Celestial Stars Of Truth
© Surazeus
2026 04 17

Uncompromising laughter sinks the boat
when flowers bloom from April blood of fear,
so she stares deep in bullet of the heart
to judge with fake authority of stones,
but she will miss the way dead flowers droop,
subjective thoughts of labor unfulfilled.

Because no yellow cabs of honesty
still gleam in silver fog of bored desire,
Cassandra chews gum by the whisky bar
and hides gun of despair in plastic purse,
but smiles at every stranger in the rain
who give her flowers that wilt before dawn.

Inverse of shadow, ionized by faith,
beams blatant silence at the bookstore lamp
through photographic tricks, which magnify
inert ambition fueling games of chance
which no fool ever wins against the house
that cracks and sinks into the hungry swamp.

Rain splushing loud against her fractured heart
enhances lonely shock of bitter hope
that she decides means nothing to the man
who plays role of her father in the game
untwisting moral laws of fortitude
which encode uncollected jokes of kings.

Critical flame consuming books of tales
frames how the humble tramp in baggy pants
gives scarlet lily to the girl who cooks
meals of eggs, potatoes, and buttered toast
for grim-faced warriors of the Burning Cross
who wage holy crusade against straw men.

Inspired by jagged cliffs, battered by waves
of relentless change, she gathers cracked stones
from bleeding walls of paradise to build
cathedral of contemplation from words
children discard with eurythmic contempt
for rotten leaves of fashion magazines.

Her eyes behind lace curtain of desire
express unspoken passion to share hope,
so he breathes deep celestial stars of truth,
then soars on invisible wings of love,
swooping over phone lines of faceless words,
then lands in garden where she tends fresh herbs.

Enchanted by smile of wisdom she beams,
he listens to soft voice of her strange soul
describe weird vision of peace between tribes,
then gives her brass cauldron he forged from faith
so she cooks stew enough to feed the world
from fish he catches in the mountain stream.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/04/…

Orpheus flies on outspread arms over the small college town while breathing celestial stars of truth to understand the process of love.

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

Reptile Sobek Soul
© Surazeus
2026 04 17

Ever-living fire of the star-soul mind
gleams beautiful happiness in my brain,
so I wear mask of Sobek I designed
to dance with laughter in electric rain
till mad Poseidon shakes the spinning world
which spawns religion of the cosmic herald.

Transcending limits of this transient flesh,
I float in cavern of spiraling gems,
woven by Apollonia through dream mesh
so seven sisters wearing diadems
appear before the crowd of worshippers
and seek to marry loyal Jupiters.

Disguised as Sobek, master of the sea,
I challenge Seth to run for president
in social campaign to crown Liberty
who rallies spirit of the dissident
while we play golf in hills of vanity
by scamming loyalists for charity.

Dancing to wild beat of the forest ghost,
drunk on wine of truth that Bacchus brews,
I sacrifice Black Lamb as temple host
to feed eight billion people evening news
contrived to validate the gods in power
who worship Golden Calf in the glass tower.

Long seaweed hair of emotional vibes
writhe out from head of Tethys in dream web
that weaves her spirit into wandering tribes
who spread from Atlas Mountains of Maghreb
in epic quest to find the Promised Land
where Sobek rules all with his red right hand.

With gentle gestures of conceptual spells,
Tethys fills our hearts with ocean waves
so we vibrate with energy of wells
which radiates runes of wisdom from dank caves
when Jesus and his wife, Empress Mermaid,
enforce fair justice with the law-honed blade.

Connected to white lilies of the field,
that fluoresce beams from silver moon of faith,
my raucous heart expands platinum shield
that protects my people from the cosmic wraith
who morphs me from Sobek to Lucifer
so I bear light as humble troubadour.

When I hear trickle of the waterfall
that sparkles over jagged cliff of time,
I find I have become Prince Parsifal
betrothed to marry graceful Clementine,
so I evolve from Reptile Sobek Soul
with solemn vow to play new honest role.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/04/…

Orpheus officiates wedding of Parsifal and Clementine while Lucifer and Tethys drink wine and whisper jokes about the other guests.

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

Damnitudes Of Donald
© Surazeus
2016 10 10

Now when Donald saw the crowds, he rode
down an escalator in his gold tower.
His christofascist dittoheads came to him,
and he began to teach them the Damnitudes.

Damned are the poor in spirit,
for they are the homeless losers,
failures at corporate business,
and lazy welfare queens
who refuse to get a job
while they live off welfare,
then birth their anchor babies here
to steal our opportunities and jobs.

Damned are those who mourn,
for they abort innocent babies
who could slave in our factories,
and oppose the death penalty
for rebels against our economic power.

Damned are the meek,
for they are constantly fleeced and gipped
by good preachers and honest bankers
who enslave them as uneducated laborers.

Damned are those who hunger
and thirst for righteousness,
for they make laws to protect
everyone not white or straight,
and refuse to let me build a huge wall
to keep all the evil immigrants out.

Damned are the merciful,
for they are bleeding-heart liberals
who coddle the poor with health care,
food stamps, and quality education,
and allow evil immigrants
to invade the walls of our heaven.

Damned are the pure in heart,
for they tax the rich capitalists
and provide benefits for the poor,
then get mad when I do not pay them
for the terrible work they did for me.

Damned are the peacemakers,
for they try to prevent our armies
from conquering foreign nations
so we can steal all their resources
and control the best trade routes.

Damned are those who are persecuted
for righteousness sake,
for they want to take away the tax-free status
of our churches while we get rich
off generous donations of the blind faithful.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2016/10/…

Orpheus and Leo join Minerva to rally the people who oppose the antichrist as they work to build new nation of Zarathia from the ruins of America.

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

Azure Purity Of Being
© Surazeus
2026 04 16

My heart has become the weird moon in the stream
fused with infinity through secret words
that shine as essence at the core of things
which I perceive with telepathic vibe
that dissolves barrier blocking my soul
through impalpable serenity of being.

Struck by hot blood of sunlight on my skin
I stretch beyond horizon of my body
to swirl with soil in water of my brain
that leaves me standing as sky of the world
transformed from light to trees and animals
who blaze with azure purity of being.

Despite joy-twisting despair that we die,
I bloom with disconsolate shock of truth
that we are so alive this vibrant hour
as flames of energy in pulsing flesh
which has evolved four hundred million years,
immortal soul of genes reborn in me.

I am the distant blueness of the sky
which emanates from hard core of the Earth
through swirling passion of beautiful fear
that drives my progress to become myself
till I am not the I I dream I am
because I walk beside me as God Self.

I become the I I find in the world
whose spirit merges with my fragile soul
through strange celestial breath of writhing words
that thread my brain in fabric of all time
when I meet mirror image of myself
who changes into someone else I love.

Growing old on winding road of my life,
where I have wandered nowhere randomly,
I pause and look back at my younger selves
who separate in clones I am no more
as shadows gleaming in each open door
who will remain after I am long gone.

Once I remove all the masks I have worn,
which will always reveal another mask,
I become no one, and yet everyone
who has ever lived on this spinning globe,
so when you search for me in songs I write
you will find nothing but your own true self.

