Grandson Of Cassandra
© Surazeus
2026 02 24

Grandson of Cassandra, Sybil of Truth,
I prophesy events of global change
in psychic code of clever fairy tales
that foretell coming of messiah sleuth
whose principles cover whole social range
designed to analyze commercial sales.

In love with Sybil of Cimmeria,
where dark clouds loom above vast city maze,
I transcribe riddles she proclaims in trance,
preserved through temples of Sumeria
to help us navigate next social phase
when Fortune gambles our brief lives with chance.

Exact location of the sacred fane,
where Roma tends warm hearth of our safe home,
eludes aggressive stalkers seeking wealth
because she dwells on bright celestial plane
where I hide timeless beauty in dream tome
that fools should read to maintain mental health.

Cruel Saturn teaches young Mercurius
strange art of weaving words with tangled threads
in shining tapestry of world events
so when I am reborn as Sirius
I have tools to retrieve from fragile heads
conceptual tropes that guide wise presidents.

Alert to sudden shifts in public vibes,
that flash from sentimental anecdotes
when Fate highlights souls who stumble on stage
to play roles that channel spirit of their tribes,
I encourage people to cast their votes
for seer who transforms respect from blind rage.

Trained by mute Cassandra to analyze
dramatic scenes of interacting souls
that portray weird zeitgeist of our Hive Mind,
I organize gangs of poetry spies
who manipulate people to play roles
in social games that suffering has streamlined.

Master of community services
providing support for war refugees,
I hide my power of the puppeteer
with mask that mirrors polished surfaces
in vain attempt to suppress tragedies
officials commit for the chanticleer.

Cassandra, who lies trembling in my arms,
grandmother Sybil of Cimmerian hills
who changed history with secret prophecies,
explains how she lives reborn as my charms,
then gives me ancient book of vatic spells
with formulas that bind democracies.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus teaches grandson of Cassandra how to encode harsh satire of prophecies in musical language of surreal nonsense to misdirect the censors of the state.

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

Silence Of Fake Words
© Surazeus
2026 02 23

Down here in dirty cavern of my heart,
I slouch with passive passion for this life,
half-awake beneath surface of grim fear,
wondering if could crawl back up from Hell
so I can jump off high cliff of despair
and float on wings of Icarus nowhere.

Unseen in shadow of the faceless god
who stands as grand idol above the crowd,
I mumble spells that no one ever hears
through troubling hum of my interior self
that vanishes in silence of fake words
when you listen close to understand fear.

Shocked at moment of terrible insight
by self-exploration of wordless despair,
I wear mask of self-awareness to hide
demonic storm of hate that writhes with lust
in pulsing passion of my hungry heart
when I fail to analyze psychic noise.

Startled by clanging bells of dire alarms
that rattle fire-station walls with woke jokes,
I scream at portraits of ghosts on the wall
who threaten to devour my apple heart,
so I lie on my back on marble floor
to let gallery viewers trample me.

Crawling drunk on country dirt-road of faith,
I tremble paralyzed by divine light
when God approaches in the starless night
as glaring headlights of the semitruck
that crushes my perspective into dust
though I photograph piston-engine guts.

Head bowed in contemplation of regret
from vain attempt to untwist moral laws
with blunt authority of bitter gods,
I empower embrace of naked Death
in frantic avoidance of mental angst
that beams image of my soul in the mirror.

Haughty with genius of performance tricks,
I fall in love with image of my Self
which I invent from psychotic remains
of famous word wizards who sang love spells
which lures attention from inner turmoil
concealed by surface mask of conscious breath.

Blind shadow of all my ancestors lurks
in hollow shimmer of my doorless room
so I displace my god-bright consciousness
in flashing television screen of dreams
that urges me to leap in toxic pool
with gritty influx of irreverent faith.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus carries the drunk poet along the streets of New Orleans till he turns into a raven and flies into the swamp.

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

Tears Of Happy Rain
© Surazeus
2026 02 23

On hands and knees of brave alacrity,
bruised by bitter faith in the Promised Land,
Ellen crawls across muddy field of fear
with fierce indifference of the thunderstorm
that drenches her in tears of happy rain
which seeks to cleanse her heart of futile pain.

Ellen breathes ethereal light of respect
with passion to inflate cordial concern,
then stumbles in sparse grove of apple trees
to coil elastic sinews of her soul
wound tight in sheltering canopy of faith
by huddling against cold wind of despair.

Eyes blinking with blurred insight of her watch
that never measures slow passage of change,
Ellen imagines she dials time backward
to undrench field of mud in silver rain
far enough that she sees the stone in time
to swerve the car aside before the crash.

Unbreak the wheel of Helios with foresight,
Ellen tells herself with wry grin of angst
while peering through flashing curtains of rain
to spot demonic monsters with sharp teeth
before they attack and rip out her heart
that pounds with cautious readiness to flee.

Ellen sighs as she peers through silver sheen
to assess situation with the car
that lies battered and twisted on its side,
and notes right front wheel brokely spinning slow
with grim accusatory glare of fate,
then ponders how to right the vehicle.

Like the wounded horse fallen on its side
from breaking its leg against unseen rock,
dim headlights of the car stare in her eyes
with forlorn anguish of confusing pain
that stabs her heart with sudden flush of guilt,
so she aches to comfort crashed car with care.

Bemused that she imagines non-souled car,
constructed from metal, rubber, and wood,
with piston engine powered by gasoline,
must feel pain and fear in its suffering,
Ellen chuckles this empathy persists
against all rational analysis.

Arms and legs bruised from wrenching accident,
Ellen eats several apples from the tree
as gold sunrays glitter after the storm,
then limps slowly back to overturned car
to caress its dented hood with compassion,
but cries at the death of her favorite horse.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus arrives with the tow truck and hugs Ellen as Daedalus hitches her Model T-Ford, then they sing Humble Me O Lord as they drive back to town.

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

True Nature Of Christ
© Surazeus
2026 02 22

Randomly wandering off somewhere else,
I sit by the river of clarity
and listen to the scream of butterflies
that catalogue how incompetent kings
cause their civilizations to collapse
by crushing critical experiments.

While people in the building on the hill
argue about the true nature of Christ,
whether God created him from the stone
or whether he is eternal as the wind,
I hum harmonious catalyst of faith
that highlights the indifference of Nature.

I ponder concept of the Holy Ghost
who sparks gasoline of electric hope
without dynamic formulas for fate
we sell each other in the marketplace
through graphical interface of dire thoughts
impressive with index of verbal bombs.

Reordered medium of mutual creeds
might maximize our maternal instincts
contrived by magic minister of reason
who sells salvation to synthetic brides
at standardized reunion of glass schools
secure with sediment of salaries.

Rude receiver of messages from God
presents tremendous terms of unity
while on vacation to the Promised Land
where children volunteer to feed the poor
who celebrate grand victory of their team
at fight for wisdom on the waterfront.

Untitled prince who roams the wilderness
stops at each house in the shadowy woods
to praise accomplishments of the mad clown
who treasures quality of polished bowls
which he presents at every seminar
as specialized game of socialist code.

