Night Of Everywhere
© Surazeus
2025 02 22

I seem to be stark light of loneliness
when I walk with you on the signless road
to protect you from sorrows of the world
and give you fruit I steal from Tree of Life,
companions in the night of everywhere
glowing bright with love as long as we dare.

My heart will always glow with happiness
as I move through life with calm fortitude,
though anger of hope flares when careless acts
disturb my steady path of carefulness,
progressing in the night of everywhere
so reward for hard work is always fair.

Enclosed in stoic solitude of strength
to preserve safe haven of paradise
as garden surrounded by sturdy walls,
I hide from hungry horror of the world,
humming psalms in the night of everywhere
to praise the mindless sun with hopeful flare.

Guarding my family with observant faith,
who dwell in confines of our precious home,
I maintain vigilant focus through love
to secure fragile dreams their hearts design,
attentive in the night of everywhere
to breathe divine spirit from frigid air.

To fortify our garden home from harm,
secure against hostile forces of change,
I shield the frightened hearts of eager hope
which animate the people I love most,
souls enshrined in the night of everywhere
safe within dream walls of our family lair.

Though winds of civil war corrupt the land
with fetid greed of oligarchic thieves
who threaten to disrupt our quaint routines,
we struggle against despair to unite
our mission in the night of everywhere
to help each other survive with mute care.

When traitors to everything we believe
seize control over assets of our state
to enrich themselves from wealth of our work,
we assert principles of honest faith
to stay bright in the night of everywhere
because we survive when we make and share.

I try to be clear light of happiness,
but fear of sudden destructive attack
from thieves who strike when we are vulnerable
sparks protective rage to glow in my heart
so I shine in the night of everywhere
as mortal who hopes to answer each prayer.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus walks with Ophelia in the night of everywhere, hoping to protect her when she feels vulnerable.

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

But We Will Unite
© Surazeus
2025 02 21

Kicking his television to the floor,
David runs outside in the windy night
and screams with frustration at the blank moon
that mirrors rage he feels at how things are,
then opens arms and asks Wolf God for boon
to pull sword of despair out of his heart.

Sitting lotus on wet grass of his heart,
and glaring with frustration into gloom,
David grumbles, then breathes to clear his mind
free from visions of the apocalypse
where everything collapses into chaos,
and all the progress we have made is lost.

People are still going about their lives,
driving on roads to get to school or work,
performing routine duties of their jobs,
dealing with issues to make things go well,
paying their bills, screaming into the void,
and hoping our country will be all right.

Lying on his back in exhausted despair,
David shouts up at cold indifferent stars,
then laughs at absurdity of it all,
wishing he could dissolve into the Earth
and become the tree that stands firm in wind
while singing about the beauty of rain.

Greedy thieves have seized control of our state,
pilfering our treasury for their own gain,
and wrecking havoc on our institutions,
long established by legal precedent
to serve the needs of the people with care,
because they want to reduce us to slaves.

I keep hoping someone with enough power
of legal state authority, bestowed
by constitutional concept of right,
will apply checks mandated by the law
to arrest coup against our government
and balance power among honest men.

When one man arrogates unto himself
complete authority to decree laws
he executes to maintain his weak power,
he grasps at straws beyond his legal reach,
absconding powers to establish laws
that only senators have the right to use.

My heart is grieving for our noble nation
held hostage now by greedy oligarchs
who are bent on trashing good institutions
to oppress with rapacious tyranny
people of this land they want to enslave,
but we will unite and resist their hate.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus joins David on his lawn and hands him a warm cup of ginger tea to ease the frustration of his heart.

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

Together On Mount Horeb
© Surazeus
2025 02 21

When Bacchus climbs Mount Horeb at midnight,
he finds no bush burning in silent snow
so he sets the old television tube
on broken tablets of the ancient law
to watch Chinese legend of the White Snake,
and sighs in love with the shy graceful maid.

Startled by rustling in the nearby bush,
Bacchus investigates with the flashlight,
thinking to find a ram with vine-snared horns,
but finds instead the angel Gabriel
drunk on wine Varuni gave him to drink,
and mumbles he is obsessed with her beauty.

Drinking wine together on Mount Horeb,
Bacchus and Gabriel compare love notes
about their girls, Varuni and Bai Suzhen,
arguing over which is more beautiful,
but laugh and decide to become best friends
as snow covers their television set.

