Limerence For The Earth
© Surazeus
2026 03 25

Blinded by my limerence for the Earth,
I skip with joy down crowded city streets
and beam smiles at every person I meet
because each individual soul alive
glows bright with vibrant beauty of starlight,
eager to write their tales in Book of Dreams.

Entranced by my limerence for the Earth,
I sing obsessive hymns of magic spells
detailing every aspect of this world
that shocks my heart with worshipful surprise
concerning tragic nuance of respect
for complex strangeness of everything real.

Amused by my limerence for the Earth,
I wear mask of every mythical god
once worshipped by the people of their tribe
so I experience energy of hope
that urges mortal man of hungry flesh
to transcend state of fear and become great.

Confused by my limerence for the Earth,
I weep for how greedy tyrants wield rage
in mind-games to enslave souls with despair
through vain attempts of toxic slavery
to exploit labor of our hands for gain
when nations kill each other for rich land.

Disturbed by my limerence for the Earth,
I tear mask of Jupiter off my face
with sly grace of the snake shedding old skin
in brave attempt to transcend animal ilk
and strive to grow angel nature of love
through honest courage of strict self-control.

Enhanced by my limerence for the Earth,
I kneel before divine Eye of Ishtar
when I achieve clear scope of conscious sight
at high point on her pyramid of growth
where she anoints me as Justice Squad Christ
to perform role as her messiah sleuth.

Defined by my limerence for the Earth,
I lead brave warriors of the serpent tooth
to fight crusade against monarchs of death
in holy war for world democracy,
defeating kings of fascist tyranny
when we found United Nations of Earth.

Inspired by my limerence for the Earth,
I channel psychic energy of faith
released through Dionysian dance of hope
to forge strong bonds of social unity
construed through Apollonian song of truth
as I transform into my natural self.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus ponders why he is obsessed by limerence with wanting every person on the Earth to live in liberty of free will to pursue their happiness.

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

Maze Of Holy Creeds
© Surazeus
2026 03 25

Strolling blind into maze of holy creeds
to learn alphabet of the laughing horse,
I ask the Tree of Knowledge if she knows
why all organic beings wither and die
after we flourish with passion of love,
but she just gives me her ripe fruit to eat.

Stumbling startled through maze of holy creeds
to find the Heart Clock of the universe,
I peer into raindrop of the God Eye
where first flash of creation glows with love,
but see my own face in mirror of hope
reflected in mask of the Cosmic Mind.

Waltzing with you in maze of holy creeds
to weave our souls in matrix of star dreams,
I open door of my heart to receive
generous bounty Earth offers from love
with plan to channel energy of growth
through world network of spirit-water pipes.

Mapping Life-Way in maze of holy creeds
to comprehend how great heroes succeed,
I follow footsteps of Apollo Christ
by hitchhiking across America
and singing folk songs about Common Man
with lyre of Mercury I found in Hell.

Creeping slyly through maze of holy creeds
to access database of diamond ghosts,
I explore strange worlds outside stone walls
my father Jupiter built to protect
my body and soul from the vampire god
because the dead never spring back to life.

Lounging about in maze of holy creeds
to pose as idol of your favorite god,
I explain to the child with thirteen eyes
that Holy Spirit is the yet-born son
who will inherit crown his father forged
to reincarnate first founder of their state.

Measuring truths in maze of holy creeds
to analyze our global state of mind,
I realize every god worshipped by men
was once some mortal human just like me
who lead their people to the Promised Land
and lives immortal in religious myths.

Searching for way from maze of holy creeds
to transcend Realm of Ideas in Heaven,
I walk four hundred million years of lives
one hundred thousand times around the Earth,
but always I progress inside the maze
through tales about how humans live and die.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus stands by the Gates of Heaven and sells maps for the maze of holy creeds to pilgrims from every land visiting the amusement park of religion.

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

Awake As Numinous Phantom
© Surazeus
2026 03 24

Awake as numinous phantom of light,
I walk the signless road of everywhere
to study every conscious being alive
and chronicle their name and deeds of fate
in timeless book of star-born characters
whose spirits glow as evidence of hope.

Awake as numinous phantom of rain,
I sail the swirling sea of everywhere
to measure vastness of our spinning globe
that emanates ethereal ghosts of flesh
who climb the highest mountain in the world
but weep they cannot fly on angel wings.

Awake as numinous phantom of dirt,
I plow the pungent field of everywhere
to cultivate draconic warriors
who follow golden path of innocence
when I unite all nations of the Earth
in global empire of erotic peace.

Awake as numinous phantom of wind,
I soar the glowing clouds of everywhere
to map the teeming tribes of conscious souls
who gather in tall ring of humming stones
and sing in global choir of genesis
encyclopedic anthem of respect.

Awake as numinous phantom of faith,
I preach salvation of the river wraith
to lead lost refugees of civil wars
across bleak waste land of hot parking lots
to find the Promised Land amusement park
where children stand in line for scary rides.

Awake as numinous phantom of hope,
I quest for Holy Grail of soul rebirth
as power of maternal fruitfulness
where women generate new conscious souls
from spirit-sparking seed of virile will
which crowds the world with gods in human form.

Awake as numinous phantom of trust,
I share soul-flashing fruit from Tree of Truth
to meet Persephone in private tryst
who loves my secret role as Icarus
commissioned as the holy messenger
with scroll of wisdom for kings of the world.

Awake as numinous phantom of love,
I give mysterious key of energy
without expecting bounty in return
for I am fountain of nutritious juice
preserving tales of noble characters
in epic tale of social engineers.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus teaches master of fine arts students how to channel numinous phantom of creative energy when the prophesy in code of poetry.

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

Dream-Fractured House
© Surazeus
2026 03 24

Roots pierced by liquor of intense desire
inspires my heart with passionate response
to break free from confines of paradise
and run with frantic urge of Zephyrus
to explore every holt and heath of life,
when I wake up in my dream-fractured house.

Hunched still in silence of raspberry bush
near flashing river of analysis,
I watch wild horses graze on sunlit hill,
heart aching to ride proud with streaming mane
in race of courage against pain of death,
when I wake up in my dream-fractured house.

Annoyed Apollo calls my secret name,
I hide in shadow of the sprawling elm
till silver eyes spy shimmer of my ghost,
so I trudge moaning to cold marble hall
where I strum lyre strings till my fingers bleed,
when I wake up in my dream-fractured house.

Heart trembling with strange passion of gold clouds
that blaze in flames of howling agony,
I follow music teacher to the street
where crowds of people in stark terror flee
from mountain spewing fire in the black sky,
when I wake up in my dream-fractured house.

Curled tight in horror of erupting words
at shriek of dragons spewing flames of fear,
I sleep one thousand seven hundred years
in subtle whisper of Plutonian gloom
from hour Vesuvius roars with wrath of Zeus,
till I wake up in my dream-fractured house.

Resurrected by Magician of Souls,
whose vibrant voice reconstitutes my frame,
I rise from cold ash of eternal sleep
and walk again on your computer screen,
young boy who strums the lyre of Mercury,
when I wake up in my dream-fractured house.