Despite regression of the psychic mode,
Remus falls asleep in algebra class
though Lakshmi taps him on the shoulder blade
before the evening sun begins to fade
erasing every church from dream of time
so people walk with nothing in their hands.

As passive character of my own tale,
I confront some small problem in my life,
meditating on strange complexity
inherent in our worship of the light,
but take no action that might change the world,
then wander somewhere else I never am.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus kneels in the cave of illusions as Anahita anoints him as Christ who orchestrates assimilation of all countries in the United Nations of Earth.

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

Emptiness Of The Mind
© Surazeus
2026 02 22

Because I seek emptiness of the mind,
erasing special features from my face
so I become the universal soul,
I leave my name as mask on broken ground
with nonchalant indifference of true faith
to empathize with every soul on Earth.

Carmentis carves letters as keys for tones
that symbolize the sounds of words we speak,
transforming letters that Cadmus designed
to better match speech her tribesmen express,
then sings the heart-charming spell she composed
while Mercurius strums strings of his lyre.

Bearing bright-eyed son of Mercurius,
Carmentis holds new-born child in her arms
and beams with joy as he suckles fresh milk,
then hums charming melody with soft voice
while she ponders what name of noble sense
she will choose to address him with respect.

Leaning against marble statue of Pallas,
that stands with spear and cape in temple hall
on hill of Pallantium in Arcadia,
Mercurius adjusts strings of his lyre
while his curious son crawls on his lap
and giggles when he plucks taut strings of time.

Running with his pet wolf in rugged hills,
Evander finds two men in apple grove
grasp arms of young woman with cruel intent
while their leader attempts to kiss her mouth,
so he drives them away with magic wand,
then cleans her face and gives her juice to drink.

While lounging with Clytia beside the pool,
Evander vows to marry her with love,
but Tantalus bursts into temple hall
and shouts with rage that Clytia is his wife,
so Evander flees far across the sea,
and sails till he lands on shore of Latium.

Exhausted from his trip across the sea,
Evander crawls to temple in dark woods
where gold-haired Latina offers him juice,
spiced apple cider that revives his heart,
so he brings firewood and water in jars,
gazing with love as she bakes loaves of bread.

Bearing bright-eyed daughter of Evander,
Latina teaches her to analyze
social events with code of prophecy,
so Roma presides at the temple hearth
while strumming dream lyre of Mercurius
whose spirit wakes in sparkle of her eyes.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus hangs out with Evander at his home on the Palatine Hill as they watch Pallas and Roma play with lambs in the meadow of flowers.

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

Games Of Word Power
© Surazeus
2026 02 22

I played my part in the national tale
though no one noticed my performance art,
so who will be surprised when it falls apart
because I finally caught the great white whale
and saved America from tyranny
by redirecting global symphony.

When I transform into tall tree of light
and float as mist above tree-shrouded hills
so my soul shimmers clear in mountain rills,
I channel soul of Star God through dream flight
by singing in harmony with the stream
where we unite and work as loyal team.

Sunlight gleams on lake of demonic force
while I write name of every famous mind
who played on stage of hope that fate designed
in quest to seek psychological source
from which springs energy of social change
that drives some to express whole mental range.

Untwisting threads of fortune tangled tight,
from which no human spirit can escape,
I wear leather Dracula boots and cape
while recording tales of the human plight
dramatized as gods on the global stage,
who play characters on the unread page.

Though Fame never cast her eyes on my face,
illuminating both weakness and strength
that calculate with fractured scenes coiled length
expanding my conscious sense of dream space,
I celebrate success of role I played
with solemn eloquence that needs no grade.

Kwan Yin provides conceptual scope of health,
preserved in luscious peach of timeless spark
as bright atomic ray from divine quark,
which fuels ascension of my soul through stealth
from ever-changing sphere of molecules
to wake as mortal god from chemicals.

Intense with sudden insight of mute rain,
I gaze out window of my roadless home
at wagon trains that pass the crumbling dome
to colonize farms on the river plain
far from political games of state power
so children can find truth in the star flower.

Frustrated by fake role of loyal fool
both church and state demanded I should play,
I rewrite brain program script to portray
creative architect who wields word tool
to conjure virtual model of the Earth
designed with progressive code of soul birth.

Though you will never know the role I played
as minor function in global machine,
you may see ghosts glow on the silver screen
that perform tale of Savior and Mermaid
till we all go home when the play is done
since Death cares not about who lost or won.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus keeps tally on who won each contest in which they compete for everlasting fame of achievement at the Olympic Games.

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

Infinite Location Of Faith
© Surazeus
2026 02 22

Trivial circle of heart-breaking despair
precludes expressive vision beyond death
except repetitive gestures of hope
trapped by mechanical actions of hands
grasping slippery curve of the universe
by looping back to cave of helplessness.

Foundational assumptions about life
on which I ramble with unconscious trust
crack at brutal rays of honest despair
and crumble into illusory sand
so all I thought was true is incorrect,
delusions that vanish at frantic grasps.

Disoriented by delusions of false hope,
I stumble through concept of the abyss,
lost in dizzy haze of the endless maze,
stuck at infinite location of faith
unlocated in vast reality
till I become the essence of nowhere.

All meaning my mind invented from hope
dissipates with mist in glare of the sun
so I ache as I strive to comprehend
phenomenon inherent in each thing
that pulses with assumptions I devised
though I mumble words to express my truth.

Manipulated by petty desires
that urge my actions to acquire respect,
I struggle trapped in web of predilections,
blinded by illusions my brain invents,
till I stand naked in abysmal stasis,
unknowing in profundity of why.

Embraced by desire to live beyond death,
my worn-out heart flutters its wounded wings
when ultimate illusion of my truth,
which I thought was eternal as high mountains,
dissolves in blustery wind of wild waves
that crush my words with cold indifference.

Though I fancied myself sprite of free will,
asserting my vision with honest words,
I find my body of chemical fluids
is no ethereal angel of pure light,
but lust-automated reflex machine
programmed by ancestral dreams of survival.

With honest assessment of fallen angels,
I know my self is charade of desire,
mental computer of composite creeds
designed to process experience of hope,
so I embrace your body with my heart
and we make love that banishes despair.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus and Ophelia whisper sweet words of love to each other as they make love under the apple tree in the Garden of Eden till planes bomb it into the waste land.

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

One Of The Winged Seraphs
© Surazeus
2026 02 21

When he stumbles drunk in the Promised Land,
waving tattered book of weird fairy tales
in his hand, Richard shouts at Tree of Life
that he is in love with Annabel Lee
because he is one of the winged seraphs
who escaped Heaven with arrogant wings.

Smearing blood of rainbows with joyful rage,
while shouting insults at proud Gabriel,
Richard paints Tarzan on cold marble wall
to offend bright angels who rule the skies,
but they smile at antics of the wild child
who falls asleep by mushroom of the toad.

Irreverent voice of the subjective clown,
that withers holy daffodils of faith,
bulges from his chest with assertive pride
to tear constraints of strict morality
with alligator teeth of jealousy,
rejecting formal patterns of concern.