When Eos brings dawn light of pink despair,
Bacchus and Gabriel wake with headaches,
hungover from drinking way too much wine,
but they both gasp with embarrassed surprise
to find their girlfriends by the burning bush
cooking rabbit and mushroom stew for breakfast.

Glaring at their boyfriends with loving eyes,
Varuni and Bai Suzhen give them bowls
of hot rabbit stew, which warms up their hearts,
then all four walk together down the trail
with new mission to find the Holy Grail,
but first they stop for lunch at the hotel.

Seated as loving couples, they hold hands,
Bacchus with Bai Suzhen on the one side,
Gabriel with Varnuni on the other,
and, when Jesus waits their table, they order
cheese hamburgers and french fries with root beer,
then eat as they watch World Cup soccer games.

After they drive to Niagara Falls,
the four university best friends pose
for selfies and group photos that highlight
fun summer vacation on their road trip
exploring American national parks,
then post them on their social media sites.

Sitting around bright campfire at midnight
in the Joshua Tree National Park
under bright Milky Way Galaxy stars,
they share stories about their younger lives,
then talk about secret plans for the future,
how they want to found the new world religion.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus and Ophelia join the four friends in their plan to found a new world religion where everyone is equal.

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

Voices Of Our Ancestors
© Surazeus
2025 02 20

If all our sorrows render use complete
with passion to transcend this frame of flesh,
might we then watch the dancing tree of fate
weave voices of our ancestors in flash
of rain that soaks with bright angelic tears
expansive meadow of our flowered moon.

Yet dark gloom looming in angelic wings
would shroud our world in howling voice of God
who shouts at us through angry wind of time
so we lie paralyzed with frantic guilt
that we could not evade cold hands of death
who shakes the fragile shelter of our hearts.

When all seems lost in bleak night of despair,
and fragile bodies that contain warm souls
dissolve in slogging mud of wordless fear,
bright rays of dawn pierce shadows of mute angst
that startle us awake from rabid dreams,
and we are born again with cheerful chirps.

Four hundred thousand years of twirling time
have not erased that dark night of despair
from sparkling neurons of my dreaming brain,
mute terror still encoded in my genes
passed down through generations of our souls
to frame how we perceive this godless world.

Much safer for our mental sanity
to believe supernatural deity
howls at us through harsh voice of thunderstorms
which spurs our fierce intention to improve
how we perform with stoic fortitude
this role we choose in drama life remains.

That faceless demon of dark thunderstorms
still haunts my memory with its harsh command
which my ancestors masked with face of God,
old All-Father with beard and blazing eyes
who taught us to survive this hostile world
with martial discipline of loving care.

So all our fathers forty thousand years
have merged in concept of our global God
who glares at us with cruel judgmental eyes
when foolish mistakes cause destructive pain,
and trains us to apply strict self-control
to confirm liberty through natural law.

Wise teachers who perform paternal role
teach us to study nature of this world
with scientific method of the mind,
recording measured effects of each cause
which code formulas for physical laws
so we create good, rather than destroy.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus teaches children how to investigate the nature of things, then how to encode truth in heart-enchanting songs of beauty.

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

Free Again For All
© Surazeus
2025 02 20

When I find Godfredus on hill of skulls
beneath the crucified god of despair,
he turns to me with eyes of blazing rage
and laughs in windstorm of coming world war,
"Triumphalism feasts on empty dread!"
then clutches spear half-stuck in heart of god.

When Midas steals the chariot Phaethon crashed,
and swipes the crown of thorns from head of Christ,
he races wheels of blades across the land
to behead loyal angels of Jupiter,
tramples stars-and-stripes flag of Liberty,
then smashes doors to Temple of Saturnus.

Pilfering national treasure of the people
stored safely in the Temple of Saturnus,
Midas claims he is rooting out corruption
while stealing our wealth in front of our eyes,
then mocks us as he takes our gold away
and leaves the treasury empty of our dreams.

Stunned at his brazen theft of our state treasure,
I stand with Janus on the temple porch
who asks me with agony in his voice
when the people will restore this great temple
consumed by fire of oligarchic greed,
then weeps in the vast empty hall of dust.

Strutting into tomb of our Founding Fathers,
greedy Midas boasts from bold arrogance
with triumphalism of empty dread,
then crowns himself King with laurels of Caesar
to scare us with puffed chest full of hot air,
bloviating to hide his terror of death.

Arriving on white horse of honesty,
Minerva rises flag of liberty
with stars and stripes of our democracy
to rally us with encouraging words
so we unite to oppose tyranny
against his oligarchic gang of thieves.