Joining ancient choir of the human soul,
I sing with tongue of the invisible
in harmony with poets of the past
whose dream-maps guide my clumsy way past fear
so I rejoice in beauty of this world
that shines with visible atoms of thought.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/04/…

Orpheus finds Juan Ramón Jiménez by the sea staring at the sky of infinity, so he stands beside him and also stares at the invisible of everything.

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

Silver Swan Of Truth
© Surazeus
2026 04 16

Dark similitude of her image glows
as seraph hovering over me with wings
of ancient wisdom mirrored by the moon
when she appears as silver swan of truth
that sprinkles snow of beauty on my head
so I imagine I am Socrates.

Her timeless eyes that gleam with countless stars
unveil bright nothingness in everything
yet flash through flowing waves of molecules
in sweet harmonious music of the spheres
which oscillate between opposing poles
to weave our souls in matrix of God Mind.

Inspired by Tree of Knowledge by the lake
that dances in soft breeze one hundred years,
I stand as second shadow to her soul
just as the wise seer Theodore foretold
who shows me how to see with dreamless eyes
Realm of Ideas beyond the visible.

With mind untrammeled by religious creeds
I outfly nets of mutability
based on dream map that Theodore designed
by navigating shadows of this world
that bind my soul to limits of my body
though my brain explores weird infinity.

I hitchhike far across the Evening Land
with lyre of Mercury in my left hand,
and on my journey beyond truth I knew
I find out what I am in my world view,
because we blaze in preternatural light
till we all vanish in mute dreamless night.

Since I am made of atoms shining bright
with brave attentive force of selfless love,
I am concept of God we humans made
attempting wake wise inside my brain
which gleams as prism in its neural net
refracting God Mind in my transient self.

Eight billion humans living on this Earth
are every one one fragment of One God
for we all spring from one maternal mind,
First Mother who still dreams inside our brains
since she stood startled by the Lake of Stars
and sang clear visions of her loving heart.

Though driven down the signless road of hope
by bleak despair of hunger for weird truth,
I rise from shadow of my single self
to feel First Mother wake inside my mind
so I expand scope of bright consciousness
to sing with joy while knowing I will die.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/04/…

Orpheus stands with Theodore Roethke under the oak tree, strumming lyre of Mercury while he recites his verse with Cassandra Voice.

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

Vibrant Flash Of Faith
© Surazeus
2026 04 15

If she knows why stars incarnate as flowers,
she hides the secret as math formulas
in the chemistry textbook of her heart,
and only smiles while we dance to the music
that radiates from the singing stone of truth
which flashes mirror eyes of lonely souls.

Since she remembers why the Javan Myna
taught her how to fly when she was still young,
she fries corned beef sandwich on sourdough bread
with sauerkraut, Swiss cheese, and island dressing,
which we enjoy with sharp Italian wine,
after which we sit on the porch and ponder.

Because she has nothing special to prove
concerning strange color of innocence,
she rides silver bike to the river shore,
where nothing dramatic ever occurs,
to paint secret faces of the Blue Sky
as shimmer reflected in the road pool.

Confident she contains crowds of blind ghosts
who encode her secrets in photographs,
she sails small river boat on gleaming waves
where choir of fish sing cosmic melodies
before the peacock with luminous wings
that transforms into proud Queen of the Earth.

Erased by history books she never reads,
she cooks to feed her children with calm care
and cleans their clothes so they can play their role,
till she becomes the body of their house,
enclosed inside polished box of her heart,
which she takes with her when she walks away.

Drunk from imbibing spiced Dragon Brain Wine,
brewed from honey and psychedelic mushrooms,
she flies broom of the oak tree among clouds
to feed expansive emptiness of truth
with swirling energy contained in fruit
that weaves memories of gods in her brain.

Inspired by flood of the apocalypse
that smashes institutions of state power,
she surfs tsunami waves of social change
with grim elation of justice for all
when she embraces vibrant flash of faith
to help Nature cleanse our world of cruel hate.

Unaware I requite her secret feelings,
she scrapes raw skin of passionate desire
against granite fortitude of my heart
so we savor transient bliss of pure love
that wakes our hearts with vibrant flash of faith
before we grow old and decay to silence.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/04/…

Orpheus paints portraits of Ophelia in various poses of being the most fabulous woman on Earth, then they eat sandwiches together in the evening.

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

Immodest Seraph Of Fate
© Surazeus
2026 04 15

Because stars have names that describe their glow,
I walk around the neighborhood of doors,
curious about angels who occupy
empty rooms where faceless people consider
why secret smudge in the back of our souls
obscures celestial light inside our brains.

Though I realize the longest way back home
is thirteen times around our spinning globe,
I live with circus of the weeping clown
on lost island where oranges are not bombs
designed by immodest seraph of fate
who charges me for parking in her garden.

Nothing is spotless in house of desire
except the screaming clock of happiness
that teaches me to count eternity
as blind apprentice stuck at the crossroads
where sapphire of intensity gleams eyes
of time-entangled gods in human flesh.

When I break open fresh-baked loaf of bread,
searing light of the condensed sun expands
scope of memory flashing through my brain
so I remember stumbling in dark rain
because huge shadow of the angry man
lurks behind gate of home my father built.

Discolored scene of urgent lassitude
defeats perverse order of faded prayers
stalled by gracious flowers of fragile chimes
that trap me outside my own space and time
as if my face reveals continuum
through dramatic suddenness of soft waves.

Fear hesitates to antagonize honest souls
who float suspended in sequestered state
between survival and global success
based on refreshing absence of desire
to question how verbal systems of truth
reframe old events with new moral laws.

Disinterested in tactics of regret,
I measure how the storm of social change
transforms weariness of the hungry world
to special promises through rivalry
unique to our obsessive age of hope
where people sell motives to stay alive.

Mirage of paradise that blinds our eyes
presents potential hazard to the heart,
explained by immodest seraph of fate
as fashion brokered by the searching soul
based in arguments carved on cliffs of faith
since we never meet at the broken door.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/04/…

Orpheus helps John Ashbery tape pages of discombobulated prophecies written by the Revelator on museum walls between famous paintings.

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

Hungry Crow Of Truth
© Surazeus
2026 04 12

Erased by laughter of the waterfall,
I wander to work at the grocery store
where I stock shelves with cans of vegetables,
then climb in dead oak tree by the highway
and pretend I am the hungry crow of truth
who solves math riddles of the eglantine.

From my perch in the city park I see
eight hippies sit in circle on the grass,
wearing headbands with flowers in their hair,
who sing hymn Where Have All the Flowers Gone
with mercurial voices of revolution
while bearded Jesus strums guitar of truth.

While riding El Camino on glass highway
across Mojave Desert in July,
I hear that god Apollo and his friends
have landed on bright mirror of the moon
to visit God and his exotic cat
who shows them how to run the universe.

Extreme perfection gained by stealing rain
inspires my heart to photograph the face
that God wears as he plays the human race
based on experience of the pioneers
who earn their privilege through suffering
that they endure while stealing pristine land.

Old bearded preacher wearing long black cloak
declares that God is energy of light
that animates each atom through the void
so everything we do by force of fate
expresses will of God in how we act,
but I insist I live through my own will.