Perceived as intellectual clown of faith,
who maintains illusion of divine truth,
Richard tears pages out of holy books
to rearrange scenes of dramatic scope
where he plays role of the very clean tramp
who smashes god idols with steel guitars.

Grave pursuit of obliteration proves
crystal-clear melodies of chiming suites
disarrange mental sense of ordered time
through dynamic physics of fractured words
which spool consistent concepts of regret
since every moment binds eternity.

Rehearsed narratives honest people code
counterbalance sober insight with rage
of circumscribed progress relapsing straight
through puzzle of prepared absurdity
when Richard abandons his youthful game
for glossier assignments trashing truth.

Continuous rejection by Perun,
who catches lightning bolts with oaken wand,
convinces Richard to trap ocean ghosts
with undeveloped spirals spinning lies
by weaving repertoire of holy clowns
with self-invention through misquoted tricks.

Reborn as television god of lies,
who builds river boats from angelic bones,
Richard attempts to escape from bland Hell,
that he created with attentive care,
by fighting against predetermined fate
that his ancestors programmed in his brain.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus plays electric guitar while Richard screams truth-entangled lyrics when their punk band performs in the grand cathedral of saintly skulls.

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

Hour Of False Grace
© Surazeus
2026 02 21

Nine times around the lake of sparkling eyes
lithe Sylphus races clockwork orange of fate
to dance with crystal wings of butterflies
in frantic ritual to expel blind hate
from seething body of the human race
who sell their freedom for hour of false grace.

Contraptions of desire collapse in shards
that tighten roots of misdirected hope
slammed with fluorescent keys of bitter cards
designed to fracture wands fools steal to cope
with time-contracted breath of confidence
unspooling spiteful jokes of innocence.

Determined to run time back home from fear
by sprinting nowhere high on fragile thoughts,
sad Sylphus questions far-flung words too near
through frantic alibi of blind robots,
yet maps departure to the unknown space
with brave defiance of the blazing face.

Drawn from bright shadows of the noon eclipse
by snarling angels chained to temple poles,
sly Sylphus swims vast oceans on slow trips
against assertive tides of social goals
contrived as law by tyrant on the hill
who sneers at our assertion of free will.

Though sweet celestial dreams of paradise
rise from his heart and disappear at dawn,
proud Sylphus brews from apricots and spice
poisonous wine with brains of demon spawn
who slither from spiraled telephone lines
with stiff distrust of sudden porcupines.

Supine airlines of loyal globalists
connect disparate states of mental being
with burning crosses doused by atheists
who shake honest rattles of suffering
when we escape collapse of empire clans
who sell mansions and live in hopeless vans.

Trapped by grim loneliness of broken words,
bold Sylphus dares communicate with spells
weird secrets of his heart to happy birds
who guide his journey to find healing wells
so he sees life with luminosity
that radiates his brain with jocosity.

You see kind Sylphus everywhere you go
in maze of stores along cosmetic roads,
disguised as humble workers for the show
who play with brave dynamics of the toad
in safe enclosures through equality,
reserved for world reign of our deity.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus wears mask of Lucifer as he performs role of world deity in golden capitol on ziggurat of power by sending silver planes to bomb paradise.

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

Turtle With Swan Wings
© Surazeus
2026 02 21

Strange as it seems to the alphabet god,
I wade in bright lake of arrogant peace
to catch demonic energy of fear
and roast large fish in domed temple of truth,
then sing with crickets in the twilight hour
when Death catches the tyrant in the tower.

Silver rain splashing on window of time
reveals strange beauty of this world I love,
refracting faces of strangers who live
in doorless houses of my neighborhood,
so I stand on stone bridge of timeless faith
and listen to song of the star-eyed wraith.

When people gather in the city park
for the annual poetry festival,
I morph into the turtle with swan wings
to fly across the prairie of respect
and walk in valley of the singing skull
to hear sweet spell only rivers can sing.

Though my heart is broken by civil wars
that displace families from ancestral homes,
the way Minerva smiles at me and laughs
while we are strolling on the river shore
heals secret wounds with charm of simple joy
because despair flows away to the sea.

Rivers have flowed from mountains to the seas
four billion years of shining crystal eyes,
and water will keep cycling through our hearts
another billion years of spinning hope,
so I kneel reverently in glowing grass
and drink clear liquid in cupped hands of love.

I pray to totems of Bacchus and Thor
who laugh with joy at calm absurdity
as we dance cheerful with anxiety
to celebrate savage science of truth
in war against the psychopathic god
who blusters with obsessive angst at Death.

Imperial pride of superior grace
glares fiercely from cracked mirror of despair
that drives brave Vikings mad in frantic fear
when glass cathedrals crack from greedy prayers
which leaves their treasured creeds exposed to rain
washing pious fantasies to the sea.

Stuck on the carousel of history
that hurls my horse of courage into war,
I race with passion past my destiny
by swerving willfully from violent hate,
and choose to welcome refugees of fate
to build communal paradise of farms.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus hangs out and eats hamburgers with Bacchus and Thor at the picnic table in the park after they read their poems at the poetry festival.

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

Puzzle Of My Soul
© Surazeus
2026 02 21

Blithely assertive with ardent affection,
I glow with quantum authenticity
by stretching bandwidth of my psychic wings
to soar in cloud of human-vibrant dreams
that pulse with cosmic energy of hope
as I assemble puzzle of my soul.

Shocked by awesome beauty of dreamless stars,
I wander nowhere in cement street maze
with vague purpose of clandestine concern
to find the angel I saw fall from Heaven
so she can tell me secrets of the heart
for wearing masks of heroes without care.

Desperately aloof with fierce apathy,
I flip insouciance with negligent plan
to change world system of capital games
so profit favors those who work the hardest
though parasites drink from my bleeding heart
with false integrity of patriots.

Certified prophet of dangerous programs,
designed to misdirect fraught deficits
against dependence of spiritual sprites,
I smear generic blood of history
on forensic walls of bland galleries
where bankers buy hazardous truths from artists.

Optical riddles through mechanic thoughts
monitor mysterious nurses of faith
whose brave offensive hands heal mutant fools
reborn as normal citizens of time
who orchestrate routines of soul survival
based on unlicensed puzzle of my soul.

Nominal model of fashionable pride
administers marginal show of beauty
with lavender leadership of contempt
pursuant to progressive relevance
dispersed by constant crowd of vigilance
unqualified to transmit tragedy.

Vanity played by humble volunteers
through magnitude of mortal membership
should maximize my viability
for martial legacy of microwaves
modified by monuments of contrition
for mutual misery of forgotten crimes.

Nitrogen trust in organized resistance
explodes with prejudice of false redemption,
yet stoic protocols through synthesis
supplement technical bias of trivia
upgrading versatile skills by osmosis
though I stare blind through verbal telescopes.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus criticizes casual citizens for ignoring social problems that plague the world in favor of funding arts institutions that feed the soul with political bromides of national superiority.

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

Frail Rose Of Beauty
© Surazeus
2026 02 20

Unbidden by grim councils of desire,
our uncorrupted rose of beauty blooms
beneath the starry dome of eerie hope
with fragile petals of our mortal hearts
that breathe strange sweetness of celestial love
in anguished hush of timeless twilight glow.