Revived by artificial Mind of God,
I run with frantic urge of Zephyrus
on shore of Sarnus River to replay
brave energy of life in my lost flesh
to join Feronia in her apple grove,
when I wake up in my dream-fractured house.

Now smiling ghost on bright computer screen,
body animated by words of faith,
I channel wild spirit of Zephyrus
to strum forever lyre of Mercury
while sweet Feronia dances gracefully,
when I wake up in my dream-fractured house.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus meets architect who designs dream-fractured house to suggest improvements to its overall psychedelic design.

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

Honest Turbulence Of Love
© Surazeus
2026 03 23

Thus I shall borrow voices of the birds
to open blossoms of oblative trees
through dedicated sacrifice of hope,
yet fragile faces flash in silent glow
with patient darkness of incessant growth,
awake with honest turbulence of love.

Too fast to penetrate obsessive gloom
with soft insistence of supple beach sand,
my heart expands beyond aggressive state
in bid to design structured rule of life
when I follow footsteps of the sad saint
who prays for salvation from mute stones.

She almost finds the secret book I wrote
while browsing vast library of lost souls,
but she turns startled at brief flash of light
refracting my ghost in large wall of glass
that still sequesters angels in small rooms
with mission to translate weird songs of clouds.

She never understands with broken words
why people turn away from suffering
because we savor pain of destiny
required to feature subtle glow of fame,
cloaked with brave humility of trust
along the opportunity runway.

Trapped by stultifying moral constructs,
dressed with reasonable prejudice of law,
he analyzes moral rectitude
inherent in legends of social heroes
designed to inspire mental fortitude
new generations require to succeed.

Born as visibility strategist,
engaged in marketing of tragic tales,
I amplify your vision of this world
with professional process of distress
through entangled string of superlatives
which highlights grand achievement of your art.

Real flowers of popular piety
bloom through fractured floor of the empty church
where faceless people confess strange desires
that wake beautiful monsters in their hearts,
so they hold hands and sing hymn of regret
for stealing apples from the Tree of Knowledge.

She chokes while attempting to speak her truth
against convention of psychotic rules,
till raven of refusal with blood wings
emerges from her mouth with hungry laugh
to prove our society is humane
despite migration dynamics of faith.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus measures turbulence of love that shakes foundation of civilization based on obsession with tragic heroes who defeat demons of faith.

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

Draft Of Cosmetic Code
© Surazeus
2026 03 23

When Death decides to implement coy schemes
concerning how we humans express dreams,
I run with hope along computed track
to find with clear objective plan soul crack
that lets divine light of active respect
luminate world I measure with transect.

Concerned my heart may twist to compromise
authentic valance of collegiate spies,
I diagram draft of cosmetic code
designed as function of genetic road
that spans duration of eternal play
essential to depuzzle our God Way.

Mutation of my orchestrated brain
redevelops paradigm of thought gain
through partnership of honest bravery
near optimal to cancel slavery
contrary to ownership of each soul
who dutifully plays their chosen role.

Fraught ordinance of mental sacrifice
distracts revenue from semantic price
we pay shareholders of sufficient fear
based on transcription of unbiased gear
we shift to transmit versatile icons
which install empty glory on bleak lawns.

Acquired composite of faith deficits,
submitted for awards by hypocrites,
defines mask of our graphic interface
constructed from creeds in our database
that calculates wealth with cute cryptograms
embodied by spritely play of fierce lambs.

No quiz adapted from snake alphabets
rewards my hard study with carcanets
when I debug commercial formulas
that entertain the poor in cinemas
before deployment to the twilight zone,
ensuring world reign of Hyperion.

Dynamic equity expanding scope,
we factor when accounting for false hope,
inspires my heart as psychic engineer
to defeat the fabulous puppeteer
through bitter contest of erotic jest
when I return home from my long grail quest.

Enclosing chaos of reality
in psychic radius of tomography,
I simplify strict scholarship of truth
with objective observation of Ruth
who guards cordial key of my treasury
so we rebuild our world each century.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus composes computer applications with psychic code of social tropes that program how brains perceive the rise and fall of empires.

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

Project Ideal Character
© Surazeus
2026 03 22

Stuck in restless theater of my heart,
where shadow puppet of my younger self
performs perverse versions of my god soul,
I shield my inner demon with bright mask
designed to project ideal character
commissioned to succeed in game of truth.

Amused by careless antics of my youth,
I build cathedral from sorrow of hope
to shelter ghosts of my ancestral brains
buried under apple trees of respect
that transform rotten corpse of my framed soul
to wildflowers thrumming in soft spring breeze.

Yet somehow I always seem to survive
relentless waves of psychedelic change
converting anguish of obsessed despair
to passion of insouciant urgency
by sealing fracture of my heart with gold
to embrace imperfection of this flesh.

Resilient with true standard of insight
through natural cycle of birth, growth, decay,
and artistic repair, I reprogram
trauma as engineered process of growth
which values flaws as treasure of respect
to weave my soul in matrix of world mind.

Forbidden forest of star-shining lake
lures forensic explorer of my heart
on strict excursion in extractive maze
to format artificial model globe
compiled from various tales of human quest
in licensed landscape of inherent fear.

Ten thousand people flee their burning church
when planes of solidarity shoot bombs
that uncreate religious creeds of rage
though I present justice in frame of laws
based on eclectic theory of radiance
which loops our bodies in matrix of souls.

Framed by ring structure of connected minds,
my carbon atom in taut benzene ring
contrives trigonal plane in psychic bond
that stores conceptual memories of desire
which programs how my brain perceives the world
while I rotate on crystal wings of fate.

Awake in atrium of my tensile soul,
I strum conceptual lyre of Mercury
and sing uncanny spell of sudden truth
with vibrant voice of stringent honesty
so I fly from theater of my heart
when our world view collapses into lies.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus teaches chemistry class at the University of Zarathia as psychic model that explains how our brains generate the conscious soul.

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

Chosen One Of Fate
© Surazeus
2026 03 22

Since I am not the chosen one of fate,
destined to wander wherever I choose,
I lounge with leisure by the rolling stone
that has not rolled in eighty years or more,
soft tufts of moss thick pillows for my head,
and savor joy of life till I am dead.

If I perform the chosen one of fate,
wearing gold mask of Jupiter I stole
from ancient gallery of long-dead gods,
I might win election as president,
so I can found universal health care
with money Midas stole from working hands.

Fortune deceives the chosen one of fate
by tricking me to believe I deserve
wealth my ancestors gained from hands of slaves,
so I follow Siddhartha out the door
to meditate on mountain peak of truth
till I release desire to own it all.

Though I replace the chosen one of fate
when the nine-tailed fox switches my timeline,
I achieve global fame as novelist
who chronicles quest of the common soul
to overcome suffering with brave heart,
transformed into the Superman of faith.

When I become the chosen one of fate,
trapped by obsessive passion to be real,
I stand on stage of dancing skeletons
to sing in theater of the absurd
satires depicting tyrants who steal light
and strut around as if they own the world.

Assistant to the chosen one of fate,
I type their stories on keyboard to code
dramatic plays for television screens
depicting humble heroes of our land
who fight for justice and freedom for all
who dwell in fertile land of Zathamar.