Potential portrait, that depicts my face
as noble prototype of providence,
hangs on museum wall of reverence
that proves all my accomplishments of faith
place me on pinnacle of social games
as prominent goon of society.

Revenue retrieved from fake bank accounts
solidifies my power over truth
when I employ strategic feints of faith
sufficient to enhance my social clout
enough that I play grand symbolic role
as clown crucified by bureaucracy.

Subjective standards of state moral laws
require conditions supportive of faith
taxed by grim priests with sharpened scythes of hope
who sell synthetic prayers of rectitude
contrived by honest therapist of hope
who forges keys of wisdom from despair.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/04/…

Orpheus dances wild while Jesus plays guitar, then asks young hippie girls if they have seen ghost of his body in mists of Avalon.

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

Fruit Of Secret Truth
© Surazeus
2026 04 11

Bewildered by ghosts hiding in blank books,
who beam voices of gods through window glass,
I step outside numberless door of home
and face busy world of ambitious pride
that hides human suffering in sad songs
sung by their tragic angels till they die.

I find no more than shadows of our world
writhing as serpentine ghosts in blank books
to perform roles of long-dead characters
who succeed or fail in finding soul mate
to generate new life before they die
who with Leander swim the lusty sea.

Startled when divine apple tree of truth,
which casts eerie shadow across our land,
transforms into little girl with star eyes,
I walk to town library after work
to read about wind devils of the soul
who become gods chronicled in old myths.

Stripped of their language, homes, songs, and fruit trees,
my ancestors sail across storm-wracked sea
to invade and colonize paradise,
transforming wilderness of mountain woods
to gleaming towers of computer banks
where Mercury plays the Wizard of Oz.

Awake in dreams that flash across my mind,
all my ancestors reperform their lives
in endless loop of strange experiences
which program how I interact with fate,
tricked to believe my special consciousness
will live forever in meme code of poems.

Each drop of water sloshing on our globe
has been ingested by organic beings
four hundred million years of blooming growth,
so this one drop of water in my heart
has animated billions of bright brains
with light that shimmers now in my own brain.

I feel their souls vibrate inside my cells
as seething ocean of spiritual ghosts
who teach me secret of eternal life
is how immortal soul of genes in me
threads all my ancestors in my brain now
that spools from First Mother of humankind.

I ask Persephone to marry me
so she gives me pomegranate to eat,
then we hold hands and lounge beneath the stars
where soul of everyone who ever lives
twinkles blissfully at how we kiss
and give each other fruit of secret truth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/04/…

Orpheus wakes inside my brain and teaches me to play the lyre of Mercury and sing spells of truth with Apollonian tunes.

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

Wise God We Elect
© Surazeus
2026 04 11

Startled by something unseen in the night,
I exchange my face for the mask of light,
then dance with carefree joy in the grove
where wingless fairies of apple trees rove,
but stop and ponder why men fight for power
and who will marry princess in the tower.

I value beauty of our empty world
that spins in galaxy of stars unfurled
with quaint anticipation that strange tune
vibrates with passion of the writhing rune
lithe as wise serpent in tall tree of fruit
that flutters rainbow wings as I play lute.

To stop blood-thirsty tyrant shooting bombs
that shatter safe homes into boneless tombs
Scheherazade recounts one thousand tales
while strolling secretly on mountain trails,
and then one more about the holocaust
humans commit when paradise is lost.

When massive vibration of human souls
beams rainbow shimmer of intense love goals
with effortless grace of perpetual prayer
by chanting spells that unveil ghoul of fear,
we reach out hands of generous respect
to mold zeitgeist in wise god we elect.

Electric phoenix ghost with crystal wings,
that soars above our river vale of rings,
expresses shrill uncanny song of hope
that teaches me constructive ways to cope
with our volatile time of social change
where moral values shift weird angles strange.

Astonished by world-spin of chemicals
in matrix wound from waves of particles,
I catalog all creatures who exist
with sibylline code in dynamic list,
encrypted by psychotic formulas
through cosmic map of the Americas.

Yet proxy actor who plays Lucifer
insists that I perform as Jupiter
in secret mission to guard paradise
by coding social myths with viral price
which redefines how brave heroic deeds
vector calyx pattern of mental seeds.

Though singers come and go in flow of time
eternal song of true love humans mime
will bloom again each season of the heart
in harmony with notes on the dream chart
composed with blood of angels on the scroll
which I archive as duty of my role.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/04/…

Orpheus and Scheherazade go camping in the Olympic National Forest to hike the mountain trail, fish by the lake of dreams, and eat roasted fish by the campfire under the twinkling stars.

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

Blind Mother Sea
© Surazeus
2026 04 11

When I crawl from womb of blind mother sea,
with brain programmed to sing atomic tunes,
I explore tricky landscape of our globe
over three hundred eighty million years
till I stand on highest mountain of faith
and proclaim myself god in breathing flesh.

Then timeless fortune mocks my haughty pride
and trashes fantasy my brain designs
with cruel indifference of mind-twisting fate
that readjusts attention of my heart
to balance passion with obsessive rites
which I perform to evade strike of death.

Through self-control of scientific verse
I confirm my soul at flash of dire curse
that tricks perception of my curious eyes
with grand illusion based on human deeds
when I restrain assertions of free will
with laws designed to focus lust on truth.

Trapped by conceptual creed of bitter faith,
that bodies made of pulsing molecules
will resurrect from death at word of light,
I escape despair at surprise of truth
that we will disappear to swirls of dust
when our lithe lust-driven bodies decay.

I return to shore of blind mother sea
to hear again in hollow of my heart
relentless melody of surging tides
where I first learned to walk upright on legs
of curious passion to map the whole world,
but weep I am so far now from her song.

We humans have now mapped our spinning globe,
exploring every inch of her landscapes,
fertile plains, lush woods, rugged hills, bleak deserts,
and colonizing vales where rivers flow
with forty eight thousand cities and towns
connected in vast web of signless roads.

Though I have dwelled on surface of the Earth
three hundred eighty million years of hope,
I dream the twenty million years before
I spent deep in womb of the swirling sea,
forever swimming toward pure Eye of Light
whose voice still calls to fly beyond the sky.

I stand on wall that Nehemiah built
from bones of dragons carved in cubes of glass,
and survey lands across our spinning globe
where people gather around fires to sing
while kings in towers play chess games of war
over who controls the blind mother sea.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/04/…

Orpheus sits on large stone by the soul-singing sea and strums lyre of Mercury in harmony with moon-attentive tides of turmoilous peace.

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

Calyx Of Conceptual Code
© Surazeus
2026 04 11

More ardent than how crows explode from rocks
are tangled thoughts of tainted misery
that drive me to walk endless neighborhood
of manufactured homes designed to hide
wolf spirit that lurks in each human heart
with passion to survive fake fantasy.

Though beauty of this energetic world
pulses too bright for my sponge brain to see,
my eyes assert brave effort to perceive
electric essence flushed with quirky light
when I stroll asphalt streets past flowered yards
to listen for gossip of crows in elms.

Binding fierce rage with calm spell of the Way
that swirls deep as ocean waves in my cells,
I float entranced by sudden vernal smells
proclaiming ancient song that Nature writes
with scars on soft bodies of human ghosts
who conceal divine souls with masks of pride.