Though central principle of liberty
based on rule of law with justice for all
may seem no longer pole of balanced faith
as state events spiral out of control,
Eagle of America will return
to secure vigor of freedom and truth.

Though dark thunderstorm of civil war brews
from sea to shining sea, above our state
destabilized by tyrants grasping power,
good Liberty and Justice will prevail
when Minerva drives Midas into Hell,
and makes Zarathia free again for all.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus finds Geoffrey Hill on Golgotha singing lamentation for the crucified ancestor of all the royal families of Europe.

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

Americus The Pioneer
© Surazeus
2025 02 20

Though ghost of Arthur lingers in gray mist
among ivy-covered ruins of Camelot,
and phantom of Alfred floats on frail wings
among musty leather-bound books of lore
in maze of candle-lit Winchester halls,
I feel their spirits alive in me still.

Few now in distant land of Zathamar,
renamed America on Gothic maps,
think daily of those ancient steel-eyed kings
who forged the English nation from wild tribes
to build world-spanning empire of commerce
on which America built its self-worth.

No mythic king titled Americus
has ever risen from its wilderness
composed of refugees from holy wars
from many nations ruled by gold-crowned kings
since we sailed west across the stormy sea
to find land of Atlantis thriving still.

Crowded now with large Anglo-Saxon tribes
four hundred years blooming from country farms
to vast cities of computer-linked towers,
America proclaims itself with pride
as the greatest nation in the whole world,
based on liberty and justice for all.

Since Aeneas sailed from Troy to found Rome,
and Brutus sailed from Rome to found Britannia,
the westward flowing motion of expansion
drove our ancestors across the wild sea
Scythia to Scotland to Virginia to Oregon,
seeking new opportunities of growth.

No social hero could be idealized
as symbol forming noble character
who personifies spirit of adventure
more than Americus the Pioneer,
whose name Haim-Eric in Anglo-Saxon
means Home Guard who watches over the garden.

Thus brave forward-gazing Americus
personifies soul of the pioneer
who leaves behind his European home
oppressed by greedy kings in castle towers
to build new nation on grand principle
that every person is free to live right.

Together with ancestors of his soul,
Americus walks signless road of hope
with Arthur and Alfred to found on faith
world nation dedicated to liberty
and justice as keys to democracy
where we live as we will, if we harm none.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus meets Americus in the rocky Rainbow Mountains where they search for gold in the Cave of Illusions where ghost of Plato dreams ideas.

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

My Infinite Eyes
© Surazeus
2025 02 19

I see the universe inside my eye
so I dream motion of aggressive faith
assert its right of vibrant energy
to spiral planets from electric sparks
that glimmer between my infinite eyes
as conscious creatures searching for the sun.

With ache of hunger in my human heart
I gesture hands and utter magic spell
to transform water into sacred wine
so I can raise my children from the dead
who exist between my infinite eyes
as they play games in garden of blind ghosts.

Hiding quietly with ravens and mice
in gold shadow of the forbidden tree,
I note how constellations change each night
to reprogram clock of the universe
which spirals between my infinite eyes
with successful laughter of mountain wind.

Because my tears ring melodies of faith
that flow with joy on rocky bed of fear
my heart of stone will shine ten million years
before its solitude is worn away
to fragment between my infinite eyes
and crumble from the hands of Sisyphus.

Emblematic of how all empires fall,
the grand snowman I built on Christmas Eve
has melted into faceless dirty clump
of existential horror on asphalt
that dissolves between my infinite eyes
without the magic thorny crown of Christ.

Electric spectrum of my sparkling brain
beams rainbow bridge across the lonely sky
to prove with jagged honesty of fear
weak men blind with greed will dispute the truth
that blossoms between my infinite eyes
where we dwell safe in haven of fruit trees.

Frowning as he contemplates history,
Cynthius explains formula of fate
that the Brutus Solution always leads
to the Augustus Dilemma of power
that expands between my infinite eyes
into world empire of commercial peace.

As minuscule speck of dream-conscious light,
I glow with bitter-sweet love by the pool
where Narcissus writes his name on the water
to explain fragile beauty of our world
that pulses between my infinite eyes
with billions of people under one moon.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus hosts meeting of patriots to discuss the Brutus Solution in hopes to save the Republic of Zarathia from fascist tyranny.