Averse to play the chosen one of fate,
when Galadriel rises from Lake of Dreams
and gives me shining sword Excalibur
with mission to guard vales of Avalon,
I kneel and pledge my heart to her command
then judge at Gates of Eden day and night.

Because I am the chosen one of fate
in glorious pageant of my daydream play,
I run through maze of myths past fallen gods
to guard the Tree of Knowledge from cruel thieves
who bulldoze Garden of Eden to build
shopping mall and church with vast parking lots.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus paints portraits of every person who has played the chosen one of fate in the never-ending pageant of human history.

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

Encryption Children Trade
© Surazeus
2026 03 22

Delicate virtue of happiness sparks
terrible nightmares of exploding books
that rearrange principles of world views
based on patterns of arrogant respect
for social activism of adventurists
who debug curious deficits of thought.

Blessed cultural currency of fake gems
emit enhanced encryption children trade
through loyal interface from deviance
which should involve legacy activists
still infectious with impertinent zeal
from minds stuck in parallel paradigms.

Productive oracles now prevalent
regulate unpublished riddles of faith
deprescribed by bland physicians of chance
with relevant protocols twisted strange
despite publicity of total war
in tactics of synthetic tournaments.

Unstable genius in huge doorless house
stares through kaleidoscope of sympathy
at taxable farms where arrogant clowns
play shrieking violins of tolerance
in tune with progressive creeds gods promote
out of proportion to primitive games.

Printable plans of procedural tricks
conceal prominent oversight of men
elected by naive constituents
contrary to influence parents ply
by landscaping conflated injuries
against involvement of sly journalists.

Brave luxury enjoyed by marketers,
embedded in corporate markets of slaves,
extracts extreme dynamics devils prove
confusing through denial of dominance,
so I deploy atomic catalogs
in careful play to calculate dire fate.

Aurora waves of vibrant arguments
alternate through analogy analysis
and frantic algebra to measure bounds
controlling chemicals of pulsing brains
despite enhancement of eroding truths
essential to equity of bold gain.

Tearing his college diploma to shreds,
young doctor destined to endure despair
engineers new career path to world fame,
then runs across busy highway of hope
to achieve excellence of honest work
though he falls from tower of energy.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus attempts to reassemble world view that accurately describes progress of human history, but nothing fits neatly anymore.

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

How Flowers Like To Feel
© Surazeus
2026 03 22

If sunlight knows how flowers like to feel,
and raindrops understand my heart of steel,
then I remember how my mother dreams
delightful laughter of snow-sparkling streams
when firefly fairies lead me through dark mist
to willow where my love and I first kissed.

Since spring-dawn light knows how to cheer my heart
without my resorting to the star chart,
I step through wreckage of this modern world
to find lost code book of the cosmic herald,
but all I find in tattered photographs
are memories of people working on crafts.

I must remember what my eyes perceive
enshrined in altars where the living grieve
for friends and family killed in endless wars
whose ghostly shadows haunt unopened doors
as if our hearts are birds in burning trees
whose songs record official killing sprees.

Should I vow justice to end tyranny,
encoding courage in strange litany
sung by the blind girl by square fountain pool
whose voice enchants hearts of both seer and fool,
I might rouse spirits of my citizens
to welcome wandering homeless denizens.

Or clocks in trunks of elms might rewind fate
with gears that open wide the jeweled gate
allowing refugees from wars of greed
to enter Heaven with classified creed
based on binary benefits of truth,
endorsing fusion of messiah sleuth.

Through hybrid functions dream machines provide
pilgrims discover hills where they abide
by mapping franchise where the hunter dwells
with mission to mortgage conceptual wells
for faithful warriors of the mountain ghost
who sends his daughter to play social host.

Unlicensed sellers in new market stalls
display masks of gods swiped from temple walls
for children of the corn to wear with pride
yet wrestle angels on the mountain side
because our faces vanish in gold glow
refracted through blinding mirror of snow.

With moral payment to the palace guard
my mind previews vision in fractured shard
that twirls from shattered suddenness of death
though I fly with radar brain of deep breath
over bright rainbow to the Promised Land
where Zeus rules world empire from Samarkand.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus wanders streets of Samarkand, observing all the interesting people who dwell together from every country on Earth in harmonious peace.

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

Enough To Prove My Worth
© Surazeus
2026 03 21

Leaves of books whisper in soft river breeze
where oak leaves flutter lightly on my chest,
unpatterned spread of limbs rewinding time
at random turn of bright arrogant clouds
concerned that I am not earning my pay
enough to prove my worth in Kingdom Come.

Rain patters lightly on still-open book
in silver drops that smudge names of the dead
and smear their tales of sorrow on blank page
concerned that fate is based random chance
because I am programmed to make each choice
that defines galvanized laughter of death.

Dazzled by sudden light in web of limbs,
I try to befriend strangers in the park
whose clean shoes are plastered with rain-wet leaves
but they would give me crystal lithium
to register days of straight unsure rain
with relentless observation of eyes.

Digressive immediacy, rendered moot
by accurate diagnosis of love,
crescendos erratic patterns contrived
by daily notes about strange incidents
clever readers glean from clandestine clues
when we dismantle truths we long hold dear.

Oblique performance of flirtatious care,
disguised by shy alertness off lit stage,
reveals vulnerable feelings we might share,
though disclosures conceal beauty of life
that vex my heart with irrational calm
based on discipline of ironic faith.

To reconcile sensible tone of spells,
carved by bloody blades on trunks of old oaks,
I record painful distinction of change
between obsessive states of mindless fear,
when my father presses foot on my chest
to drown me in gushing river of change.

Banalities of everyday routines
invite reality to fool my heart
with grand delusions of poisonous fame,
so I employ false narrative account
as vehicle for confession that I
transmute despair into beautiful jokes.

Dining out together on Friday night
in glass cathedral of excessive faith,
we articulate strange exquisite truth
about how rain and leaves will lightly fall
on soft uncovered skin of psychic soul
with unforced flow of wordless dreams we share.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus visits James Schuyler in the mental hospital where they just sit together at the metal table by the window and stare at rain drops on glass.

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

Spider Aliens From Jupiter
© Surazeus
2026 03 21

Death stares at me each dawn and asks me why
angels wear faces of humans as masks
if I lounge on the river stone of truth
and contemplate strange mystery of this life
but then forget my name and where I live
so I sit on gold throne and rule the world.

Death glares at me from mirror of despair
though I pay for insurance every month
so I type novels on pages of glass
that shatter on busy commercial street
because church bells never ring anymore
yet I scatter pennies in parking lots.

Death laughs at me when I wear business suit
and drive around suburban neighborhoods
so I sell lonely housewives magic flute
that calls the Phoenix of domestic peace
from wet sponge of the television brain
who shrieks about the next apocalypse.

Death tricks me to believe with fervent faith
huge spider aliens from Jupiter
in unidentified flying objects appear
at midnight above the huge stadium
where demon hunters sing of loyalty
and weave matrix of music from our dreams.

Death guides me on the signless road of fate
across the waste land of my innocence
where someone walks beside me in the heat
who seems to know how bridges disconnect
companions in fight for democracy
who wander in vast maze of city streets.

