gates
to drag the Weeping Woman from her church,
bloodstained Medea rises from her grave
to hurl head of Odysseus at Apollo
who asks brooding Hamlet for good advice
on how to fight for Liberty and Truth.

Since Jupiter asks Artemis for help
to fight invasion of the Viking horde,
who swarm in rage from sea to shining sea,
she leads protests with the bloody flag
to drive Grendel and Goliath from Heaven
and stop them arresting innocent Elves.

Since Nobody knows who is right or wrong,
or what side anyone else should be on,
we shout at each other in crowded streets
while Grendel and Goliath in black duds
beat Jason and Apollo on the head
for opposing Midas in the Gold House.

Dragging innocent citizens from cars,
and locking them in secret prison camps,
Grendel and Goliath, with guns of faith,
declare they will arrest those who dare
obstruct justice in name of Liberty,
and detain people who are the wrong sort.

Alone in homes across Zarathia,
good people of America conspire
to oppose Midas and his gang of thugs
lead by Grendel and Goliath in crusade
to cleanse undesirables from the land
with hammer of Thor in their bloody hands.

Assembling people of America,
Romulus with Excalibur in hand
welcomes Arthur to Land of the Free
who takes hand of Artemis with new hope
and leads us to oppose cruel tyranny
till we free Eden from the gang of thieves.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus joins Artemis and her justice squad in holy war against the tyrant and his gang of thugs who have occupied the Gold House with bloody hands.

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

Must Reckon With Fire
© Surazeus
2026 01 14

If I must reckon with fire of the word
that burns the mind with extravagant faith,
I may elevate with riddles of truth
vulnerable passion of protective pride
because I crave closeness between our hearts
that binds our self-reliance into love.

Each word I carve on trunk of the Time Tree
presents blueprint so the wild voice may draw
inner beauty with emotional strike
of blatant precision that tips my heart
into self-indulgence of selfless love
by which I model how great men behave.

Rooted in performance through empathy
my way of life belabors honesty
by working in the orchard of the lost
who steal their faces from forgotten myths
then sleep in chicken sheds with angel wings,
caged by economic necessity.

Yet while I trudge across the frozen lake
on lucid mirror of infinity,
I stop and gaze at vast array of stars
that do not calculate what fate I live
when I feel the complete universe shift
sideways at glimmer of the wordless book.

Winter stars pierce my tender breast of faith
with surprising laughter twirled by swan wings
so I grasp morning light with blurred respect
when I zoom out perspective to full scope
that collects stories in anthology
devised as scripture for the refugee.

Illiterate sky of naked alphabets
expands so far beyond my conscious shell
that I consider how my body floats,
mythologized by billowed gravity
since I am young and thus expect to know
how far across the country I must go.

I will be nothing after I am dead
as head of brave Goliath on the plate,
amused by reverence for heroic deeds
that save the tribe from monstrous tyranny
before the hour of change has run its course
since I must reckon with fire of the word.

I see true essence of all things that are
because they vibrate with word energy
through brave attentive flight of honey bees
that show me how to fight the tyrant king
and free our people from his grasping greed
that dissipates in age of frantic peace.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus skates across the frozen lake of dream-time to discover how first mother of mankind invented words of fire to warm our hearts.

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

Numinous Phantom Of Love
© Surazeus
2026 01 14

Through fragile keeping of the holy mind,
brain woven from neurons of flashing dust,
I try to preserve in dreams I design
memories of people who created me,
but we all swirl away as dust in wind,
though echoes of our voices ring in song.

I cannot perfect game of solitude
by dancing in slow vortex of all time,
yet I will attempt to suspend its flow
through record of deeds we humans perform
till we are swallowed into nothingness
after atoms organize as our brains.

I wonder as I trudge to work each dawn
if I am David with slingshot of truth
or Goliath defending apple trees,
for they are reborn every eighty years,
doomed to battle in endless game of thrones
since Zeus and Oedipus will always win.