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

Plead Temporary Insanity
© Surazeus
2025 02 19

When nonsense of America coheres
in modest riddle of the goal to win
wealth of wisdom from the laboring hand,
Cynthius will show up at our front door
with the billion-dollar fake check of greed
to plead temporary insanity.

Since trees are important to development
of urban zones with well-manicured lawns,
legions of devils Cynthius commands
drive fancy cars across the river bridge
to hide their luminous sorrows with pride
and plead temporary insanity.

One million immigrants with holy books
talk to each other in dream-tangled verse
through syntax of magicians who employ
electric wires to program robot knights
who march with guns to conquer paradise
and plead temporary insanity.

Cynthius, who escapes the solemn church,
hides in cave where Plato the Puppeteer
performs shadow play on the wall of truth
so he can write weird formulas for faith
to translate machine language from sea waves
and plead temporary insanity.

Alone on mountain of the broken skull,
Cynthius plays soul-haunting melody
on silver flute of melancholy hope,
while goldfinch of the phantom menace lands
on his shoulder with sprig from the plum tree,
to plead temporary insanity.

Wandering in library of singing books,
Cynthius searches for story of faith
where love overcomes death with honesty,
but all he finds are frilly fairy tales
about the fool who gets lost on his quest
to plead temporary insanity.

Riding the horse of arrogant disdain
for preachers who scam the people with lies,
Cynthius moves with his sad memories
that vibrate music in bones of his soul
when he shows kindness to war refugees
who plead temporary insanity.

Meeting Cupid and Psyche at the bar
where Phanaeus plays classical folk songs,
Cynthius reveals the pearl of great price,
shaped like the star-luminous Eye of God
which heals our broken hearts with secret love,
to plead temporary insanity.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus and Cynthius ride horses in the Grand Canyon to find the oldest woman in the world who knows why.

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

Blood Of His Sacrifice
© Surazeus
2025 02 19

Driving black Citroen car across France
on new-paved road winding along the coast,
Francois follows his secret guiding star
in constellation of the Hunter Orion
to soar on silver wings of Icarus
above the cluttered world of hungry hope.

Though he is no elegant movie star,
who wears black turtleneck shirt and beret
while writing poetry in leather notebooks,
and sipping coffee at sidewalk cafes,
Francois enjoys the finer things in life,
so he photographs models in slim gowns.

While Ophelie poses in black silk gown,
gracefully expressing beautiful form
defining Woman with elegant calm,
Francois snaps photos to capture with frame
of ideal perfection her divine soul
which contains vital energy of love.

Lounging at glass table on the patio
that overlooks the Mediterranean Sea,
glittering with pure eyes of Amphitrite,
Francois reads world news on tablet computer
about the young house maid in Pakistan,
Tayyaba, who was tortured by her boss.

Abandoning his glamorous life in France,
Francois moves to Pakistan capital
to establish charity organization
dedicated with noble principle
to free girls from domestic slavery
and fully fund their college education.

Arriving at the sprawling mansion gate
in white van lettered Electrical Service,
Francois rings bell and tells the camera
that he comes to repair system of wires,
then frees maid Najma from locked storage room
and whisks her in hijab to the white van.

Driving casually through the mansion gate,
Francois breathes calmly as he drives away,
more quickly when two large sedans give chase,
speeding carefully narrow crowded streets,
till he evades them in the heavy traffic,
and leads Najma to secret compound dorm.

Ensuring girls he freed are living well,
Francois leaves compound in black Citroen
to visit donors at fund-raising feast,
but as he steps out before the glass hall
men on a motorcycle shoot him dead,
so he lies in blood of his sacrifice.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus leads memorial service for Francois who freed hundreds of girls from domestic slavery and funded their education, who weep and lay flowers at his tomb.

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

Light Of Divine Love
© Surazeus
2025 02 19

Cool in the silent cistern of my heart,
memories of our times together gleam
with helpless grief of those beautiful hours
veiled now by darkness of long-passing time,
blessed that mindless light of divine love
glows through our bodies with pleasure of life.

Though we are transient shadows of our dream
in temporary bodies of warm flesh
as intense energy constrained by frame
of meaning we devise to maintain life,
we glow with pleasure of existing now
through forms stamped bright beyond eternity.

We paint our bodies on canvas of time,
asserting with each willful stroke our choice
to walk this certain way of hope-blind faith
on ever-shifting sands of social norms
with honest confidence that we surf well
in balanced flight of oscillating needs.