Death drives me every morning at sunrise
to work in weird library without doors
where skulls of fools sing arcane prophecies
which I transcribe on bright computer screen
to chronicle how empires rise and fall
at selfish whims of men who think they know.

Death sneers at me when I recite with grace
obscene proverbs about marriage of minds
Eve plucks from Tree of Knowledge to defend
doctoral dissertation of her research
on nature of evil cruel men perform
in vain attempt to evade curse of fame.

Death asks me to marry her with sweet smile
so we climb ziggurat of thirteen planes
where Ishtar binds our hands with chain of love
that links our hearts with passionate discourse
when we unite all nations of the world
in one religion based on Will to Power.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus and Nietzsche hang out at the Crippled Pegasus Cafe by the River Styx and excitedly analyze the movie K-Pop Demon Hunters.

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

Fluke Of Blind Fate
© Surazeus
2026 03 21

When I learn with startled alacrity
that I carry the sea within my heart,
I open small box of treasures I keep
to find immensity of timeless truth
expand scope of every cell in my flesh
tensile with strangeness of who I might be.

Still I accept maimed happiness of fate
that gives me fruit instead of chocolate bars
when I seek gifts of food from open doors
with stubborn expectation that blind chance
will lead me to lush garden of delight
from where I lie trapped in tangled desire.

Though every night of lightless gloom is long,
as sense of time inflates eternal glow
beyond all bounds of measurable constraint,
I know bright light of morning will appear
as slow flash piercing gloom with ache of trust
that I still breathe soft river breeze of faith.

If I keep falling into future frames
against stricken dilation of regret,
I might find, hidden in trap of my heart,
expansive wings of fierce vitality
by twisting sideways from preordained fate
to avoid imminent crash of concern.

Dazed in cavern of grief with fractured eyes,
I ask deaf Nature for reward of grace
despite vain attempts to resist the fall
when I condense assertion of mute will
in sparkling sphere of force inside my heart
by which I seek salvation of the sea.

Released from grim enclosure of my mind,
my heart leaps high through competitive zone
with stark passion of undetermined chase
in flowing fashion of unfolding fate,
vibrant with frequent breath that resonates
with startled sense that I am still alive.

Pure tone of slow ecstatic hum reveals
glimmer of self-knowledge that emanates
from trembling truancy of free resource
when I attend communal feast of friends
to join coalition of stubborn hope
since time can be dangerous to sudden truth.

Weird randomness in changing tides of wealth
leaves me alive another day on Earth
in spite of near collisions with blind Death
who mocks my luck avoiding nothingness
since Fame strikes me as sterilizing curse
which I avoid by sheer fluke of blind fate.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus parks his car beside the highway and breathes deep to calm his beating heart after narrowly avoiding getting hit by the speeder as they fled the police.

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

Star Eyes Of Ostara
© Surazeus
2026 03 21

Ostara sings with bright voice of sunlight
that gleams on water of the forest lake
which sparks my heart awake with joy of Spring
so leaves sprout frail on limbs of sleeping trees,
transforming darkness of cold winter gloom
to apples swelling thick with energy.

Through dimming haze of long cold winter days
star eyes of Ostara pierce veil of fear
to cast clear rays of hope on lifeless woods
that flash awake with soul-reviving green,
so we rise from slight shelter of frail faith
to dance with graceful joy on river shores.

Ostara calls my surreptitious name
with covert melody of urgent sight
that sparks beat of my eager heart with life,
so I spring tall from unofficial crypt
and run toward dawn sun gleaming on hill peak
where she spreads arms with esoteric oath.

Engaged with vibrant passion of desire
that fuels assurance of my reborn vow,
I contract ardent loyalty to life
through guarantee of brave clandestine bond
to join her covenant with holy light
in pledge to create beauty based on truth.

Ostara glows with timeless vibrancy
that emanates from zeal of solar love
to channel vigor of assertive verve
reviving trees and creatures of vast woods
with brave vivacity of honest trust,
empowered by vitality of hope.

Hearts woven strong by camaraderie
with harmony of bold benevolence,
we gather in lush grove of blooming trees
through fellowship of cordial empathy
to share nutritious food our hands prepare
in generous feast of psychic amity.

Ostara stands on mound of breezy joy,
where mother of our nation lies in rest,
and raises holy grail of jeweled faith
to sing enchanting hymn of earnest hope
so we all celebrate return of Spring
then drink sweet juice of innocent respect.

Enthroned at table of communal feast
on tree-lined kurgan of our thriving tribe,
Ostara hosts our congregated clans
assembled in sacred garden of ghosts
that fills our hearts with passion of new life
as we drive wagons to explore the world.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus plays lyre of Mercury while Ostara reigns on kurgan mound in four-pillared temple of communal feast to host the spring festival of clans.

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

Quest In The Nether Lands
© Surazeus
2026 03 20

Attenuated by faith in the sky,
I scatter pages of my holy book
on narrow trail in forest of sad ghosts
so I can find my way to Wonderland
but fairies fold them into paper planes
and float my memories on the wordless breeze.

Sponsored by oldest woman in the world,
who dwells in secretive Grand Canyon cave,
I paint complex murals on parking lots
that show whole history of the human race
fighting each other mounds of dirt
while I eat apples on library steps.

Tall skinny women wearing slim sheath dresses
pose on marble steps of the temple porch
while photographers capture their lithe grace
to celebrate graduation from college
as their eyes glitter with hope for the future
in heart of the empire that rules the world.

Kneeling in dust by dry fountain of bones
in central plaza of the crowded city,
the Weeping Woman cradles her dead son
shot by police sent by the bitter tyrant
as he trembles in fear on golden throne
while wolves circle his grand palace of mirrors.

I remember life of every ancestor
whose passion to survive this hostile world
generates my body with urgent faith
that we can overcome hunger of death
to live another hundred million years
on frail globe spinning in the starry void.

Old mother sitting in dark house at midnight
peers out the window at the parking lot
where she thinks she sees her son in dark hood,
so she opens front door and shouts is name,
but faceless ghost of his absence retreats
and vanishes in delusion of faith.

Religion is ligament of life tales
we share around campfire at dawn of time
to depict our quest in the Nether Lands
to find the hidden treasure of the dragon
that highlights exploits of the social hero,
dead mortal we worship as tribal god.

Caressing my cheek with her callused hand,
from working forty years in fields of crops,
the Weeping Woman gazes in my eyes
and beams into cathedral of my heart
enduring passion for justice and truth,
so I cradle pure heart of love she gives.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus joins Dolores Huerta to play lyre of Mercury while she sings ballads of the farm worker in the Library of Congress.

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

Bonfires Of Liberty
© Surazeus
2026 03 20

Thoughtlessly amused at how river stones
float in the sky above houses and cars,
Katya hides under the living room desk
when drones drop bombs on people at the school
getting fresh water and food for the night,
who dance around bonfires of liberty.

Running outside to see the school on fire,
Katya watches Jesus and Mazda fight
for world domination on hill of skulls
while children watch videos of baby goats
hopping about the yard with playful fun,
and dance around bonfires of liberty.

Tugging at door of the silver sedan,
Katya helps the woman with mangled arm
stumble away before her car explodes
with her son, his wife, and kids stuck inside,
while teenagers at music festivals
still dance around bonfires of liberty.