The Rebel will always become the King,
Cronus replaced by Zeus to reign with strength,
who replaced Uranus in game of power,
and Phoebus buried Zeus in hidden tomb,
the father overthrown by his brave son,
till we elect our kings with voice of choice.

We look with longing to the Shadow Wood
for Samson with long hair and blazing eyes
to emerge with spear that Longinus lost,
but Jupiter chains his hands to the wheel
to grind wheat for bread on which empires stand
as young girls weep for Tammuz without end.

With Lucifer and Icarus I fall
blazing with flame of Gabriel from wild clouds,
then fly with Earendel on wings of truth
above our world-wide maze of tribal myths
where idols of dead gods scream in the void,
three angels with no message for mankind.

Reborn as Horwendilus for this age,
I sit in quiet contemplation here
on still point of the turning metaverse
with Crown of Thorns, Lamp of Diogenes,
Sword of Justice Arthur threw in the lake,
and Lyre of Mercury inside my heart.

I wish to avoid getting crucified
since I wear mask of your messiah sleuth
with mission assigned by the cosmic herald
to reveal strange beauty of the White Whole
that you can find climbing three steps to Heaven
and dwell with numinous phantom of love.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus arranges Crown of Thorns, Lamp of Diogenes, Sword of Justice, and Lyre of Mercury in Zarathian Museum of Fantastic Art for people to admire relics of the lost age of myth.

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

Stuck In Maze Of Regrets
© Surazeus
2026 01 13

When I think too much about past events
I find myself stuck in maze of regrets,
so I turn around and walk nowhere else,
wandering listlessly without fateful goal
past broad welcoming gates of Wonderland
till I stand with broken heart by the sea.

Mired deep in soul-sucking muck of despair,
I stare beyond scope of infinity
to where imaginary goddess shines
enskied in mantle of fortunate stars
since my heart wants to stellify her soul
so she descends on wings of honesty.

Enrobed in flashing cape of calm compassion,
she sings enchanting melody of hope
that wraps my fragile soul in arms of love
to draw my writhing ghost from dark abyss
which blooms my mind with broad angelic wings
and sparks my heart with passion to live well.

Emerging from cocoon of anxious fear,
I stretch attentive scope of my soul wide
with conscious wisdom to comprehend why
quick atoms aggregate in dreaming brains
which sparks our souls awake with urgent faith
to fight oppressors for true liberty.

Awake with brave attention of concern,
through intense focus on disparate facts,
I analyze through measurement of deeds
dire consequence spurred by uncertain loops
to trace effects back to their primal cause
enclosing cycle of recurrent scenes.

Thus I perceive with flash of clear insight
psychological operations planned
and executed by clandestine means
through shadow-veiled conspiracy of greed
to trap and bind my fierce angelic soul
with mind-controlling concepts of false truth.

Conceptual system of our social scheme
asserts as uncontested facts of nature
rights that favor with privilege of gain
men who assert aggressive force of will
in strict contract that empowers their hands
to control how we perceive what is real.

After I deconstruct their system of power
to disperse fake authority they claim,
I construct new world view of social rights
which ensures equal opportunity
for every person living on this Earth
so we together walk maze of respect.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus reconstructs fair global system of social equality based on liberty and justice for all as operational guidance for the new world order.

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

God In Temporary Form
© Surazeus
2026 01 13

Untethered from strange taste of ancient fruit
when I hang from my tail in Tree of Life,
I descend to Earth on angelic wings
to fly upright in surging waves of change
where I learn to walk on feet of firm faith
because I see my face glow in bright clouds.

Faint twang of words I speak with holy breath
vibrates through frame of flesh that binds my soul
with writhing beams of moonlight on dark lake,
still weightless on soft undulating waves
ten thousand years after I wake from dream
through evolution as I become god.

I wonder what pain of my body means
that pulses bold with fierce intent to grasp
elusive ghost of flashing energy
that fills my mind with sudden state of being
through clear insight at what my brain perceives
so I speak word that creates why I am.

Gold cloud of bees hum soft with anxious hope
from potent passion of hungry desire
at shock of insight that strikes at my heart
as perfect omen that frames puzzling thoughts
encased in vision of my crafting act
which I perform with gesture of good faith.