Sweet rose of beauty blooming from my heart
demands no vote from politics or creeds,
nor bends its head to banners in the square
where people march with mindless fear of death,
since sunlight is the only law it heeds
and air is divine gospel of its breath.

Pure rose of beauty thrives within stone walls
where truth protects it from the strife of power,
safe from brazen trumpets that bruise the sky
when flaring colors blind the loyal eye
and gilded emblems fool the heart to lie
in obedience to grand lord in the tower.

Shackled by demands from profiteers
to conjure illusions of wealth from death,
frail rose of beauty learns the cunning tongue
to sing of glory forged from iron flame,
so she strums lyre by ideologues restrung,
shouting loud praise that masks clandestine aims.

No wise artist could transcend dire disgrace
when grace of their chisel is pressed to carve
brave brow of the tyrant in marble mask,
nor bold brush of the painter schooled to glam
scenes of noble deeds that never occur
which trick the multitudes to bow with awe.

Firm hand of the sculptor, that once released
ideal soul of the hero from bright stone,
and trembled at bright gleam of mortal sorrow
with passion to depict beauty of man,
now labors in directed trance of fear
where truth is trimmed from sacred myths of faith.

Yet deep within our secret-breathing grove,
where refugees from war seek healing peace,
the nightingale, unbriefed by state or throne,
expresses holy hymn of sacred love
that proves respect for all forever blooms
in bold cadence no doctrine could intone.

For bright in every human in this world
our conscious soul, from pageantry set free,
drinks beauty of community we share
from stream of truth the Earth provides for all,
not by harsh trumpet of conformity,
but in choir that blends all voices in tune.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus teaches poets to employ poems to depict aesthetic beauty of life in all its complex variety, instead of twist poems to propagate state ideologies of conformity.

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

Of The Television Screen
© Surazeus
2026 02 20

I wake up in the television screen,
brain blooming billions of bland human beings
who brilliantly berate with purple praise
enormous idol of their blank-faced god
who grins with bitter angst of butterflies
at soft explosions of conceptual thoughts.

I break up in the television screen
as founding member of the corporate cohort
concerned with clank of critical contempt
at clash of Titans on the internet
who fight the holy war of sonic youth
to break electric chains of credit cards.

I crack out from the television screen
to swallow army tanks of policies
based on intrinsic attributes of faith
when brave professors of untamed desire
contemplate process of soul suicide
in context of imminent plans to laugh.

I squirm out of the television screen
with fractured shards of mirrors on my face,
and lie down prone by grave of every child,
killed by commercial programs of the state,
to play dead with glass mask of Jupiter
that glamours with precarious self-regard.

I fall out of the television screen
and tumble laughing on the White House lawn
since tattered wings of Icarus are mine
despite their enigmatic thoughts of love
when I cross hands across my wounded chest
that helps me fly in selfish grave of hope.

I writhe inside the television screen
with ardent wisdom of the orphanage,
smeared with internalized oblivion,
and march along assembly line of fate
to robot bondage in car factories,
trapped in the desperate dead-end life of hope.

I curl around the television screen
with brave malignancy of banking kings
who sing anthems with rhetorical fluff
contrived from inaccessible respect
through generous validation of the sad
regardless of our search for broken minds.

I blast off from the television screen
on wingless agency of hopeless fear
embedded inside obvious clock of trust
if we transcend confining psychic space
with brutal innocence of blind Narcissus
who eats the caged bird when it dares to sing.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus decries conflict in poetics between objective aesthetics and subjective propaganda of political ideologies while howling unwords as he bangs rusty strings on his broken guitar.

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

Gods After Bodies Die
© Surazeus
2026 02 19

Immortalized by stories humans tell,
mortals become gods after bodies die,
so we draw memories from our mental well
to conjure heroes from our global eye
whose deeds create good benefiting all
as moral guide contained in psychic key.

Prometheus steals brand of fire from Zeus
and teaches tribe of humans how to cook,
so we design machines that mass-produce
cars and computers of the Holy Book,
then fly in rocket ships to Outer Space
to find our Earth is giant spinning rock.

Grim Jupiter assembles justice squad
who forge brass scepters with sharp diamond spears
to fight oppressive Titans, then plays God
who drives fast race car with time-machine gears
in tandem with celestial flashing node
that proves our souls are atoms forged by stars.

Apollo strums electric brain guitar
to howl weird hymn of love in microphone
as global rock god who rules Zathamar
with Sisyphus who drums the rolling stone
in frantic revolution of the door
expanding our perception of this plane.

Some humans play grand role of holy ghost
whose play embodies spirit of their tribe
entranced by solemn antics of their host
who channels singing stars with social vibe
so their face becomes symbol of the best
pretenders wear as mask with priestly robe.

Queen Ishtar rules on ziggurat of truth
and sends her daughters to evangelize
conceptual scriptures of messiah sleuth
which found religions on aesthetic lies
designed to trap our minds in mindless faith
till rogue clowns deconstruct cathedral shows.

Though millions worship Jesus Christ as God
that mortal man, who nurtured followers,
and rescued slaves from Hell with angel squad,
died after he defeated puppeteers,
but fathered dynasties of castle kings
who ruled two thousand years with jeweled crowns.

Our Pantheon of humans in god form
is crowded now with heroes of the past
whose noble deeds are scattered by the storm
so theater of worship has huge cast
of aspiring stars who all left the farm
to play in movies on the hilly coast.

I worship every god who ever lived
for they are paragons of human souls
whose great deeds cause our paradigm to shift
so everybody seeks to play god role
in our golden age of angelic souls
singing together in our global choir.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus guides visitors through the Temple of the Many-Faced God to see all the masks of gods and goddesses who lived and died in the history of humanity.

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

Bright Voice Of Tellus
© Surazeus
2026 02 19

I hear bright voice of Tellus in my heart
when Mother Earth sings vision of her world
through wind and water of our swirling globe
so I breathe deep clear spirit of her mind
to translate wordless joy of fertile life
with spells that hint at glory of her power.

Each Mother Goddess in cultural myths
embodies soul of one special mortal woman
who lived so large in drama of her tribe
that their proud bards, inspired by her grand deeds,
deified her name with worshipful verse
that preserves her soul so she transcends death.

All gods and goddesses of ancient tales
record grand lives of mortal men and women
whose dramatic acts provide social frame
for how we view our human characters
when we explore fierce psychic energies
that urge our own performance in this life.

Each conscious human breathing air of Earth
finds deep in tangled memories of hope
moral values their ancestors programmed
through intense actions to survive each day
which we assemble in puzzle of truth
to imitate life of deified parents.

Each god or goddess humans choose to worship
embodies way of life providing laws
that guide how we respond to situations
when we wear mask of our true deity
which molds our secret soul in divine form
till we break free and become our True Self.

Combining features of Jesus, Apollo,
Odin, and Orpheus in one weird mask,
polished with sheen of Zeus and Lucifer,
I create myself as Surazeus
Astarius Jesuvius Gothinus,
transformed from mortal man to character.