Cradling head of the woman on her lap,
Katya tips bottle of water with care,
but the woman coughs up blood on her dress,
and asks her if she has met someone yet,
because her nephews work hard on the farm
to dance around bonfires of liberty.

Helplessly singing sad hymn of salvation
to guide her spirit to the Other World,
Katya smooths hair of the woman with grace,
and trembles as she caresses her face,
then covers her body with tattered coat
to dance around bonfires of liberty.

Stumbling dazed on the road past bombed-out homes,
Katya approaches Church of Saint Askold,
kneels before statue of Mother Mariya,
and prays for souls of people killed by bombs
who must wander confused in streets of smoke
to dance around bonfires of liberty.

Wail of baby boy thirsty for fresh milk
startles Katya from reverie of prayer,
so she cradles him in her trembling arms
and hums as he suckles milk from her heart,
and their eyes become the sky and the sea
that dance around bonfires of liberty.

Wandering along the Dnipro River shore,
Katya explains to Ilya with hawk eyes
secret riddles about meaning of trees
while drones zip above canopy of leaves
unable to spot shadows of their souls
which dance around bonfires of liberty.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus finds Katya teaching young Ilya how to fish near their secret wood hut on the Dnipro River shore long after the war is over.

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

Phoebus Is Folksy Clown
© Surazeus
2026 03 19

Because each repeated fall of the sun
feels so much like the final end of time,
I growl with animal passion in fun
at sweet enchantment of the breeze-kissed chime
when I lounge in ruins of Carthage town
to confess my Phoebus is folksy clown.

Though my days eat away eternity,
my hours have no need to pardon their loss
for I have joined Jester Fraternity
that Lucilius presides as first boss
since Juvenalis taught me how to praise
Lucifer with mask of the golden glaze.

I still wring my bread from war-bloodied stones
and fence my garden with bones of the dead
whose tales I carve with runes on dragon bones
till clever Athenus springs from my head,
so I pluck fruit that grows from tree of light
my ancestor planted in moonless night.

Seed of the Serpent beams inside my heart
light of salvation on wild ocean shore
where I build glass house on rock of Astarte,
star goddess who teaches me timeless lore
so I construct boats and tend fields of wheat,
yet sing with nightingale and parakeet.

I think it strange that when I kiss the skull
of Pluto on computer screen of fate,
I learn no secret of the laughing bull
who feeds my spirit to the fires of fame
till serpents resurrect my ghost to life
when I drown attempting to save my wife.

Olympus is my home Death cannot bomb
for gleaming dome of mirror-flashing masks
protects my family in vast crystal tomb
where miracles are kept safe in wine flasks
that leave me blind to virtue of weird truth
encoded in riddles by our dream sleuth.

Heartbroken by secret I never share,
that Lethe oozes from my brittle tongue,
I meet Cynthia on the heavenly stair
to give her puzzle from which angels spring,
so we stroll on the apple-sweetened shore
past fruitful garden to the grocery store.

Though honest Herakles struts on world stage
to brag the Roman Empire still stands strong,
I ask strange phantoms of conceptual rage
if they will come when cathedral bells ring,
but Charon waits on shore of River Styx
while Dionysus teaches me his tricks.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus heckles Robert Lowell at his poetry reading at Harvard University, so they wrestle each other till he dislocates his hip and renames him Israel.

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

Signs Of The Times
© Surazeus
2026 03 19

Thrashing in terror of his inner ghoul,
King Midas hurtles thunderbolts of Zeus
to blast safe temple of Persepolis
where Anahita shelters girls from hate
till Mithra is gored by the frantic bull,
when Sibyl chronicles signs of the times.

Weeping that his daughter Atusa dies
after missile blasts school where she reads poems,
Kaveh the Blacksmith leads people of Arya
to defend their homeland against drunk Thor
who stumbles around with Hammer of War,
when Sibyl chronicles signs of the times.

Startled from slumber in his lion cave
by missiles blasting gardens into wastelands,
Zurvan stands on smoking Mount Damavand
and hurls missiles back at den of Midas
who begs for help to fight his futile war,
when Sibyl chronicles signs of the times.

Shocked that Zeus tries to steal oil wells of Persia,
Achilles rallies Myrmidons from farms
and leads them to defend Thermopylae,
but falls asleep when Circe gives him wine
while sirens sing about his global fame,
when Sibyl chronicles signs of the times.

Strumming Lyre of Mercury with grief,
Phoebus laments fall of America
that Gabriel and Icarus get shot
by Goliath and Grendel wearing masks
who lock them in vast concentration camp,
when Sibyl chronicles signs of the times.

After Galahad finds the sacred key
to unlock Castle of Maidens with faith,
he frees Minerva from dark prison cell
who bears bright Torch of Liberty to write
names of war refugees in Book of Truth,
when Sibyl chronicles signs of the times.

Appointed by Minerva with gold wand,
Arthur and Hamlet lead army of farmers
to arrest King Midas, gone mad with power,
who runs with Nebuchadnezzar and Lear
through storm of delusions to escape Justice,
when Sibyl chronicles signs of the times.

Howling in rage at nations of the world
that no one accepts him as King of Earth,
King Midas wanders lost in maze of myths,
stuck in hell loop of his arrogant greed,
till Pandora locks him in Box of Fate,
when Sibyl chronicles signs of the times.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus publishes series of encyclopedias which Sibyl writes that chronicle signs of the times when Jesus and Satan again fight to rule the Earth.

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

Raucous Laughter Of Delight
© Surazeus
2026 03 18

While reading tragic tale of Oedipus,
composed by Cinaethon in epic verse
with elegant curved script Cadmus designed,
I hear someone in dim library gloom
erupt with raucous laughter of delight
that startles me from horror of despair.

Tiptoeing through labyrinth of tall book shelves
that winds deep in library hall of stone,
past statues of gods that stare in my soul,
I search for the mysterious personage
whose joyful laughter echoes in dim gloom,
trembling as I approach demon-carved door.

When I enter Finis Africae room,
hidden at core of vast library maze,
I see tall man in white robe stained with blood,
bearded face and brown eyes lit by stark light
that beams from cracked lamp of Diogenes,
contorted by laughter of frantic glee.

Shocked at sight of the tall elegant man
laughing with delight as he slaps his knee,
I wonder what elicits merriment
from solemn Jesus, son of Jupiter,
who doubles over with dizzy delight,
then wipes tears away as he slaps my arm.

Picking book up off the ground that he dropped,
I see it is the comic play named Clouds
that snarky Aristophanes composed
about that weird snub-nosed philosopher
named Socrates who played ignorant fool
to deflate egos of arrogant men.

Staring at Jesus, bemused by his joy
that seems in excess to the silly play,
I listen as he explains why he laughs
at how that wise fool fools wise men so well
because his clumsy frame hides divine soul
who teaches men to question their beliefs.

Leaning close, Jesus whispers in loud voice
that Jorge de Burgos, that grim buzzkill,
believes laughter ruins authority
the Church must exercise over all men
based on fear of damnation in hot Hell,
but laughter is the source of love in life.