Enclosed by limited bounds of my being,
my spirit shivers at sharp gust of breath
that fills my frame with vast industrial cold,
assumed when arrogant ghost in my breast
asserts aggressive need to progress forth
against harsh wind that beats against my face.

Ten million years I spiral into being
by speaking words my brain invents to mean
conceptual objects I perceive as real
when I point to fear-tangled limbs of hope
and say "Tree" as I hold three fingers up,
true shelter of trust where we hold our tryst.

With each word I invent my brain creates
complex landscape of plants and animals
who roam among trees by rivers in vales
between mountains where clouds drench us in rain
that fills our bodies with intense desire
to hold each other with passionate love.

I crawl from womb of mother in the cave
ten thousand generations to transcend
each mortal body as immortal genes
transforming to wingless angel from ape
by singing hymns to idol of the man
who first plays god in temporary form.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus remembers when his mother taught him how to sing as they gathered eggs on the ocean beach.

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

Godless Sun Of Light
© Surazeus
2026 01 12

When I stare out the window of my heart
at vast godless night of eternity,
I wonder how my serpent-powered soul
got trapped in maze of standardized concepts
disguised as idols of eccentric gods
worshipped by humans in multiple forms.

Carving bones of my body into blocks,
I construct city hall with copper dome
where Goddess of Liberty stands on top,
holding Book of Stories and Lamp of Truth,
who shines so brightly with alphabet eyes
that we are blinded by God, Truth, and Right.

When I was the Mother Fish of mankind,
swimming in silent shimmer of the sea,
I remember great God Eye of pure light
that lured me to crawl diamond river bed
to pulsing lake of psychic energy
where I emerged from darkness of desire.

First Mother rises from the lake of dreams
at dawn of time to reach for star-sweet fruit,
swift-running mouse who transforms into cat,
high-leaping cat who transforms into monkey,
tree-swinging monkey who transforms into man,
spell-singing man who transforms into god.

I learn to walk upright in surging tide
while treading water near the sandy shore,
so I rise from lake of dreams at dawn of time
to stretch my arms up to the gleaming sky
where the godless sun of light watches me
explore the world she weaves from molecules.

Because the Many-Faced God of mankind
has no face that my dull eyes can perceive,
I see eternal spirit of the sun
clear in face of every human on Earth
because many variant faces we wear
bloom from perfect face our first mother wore.

While sitting on the beach at dawn of time,
I gaze at face of my mother with love
who smiles at me as bright cloud of the sky
for she watches over me though she dies
as divine soul in godless sun of light
who lives in each new soul we generate.

After I watch body of my dead mother
disintegrate from beauty of her face
to sand that swirls around her smiling skull,
I walk around the Earth ten thousand times
one hundred million years on holy quest
to find her face in godless sun of light.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus leads millions of refugees from civil wars to dance on the beach where first mother taught us how to sing words that express the vision of love in our hearts.

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

Wisdom Of The Quantum Soul
© Surazeus
2026 01 12

Though Death will think I have escaped his eye
because I write my dreams on moon-lit page,
I know he waits with patience of the sea
to swallow my frail light of consciousness,
so I will not blind my heart with needless rage,
instead express my love for life with song.

When Captain Scott arrived at the South Pole,
eager to claim glory of being the first,
yet found Amundsen beat him at the game,
he screamed into the void with bitter angst,
then froze to death while wandering in despair,
and lies forever inside tomb of ice.

Since Antarctic ice flows out to the sea,
Captain Scott, preserved in eternal rest
with same flawless repose as Sleeping Beauty,
will eventually fall into the sea
three hundred and sixty years from his death
where he will float inside his tomb of ice.

Five hundred years from now his tomb of ice
will land on lush shore of the Promised Land
where he will wake at kiss of Artemis
and walk with her among tall apple trees
where she speaks language of the Crystal Snake
who teaches wisdom of the Quantum Soul.