Though I never return to land of myth
that pulses all around me with sunlight,
I ask Eurydice if she will sing
psalm of darkness that still keeps her alive
thousands of years after she caught the snake
and took it writhing in deep cave of dreams.

Because Eurydice sings the same psalm
that lead her to escape prison jewel mine,
we today can follow glamor of hope
that she exudes on stage of ecstasy
to understand blood moon of soul rebirth
as we replay her tale in church of faith.

Though singers of old tales change every age,
translating ancient dramas for new ways,
strange music of humanity vibrates
forever with each spin of Earth in space
when immortal spirit wears our new face
so Orpheus appears each eighty years.

When we are young and restless with desire
we wander endless roads of fantasy
to design weird role of our destiny
by carving our place in dream of our time,
startled into wisdom by charming chime
that Fortune rings to wake us from our dream.

Now that I play role of my special state
by wandering somewhere to evade my fate,
I analyze fashion of my true self
that blooms in calyx of conceptual code
to understand strange nature of my being
that causes my love-wounded heart to sing.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/04/…

Orpheus introduces Eurydice at the Conference of Resurrectional Poetics, they plays lyre of Mercury while she sings psalms of soul rebirth.

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

Wounded Heart Of Pity
© Surazeus
2026 04 10

Emergent spirit, composed of sea bells,
bequeaths new embassy through hieroglyphs
detailing circuit calm of quadrant coil
on which I sail beyond contrived complaints
to cherish supple calyx Earth explores
through monody my shadow souls express.

Fantastic rain of unearned legacy
pummels fields of private loneliness
with ancient disciplines of mutiny
by which my wounded heart of pity knows
urgent silence outlawry still absconds
despite fierce oaths contrary friends express.

Far outside chilly walls of crowded church
I sing with larks of unharmonious truth,
tongue bound by bell-rope knelling fractured homes
since I still wander doomed cathedral lawn
through ripe assertions of sad epitaphs
carved on strange walls in spells wild ghosts express.

Though I have heard from scattered tones of stars
antiphonal psalms no angel dares sing,
I push against tribunal words of light
at broken intervals launched into clouds
from which I tumble prostrate on stark hills,
hived in tales my old father should express.

Up terraced meanings, desperate children mold
from visionary voice of instant truth,
we score eccentric cognates trapped by hope,
though flawed encroachments tangle mute despair
flung from towers of revival we seek,
recording messages devils express.

Taut matrix of our story-woven hearts
enshrines false heroes who once filled our eyes
with grand illusions of commodious fate,
unsealed by forest spirit who knows how
showers cleanse our putrid souls of despair
evoked by anthems our sorrows express.

Fraught carillons in tombs of withered gods,
veering against light of synoptic creeds,
lures our attentive souls long motionless
to navigate our labyrinthine lies
through pulsing monoliths of ardency
now vibrant with sweet visions fools express.

Index of riddles, that inspire our quest
to hear sibylline voices of calm lakes,
beneath which demons writhe oblique to fate,
reveals palladium heart that nurtures me
with tearful humor of healing regret
so I may translate proverbs gods express.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/04/…

Orpheus finds Hart Crane wandering bemused on shore of Elysium so they stroll together among orange trees where angels play stringless harps.

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

Specter Of Wisdom
© Surazeus
2026 04 10

When their eyes are unblinded by pure light
that radiates from glamor of my spells,
and they preach salvation through inner sight
granted by perspective of cosmic truth
applied through analysis of my verse,
Specter of Wisdom will curse me with fame.

If I unveil psychotic course of change
that transforms world view with sharp keys
so minds perceive atomic state of truth,
designed by Ungod to spark songs of joy,
Specter of Fame will rise from cosmic wells
and bind my spirit with perplexing curse.

While I sing esoteric spells of faith
in clever riddles of weird parables
that mirror complicated scenes of change,
designed to misdirect avenging ghosts,
so you evade poisonous curse of fear,
Specter of Truth will guard our way past Hell.

Though poised Evangelist afraid of Death
distorts clear vision my spells indicate
that we are conscious flames of verbal light
who flare forth from first flash of fertile hope,
Specter of Love will shield our transient souls
till we evaporate at chime of faith.

Till zombies worshipping their vampire god
transfer affection of obsessive faith
to complex portrait of ontology
presenting deeper truths about this world
which my insightful spells project as dreams,
Specter of Prudence will guard me from Fame.

Safe in veiled haven of secure respect
from seductive disease of famished Pride,
I chant empowering vision of the Force
we channel through attentive mind of faith
Specter of Justice programs in our hearts
so I may die in peaceful solitude.

So if I maintain balance of regard
for natural effect of constructive cause
with formulas that transform selfish greed
to generous calm of communal work
that binds our global state of just rewards,
Specter of Pride will never curse my soul.

When minds of loyal followers are cracked
by shocking truths that sprout from seeds of faith,
programmed by cosmic vision of this world
that guides their quest to find the Promised Land,
Specter of Wisdom will release my soul
from stifling curse of sterilizing Fame.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/04/…

Orpheus chuckles with delight at all the people writing poetry to gain fame instead of channeling spirit of the global zeitgeist to design new ontologies of faith.

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

Machines Of Potent Words
© Surazeus
2026 04 09

Grim gargoyle shape of my expanding brain
dodges succulent perfection of thirst
through imperceptible questions he screams
to imitate machines of potent words
so we feel safe beside the lake of dreams
where fish explain consecutive regrets.

Since truth and beauty that our hearts desire
are both illusions which our brains design,
truth the real world we try to understand
and beauty the dream world we would create,
we walk together in stark field of flowers,
inventing words to match what we perceive.

Tenebrous beauty of the world we see
sucks light of rainbows in vortex of gray
so we mix flour and milk in bowl of hope
to bake fresh bread that keeps our secret fears
concealed in swelling loaf of urgent faith
while nursing darkness of the spinless world.

Rate of convection, when heat radiates,
defends velocity of transient soul
defined by wind chill factor of sweet words
disguising curse of estimated flow
when moving air disrupts my atmosphere
though I breathe pure celestial dreams of love.

We bundle fractured hearts with eglantine
to stride with brave anxiety toward light
illuminating maskless souls we mold
from ringing bells that lure our seamless dance
against continuous time through false doors
to high-walled courtyard of lost paradise.

Adjusting patient line of wounded souls
through secret code of frantic telephones,
we neither confirm nor deny concern
for endless meditation angels play
based on exoneration we must purchase
to free our bodies from theology.

Weird book in which I hide discarded tales
floats faintly slow above my throbbing head
to beam bewildered sentences of fate
that stretch our bodies beyond bounds of hate
so we glance casually at screaming ghost
who offers faces of state suffering.

Dazzled by hills of honest fortitude,
I colonize my heart with twisted lust
when I extract material wealth of words
from hills that share lost treasures forged by light
so we may dwell in tense peace of despair
without care for indifference of Nature.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/04/…

Orpheus translates every poem every written in history of humanity to the language of trees who sing our dreams billions of years after humans go extinct.