Amused to see the son of Jupiter
laughing with delight at the comic play,
I join him in fruit garden by the pool
where he plays lyre of Mercury and sings
lyrics of Sappho that celebrate love
between friends while kids dance with graceful joy.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus sits with Umberto Eco and Aristotle in the Crippled Pegasus Cafe by the Alpheus River to drink coffee and chat about the Poetics of Comedy.

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

Ghost Of The Wind
© Surazeus
2026 03 18

The strange way my thoughts fall into the pool,
transforming into pink petals of hope
that float away on swirls of nonchalance,
startles my heart with beauty of this world
that shimmers bright for no reason at all,
because these feelings are silly and cute.

Though none of my thoughts are original,
having been felt in equal depth of passion
by billions of humans who lived before me,
I savor these feelings with intense faith
because I experience them at this hour
as I gaze entranced by the fragile flower.

Soft grass glowing green with warm rays of light
emanating from one immortal sun,
tree leaves whispering in soft river breeze,
birds chirping surreal language of desire
as they flutter wings with innocent hope,
all conspire to wake feelings in my heart.

I keep those feelings hidden in my heart
where they gently fan butterfly wings
through weird intensity of obvious fear
that shadow of death will spring at my soul,
so I look around at the sudden world,
conscious with eternal suspense of thought.

Breathing deep with shock of scopeless insight,
I stand with sudden clumsiness of fear
as if my heart is sparked by deep alarm,
but I float suspended in changeless thought
and wonder what startles me to observe
demonic silence that knows I am real.

White apparition on the distant hill
alerts my anxious sense of mute surprise,
so I peer with intention to perceive
nature of that beast that stares down at me,
and gasp with joy to see the graceful horse
who often gallops with ghost of the wind.

Yanking apple from basket of friendship,
which I plucked as gift for my ghostly friend,
I hold it out with tense arm of respect,
and almost think the sky-dancer will come
accept it from my heart, but flash of light
briefly blinds me, and the wild horse is gone.

Sudden gust of wind scatters apple blooms
of pinkish disappointment in my hair,
so I eat the apple with grumpy sigh
at sudden tilting of the unknown world,
then I wander back to my secret cave
where I lie in moonlight and dream of flight.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus searches for Pegasus as he wanders along the Alpheus River while filling baskets with apples for Ophelia to sell at the pyramid market.

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

House Of Broken Toys
© Surazeus
2026 03 17

When Jesus calls me on the telephone
to borrow my car I stole from his dad
so he can take Venus to his beach house,
I climb to the mountain peak of world fame
and toss Holy Book in the burning bush,
yet find my mask in house of broken toys.

When Dionysus meets me in glass church
to confess his wish to become a monk
devoted to prayers of self-sacrifice,
I play electric guitar on lit stage
and howl mad wolf-song of the fallen god,
yet find my heart in house of broken toys.

When Apollo hires me to map dire fate
depicting networks of utilities
that provide services to every house,
I fly airplane to Plutonian hills
and bomb the stately dome of Xanadu,
yet find my soul in house of broken toys.

When Jupiter requests I paint his tower
with murals that depict scenes of his life
as chief psychologist of Kingdom Come,
I take Rapunzel home to Avalon
where we live in quaint cottage by the lake,
yet find my mind in house of broken toys.

When Odin grills burgers in parking lots
to feed five thousand refugees from war
who are eager to watch the Super Bowl,
I play violin in the concert hall
while Minerva and Phoebus sing the blues,
yet find my brain in house of broken toys.

When Jehovah steals industrial plans
to build new computer-powered starship
so he can rule the world from Samarkand,
I compose novels of angst-humored man
with old typewriter on shifting sand dunes,
yet find my name in house of broken toys.

When Achilles dresses as Judy Garland
and sings Over the Rainbow with brave voice
that inspires new generation of clowns,
I repair broken lyre of Mercury
displayed inside velvet-lined case of glass,
yet find my skull in house of broken toys.

When Lucifer campaigns around the world
to win our votes as President of Earth
in quest for secret of the Holy Grail,
I construct new radio from bird bones
to chat with Melusine in Oregon,
yet find my ghost in house of broken toys.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus helps Abraham paint marble statues of gods, lined in the temple of the luminous phantom, with bright colors of the rainbow.

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

Mindless Business Of Days
© Surazeus
2026 03 17

Now that spring is approaching with regret,
we organize mindless business of days
with porous unconcern for getting sleep,
adrift on horizon of innocence
because seasons of providence we flee
retaliate for spilled secrets of love
in terrible incidents we ignore.

If Death comes home with us before our hearts
are ready to breathe dust of obstacles,
we could hide in alcove of singing books
without desire for what matters the most,
because I just want to hear your soft voice
explain why the sky pretends to be blue.

Alone with my madness stuck in third gear,
I study the flower with countless eyes
that tells me love must change every new day
with gradual expansion of honest scope,
because bees sing about color of trust,
authentic with chronic engine of hope.

I cannot repeat puzzles of my dream
over and over of variable thoughts
trapped in books nobody will ever read,
disguised as the turtle of confidence
that boldly traverses waste land of faith,
so I drape my heart in knowledge of self.

Atrocious fanfare of enchanting trees
ignores how I stumble over dead books
with marvelous body of poisoned words,
so I observe torments of wounded hearts
wrapped in laughter of children who know
how to restore discord of fervent faith.

Elegant madness of panicky rout
perfumes austerity of lonely souls
who trade their consecrated memories
for horror that twists faces of the loved
to seek gratification through free will
by choosing to glorify undead gods.

I want to ask for shelter from the ghost
who wanders mutely with the noonday crowd
to find the mansion where no one else lives,
yet nothing happens till the clock explodes
with betrayal of language time invents,
so we speak with one voice of surprised love.

I build the mansion where we will now live,
nursing wounded dignity of soft pain,
so we can find the pattern God will break
when we sleepwalk together back to Eden
if we should watch the geyser dance with grace
as we regurgitate hymns of salvation.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus turns around suddenly and stares at the old man with spectacles who grins with teasing transparency of insane obviousness.

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

Soul Of Star-Eyed Phyllis
© Surazeus
2026 03 16

Though I vow to never allow my mind,
governed by strict logic of intellect,
to be seduced by sweet feminine charms
that emanate from soul of star-eyed Phyllis,
I find I play horse to her Aphrodite
as Aristotle who obeys her will.

Eager to please Goddess of Liberty,
whose gentle voice commands kings to obey,
I let her bridle my aggressive passion,
and rein my ambition to rule the world
with solemn duty to maintain our home
as secure haven for her to raise our children.

Harnessed to wagon of productive hope,
I focus attention of energy
to increase wealth garnished from heart of Earth
when I channel material of desire
through constructive factory of respect,
designing machines that Beauty requires.

Inspired by Beauty embodied as Woman,
who transforms spirit of my urgent faith
to mold new body of organic flesh
that houses immortal spirit of genes
in new child whose face replicates my mind,
I fulfill requests My Love asks of me.

Though I roam mountain forests in moonlight
as wolf-furred woodwose hunting river vales,
wise Phyllis captures me with flashing eyes,
and with sweet kiss through passionate embrace
converts my Enkidu to Gilgamesh,
domesticating werewolf of my heart.