Across bleak landscape of my frozen heart
I ski toward South Pole of our pulsing Earth
to stand on still point of the multiverse
and savor beauty of bright rainbow beams
that weave atomic energy of light
through sinews of my body with dream words.

I am no Moses in the wilderness,
bearing crystal plates with principles
defining how to manage force of life,
yet I climb mountain of the Laughing Skull
to transcribe riddles of its writhing tongue
which prophesy how all great empires fall.

I am no Joshua leading refugees
who flee bomb-hurling planes with angel wings
to colonize tribe-crowded land of lakes,
yet I plow fields of weeds to plant gold wheat
with Golden Calf of Aaron as my guide
so Ceres bakes bread to weep for Tammuz.

I am no Orpheus with broken lyre,
but soul of Mercury wakes in my heart
when I become high mountains and deep seas,
and wake from dream as godless sun of light,
so drink apple cider with me today
as we play hide and seek with Father Death.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus finds wood ship stuck in the ice so he sings elegies for the men whose faceless ghosts dance on the deck to cheerful music for eternity.

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

New Jorvik Magazine
© Surazeus
2026 01 11

After the morning scrolls itself awake
in ponderous words of rain on blue glass,
eyeless sparrow on windowsill of fate
rehearses arrogant remorse by noon
encoded in engine rumble of cars
that float in circles of white butterflies.

If I drink coffee that tastes of elsewhere,
in cup chipped by worry of ignored facts,
I might hear cheerful whistle of the neighbor
who waters delicate plants in clean pots
that have already decided to glow
with unread stories of the morning news.

Developing news on the flashing screen
reveal secret desires of human hearts
which means the faceless ghosts of anywhere
have not yet heard their names hidden in drops
of rain that glitter on the window pane
so tables understand how to stand straight.

I scroll past strange argument about God
that I once designed from logical terms
still typing itself in mouth of the horse
who always brings the tree nymph to my house
so we drink tea brewed from angelic tears
and read poems in New Jorvik Magazine.

Sad siren on stone of Odysseus
braids air with urgency of hungry gods,
but drops unfinished book of fairy tales
unread into the swirling tides of change
that we must deal with in the city streets
where emergencies reach for the last peach.

My phone forgets whom I need to call now,
so I eat lunch alone in crowded church
with private anguish of the humble sign
that flashes when my camera clears its throat,
alert to ad that promises respect
stuck in three payments of simplicity.

Clouds rehearse impersonations of gods
which dwell in mountains, animals, and trees,
except apology no one accepts
for mistake I made on the roadless sign
when the dead king briefly consults my firm
for how to understand words of the rain.

My eyeless sparrow on the windowsill
develops theory about broken brains
that should explain how mirrors steal our souls
each time we write emails to companies
for refunds from the American Dream
which linger unsent in the unsaved night.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus relaxes on balcony of his apartment that overlooks Central Park and reads his latest poem published in the New Yorker Magazine while eating a chocolate croissant and sipping a ginger mocha.

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

Animals With God Souls
© Surazeus
2026 01 11

Within animal body of my name
celestial soul of stellar energy
animates my passion to savor life
when we embrace as voices in the dark
on bed of fabrications we design
to bind our hearts with dawn light of respect.

Because we are the newest animals
to walk the Earth as if we own its dreams,
bright sunlight smiles through tangled limbs of trees
with understanding love that parents give
to watch us play in flowers of childhood
before we build empires of thought control.

We trace insignia through naive hearts
with blades of grass that highlight bitter truth
that someone always tries to confiscate
more food than they need to eat every day,
then traps our spirits with fake legacy
in traditions they ploy to bind our souls.

Trapped in tradition of the way things are,
we struggle to contain fierce energy
to play free on the fenceless plain of wind
till many freeze to death in winter snow
so we combine our efforts to produce
enough food for our children to survive.

I hear strange voices in the godless woods
call my name with eerie whispered tone,
so I log in to my new bank account
with plan to pay the pied piper his due
because Orpheus leads our souls from Hell
in great escape from prison of the church.