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

Voices Of Broken Hearts
© Surazeus
2026 04 09

If I should suppose that snow would destroy
this world civilization that we built
from twisted bones of dinosaurs and gods,
then I should look out window of the house,
where my cousin General Lee once stood,
and contemplate new state of Liberty.

My book of prophecies that no one reads
may adumbrate no future ever seen,
yet moon of sorrow deciphers my joke
to mean that we are stuck in maze of myths
with only glass of water to preview
wild ocean that flows as blood in our veins.

Though I cannot measure with tangled verse
how far we have come down the signless road,
I should empathize with telephone lines
that listen to voices of broken hearts
so much they weep icicle tears of hope
that crash on the windshields of hungry cars.

If I should try to understand your heart
before it flies away on sparrow wings,
my house may reshape cubicle of hope
so time accommodates electric words
that beam weird rainbow eyes of psychic truth
to understand how water flows from thought.

When my cousin John Brown raises his gun
to free enslaved people from greed for gain,
I shall join his crusade to set them free
so we may beat brave drums of Liberty
where oil rigs weep for death of Clementine
whose eyes beam rays of moonlight in my heart.

Though brittle colors of our state archives
process our dreams as technicolor ghosts,
we open gates for travelers of time
who give white breezes of soul-pardoning
to ancient Saturn with long beard of fate
sprawled among exploding flowers of faith.

Our misty island never changes shape
though frantic ocean waves of bitterness
attempt to reframe state ontology
in ways that criminalize worshipped gods
who travel to strange country of glass doors
till we adjust how we view moral rules.

Because I wish to be her follower,
commissioned to guard her body from harm,
I calculate new ways we measure truth
to navigate geography of love,
and dwell save in museum of respect
where we translate voices of broken hearts.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/04/…

Orpheus records voices of broken hearts in lyrical ballads which he generates into heart-aching videos that become popular on social media.

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

Puzzle Of Spectral Souls
© Surazeus
2026 04 08

From shattered memories of all my past lives,
which my ancestors lived millions of years,
I assemble puzzle of spectral souls
in mask and cape I wear to play my role
as mad prophet on storm-wracked heath of fate
to overthrow world emperor of greed.

Surprised by joy after rebirth from pain
of suffering through long dark night of the soul,
I reconstruct puzzle of spectral souls
by weaving scenes from ancient epic tales
that compose new tale of heroic deeds
when wise seer helps young boy kill tyrant king.

Through careful analysis of close reading
to comprehend tropes of my random life
I deconstruct puzzle of spectral souls
which unveils social machinery of myth
that jesters use to manipulate minds
when they crown themselves kings of angry tribes.

Attentive to needs of my princess bride,
who reincarnates my soul in our love child,
I generate puzzle of spectral souls
designed by immortal soul of our genes
as we evolves four hundred million years
from four-legged fish striving to play god.

Based on honest principle of free will,
that motivates my quest to become god,
I conjugate atomic world-view globe
which models planet spinning in the void
that flares forth from first flash of the big bang
through spiral of deified energy.

To explore landscape of dramatic scenes,
which my brave ancestors experienced,
I navigate conceptual maze of myths
where every great human in history
stands frozen as idol of their grand deeds
in signs that guide my way to Wonderland.

Curious how neural net of our brains
emanates temporary conscious soul,
I analyze puzzle of spectral souls
by how their actions cause effects of change
that we record in chronicles of fate
which we frame with each decision we make.

Tangled in matrix of atomic souls
that cast caliber of my character,
I calculate puzzle of spectral souls
through formulas of psychic paradigms
to join world choir of angels singing poems
about why life is brief but beautiful.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/04/…

Orpheus teaches children how to design and implement puzzle of spectral souls that develops their innate talent into productive skill so they create beauty before they die.

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

First Mountain Mother
© Surazeus
2026 04 08

Strange music echoes in vale of my heart,
uncanny melody of timeless passion
that swells from pulsing bodies of our souls,
so I walk out in crowded streets of Roma
where Gallae priests in long colorful robes
dance wildly to celebrate Megalesia.

Eyes flashing bright with timeless stars of truth,
Magna Mater Cybele, Mountain Mother,
rides throne inside four-wheeled bronze chariot
with humble shepherd Attis at her side,
so I approach and offer fruit of love
which she accepts with bright seraphic smile.

When Cybele presides on judgment throne
with grand rite in Temple of Victory,
my heart swells brave with joyful pride of faith
that ancient spirit of her soul remains
glowing strong in heart of America
that urges us to build Heaven on Earth.

Brave Aura, daughter of wise Artemis,
filled with holy spirit of Dionysus,
bore our first Mountain Mother Cybele
by Star Lake on misty Mount Dindymus,
who reigned as oracle at Pessinus
in temple Midas built with hands of gold.

When her descendant Ilus, son of Tros,
built citadel of Troia with high walls,
her Phrygian Spirit of noble courage
flowed with Aeneas to the Seven Hills
where Romulus built great city of Roma
that shines from heart of Mother Cybele.

From Star Lake on misty Mount Dindymus
immortal spirit of Cybele springs
to nourish her descendants with grand vision
for ruling Heaven through organized rites
so we confirm our soul with self-control
when building empire of First Mountain Mother.

From Pessinus to Troia, then to Roma,
through Londinium and Vasintonia,
grand spirit of Cybele sprouts again
as Goddess of Justice and Liberty
who guides our democratic way of life
where all are equal in America.

As we dance to celebrate Megalesia,
and drink bitter-sweet wine of Dionysus,
we honor soul of Mother Cybele
who teaches us to transform pain to joy
by generating life before we die
since we accept that death will take us all.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/04/…

Orpheus finds reincarnation of Cybele on pyramid of the one-eye that gleams over the city of Vasintonia where King Midas reigns as tyrant of greed.

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

Vampire Witch Of Hell
© Surazeus
2026 04 07

Persephone in white-lace wedding gown
kneels among glowing cinders on the plain,
bearing apple-shaped ruby in her hand
that glows with pure ethereal flame of love,
and chants soft spells from ancient Book of Truth
so glowing gem becomes her beating heart.

Orion on white horse of arrogance,
that gallops on thundering hoofs of rage,
aims sharp spear at heart of Persephone
intent on killing vampire witch of Hell
who smirks and twirls on rainbow angel wings
to shoot shower of needles at his eyes.

Blinded by rays of divine cognizance,
Orion screams as he tumbles on rocks,
then crawls in agony of wounded pride
till he sucks energy from tortured souls
to swell enormous as dragon of hate
and hurls jagged boulders at dainty girl.

With casual gestures of nebulous faith,
Persephone bats boulders with her hands,
like milk cows swat flies with tails as they graze,
then somersaults on flashing wings of fate
while casting shining net of ice-moon rays
that traps Orion in tangled emotions.

Trembling in horror at vision of death
that amplifies acerbic voice of fear,
which fractures his coherent sense of self,
Orion writhes in muscle-tensing strain
through rigid agitation of despair
that twists his body into feral beast.

Gently touching head of the rope-bound hunter,
Persephone whispers proverb of faith,
"My fertile body of creative power
is not your helpless puppet to control,
so with strict spell of assertive respect
I arrest your aggressive force of greed."