Though I feel lost in wilderness of pain,
beyond myth-maps of acceptable styles
humans design for surviving mute death,
I find myself wherever I am now,
and thus decide with brave alacrity
wherever I roam my heart is my home.

When I participate in sports events
to express intense energy of hope
by outpacing the fastest runner far,
or subduing the strongest fighter down,
this self I am glows with divinity
of bright achievement channeled through my soul.

Through lithe expression of my human form
I channel divine spirit of starlight
to display grand conceptual gracefulness
with the best performance humans achieve
as model that represents noble strength,
shining brightly, though time will snuff my flame.

Stardust congealed in lithe organic form,
conscious of itself as wily I Am,
my spirit shines its hour of graceful life
from birth to death in rise and fall of hope
while I progress on quest to be myself,
crowned by Fame, then bowdlerized by death.

If I accomplishment some memorable deed,
recorded in our global chronicles
as notable achievement that provides
conceptual tool which helps humanity
transcend our struggle to beautify life,
I hope Pindar would sing my name with honor.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus plays lyre of Mercury and sings Ode on Human Achievement that Pindar composed for the Olympic Games.

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

Academic Temple Of Truth
© Surazeus
2025 02 18

Searching for Unreal City of the dead
shrouded in thick fog for one hundred years,
I follow tweet-tweet song of the wood thrush
singing in the original olive tree
that Athena planted on Hill of Ares,
which I can see from the prow of my ship.

When I meet the ghost of Tiresias
singing in Unreal City of the dead,
I ask that Greek seer with two-gendered mind
how I can balance lust to procreate
with respect for their personality
so we can live in harmony of love.

Lured by scent of pine on hard rocky shore,
I climb steep slope of dancing skeletons
with sound of water lapping at the bow
which calms my fearful heart as I ascend
sacred sunlit mountain of Helicon
to seek ruined temple where Muses sang.

Though lost in moaning forest of blind ghosts,
I follow cheerful song of the wood thrush
through swirling fog of winter afternoon,
but never find in that deserted land
ruined temple where the Muses once sang,
so I sit and sing weird song of my heart.

I tell the wood thrush in the olive tree
that if I find Sibylla in her cage
I plan to set her free with key of faith
from immortality without fresh youth,
but she remains caged in my aching heart,
shrill voice composing weird songs I sing.

Emerging from fog of the mountain glen,
Tiresias, who leads the Sphinx with gold chain,
points Wand of Zambor at my beating heart
and shouts to accuse me of arsony
for having set sacred Smyrna on fire
as ghosts of the dead swarm around my soul.

Dizzy on high Cliff of Insanity,
I gaze through fog across the glittering sea
to see the Unreal City of the dead
burning with flames of nationalist war
through conflict between races and religions
in holy city where Homer was born.

I feel his bardic soul of sacred song
on Phoenix wings rise in my burning heart
so I strum tortoise lyre of Mercury
and sing epic poem of philosophers
who build academic temple of truth
where all our stories vanish into ash.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus helps Tiresias sit in academic temple of truth where they lament the people who wander lost from endless nationalist wars.

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

If We Do Nothing
© Surazeus
2025 02 18

If we hear strange voices in doors of fate
that plot to steal everything we create,
we could hide our hearts in the fractured stone
and ask bank of dreams for the secret loan,
or we could whistle and bake chocolate cake,
and wait for the social system to break.

If we want to take this chance to escape
we could don our boots and Superman cape,
then sail across the sea to Isle of Skye,
or we could carry the big stick and try
to fight against rampaging gang of thieves
who hide our treasures under piles of leaves.

If we hope to restore democracy
by opposing king of hypocrisy,
we must assemble with electric kites
on noble mission to protect our rights
to dance in ring of stones for sacred cause
rebuilding institute of honest laws.

If we see gangs of thugs with law-blind guns
dragging away parents from daughters and sons,
we could join forces to obstruct their acts,
and argue based on adjustable facts,
though they try to crush our spirits with hate
because with each choice we design our fate.

If we do nothing, paralyzed with fears,
while oligarchs jam governmental gears,
they will wreck our food-production machine
to enslave our souls when the times are lean,
and keep us working in factories of greed
because they control our functional need.

If we can find no beauty in pure art,
each person forced to play robotic part,
sad Keats will never sing of sacred truth
till revolution of messiah sleuth
casts greedy Midas from throne of state power,
so we can admire mystery of the flower.