Church bells ring weirdly in the misty vale
so we assemble by the drought-dry well
to shake peonies from iron chains of fear
where white lambs graze on sorrows of our hearts
till honeybees brew wisdom from despair
so we engage in dialogue of souls.

If we decide to follow streams of change
by hiding anger at electric clouds,
we may find where the sea of dreams has hid
behind devotion to the lonely girl
who always seems to know what will occur
because she catches lightning with her eyes.

Now that our stars throb in reachable depths,
we sell fruit of grief to strangers with coins
who glare as they draw borders that enclose
our freedom to explore bountiful hills
where rain strips dire urgency from our hearts
because we are animals with god souls.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus leads children from the city of clanging bells to play free in lush hills of apple trees till Midas enslaves them all to dig jewels from mines.

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

Unmined Hills Of Kalitia
© Surazeus
2026 01 11

Regret never suppresses the wild beat
my heart asserts with mission to expand
conscious scope of attention to contain
complex system of knowledge which describes
progress of history through human events
defined by conflict of opposing groups.

My productive gain honestly obtained
sifts sand-loosely through hourglass of desire
though I hoard possessions of petty pearls
in fractured chest of nervous vigilance
sparked by apprehensive analysis
to shield my treasure from covetous thieves.

Strict summary of special benefits
provides venal motive for hungry souls,
susceptible to bribery through greed,
who dare appropriate my unearned loot
through abstract calculation to purloin
embezzled fortune of idolized wealth.

Precious metals of hope-cherished esteem
gleam seductively with alluring faith
of misplaced trust in mercenary art
inspired by predatory plan to gain
material vital to industrial progress
that shines in unmined hills of Kalaallit.

Rapacious gangs of corporate pirates eye
mineral-rich mountains gleaming with ice
which sparks international war to claim
long-ignored paradise of silver light
contrived by Midas in tower of greed
to snatch sovereignty from generous hands.

New Heaven with crystal towers of faith
I will construct on lush plains of Greenland
to found grand Empire of Kalitia
from which I rule with laws of liberty
Zarathia and Gothinia and Russia,
united by Runes of my Odin Eye.

High on unmined hills of Kalitia,
the gleam on Greenland under my God Star,
I raise with bold Odyssean bravery
world flag for United Nations of Earth
as just sovereign over Telluria,
this globe we share that spins in void of faith.

Expanding Roman Empire with broad scope
that unites Europe and America
in peaceful nation based on liberty,
I daydream world peace in my little home,
safe in fairy land of Oconia,
to build new world view from dreams of the old.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus maps the water and sewer pipe systems of his town in Oconia while David rises to fight Goliath over who will rule the new world empire from Greenland.

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

My Empire Of Cash
© Surazeus
2026 01 11

Catching fish of sorrows from lake of dreams,
I roast painful memories on brooding flames
to analyze frame of my mental state
that defines ontology of world fate
in which I arrange puzzle pieces well
as map that directs how I play my role.

Secure in ownership of fertile land,
which my ancestors acquired by blood bond,
I plot complex program to construct frame
of honest principles that lead my team
of corporate pirates to expand cash scope
that we employ to spring financial trap.

Ensconced in steel-glass tower of blind wealth
from which I exploit labor to cleanse filth,
my seat of global power provides base
to manage civil conflicts fired by race
which I devise to conquer and divide
fragile nations fractured by social creed.

My twisted sense of liberty provides
chance to exploit uneducated hordes
with bait that sparks their weakness into rage
when I hire them as goon with gun and badge
since I am free to use men as I will
as fools on which I build Empire of Hell.

Invested in program of thought control,
launched by religious clang of the church bell,
I long conspire with faceless oligarchs
to legislate your tax as secret perks
that channel state funds to my bank accounts
while defunding schools by diverting grants.

Locking once open doors to public schools,
with cleverly encoded mental tools,
I block your access to knowledge of truth
to redirect your professional path
that restricts opportunities to work
in factory I own by homeless park.