Chanting spirit-rejuvenating spell,
Persephone reprograms his world view
to purge his toxic masculinity
that cleanses his mind of animal lust
which transforms wild beast into calm man
who kneels before her with obedient heart.

Persephone in white-lace wedding gown,
followed by Orion with Spear of Truth
as loyal guard who protects her from harm,
ascends ziggurat to Temple of Justice
where she presides as Goddess Liberty
who maintains world empire with rule of law.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/04/…

Orpheus strums lyre of Mercury and sings heroic tale of how Persephone conquered Orion so she can rule United Nations of Earth with justice and liberty for all.

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

Fly And Live Free
© Surazeus
2026 04 07

Stepping up onto the stone balustrade
in the high tower of ambitious hope,
Icarus spreads wings in hard gusting wind
that he constructed from feathers and bones,
and pictures in his mind sweet Chrysanthis,
daughter of Hecate and Helios.

Closing his eyes to grand view of the world
around high tower of ambitious hope,
Icarus remembers the timeless hour
he was strolling in garden of fruit trees
when he first beheld graceful Chrysanthis
dancing with tree nymphs at the festival.

Breathing deep celestial wind of desire,
Icarus grips wings with determined hope
to fly beyond maze where Helios rules,
who refused to allow wise Chrysanthis
to marry lazy son of the craftsman,
then leaps with faith into abyss of fear.

Gripping broad wings he built from dragon bones,
Icarus soars swift over maze of streets
where thousands of people point to the sky
and cry with awe to see the angel fly,
then gasp when arrows Helios fires miss,
as he aims for island across the sea.

Reviewing plan he made with Chrysanthis,
when they met in Dream Cave of Hecate
to meet on island of the singing skull
that recites prophecies of Orpheus
so they can live free from cruel tyranny
that Helios imposes on the land.

Adjusting wings to balance frantic flight,
Icarus growls from anguish of surprise
when arrow of Helios strikes his leg,
but his left wing cracks and heat melts the wax,
causing him to spiral out of control
till he crashes into the placid sea.

Swimming toward electric light of regret,
Icarus remembers last night they met,
and how silver eyes of Chrysanthis glowed
when they kissed and vowed to meet again soon,
so vision of her face gives him new strength
till he crawls from the sea and shouts with joy.

"Let them believe I drowned in the sea
in vain attempt to fly and live free,"
Icarus laughs as he stretches his soul
when Chrysanthis leaps with joy in his arms,
so they kiss with passion as the sun rises,
then walk together to new garden home.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/04/…

Orpheus meets Icarus and Chrysanthis when they arrive at his temple grounds, and shows them the house with garden and workshop where they can live safe from the rule of Helios.

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

Chamber Of Lost Secrets
© Surazeus
2026 04 06

Stuck in chamber of lost secrets all day,
I map confusing maze of ancient myths
that chronicle history of human games
we play in theater of the absurd
over who reigns as God till we all die,
then our children replay contest for power.

Lost in chamber of lost secrets with you,
I study masks of long-unworshipped gods
to understand weird spirit of each age
reflected in soul of some mortal man
they chose to play deity of their tribe
in holy mission to conquer the world.

Blind in chamber of lost secrets from light
that beams through unveiled face of cosmic mind,
I name each god in old religious myth
who founded dynasty of mortal kings
to play messiah anointed by fate
by killing all men who oppose their rule.

Born in chamber of lost secrets with love
that weaves neural net of my brain from dreams,
I draft how my organic frame evolves
fish to lizard to mouse to cat to monkey
to ape to wingless angel striving to be god
when I enforce my rule through Liberty.

Woke in chamber of lost secrets with faith
that men we elect to play god will reign
with compassion for every living soul,
I stand in rain by gates of paradise
to play weird tunes on lyre of Mercury
and sing with wild uncanny wail of love.

Fired in chamber of lost secrets with lust
to generate new life before I die,
I fly in time-machine airplane of hope
halfway around Earth on wings of desire
to marry Goddess of the Holy Grail
who reincarnates our souls in our children.

Dazed in chamber of lost secrets from hope,
I listen to Moon Girl play melodies
of heart-enchanting grace on silver flute
that lifts my soul from muck of agony
so I fly high with wings of Icarus
above vast maze of human history.

Mute in chamber of lost secrets, I sing
first flash of love that flares forth into worlds
that teem with conscious beings of energy
who bloom wise from quantum cosmology
for our brief flash of life till we burn out
and vanish into shadows of our words.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/04/…

Orpheus designs and constructs chamber of lost secrets at the center of the Museum of Dead Gods that lures seekers of truth in the global Maze of Myths.

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

Vibrate Voice Of God
© Surazeus
2026 04 06

Nebulous song of the black telephone
asks me to commit unrelenting love
through pretentious messages from dead gods
which I must announce to humanity
though my soul detaches from my stone brain
and floats on brittle hum of ardency.

Thrashed by wonder of unfamiliar death,
who floats above me every sleepless night,
I consider how famine mistransforms
shadows of frantic minds to animals
who wander without caution in moonlight
to stare through windows at angelic humans.

Because my mother weeps when she conceives
my mortal body from draconic daze,
she plays violin for gentle peacocks
whose eyes design my heart calligraphy
so I know how to vibrate voice of God
through tangled verse of fabled honesty.

With broom of listless ennui at world war
I tend the broken bridge of loneliness,
though I ignore the zither of my heart
to exorcise angelic energy
from millions of hearts possessed by despair
who ask me to write battle hymn of faith.

I will eat oranges of confusing taste
rather then erase them from my sad joke
that maps waterless rivers of regret
where wingless angels stuck in empty churches
fold wounded hearts in origami cranes
while they deny their desire to escape.

When I find his Green Car wrecked on the road
halfway between New York and San Francisco,
he introduces me to his best friend,
the bear who has built every bridge on Earth,
then teaches me how to defend myself
when Fortune curses me with global fame.

Thirsty for truth beyond theology,
I steal lemons from Tree of Good and Evil,
but refuse to sugar bitter despair
while riding donkey of world revolution
to drive mad King Herod from our White House
and free Liberty from guilt-loop of Hell.

As abject failure at the cursing game,
I hurl book of riddles into the swamp,
then renovate ten thousand rotten houses
so every homeless person in the world
may dwell in haven of attentive fear
and join world choir to vibrate voice of God.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/04/…

Orpheus hires Landis Everson to renovate Temple of Singing Skulls that wobbles on shore of the River Styx in meadow of Elysium.

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

Reluctant Prayer Of Hope
© Surazeus
2026 04 05

Each time she pauses by the broken door
to listen for reluctant prayer of hope,
another crow emerges from the book
with clocks for eyes that unspool alphabets
while tired construction workers drink hot beer,
because she waits for her ship to come in.

Fake photographs from family of ghosts,
stuffed inside leather suitcase of wolf skin,
escape from aching laughter of her heart
to live as butterflies in shadowed rooms
where children play board games of psychic war
while ships of slaves sink in electric storms.

Back when old kings ruled every crowded land
from castles of aggressive greed for gold,
her grandparents folded her in the box
and sent her overseas on ship of state
so she lives now in small Missouri town
where she tries to ignore the weeping clown.

Arranging books on brave library shelves
in moral order of their truthfulness,
she ponders how the television works
transmitting images in crackling air
like crystal ball of the grim sorcerer
who builds model ships in bottles of faith.