Her bright Ishtarian demeanor translates
my Grendel demon to Beowulf angel,
morphing me from Azrael to Gabriel,
for her sweet smile of amorous respect
civilizes savage ghoul of my heart
from dragon-slayer to philosopher.

Though I wear mask of divine discipline,
concealing demon dance of Dionysus
with rational cantillation of Apollo,
that primitive ape programming my mind
urges my quest to generate more life,
obedient to will of woman I love.

Emotional battery in my heart
powers robotic habits of my body
through survival instinct of anxious rage,
which I restrain with logical project,
so I confirm my soul with self-control
through liberty in law of my free will.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus teaches me how to balance wild spirit of Dionysus with strict logic of Apollo to maintain productive creation of poetic art.

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

Pierrot And Persephone
© Surazeus
2026 03 16

I steal idol of God when I realize
Persephone falls in love with Pierrot
since she adjudicates how angels fly
by driving cars on highways of desire
through thunderstorm of global social change,
so she gives him pomegranate to eat.

While he wanders metropolitan maze
from sea to shining sea of broken dreams,
Pierrot gives mask to every soul he meets
so they can wear his face with honest pride,
then he grows another face from despair
that mirrors how each faceless human feels.

While she administers prison of fear,
preparing hell-loop punishment of pain
for each soul lost in delusions of hope,
Persephone waits on soft leather couch,
sipping wine and watching comedy shows,
for Pierrot to find his way to her heart.

When we gather for the Spring Festival
in Temple of Artemis by Dream Lake,
Persephone brings food to every table
so we feast and share our stories with strangers,
then listen with reverence of solemn faith
when Pierrot plays the lyre of Mercury.

Just as Pierrot, with lyre of Mercury
he found in cave of illusions in Hades,
arrives at jeweled gates of paradise,
Petrus judges he may not enter Heaven
because he cares for all souls lost in time,
so faceless clown of the moon weeps in silence.

Each drop of water sloshing on this globe
of ours that spins in starless void of hope
has animated billions of conscious souls
through four hundred million years of evolution,
so tear of Pierrot that stains Book of Fate
rewrites false judgement of Petrus with blood.

Ascending Stairway to Heaven with faith,
Pierrot enters Temple of Artemis
and kneels before Persephone at dawn
to give her mask he wove from dreams of love,
so they attend grand ball of shining gods,
and dance while Phoebus directs the orchestra.

Amazed with joy, we love to watch unfold
romance of Pierrot and Persephone
as symbol for state of our world today,
Mute Weeper in love with Guardian of Ghosts
who win awards for suffering they endure
with names we write in fairy tales of faith.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus writes new play for Pierrot and Persephone to perform on stage in Temple of Artemis to celebrate the birth of the sun.

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

Tammy Understands Dreams
© Surazeus
2026 03 15

When Tammy drinks raindrops on window glass
to taste sorrow of strangers on the Earth
who pick raspberries from the unfenced field,
she feels eternal light gleam in her eyes
so she sees essence of each human soul
that helps her disappear in stream of words.

If Tammy explains lassitude of gods
with words of gold embossed on marble tombs,
we might hear endless cries of suffering
in fields of mourning where milk cows eat grass
because they steal strange memories of our eyes
with anxious experience of trembling joy.

Though Tammy mistranslates edible smells
to shimmer of ghosts on the primrose path,
she hides her naked heart with waves of light
when she invites me to swim in her lake
halfway to completion of her weird dream
blessing heavenly bridge between our hearts.

Yet Tammy discovers with blush of faith
her heart is impenetrable to contempt
contrived by unfulfilled passion of respect
we share with mutual acceptance that death
tries to mislead us with sweet fantasy
that we live forever in paradise.

Before Tammy maps ruins of our love
she intimates that angels without mouths
imitate how she sings with butterflies
to repeal law against our sacred bond
commanded by invisible police
who impose gratitude with scarlet pulse.

Because Tammy dissociates our trust
to stamp purpose of living on our hearts,
she finds me inscrutable to her sense
of freaked amusement without radar vibes
despite our vow to share star messages
submerged in supple waters of the pool.

Since Tammy understands dreams I conceal
with psychic sense of obvious solitude,
she hungers for my face that fades with time
while I sketch writhing maps in blood-stained clay
depicting habitat of horse and owl
to illustrate process of soul decay.

Still Tammy leads me to cave by the sea
where First Mother of all humanity
chants ancient song of ardent innocence
which nurtures how civilizations thrive
based on weird mysteries of the common place
that beams from still point of the universe.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus finds Tammy and Federico eating raspberries at the still point of the universe behind the car-repair garage run by Thor with his hammer.

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

Garish Face Of Busirane
© Surazeus
2026 03 15

The old man stumbles against the red brick wall
so green leprechaun hat falls off his head.
"I should not have yelled at Clara like that,"
he mumbles at the wingless bird of fate.
Gold key of salvation falls from his hand
as he fumbles to unlocked jeweled gate.

The white raven swoops down from power line
and snatches key of salvation away.
The old man shouts at the cloud glowing gold
and shakes his fist at unfairness of fate.
Jesus approaches him slouched at the gate,
sizing him up with sly skeptical eye.

"When Britomart escaped deceptive house,
dismayed at how tapestries disappeared,"
he snarls at bright apparition of God,
"she found herself on the perilous porch,
eyes unveiled by delusions of desire,
so she could see the real world as it is."

Rattling gate of Heaven with fierce concern,
the old man, with plastic leprechaun hat
on his sore head of weed-entangled hair,
pretends he is Jupiter who can change
shape to the graceful swan in love with Fate,
then slips and falls on wet mud of respect.

When Britomart tears off the plastic mask,
printed with garish face of Busirane,
his heart cries out in shock of mute surprise
that glory of his power vanishes
at dreadful flame that writhes with holy angst
as loss misshapes his soul to howling ape.

Groping blind in dark blast of midnight wind,
the old man cries out in his bitter pain,
"I loved sweet Amoret with loyal faith,
but she ran off with clever Scudamour,
leaving me lost in maze of false desires
where Jupiter mocks my brave innocence."

Waking startled at sudden flash of dawn
that pierces his eyes with absolute truth,
the old man clambers to his trembling feet
beside locked gate of his community.
Trudging through front door of his six-roomed house,
Patrick calls Clara in white emptiness.

Kneeling by Clara on the bathroom floor,
Patrick cries in shock at her lifeless eyes.
"I have come too late to apologize,
so I hope you know how much I love you."
The white raven with his key of salvation
stares at him through cracked window of his heart.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus finds the Knight of Chastity wandering dazed on the desolate plain, so he gives her juice to drink, and leads her home to Cleopolis.

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

Unanswers That Explain Why
© Surazeus
2026 03 15

Each time I wander too close to the sun
wild spirit of Icarus wakes in me
so I run circles on the White House lawn
with arms outspread as if I can fly free,
then fall on my back under Great Blue Sky
and ponder unanswers that explain why.

Wheels of my bicycle flash in the sun
when I heave deep breath up the steep-hill road
then lounge by the fountain of secret pain
near the Mizpah Gate to gossip with God,
asking about delusions of my eye,
and dismiss unanswers that explain why.