Play by rules I establish with state law
and you will earn just enough cash to play
in bright amusement park I also own
in oppressive social system I plan
so you depend on jobs I deign to ploy
that suppress your ambition safely low.

Working hard to build my Empire of Cash,
through company that extracts mental trash,
I scrabble hard to rise from poverty
through principle of social liberty
till I control resource of fertile land
that keeps you all bowed low under my hand.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus plays lyre of Mercury on the street and sings satires that expose criminal enterprise of King Midas and his gang of goons.

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

Broken Lyre Of Mercury
© Surazeus
2026 01 10

His soul lies wounded on the treeless plain
beneath silver shimmer of boundless sky
where one lone airplane on thin angel wings
glides silently beyond eternity,
so he reaches out his pain-twisted arm
to touch soft nothingness with gentle thought.

Clutching broken lyre to his bleeding heart,
fractured turtle shell with splintered deer horns,
Mercury laughs at strange absurdity
that constitutes frantic drama of life
when men assert their vain authority
by beating people on the head with sticks.

Crawling on hands and knees, bruised by false hope,
Mercury slouches on shore of Star Lake
and casts line with hook on the fishing rod
to snag the wriggling demon of the deep,
then roasts it on crackling flames of desire
and eats sizzling white meat with hungry hope.

Ragged rain clouds blown across purple sky
writhe bright orange in flames of anxiety
to cast weird glow on jagged mountain peaks
in tune with eerie howl of ghostly wolves
that seep into hollowness of his heart
at peaceful solitude of nevermore.

Expressing fierce concern of bitter angst
through wistful melody of wavering notes,
star-wounded Mercury wails worldless hymn
that gleams in subtle synchronicity
with wildly flickering beams on restless waves
which pierce his heart with wisdom of respect.

Startled at sudden flash of angry light
on sharp blade of the sword aimed at his breast,
Mercury shields his heart with turtle shell
that he had fashioned into tuneful lyre
so sharp blade of hate cracks lyre shell in half,
causing Ares to stumble on his face.

Crushing skull of the war god with sharp rock,
Mercury defends his life from attack
to preserve frail flesh of his soul with faith,
then clutches broken lyre close to his heart
and sings lamentation of honest pain
at loss of his soul-healing instrument.

While climbing narrow trail in pine-rugged hills
where Mount Takoma gleams with holy light,
I find lost broken lyre of Mercury,
so I tune strings of dream anxiety
and journey far from sea to shining sea
to sing world epic of philosophers.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus plays lyre of Mercury as he hitchhikes across America, singing on the street tales of heroes who oppose tyranny of greedy oligarchs.

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

Dance Forever In The Rain
© Surazeus
2026 01 10

After we run laughing into the small cave
from sudden downpour that drenches the field,
Tellus beams brightly and declares with joy,
"Life is not about waiting for the storm
to pass, but learning to dance in the rain,"
so we hold hands and twirl wildly around.

Faces soaked with gold sparkles of starlight,
we gaze at each other with sudden ache
of passion that strikes our hearts with desire
when lightning flash illuminates the world
of mountains which glows with demonic light,
flushing our bodies with electric hope.

Writhing with pleasure of anguished delight,
we merge our souls in tangle of weird dreams
that feature fish swimming up gushing streams,
lizards swarming on meadows of tall flowers,
cats leaping along vines of large juicy grapes,
and monkeys swinging in trees of moonlight.

Receding back to beginning of time
as we soar deep into eyes of pure love,
we feel inside vast abyss of our souls
first flash that flares forth from big bang of light
that spirals out in galaxies of stars
which nurture worlds teeming with conscious souls.

Gasping with surprise at pleasure of time,
we lie together among rain-wet trees
and listen to waves of the ocean sing,
then we hold hands and wade into cool tide
to bob with undulating waves of joy,
amazed at beauty of stars in the sky.

This dream of creation at dawn of time
shimmers in every human brain on Earth
for we all descend from that primal couple
whose vision codes how we perceive the world,
embracing to generate shells of flesh
that preserve immortal soul of our genes.