These faint fragments of cultural debris,
that float about her on butterfly wings,
she slots in expanding puzzle of truth
as picture that shows nations of the world
clashing in fierce religious wars for oil
which fuels our piston-engine time machines.

Ascending narrow stairs of innocence,
she stands on peaked roof of brave Jupiter
to survey sprawling maze of city streets
where billions of people struggle to live
in constant hunger for paradise lost
as robots building cars and radios.

Sharp cry for justice in the teeming crowd
sparks revolution of the working class
who program computers in cubicles
that weave world wide web of god consciousness
combining social media anecdotes
in never-ending novel of success.

Relaxed on front porch of her cottage home,
free from bondage of marriage and religion,
she writes novel about the abused girl
who reclaims her life with struggle for truth
to live as true self nascent in her heart
while jets bomb homes in countries far away.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/04/…

Orpheus plays flute while Ophelia writes her novel that combines horror and romance disguised as literary fiction to explore the complexity of life in our global civilization.

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

Silent On Subjective Tricks
© Surazeus
2026 04 05

They almost trick me into spilling why
death comes to us as the white butterfly,
but I keep silent on subjective tricks
which I employ to map the River Styx
where magic spells sprout from linguistic muck
with energy I gather to fool Luck.

Since no one dares to teach me how to fly,
I gain employment as government spy
assigned to analyze the crucifix
despite abundant code angels unfix
to guard the activist driving her truck
who rescues the church pastor who got stuck.

Atomic brains amend contract of thought
with ambient destiny where cooks get caught
through humble success of great discipline
too dangerous for the loyalist to win
though I drive streets of Seattle to find
celestial key that opens Divine Mind.

Ride with me in my fast airplane I bought
to find the hidden oracle who taught
my father how to architect Berlin
when he grew up in Temple of Shaolin,
dancing with principle that to be kind
forges theology with creeds that bind.

Startled awake on Bridge of Loneliness,
I hang out to converse with Sisyphus
about true nature of the Cosmic Christ
who invades money temple in brave heist
through mental coup against cruel tyranny,
then crowns his son with feudal barony.

When my sponge brain begins to phosphoresce
with frantic visions of global distress,
I visit the Pope as wise poltergeist,
commissioned to design novel zeitgeist
that secures equal rights through Liberty
which lifts every soul out of poverty.

Entranced when Minerva begins to croon
screams of despair into uplifting tune,
I wear mask of Lucifer as my face
to prove our souls disappear without trace
when our bodies decay at strike of death
though we practice yoga with calming breath.

Exclusive deal won through electric boon
freaks me out when our empire falls too soon
to account for god vibes in our headspace
though Apollo is detecting the case
to find out who released demonic wraith
whose tender care teaches us selfless faith.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/04/…

Orpheus transcribes prophecies of Minerva in book of demonic wraith that explains how Apollo solves the murder case of Sisyphus.

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

Grand Event To Play
© Surazeus
2026 04 05

Flowing on away into evening light
that floats suspended in green glowing leaves,
my memories dissolve to empty scenes
of passion for the grand event to play
in huge museum on the river shore,
crowded with white statues of long-dead gods.

I love graceful goddess who has no face
because she understands the gift of life
encasing light of stars in frame of flesh
urged by desire to procreate its soul
which glows inside weird tangle of my brain
with scenes of their achievements to survive.

When shy Psyche visits garden of pears
to find the language of her aching heart
she buried under hollow stone of hope,
she finds me holding darkness in my hand
so she gives it wings to escape my mouth,
then takes my hand and smiles with knowingness.

Water of Heaven flows out of my eyes
so I drink laughter of the flashing stream
where swirling portal to infinity
reveals strange beauty of this spinning globe
that nurtures my body with starry breath
even as I dwindle to silent books.

My hungry spirit of barbarity
will vanish into clocks of factories
contrived by wizards of the wingless horse
to build ten million time machines of fate
so I can drive from sea to shining sea
just fast enough to almost escape death.

Haunted by indifferent Nature of change,
I cobble new narrative for my life
by stringing random events in taut thread
that twangs from magic touch of Orpheus
to make sense from harsh events I endure
that seems to give my journey some grand goal.

Sweet dissonance of clashing purposes
reveals ambitious strategies for growth
contrary to oppression of the state
that crushes honest people under plots
designed to figure characters from tales
who choose the lighthouse as clandestine fate.

Unraveling years of our weightless curse
expands dim consciousness of signal lights
that flash through gloom of swirling alphabets
toward which we sail on fractured view of truth
with brave intention to restore from ruin
abandoned temple of the laughing god.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/04/…

Orpheus sits around all day in his quaint suburban house, refusing to participate in grand events to play role of the psychopomp in insane times.

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

Angel Wings Of Hope
© Surazeus
2026 04 05

On this rainy Sunday morning at dawn
after first full moon of transcendent light
spawned by radiance of the Spring Equinox,
I hear subtle wind of nurturing care
animated by angel wings of hope
on which I fly above vast maze of myths.

My holy book of long-forgotten lore
floats in tangled red threads of destiny
within glass box of false eternity
that spirals with galactic agency,
animated by angel wings of hope
on which I tumble from celestial realm.

Eternal flame of black sublimity
flares forth from seed of potential concept
to bloom from nothing into something real
as sacred flower of psychic energy
animated by angel wings of hope
from which I become my true divine self.

Traversing hill of skulls at crack of dawn,
I feel eternal light of ardent faith
pierce wordless armor of my aching heart
to see Clementine and Ophelia swim,
animated by angel wings of hope
to fill straw baskets with flowers and eggs.

Just as I approach ancient ring of stones,
bright rainbow beam of my beautiful truth
reveals Eostre, fecund Goddess of Life,
holding on her lap young child of her heart,
animated by angel wings of hope
to write tales of human life in Dream Book.

Though tyrants in steel towers of blind greed
kill men who defend their gardens of fruit,
Aquaria transforms spirit of love
from fear to child with eyes of timeless faith,
animated by angel wings of hope
to build new nation from ruins of war.

When gold moon rises high on Phoenix wings,
born from fertile womb of World Mother Sea,
she sends her flighty son, wild Pegasus,
to carry me across the windy steppes,
animated by angel wings of hope,
from which I ride to explore spinning Earth.

Cells in my body split to formulate
new body from blueprint of psychic code,
designed by immortal soul of my genes
to walk in blooming forest of the dead,
animated by angel wings of hope
as wingless angel wearing mask of light.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/04/…

Orpheus preserves angel wings of hope in Museum of Dead Gods at the University of Zarathia where tourists from other planets observe relics of the lost human race.

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

House Of Laughing Masks
© Surazeus
2026 04 04

Though I fade into white wall of blank masks,
I open drapes of sorrow to perceive
casual performance of every-day life
when people walk to the clean grocery store,
then cook dinner and listen to weird songs
on vinyl records that spiral the void.

Another child exploring the wheat field
disappears into shadow of the book
that teleports them to far distant land
where they invent new name that confines thought
as jeweled crown secure on velvet cloth
beams satiric laughter at the Glow Cloud.