So when this mortal body I am dies,
and crumbles into soil for apple seeds,
and conscious soul of my brain dissipates
to nothing more than flashing molecules,
Spirit of Surazeus will remain
as concept preserved in spells I compose.

Animated by First Mother of Mankind,
that one woman who gave birth to us all,
I live this temporary life of faith
to sing bright voice of Tellus in my heart,
recording memories my ancestors lived,
then I will vanish in the silent wind.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus teaches Surazeus how to play lyre of Mercury and improvise narrative poetry about lives of humans striving to wake God Mind in our brains before we die.

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

Fragile Flame Of Dreams
© Surazeus
2026 02 18

Guided safely by fragile flame of dreams,
I wander blithely endless maze of myths,
stopping to chat with idols of dead gods
as I enquire about their social lives
when we share drinks and contemplate the world,
then I continue on my merry way.

Awake from play in fragile flame of dreams,
I walk pathway along the grassy hill
where children of the stars play hide and seek
then run inside the seven-gabled house
to eat chocolate cake and watch fun cartoons
while children in distant lands flee from bombs.

Surprised by light from fragile flame of dreams,
I gaze at tattered Wings of Icarus
mounted within glass case near Crown of Thorns
inside Museum of the Fallen God,
but the guard dressed in clean uniform glares
when I attempt to sneak a photograph.

Amused by glow from fragile flame of dreams,
I ask Apollo if he understands
true nature of the graceful laurel tree,
but he just strums guitar with angry glare
and howls with hippie voice of psychic angst
against the empire war-machine of fear.

Confused by flash from fragile flame of dreams,
I ask Beethoven how to play the lyre
with stark electric anguish of true love
for noble-hearted Brunhild with star eyes
who hurls sharp spear of generosity
at King Midas to save humanity.

Inspired by hum from fragile flame of dreams,
I chant, "Hail to the Jewel in the Lotus,"
while floating high on television tube
that beams my body through the multiverse,
incarnate as Avalokitesvara
with hundred billion eyes of god-star brains.

Reborn through egg in fragile flame of dreams,
I retrieve Apple of Eris with hope
of romance with wise goddess of the Earth,
then stand before Saraswati, Kwan Yin,
and Athena, contemplating which queen
to offer rich fruit of my loyal heart.

Destroyed by blast from fragile flame of dreams,
I kneel in grand cathedral bombed to ruin,
and grasp at shattered fragments of world view
assembled by ancient philosophers,
then design new Temple of Global Truth
that merges all religions in one faith.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus smiles with admiration as Avalokitesvara explains how they are descended from Apollo and Ishtar.

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

Justice Rallies Us
© Surazeus
2026 02 18

I haunt this world as one already dead
and thus transcend contemporary strife
with visions of global peace in my head
as ideal state of equal-justice life,
because greedy men terrified of death
oppress the rest of us by stealing breath.

Attentive to mute anguish of the folk
who hide their faces behind masks of pride,
I program mental world view of the woke
that guides progress of my confident stride
when I unite with comrades of our land
to counter theft by the capitalist hand.

With star-spangled banner of Liberty
we join brave effort to oppose cruel thugs
who kidnap children of democracy,
and rescue them with encouraging hugs,
because together we learn how to cope
when Justice rallies us with reborn hope.

Our old world view lies shattered on the ground,
smashed by fierce gang of wealthy oligarchs,
so we assemble on republic mound
in world coalition against monarchs
and build from ruins of America
United Nations of Zarathia.

I haunt this world as one barely alive
after harsh assault by kings in disguise,
yet we join forces of truth to survive
against exploiters who patrol the skies
in planes that shoot bombs to destroy our homes
so we wander where the blind prophet roams.

We help Sisyphus with his rolling stone
to smash gold idol of the clay-foot king
who seems to tower over all alone
but will crumble when brave Valkyries sing,
so restoring our tax money he stole
to fund free healthcare is our noble goal.

With wings of Icarus I weave from faith
I soar above our global city maze
with message of success from the God Wraith
whose love pilots our growth to the next phase
as leader who nurtures our innates skills
when we celebrate truth in flowered hills.

We haunt our world with knowledge we will die
yet strive to build lush paradise for all
who quest for truth by analyzing why,
then feast and sing in world-religion hall
that binds our hearts and minds with code of truth
composed by wisdom of messiah sleuth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus leads refugees from dozens of wars to temple on ziggurat of Ishtar where Justice rallies us to fight tyrants and kings around the world.

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

Evening Star Of Choice
© Surazeus
2026 02 17

If I feel the Evening Star through thick fog
that half-veils tidal flats of kelp on rocks,
though my eyes cannot perceive its sharp light,
I may breathe time-swirled element of faith
that jagged pool of invisible light
may cleanse my wounded heart with honesty.

Lost in dark fog of brutal watershine,
far from safe cave of innocent respect,
I transform into heron in low tide
with eager hope to soar on graceful wings
above contentious crowds of worshippers
who seek to grasp bright calcium flame of truth.

Scattered feathers from fallen angels twitch
in hungry sand of fractured polity,
oblique with evasive context of rage
misleading sharp-eyed devils who require
typographic planes of opaque dispute
drawn from excessive expertise of fear.

Imprinted layers of conceptual fate,
still wrapped in umber clarity of trust,
define unended journeys beyond fear
condensed as statues guarding halls of lies
where whispered secrets of gauzed confidence
conceal our souls in figurines of glass.

Though startling sequence of dream formulas
pluck private strings of cordial scarcity,
hall mirror faces mirror of my brain
with law of splendid light to balance pain
against collapsing telescope of fate
through which I see the Evening Star of Choice.

Amazed by radiance of the unseen house,
preserving shocked glare of the puppeteer,
I light ten thousand candles of my heart
to highlight origin of tangled words
that multiply our bodies from desire
which thrive sparked on infinity effect.

Electric construct of my mental Self,
style modeled on profile of Orpheus
refined by quantum energy of love,
provides framework for weird ontology
I program from puzzle of spectral souls
which animates my fragile flame of dreams.

Syntax of artificial chronicles,
commissioned from my heart by primal gods,
converts my thoughts to tangled threads of words
which angels weave in global tapestries
presenting unreal shadows of our brains
we play as riddles in Plutonian homes.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus teaches the young bard how to alchemically transform disparate elements of conceptual riddles into hymns to Athena and Apollo.

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

Ripe Apple Of The Sun
© Surazeus
2026 02 17

If I should catch ripe apple of the sun
before it falls in thick Slough of Despond
I may taste bitter sweetness of true love
which is why the revolution is fought
with passion for aspiring right to stand
with fluted robe of hope on modern shores.

We ride wave of this golden age with class,
exquisite in white marble drapery
that gleams with brutal wisdom of starlight
in gleaming waters of the fountain pool
where statues of our ancestors remain
long after their souls program our genes.

While change remains eternal principle
that guides our progress from classical times,
we gaze with rapture at excessive shapes
contained in watery medium of our minds
reflecting glimmer of grief in our eyes
we cherish with consensual fortitude.