So when we run together in the rain
to shelter before glass library door,
we remember what she said with bright eyes,
"Life is not about waiting for the storm
to pass, but learning to dance in the rain,"
so we hold hands and twirl wildly around.

I name this planet that nurtures our souls
Telluria to honor our First Mother,
Tellus, who dreams inside each human brain,
and guides our quest in landscape of her dreams
to generate new life before we die
so we can dance forever in the rain.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus strums lyre of Mercury and sings epic tale about Tellus, First Mother who generates souls of humanity from her dance in the rain.

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

Dream Spell Of America
© Surazeus
2026 01 10

Half my life ago, around thirty years,
I hitchhiked across the United States
of America, sea to shining sea,
from Seattle to Denver to Miami,
improvising grunge folk songs on the street
as I strummed guitar Phoebus gave to me.

I crossed east of the Mississippi River
for the first time at thirty-one years old
in January of Nineteen Ninety-Six,
when I rode in her car with Artemis
from Rocky Mountains to Miami Beach
where I sang Dream Spell of America.

Now thirty years later in my brick home,
where my wife sews scenes of felt folk art,
my kids make movies, and draw graphic novels,
I feel exhausted after thirty minutes
collecting branches fallen in wind storms,
then write dream spells of American Life.

While Whitman sang the great song of the self
to celebrate the many in the one,
and Berryman jumped off the bridge of lies
to escape the many voices of fear,
I translate them all, both sorrow and joy,
in tangled Dream Spell of America.

I sit with Isaiah on White House lawn,
chanting spirit spells in thought-rhymes of truth
to balance parallel concepts of faith
that provide to souls of the Promised Land,
through both criticism and consolation,
vision for Dream Spell of America.

When state institutions of brave respect
provide solemn structure for living well,
we build legal empire on principles
that ensure freedom and justice for all,
till we wake to fight oppression of greed
when our state unravels in civil war.

When fascists seize control of government
to dismantle our education system
so oligarchs enslave us all with debt,
we follow messiah sleuth to design
new ways through equal opportunity
for everyone to work and own their home.

Now United States of America
transforms into empire of thought control
so we gather in maze of fractured myths
to sing new Dream Spell of Zarathia
where every human enjoys civil rights
as core for United Nations of Earth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus plays lyre of Mercury for billions of people gathered to protest tyranny of fascist governments controlled by wealthy oligarchs in fight for liberty of the people to thrive.

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

Brave Voice Of Diotima
© Surazeus
2026 01 10

In our search for beauty to generate
new bodies of flesh from spirit of hope,
we hear voice of Diotima explain
progress of passion to honest respect
when we fuel flame of love as lamp of truth
that guides our quest beyond darkness of faith.

Fear leaves us stranded on the signless road
that we blaze with our feet in woods of fate,
yet resource we acquire from stores of hope
provides material for our crafting hands
to transform wisdom to practical deeds
so we create treasure from poverty.

If I happen to follow the wrong god
home to misty Wonderland by the sea,
I will retreat along the path I blazed
to find the star that calculates my fate
because enormous spheres of burning gas
far away know I need light to give love.

Each pattern of behavior that provides
guidance for how I perform my own life
was designed by people who lived and died
long before I appear in dream of time,
so I feel ghostly threads of their performance
shimmer through fragile web of energy.

When parade of our mutual life gets lost
in looming darkness of social conflict,
I hold high lamp of liberty with hope
to find my own way in the blasting storm
by sending signals in riddles of truth
to indicate our location in doom.

Though darkness of eternity is deep,
which looms in storm clouds over our vast land
to shroud criminal deeds of angry men
with sanctioned veil of official contempt,
we shine with loving respect for all life
as light in lamp that Diogenes made.

Brave voice of Diotima echoes clear
through maze of shattered idols where we wait
for Justice to assert bold principles
which activates our strong collective force
to oppose tyranny of greedy men
in fight against their exploitative crimes.