When I gaze in eye of the Palantir
I watch people all over the world live
lives of quiet desperation to prove
we are ghosts in one television screen
assured of salvation with the One Ring
forged by Angel of Death from my soul bone.

With white horse of my adventurous heart
I stroll along the craggy seashore cliff
on winding network of trails that invite
my noble journey to end of the world
where I will build the House of Laughing Masks
to preserve record of my mundane life.

Ten thousand retired schoolteachers with pens
could not repair my house of memories
fallen into disrepair through regret
for not opposing tyrants in steel towers
whose greed destroys institutions of state
so empires collapse into companies.

Marble idol of Jesus on the hill
spreads arms of love to welcome every soul,
then gives me book and pen with bold command
that I rewrite whole history of the world
to show his sons triumphant in conquest
as they enforce law of his love with guns.

With joy for life, despite dark fuel of fear
which nurtures passion of respect for death,
I saunter casually on spring-bright road
past houses where strangers wear laughing masks
to hide horror that men in seats of power
bomb hospitals and schools to kill the flower.

Leaving frantic hustle of city life,
I stroll in pastoral painting of false hope
to visit natural beauty of wooded hills
where monstrous demon of human desire
seethes under calm waters of mountain lakes
so I return to House of Laughing Masks.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/04/…

Orpheus paints his House of Laughing Masks with bright rainbow colors, then plays lyre of Mercury on the porch, to annoy representatives of the homeowners association.

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

Sudden Chime Of Flowers
© Surazeus
2026 04 04

I think spring wind that moves my garden gate
with sudden chime of flowers in sunlight
might be young daughter of the lyre-skilled seer
whose bright uncanny chord of ardent faith
makes fruit trees dance with joy in morning rain,
so I sing with her spirit in my heart.

Though I have slept alone for many years,
secure in calm state of my solitude,
warmth of love that blooms from giving heart
no more than illusion of fading fate,
sweet voice of her free spirit sparks my soul
awake from silence of my loneliness.

After searching for her on homeless plains,
I step outside door of safe house I built
from fragile memories of cheerful laughs,
and find shrewd daughter of the lyre-skilled seer
tending herbs and fruit trees on river shore
where I wander mute as water-smoothed stones.

I ask forgiveness from her shining eyes
as her deft hands tend roots of healing herbs
when she mixes fresh fruits and vegetables
with magical secrets of alchemy
to prepare healthy feast for wanderers
who gather around table of her heart.

Now that faint shadow of my nameless soul
has split in two bright spirits on the grass,
I breathe celestial aura of the moon
and sing enchanting melody of love
while graceful daughter of the lyre-skilled seer
frolics before large crowd of travelers.

With sudden gust of wind that shakes our hearts
our wild-winged son of fate, brave Icarus,
swoops down from tall tree on taut sturdy rope,
then seems to fly with eagle elegance
above the awe-struck crowd of refugees
who cheer transcendence of divinity.

Though he transforms into the wingless crow
who travels distant lands of sparkling snow,
our curious son investigates star flight
by searching for the highest peak of hope
so he can soar beyond bounds of this world,
though he may fall in bosom of the sea.

Immense red glare of flames in timeless sky
portends apocalypse of global wars,
but clever daughter of the lyre-skilled seer
tends fruit trees with attentive hands of faith,
for empires stand on hard productive work
of farmers and crafters with love for beauty.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/04/…

Orpheus visits his daughter and son-in-law at their home in Elysium where they run temple hotel for travelers by providing food and entertainment every night.

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

Museum Of The Heart
© Surazeus
2026 04 04

Each time I meet someone on long life road
who stumbles, half bent under heavy load
of sorrow they feel duty-bound to bear,
I point their way to the heavenly stair
that requires they leave all burdens behind
so they are free to grow in their own mind.

All these cute bromides the suffering share
are broken toys abandoned on the stair
because the drunk man, bruised by fight for pride,
cannot find where the innocent must hide
to open fragile wings in frantic flight
and escape his rage in defective night.

Relaxed on hill of our disastrous breeze,
my mother gives me her forensic keys
that function to open library doors
which preserve melody of ocean shores
recorded clear in my ancestral dreams
because I follow ministerial streams.

Yet all I remember from sitting in school
is learning how to employ naive rule
as mental mechanic repairing the brain
which animates my mercurial gain
when I navigate winding career path
as cartographer through magic of math.

I see reflected in each human face
obsessive anguish of the angel race
to investigate murder mystery
at core of political history
recording how kings kill to maintain peace
yet protect only those who pay the lease.

Dwelling safe in Museum of the Heart,
which our ancestors built on our star chart,
I compose new narrative for the world
around eighth coming of the cosmic herald
who builds world state that supports spirit birth
comprising United Nations of Earth.

When Salome dances before world king
while she wears my spirit-enchanting ring,
I may start to love her and lose my head,
which she will bear home on platter of lead
to shield my brain against radiant waves
through prophecies of oracles in caves.

When you and I meet on long road of life,
united in goal to overcome strife,
we build from ruins of America
state of equal rights named Zarathia
which binds the rebel with the orthodox
through spiral riddle of psychotic clocks.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/04/…

Orpheus adjusts psychotic clock of world zeitgeist in Museum of the Heart with new riddles for the coming global age of transnational culture.

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

First Mother Am
© Surazeus
2026 04 04

I compete only against gears of silence,
which Death employs to unravel my mind,
by expressing through machinery of words
complex contraption of conceptual truth
designed by ancestors of my desire
to conjure virtual model of the world.

Millions of lonely explorers like me,
who muddle through daily routines of hope,
string frail words of concepts in brittle verse
to weave veil of illusions in loose net
with scheme to catch elusive fish of faith
so we can eat roasted dreams of desire.

Small groups of people huddled on the beach
around the world from Africa to China
gather each night for eighty thousand years
to share tale of the man with gleaming spear
who kills enormous dragon of the deep
and roasts it on pyramid for our feast.

Wearing dinosaur skull that crowns his head,
brave storm god, who provides fresh food to eat,
stands strong beside first mother of our tribe
to guard her soul when she adjudicates
disputes between contentious appellants,
then pours juice in our cups for all to drink.

Strange vision from our pre-civilized age
glows bright before my disconcerted eyes,
so I sing ballad of First Mother Am
whose ghost reigns still on pyramid of power,
her star-bright eye of knowledge watching us
as immortal spirit we now call God.

First Mother Am teaches her daughter Amen
to host weary travelers on long roads
with feast of bread and juice in temple hall
where Yusa strums strings of her harp and sings
heart-enchanting melodies that present
men as heroes who protect everyone.

Millions of poets alive now on Earth
sing alone in their rooms around the world,
for we remember aching song of hope
First Mother Am sings in our pulsing hearts
through voice of Ishtar on high pyramid
that binds our souls in one global religion.

We poets chanting verses of fierce faith
are curious prophets of First Mother Am
for we compete with stark silence of death
as choir of angels singing tale of hope
till we all vanish from dream of this Earth
when voices echo faintly in the void.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/04/…

Orpheus follows voice of the angel to the giant pyramid deserted for several thousand years where ghost of Am, Amen, Inanna, and Ishtar still sing visions that inspire humanity with hope.

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