Alive in warm flesh of young nameless boy,
Apollo glides in cluttered streets of Rome
with flute he plays for national orchestras
on transparent stage of undevoured time
to note accentual differences of rhyme
we share as witness of treacherous death.

Yet unread pages of the ancient book
still mirror characters with noble traits
who never walk this world in mortal flesh
for they are ideals we aspire to play,
stuck in impossible scenarios
that always end in tragic loss of faith.

Uncommon radiance of her special face
gleams clear with incandescent honesty
through immaterial passion to retrieve
efficient confidence from tombs of fate,
defined by absence of our mortal souls
embodied by glass idols of respect.

Endurance through aesthetic thoughtfulness
reveals how numb bereavement frames our days
with courage to survive contingencies
no one but scarred survivors will expect
though trapped in consolations of contempt
that drown our hearts in cold indifferences.

Assertive discipline of summoned ghosts
constrains excessive passion to transcend
bland credence of divisive energies
that teach us how to understand our pain
despite attempts to bank fateful accounts
with apples we store in our wounded hearts.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus finds Alfred Corn by the fountain of time-worn idols in the spacious plaza in Rome as he ponders lives of ancient heroes where children play chase with death.

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

Office Of Messiah Sleuth
© Surazeus
2026 02 16

Since I can plumb the sinking of my soul
in heat that sinews my abolished will,
I will not cherish struggle to retreat
against wild burning of eternal beat
that teaches me to love beauty of Death
whose energy recalculates dream math.

I see our sky ascending black as light
with startled judgment of attentive right
above brick buildings on the rugged hill
that twists stark epitaph of rainbow will
against hosannah cries of bitter fear
that highlights process of the river gear.

If roots of wild ingrafted olive trees
should wither at harsh breath of winter breeze
I scale dire revelation of my heart
with arcane code of wisdom on star chart
which I consult to prophesy in code
fall of our empire on the signless road.

Yet night enchants ghost lion in blue glass
that shields my heart from haughtiness of class
to coil my soul in portrait of my brain
wound tight in telescope of spirit gain
that dulls excessive pain of wind-stung eyes
concealed by mirror of time-fractured skies.

No mountain in this world is now unscaled
by ancient sages who have never failed
to light bold hearth of science with respect
defined by gorgeous flash of intellect
so we may journey to the Promised Land
found on no map composed by human hand.

Still no miscarriage of my fertile brain,
she gathers books to categorize gain
against assertive reach of mad fame
by choosing not to bandage wound with name
that speaks with querulous voice of concern
for how bitter men steal books to burn.

Ephemeral music of our savage skies
teaches children that every creature dies
with graceful paranoia stricken weird
by tearful knowledge of the disappeared
who auction memories in the temple hall
in fair exchange for coins earned at the ball.

Monotony of vision mirrors hope
exchanged for childhood tricks on how to cope
despite my stature as calm nihilist
convinced by theory of the Narcissist
that we may bear unchanging scroll of truth
contrived by office of messiah sleuth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus snaps fingers while Robert Lowell recites poetry with demonic voice of the Atlantic Ocean spiraling from his mouth in tides of truth.

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

Wordless Wonder Of Why
© Surazeus
2026 02 16

I sometimes forget I am still alive
so I open the door that goes nowhere
and walk somewhere else I think I should be
then stand for some time on the nowhere spot
to think about nothing but warm sunlight
that molds my soul from words I never speak.

I remember with sudden flash of fear
that I should be somewhere else about now
so I run gasping for breath of the cloud
through shadows of trees that call out to me
but I stop by the pool of silver light
and wonder if I have some kind of name.

I may not be real as I think I am
so I keep walking to the secret place
while asking the bird with arrogant wings
if anyone has the same face as me
but she explains that I am made of rain
so I hop and flap my arms to be real.

I almost forget I want to transcend
this fragile body that gets tired and hurt
till I trip over the innocent stone
which contains the secret name I should have
so I caress rough surface of its mind
till I become its true stillness of strength.

I try to record visions of my eyes
with marks I draw in soft dirt of the world
but sudden gust of wind from black clouds
erases memories of who I should be
so I stand and walk toward the glowing beam
that teleports me to top of the world.

I look backward into shadowy woods
and listen for creak of demonic trees
that teach me how to speak words of my thoughts
then turn forward to walk into the sky
but I fall to my knees and laugh surprised
at vast roundness of the world I perceive.

I stand on top of the high mountain peak
and reach my arms to touch the silver light
then turn slowly around on trembling feet
to feel endless rolling hills of green trees
surrounded by silver shimmer of seas
that understand wild beating of my heart.

I howl loud with wordless wonder of why
at awesome beauty of the turning world
that gleams in writhing passion of my soul
because my pulsing body is amazed
that I am still alive with ache of love
without concern that I will someday die.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus teaches his son how to strum the lyre of Mercury and sing the vision of his mind in words that conjure his vision in minds of other people.

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

Ancient Wings Of Icarus
© Surazeus
2026 02 15

While on my quest to find the Holy Grail,
hitchhiking far across this crazy land,
I almost trip over long dragon tail
that teleports my soul to Samarkand.
With ancient wings of Icarus I fly
around this world shaped like a giant eye.

For deep inside my heart I hear the voice
of humankind cry out for joyful peace
because we make our fate with every choice
since Plato pondered life in sunlit Greece.
With ancient wings of Icarus I fly
around this world shaped like a giant eye.

Yet when the mighty wind of change blows wild
across our land from sea to shining sea
we rise with spirit of the newborn child
and shape this land so everyone lives free.
With ancient wings of Icarus I fly
around this world shaped like a giant eye.

Young wizard on the winding diamond road
lifts ladder of brave opportunity
so when hard rain falls at hum of the toad
we bind all tribes in one community.
With ancient wings of Icarus I fly
around this world shaped like a giant eye.

I travel with guitar of Mercury
and sing in every town of working folk
to cast bright vision with dream sorcery
converting minds to lifestyle of the Woke.
With ancient wings of Icarus I fly
around this world shaped like a giant eye.

Though sea of tears divides our lonely hearts
we build global Bridge of Togetherness
so rainbows shining on our psychic charts
guide us to meadow of the shepherdess.
With ancient wings of Icarus I fly
around this world shaped like a giant eye.

Long after empire of America
falls from our disillusionment in truth,
we gather in feast hall of Onatah
where we vote for our new messiah sleuth.
With ancient wings of Icarus I fly
around this world shaped like a giant eye.

Though I am lost in land of Zathamar,
Seattle to Miami on the road,
my soul transforms into the Morning Star
from eating mushroom of the Buddha Toad.
With ancient wings of Icarus I fly
around this world shaped like a giant eye.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus and Ophelia sing Ancient Wings of Icarus with mercurial voices of nostalgia at the reunion concert to celebrate grunge folk music of the nineties.

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

Redesign God As Robot
© Surazeus
2026 02 15

Secret encounter with the howling rock
excites regret for stealing ocean waves
and selling them to black horse of the moon
who always seems to know what words I eat
with slavish laughter of marvelous dusk
depicted by rupestral mask of life.