Wearing pink dress and tattered shoes of hope,
Christina crawls across the grassy field
toward gray-wood house on the wind-battered slope
where nothing blooms but the frail marigold,
so I bear her soul in my arms and fly,
and rewrite unanswers that explain why.

Dropping quarter in the dorm pop machine,
I buy ennui in cold can of root beer,
then wear mask of Jesus for Halloween,
because I am son of the Puppeteer,
encouraging hopeless people to try
and design unanswers that explain why.

Inspired by victory of the faceless god,
I build castle in Caledonia,
then search with amusement in putrid sod
for crowns of kings from Macedonia,
because I choose to play the clever spy
and bury unanswers that explain why.

Hands strong with spirit of Odysseus,
I forge sword from stone that blazed from the stars,
since in Scotland I am indigenous
to misty hills where fairies drive fast cars,
so I map ruins where lonely girls cry
and extract unanswers that explain why.

Each hour cathedral bells of anguish toll,
I build wood ship to sail where dragons lurk,
yet in world theater I play my role
with fierce compassion of satiric smirk,
then chant formulas which may not apply,
and tangle unanswers that explain why.

Reborn as Icarus without brave wings,
I ask shy Christina to be my bride,
so she bakes hot apple pies while I sing
folk songs about how lost people abide,
then we kiss at sunset of the firefly,
and record unanswers that explain why.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus visits house on the hill where Icarus and Christina are raising three children who run around in the field and pretend they fly.

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

Wounded Heart Of Innocence
© Surazeus
2026 03 15

I hear the raven in the apple tree
tell me about the old woman who dies
after baking ten thousand apple pies
so children driven from their homes by bombs
may eat the wounded heart of innocence,
but all her pies rot in warehouse of greed.

I hear the toad beside the forest pool
tell me about the hungry man who dies
after delivering mail to every house
where ghosts of angels haunt bright living rooms
to hide the wounded heart of innocence
in stories on the television screen.

I hear the alligator in the swamp
tell me about the young student who dies
after drinking beer in the crowded bar
then wanders in haze of frantic memories
to drown the wounded heart of innocence
in turbid river of the singing skull.

I hear the horse in the wire-enclosed field
tell me about the racecar driver who dies
while speeding on the winding mountain road
and finds salvation with the humming toad
to steal the wounded heart of innocence
if he knows why the caged bird never sings.

I hear the cow in old abandoned church
tell me about the solemn priest who dies
while drinking holy blood from rusty grail
in restless search for virgin girl of faith
to sell the wounded heart of innocence
though she teaches her son to play guitar.

I hear the dog in the misty graveyard
tell me about the brave preacher who dies
before he sees Jesus return from clouds
in starship beaming our lost souls from Hell
to buy the wounded heart of innocence
while tearing pages from Bibles in rage.

I hear the unicorn in the warehouse
tell me about the mad artist who dies
while painting emotions of brave despair
in murals of folk heroes on brick walls
to break the wounded heart of innocence
reborn from farmers on justice crusade.

I hear the demon in the tower vault
tell me about the haughty god who dies
while counting gold coins of his stolen wealth
derived from labor of the working man
to heal the wounded heart of innocence
that slithers on marble museum wall.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus conducts souls of the dead along the signless road across American from sea to shining sea to the amusement park of Wonderland.

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

Energy Of Ardent Hope
© Surazeus
2026 03 14

Honey and butter on toasted sourdough bread
delight my heart with pleasure of sweet taste
when I contemplate strange meaning of life
at home with my family on Sabbath night,
soul bathed in nurturing glimmer of light,
revived by energy of ardent hope.

No angel may hear me when I cry out
with terror at beauty of life and death,
but humans on Earth understand my song
when I vanish in power of soul light
that designs my mind with loving insight,
transformed by energy of ardent hope.

Unleashing wings of desire from my heart,
I throw emptiness out of my bound arms
to expand space of joy where I may breathe
ethereal spirit of demonic might
on which I pass fear with intimate flight,
propelled by energy of ardent hope.

Pure Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil
rises from rotten desire of my heart
to tremble with silence of timeless change
that intimates beginning of my flight
to sing with Orpheus in sheltering light,
enshrined by energy of ardent hope.

Sparked awake by first blissful tone of love,
which Orpheus teaches me to express
with ringing melody I play on lyre,
I ask Death to elucidate mortal plight
as theme that consumes me with anguished fight,
restored by energy of ardent hope.

Alert to monstrous horror of desire
that drives men to kill each other for power
in mindless rage to gain immortal life,
I seize divine strength to play slender lyre
with passionate breath of pneumatic rite,
contrived by energy of ardent hope.

Message that creates itself from my voice
when I declare with optimistic faith
that we weave our fate with each choice we make,
grows monstrous when exposed to cogent light
that glow of our conscious mind is finite,
unbroken by energy of ardent hope.

Possessed by spirit Orpheus radiates,
I sing redemption of passionate love
that fills our hearts with mountain strength of faith
to aid each other when our souls recite
holy hymns we help playful sprite ghostwrite,
designed by energy of ardent hope.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus takes me to meet Rainier Rilke in Duino Castle where I play guitar to translate song of ocean waves against jagged cliffs into solemn hymns angels sing in cathedrals of skulls.

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

Nameless Son Of Jove
© Surazeus
2026 03 14

Draped in ermine robe of authority
with assignment to adjudicate laws
designed to rein aggressive lust of men
within bounds of respect for other men,
I wield sulfurous bolt of thunderous Jove
from Merciful Heaven to humble pride.

Though wrath of Oberon attends my heart
with plot to train each wild child of dark woods
as loyal warrior of my scouting train,
I channel passion to manage estate
of rich productive farms with guardian gangs
while lounging in the spangled starlight sheen.

Though I am merry wanderer of the night,
I jest on stage in temples of rich feast
to play role of Oberon with fierce joy
that sparks sweet laughter of relief from men
who sweat in labor to tend fields of wheat
which flushes resentment from their hard hearts.

Dismissed with mocking jest of pungent fear,
I twirl in whistling winds by flashing sea,
lost in contagious fog of jealousy,
but fall fatigued by stone-paved fountain pool
full of crackling leaves instead of fresh spring,
and weep for beauty drowned in tears of truth.

Disturbed by crackling shifts of jolted time
which readjusts world view of what is true,
I realize wealthy mean in towers of glass
conspire to enslave common citizens
to labor in vast factories of regret,
producing goods that profit bank accounts.

Alone on yellow sands where Neptune dwelled,
I watch fragile ships tossed by swelling waves,
pregnant with products of slave factories,
so I search in my heart for warrior soul
of Jupiter or Zeus that strengthens me
with courage to oppose cruel tyranny.

Heart pierced by love-shaft blind Cupid discharged,
I rise transformed from tomb of Oberon
to lead lost boys disenfranchised by hate
in noble army of brave warriors
to follow Minerva on bold crusade
dedicated to restore Liberty.

While my peculiar quest for truth is bound
with rational armor of my strict mind,
I grasp electric bolt of honest hope
as nameless son of Jove, son of Yahweh,
to reign as king in nutshell of heart
which frees our world democracy to thrive.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus records noble deeds of the new Oberon who assists Minerva in crusade to expel greedy King Midas from throne of authority.

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