Though fate seems random in how we all end,
our choices in moments of intense hope
design framework of fortune we contest,
so we attend with generous gifts of faith
strict requirements of blind chemical laws
to shine in darkness with light of our love.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus holds high lamp of liberty that Diogenes made to guide millions of lost souls through darkness of social conflict to garden of global peace.

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

Weird Sense Of Foreboding
© Surazeus
2026 01 09

Mired in weird sense of foreboding, my heart
beats bruised wings against cage of social hopes,
twisted into fears by contentious games
people play to overcome shock that death
stalks us all with beautiful eyes of pain
smooth as stones polished by billion-year waves.

Aggressive respect for untwisted wings
motivates my passion to comprehend
language of trees that scream into the void
because I cannot predict with foresight
how people will act when they leap with faith
in constant battle to maintain control.

Yet she will always bring plates of good food
when I order meal in temple of doom
to shelter from thunderstorm of despair
while the one-eyed man with long tangled hair
strums turtle-shell lyre and sings with sad voice
about noble warriors who die in wars.

Frightened by sudden explosion of words
that bleed fake legends on pulsating walls,
I climb to top of the electric spruce
and squawk with eloquent riddles to prove
I can fly high with wings of butterflies
to scratch my true name on mask of the moon.

When Venus gives me apple of her heart,
I turn it into raven with three eyes
because I would marry Tellus instead,
though Nerthus distracts my heart with her eyes,
so they all agree to share me with trust
when I ride the white horse with pompous pride.

Whatever these memories of my past
have to do with the situation now
that causes chaos in our Promised Land,
I prefer to relax on my back porch
and listen to sparrows sing about love
while people rage against his tyranny.

No weird prophetic verse of riddling truth,
which I write on wave-swirling sands of time,
will change the way global events unfold,
so I chronicle what my eyes perceive,
then leave book of their crimes in dusty hall
where no one will read it ten thousand years.

Though story of America we share,
which narrates noble deeds of honest souls,
falls apart when violent gangs attack
innocent people to control their minds,
great heroes will emerge from teeming crowds
to prove better angels lead us from Hell.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus wakes from paralyzing sense of fear to preach salvation of communal respect to sustain justice and liberty for all, so we join his fight against tyranny of fear.

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

Weird Sense Of Foreboding
© Surazeus
2026 01 09

Mired in weird sense of foreboding, my heart
beats bruised wings against cage of social hopes,
twisted into fears by contentious games
people play to overcome shock that death
stalks us all with beautiful eyes of pain
smooth as stones polished by billion-year waves.

Aggressive respect for untwisted wings
motivates my passion to comprehend
language of trees that scream into the void
because I cannot predict with foresight
how people will act when they leap with faith
in constant battle to maintain control.

Yet she will always bring plates of good food
when I order meal in temple of doom
to shelter from thunderstorm of despair
while the one-eyed man with long tangled hair
strums turtle-shell lyre and sings with sad voice
about noble warriors who die in wars.

Frightened by sudden explosion of words
that bleed fake legends on pulsating walls,
I climb to top of the electric spruce
and squawk with eloquent riddles to prove
I can fly high with wings of butterflies
to scratch my true name on mask of the moon.

When Venus gives me apple of her heart,
I turn it into raven with three eyes
because I would marry Tellus instead,
though Nerthus distracts my heart with her eyes,
so they all agree to share me with trust
when I ride the white horse with pompous pride.

Whatever these memories of my past
have to do with the situation now
that causes chaos in our Promised Land,
I prefer to relax on my back porch
and listen to sparrows sing about love
while people rage against his tyranny.

No weird prophetic verse of riddling truth,
which I write on wave-swirling sands of time,
will change the way global events unfold,
so I chronicle what my eyes perceive,
then leave book of their crimes in dusty hall
where no one will read it ten thousand years.

Though story of America we share,
which narrates noble deeds of honest souls,
falls apart when violent gangs attack
innocent people to control their minds,
great heroes will emerge from teeming crowds
to prove better angels lead us from Hell.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus wakes from paralyzing sense of fear to preach salvation of communal respect to sustain justice and liberty for all, so we join his fight against tyranny of fear.

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