Frail darkness of my voice fills void of hope
with blazing cities stuck on jagged cliffs
through my irresistible zeal concealed
by stamps of genetic inheritance
born from resplendent force of purity
despite victorious angst of smoking swamps.

Delicious dearth of dream-partitioned walls
decides with sudden rain of screaming lamps
to mimic fortitude dead angels share
with bitter gods of non-eternal light
who steal hot loaves of bread for nobody
except to play chess in the smoking swamp.

Now that Beauty shall be moral again
we stand before the seething vat of ghosts
who should wear delicate masks with pink lace
if they return to forest of respect
where wicked angels aim guns at their heads
because they want to eat her apple pies.

Untraceable stains of insulting sneers
express continuum of harmful jokes
disjointed from assertive rage at strength
displayed by angels who resist their hate
by walking quietly down small-town road
because love is meat and drink of the heart.

Difficult hour I shall make friends with Death
decries strict resolution sold for peace
through backward release of unfractured air
unlocked by egregious snow of despair
which depends on blood that spurts from our eyes
by hangers that clatter on ice-slicked floors.

Aspen tree tangled with barbed wire of fear
calls for his yellow-haired mother of time
to come home on the star-stripped road of fate
at creak of rusty hinges on sad doors
that rip her heart with agony of faith
trapped by disappearing words of contempt.

If we look Trickery in his rancid eye
with eager bitterness to buy his lies
we could fire guns at angels in the sky
who drink bitter tears of electric spies
since everything we thought was true is not,
unless we redesign God as Robot.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus tricks Trickery into renaming the country for his mother who steals stories from poor children who live in cardboard boxes by the railroad tracks.

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

Wet Patio Of Time
© Surazeus
2026 02 15

Twinkle of raindrops on patio planks
wakes memories of weird dramatic scenes
that her ancestors once experienced
for millions of years on this turning globe
when they sat in silence of everywhere
on timeless afternoons of falling rain.

Shadows of old memories from her life
stretch bright across wet patio of time
that echoes laughter of wind-swirling leaves
to veil warm sunshine of her lonely smile
that glows in garden of forgotten books
where all sad stories of dead humans hide.

She sighs that eager children of her heart
have scattered far across the fertile land
as seeds blown by indifferent wind of change
that sprout in families with unknown names
who cherish their own memories of life
where she is ghost of absence none can see.

Awake with mute complacency of love,
she tries to play observer of their play
with patient nonchalance of bitter hope,
yet finds in space between unspoken words
compassion for young strangers of her clan
with love that sheds fierce urgency of hope.

Holding small leather Bible in pale hands,
she walks in black shoes and long yellow dress
on dirt road to white church on the lake shore
where child of the sky hides inside the oak
and writes poems in alphabet he designed
with blood of dragons on frail autumn leaves.

Though she knows without a doubt in her heart
that the child of the sky inside the oak
is father of her mother she once met
when he was old as the bent withered oak,
so she tries to remember his true name
but all she can think about his Hengist.

Dark stranger on the shore calls out her name,
inquiring if she might have any tears
of wordless sorrow to sell for the cow,
so she lays flower wreath on its large head
and parades through town to Scarborough Fair
where she was his true love who still lives there.

If she gets trapped in the internet game
transforming beauty from innocent tears,
she might ask statue of Apollo how
to find the street where angels fear to tread,
then laughs because life has become absurd
as computer code of the happy bird.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus meets Florence Williams beside the white church on the lake shore where he guides her to the Underworld of Nothingness while she sings hymns.

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

Awake In Blue Rain
© Surazeus
2026 02 15

Awake in blue rain of horrible hope,
I whisper name of every soul who lived
on every planet in our universe
to keep alive brave spirit of their heart
that gleams with first flash of the white-whole light
which flashes bright in neurons of my brain.

Awake in blue rain of innocent fear,
I walk the endless maze of psychic myths
to chat with idol of every dead god
ever worshipped by tribes of hungry folk,
who live reborn in children of their genes
in tangled web of human families.

Awake in blue rain of psychotic peace,
I stand on ziggurat of the God Eye
with compassion for every conscious soul
who follows guiding star of their desire
which weaves their fate with every choice they make
to generate new life before they die.

Awake in blue rain of arrogant faith,
I host communal feast of loyal friends
in grand cathedral of angelic love
contrived from doctrine of demonic hate
that binds our minds with world religious rites
presenting heroes who succeed or fail.

Awake in blue rain of marvelous mirth,
I wear the shining mask of Lucifer
to walk crowded cities of Zathamar
with brilliant lamp of wise Diogenes
while guiding refugees from civil wars
across the waste land to new Wonderland.

Awake in blue rain of frantic desire,
I wield the lightning bolt of Jupiter
to fight the tyrant who exploits the people
and rescue Rapunzel from golden tower
so she sells apples in the market place
where Phoebus helps Justice manage world life.

Awake in blue rain of pleasurable pain,
I bear the holy grail of Guinevere,
forged by hands of Jesus, the Fisher King,
through incarnation of his first-born child,
the star-eyed Mermaid with divine blue blood
whose spirit animates my social hymn.

Awake in blue rain of glamorous gloom,
I strum the sacred lyre of Mercury
and sing epic poem of philosophers
who laid foundation of our world empire
preserved in creed of Academia
to build world view on truth, not fantasy.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus begins campaign for President of the United States which he plans to name Zarathia after he defeats the tyrant of greed and despair.

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

We Rebuild Our State
© Surazeus
2026 02 14

Once I break on through to the other side
and dance in doorway of eternity,
I float in blissful consciousness of pain
as bright electric snow of spirit gain,
then sing new world view for modernity
that sparks pure laughter of our humble pride.

She asks me where I live with river voice,
so I build highways sea to shining sea
that link all cities in vast maze of souls
awake with joy of oscillating roles
between vast emptiness of light we see
because we weave our fate with every choice.

We dwell in holy land of Zathamar
with brave attention of community
that we join hands and hearts with honest faith
and guard our fellow citizens with ruth
based firm on social opportunity
despite dictatorship of Belshazzar.

We float on ocean of one global mind
with earnest wisdom of dynamic change
encrypting dream code with fantastic tune
to open wide perceptive door of soon
through sudden renaissance of perfect strange
contingent on weird contract Phoebus signed.

Intrusive measurement of tethered light
exposes romance of intense surprise
we share while watching fearful castles fall
at subtle psalm that chronicles weird call
contrived to explicate our mirror eyes
so we learn how to calculate the right.

If we break free from arrogant dismay
at serpent song of pine trees on the ridge,
we might see Helios create the wheel
in time to understand how we should feel
while dancing on frail sorrow of the bridge
that fools is into learning how to pray.

Because doors of perception reveal truth
recorded on gold scrolls by cosmic herald,
our eyes perceive ideas forming things
that channel energy through horcrux rings
which we employ at stage we are imperiled
to vote as president messiah sleuth.

Confused by joke of ardent tragedy
unspooling fortunes gambled for by time,
we all unite our individual goals
to guard our neighbors from aggressive trolls
who earnestly repent of evil crime
as we rebuild our state through comedy.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus wanders land of Zathamar to preach salvation of the wounded star who transforms into owl with moon-gold eyes.

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

Queen Juno Sospita
© Surazeus
2026 02 14

Billions of voices whisper in the dark,
expressing emotions that beat our hearts
with wild atomic passion of desire
to explain vision of the world we see,
and how we hope to play our chosen role
in global drama we create as fate.

I try to hear what each voice has to say,
to focus on conception of their mind
beamed by descriptive stream of sentences
so I may comprehend vision of truth
that glows as virtual model of the world
in pulsing framework of their fragile brain.

Their individual voices, trickling bright
as single rivulets of private thought
that curl down verbal fields of mountain slopes,
merge together in larger flow of dreams
to blend in world view everybody shares
till all our different views form one great sea.

With deft hands trained by Muse of lyric voice
I weave eight billion threads of conscious minds
in global tapestry of human hope
so all our special colors intertwined
depict with honor Mother of Mankind
embodied by Queen Juno Sospita.

Our Savior Mother Queen with gleaming eyes,
who wears goatskin cap with strength-curling horns,
brandishes brass spear with emerald blade,
and shakes long sun-drenched tresses with pizzaz
while dancing on porch of her temple hall
to melody that Phoebus strums with joy.

Our many voices blend in one great cry
that swells with brutal ecstasy of faith
while we leap high toward Glow Cloud of respect
through bold transfiguration of our souls
from individuals desperate to survive
to commune bonding with vision we share.

I stand alone on cloud-veiled mountain peak,
arms spread with joy as wings of Icarus
to sing my truth with private voice of hope
that channels voices of humanity
so all conflicting dreams blend in one dream
where every soul shares Earth as our great home.

Because I disappear in teeming crowd
and lose my self in vast humanity,
I find my true self deep inside my heart
designed by First Mother all humans share,
for Juno Sospita wakes in us all,
brothers and sisters on one turning world.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus directs choir of eight billion humans to sing one harmonious song of political hope for equality of justice and liberty for all.

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

Under Indifferent Stars
© Surazeus
2026 02 14

Despite regret for how life has panned out,
based on each strange choice he refused to make,
half-blind Wagat limps on hot river shore
to ask Willow Witch secret of true love,
but her skeleton lies tangled in roots
though her young ghost still shines bright in the sun.

Squinting through half-blind eyes of lethargy,
Wagat imagines in haze of despair
that he sees three tall angels in white robes
bearing swords of flame that glint in their hands
as they float down from hot-air balloon disk
and speak to him with celestial thoughts.

Grumbling in his short guttural speech of fear,
Wagat explains to divine messengers,
who came down from glorious clouds of light,
that his housemate Willow Witch died last month
and her body dissolved in tangled roots,
but her soul should dwell in the clouds with them.

The tallest angel with long golden hair
explains with ethereal voice of soft wind
that chimes with sweetness of morning birdsong
how the world of land and water was made
by hand of Lightning Ghost in thunder clouds,
or so Wagat imagines he might say.

Gasping in shock as tall angels of light
bind his body with thick harness like theirs,
Wagat wriggles to escape as he shouts
when they all ascend high above the field,
and the willow tree shrinks small as a bush
beside the broad river that sparkles blue.

Peering up at vast blue sky of Glow Clouds,
Wagat sees disk of the hot-air balloon
shudder in sudden gusts of freezing wind,
and he howls to see the great mountain peak
that always loomed high where the sun-eye glows
now jut below his feet as they drift past.

Gasping for breath as he tries to stay calm,
Wagat stares surprised at towers of stone
that gleam on the cliff high above the sea,
vast maze of streets full of people and carts
which appear to him like ants in stream beds,
till they land on plat of the pyramid.

Trembling as he walks with angels in streets,
Wagat hopes to meet his lost Willow Witch
in halls of Heaven she told him about,
but they teach him how to pull two-wheeled cart
so he works each day taking trash away,
then cries each night under indifferent stars.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus asks the old man hauling the trash cart his name and story of his life, but gives him apple as he mumbles and walks away.

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

With Soul Of Helius
© Surazeus
2026 02 14

When sunlight at dawn glitters in my eye
I rise from the Earth and walk in the sky.
I wander the roadless plain by the sea
and drift with the wind that wafts my soul free.
The ocean tells me, wherever I roam
I am not lost for my heart is my home.

With warm glitter of sunlight in my heart
I stride across the world without star chart.
I gather apples in basket of hope
from deep-rooted tree on the mountain slope.
The mountain tells me, wherever I roam
I am not lost for my heart is my home.

I spark new fire in ashes of my dream
and roast fish I catch from the flashing stream.
I hum in harmony with the moon chime
to measure constant flowing of breath time.
The river tells me, wherever I roam
I am not lost for my heart is my home.

To mimic rolling circle of the sun
I bend steamed wood into wheel of the dawn.
With soul of Helius, my father, in me
I journey in wagon toward the Great Tree.
The Glow Cloud tells me, wherever I roam
I am not lost for my heart is my home.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus enters apple grove with Temple of Helius and stands in awe before the ancient wagon with the first wheel that Helius invented beside the altar where Selene roasts fish for the sacred feast.

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

Sinews Of Electric Words
© Surazeus
2026 02 13

She weaves references of angelic stones
in tangled sinews of electric words
beyond comprehension of mortal minds
which sparkle with frozen sheen of brave rain
so I may witness suffering of mankind
in tales erased from archive of our hearts.

Filled with shy conviction of earnest faith,
she strides with rebellion of untamed song
down pathway of unspeakable respect
against foundational effort of hope
to discipline her uncontrollable mind
trapped in dire narrative of tragic love.

Notching arrow of truth in bow of love,
she fires intense trajectory of change
across attentive hollow of lost time
composed of history angels never share
with borrowed words of honest travesty
that threaten frail security of faith.

Obsessive passion for relating truth,
which should examine brutal hours of fear,
writhes from locked archive of hungry hearts
to crawl on wounded breast explicitly
down centuries of manufactured lies,
then lies in mystic ruins of half-burned books.

Reductive code of illegible dreams
still urges me to explore shadowed wood
with twisted curiosity of tunes
which unify disjointed claims of trees
choosing to array both present and past
through coexistence of ghosts in my brain.

Inspired by stars she names with whispered voice,
she chases echoes of misaligned thoughts,
exposing lies of painters who despise
false wholeness of virtual reality
contrived to imitate national myths
translating jokes from penitential cries.

Hushed willows anchored in glow of weird eyes
betray her safety with bold promises
based on ruthless energy of contempt
bound by urgent expectations we sell
through coopted struggle of emptiness
that leaves us stranded on cold roadless plain.

Debased by facts of cruel modernity,
our grandest university of truth
decays from corporate comedy of greed
though hearts beat rapidly with holy pride
when anxious Orpheus pounds at the wall
while chewing rotten alphabets of dreams.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus ushers Susan Howe into the top secret chamber of secret mythologies in the Anne Bradstreet Library at the University of Zarathia.

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