If we accept their bloodless money coup,
bankrupt with too many bills coming due,
we could desert their crumbling urban zones
to wander in fields of dinosaur bones,
or we could unite what their greed divides
and storm compound where the weak tyrant hides.

If we shall meet in the well-lighted place
to remove mask of fear from our own face,
we will find courage of hope to resist
tyrannical project of the fascist
and build on ruins of America
strong new republic of Zarathia.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus presides over meeting of patriots dedicated to restoring the democratic republic based on liberty and justice for all.

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

Stroke Of The Paintbrush
© Surazeus
2025 02 17

Each stroke of the paintbrush on nothingness
exposes raw emotions our minds hide
behind pretty images of cute birds
chirping cheerfully in luminous trees
so we become beauty we want to see
in this world where death determines all fates.

While gazing at the woman with long hair,
Pablo squints his eyes tight to readjust
attentive focus of distorted sight
which fractures image of her anguished face
expressing sorrow of shy Hecuba
over suffering deaths her children endure.

When we encounter objects of desire
at heart-opening song of the church choir,
we pour intensive energy of hope
to fuel flames of passion we dramatize
in social play with investment of love
to insure productive return unpaid.

Each vibrant sound of verbal sentencing,
by which we frame conceptual images,
encloses within narrow path of lust,
that limits consequences of strict acts,
random possible outcomes of respect
with special circumstance we hope occurs.

Painful regret yet motivates our play
attempting to unwind adverse results
from cataclysmic cycles unforetold
by flight of birds across inaugural skies,
since we cannot backtrack time to reverse
harmful effects of carelessly thrown words.

Disastrous fortune ungambled by trust
hardens circumstance of our fractured state
in fraught material frame of reference
that traps our journey of progress now stalled
by twisted morals of blind prejudice
disturbing calmness of stoic regret.

When complex relationships of commerce,
entangling expectations of hard dreams,
are broken by obsessive greed of thieves,
fragile state of institutional growth
falters from disruption of social ties
severed by aggression of fascist hate.

With awful shock of confusing surprise
we grasp at ropes that bound progressive sails
to bind again strict embrace of fierce faith
constraining energy of motive force
so we can guide our lurching ship of state
balanced again through oscillating flight.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus and Pablo Picasso sail the ship of state across the wild Atlantic Ocean to secret island of the Hesperides.

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

Teeter On Dim Edge
© Surazeus
2025 02 17

Still we teeter in dim edge of dark night,
staring into abyss of our own hearts
to befriend blind demon we dare not name
who swells with passion of wild surging waves
to bloom in flower on lush field of rain
when dawn dispels cold sorrow from our hearts.

Submerged beneath deep wave of honesty,
wide from disruptive mountains rain obscures,
we scatter hieroglyphs of naked fears
with anger-shattered shells on hungry shores,
charmed by coil of stars in our frosted eyes
to believe illusions that comfort us.

Drowned angels watch us from soft sunless deep
to see if we extract from aching hearts
fabulous shadows kept by frames of words
in vain attempts to reconcile despair
with promised beauty dawn contrives to prove,
despite allegiance we forget to pledge.

Yet vague demands of flustered ownership
entail unnecessary risks fierce hearts
dare to take with eager zeal children know
as mocking songs they chant on windy hills
since only fate requires we abdicate
homes we construct with hands of loyalty.

Sweet humming of reluctant bees decries
tuned sorrows grass expresses with stark voice
swiped from restless winds of our jagged thoughts,
soft as bells that guide confused steps of hope
through ragged swirls of mist veiling my face,
ever closer to foundation of faith.

Undone by doubtful gravity of love,
which lovers exchange with trembling desire,
loyal hearts regret vulnerability
that leaves our bodies gaping open wide
unshielded by oaths of special intent,
weighed down by peculiar sadness of trust.

Footsteps of fading memories lure us
with lingering hope that falling petals trace
clear as lamplight glowing in darkling woods
though we hold hands to map our secret trail,
close together in space yet far away
in time that swirls beyond reach of our hands.

Contusions of obscure anxiety
expose untouchable mask I still wear
as mirror to reflect demonic face
who watches me with burning eyes of ire
from bulging clouds of arrogant disdain,
so I sing heart-enchanting melodies.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus and Hart Crane drink wine on deck of the cruise ship sailing from Miami to Havana under the silver moon of monstrous desire.

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

Pope Petrus Secundus
© Surazeus
2025 12 17

Wandering in cluttered Museum of Fate,
Pierrot gazes at portraits of dead clowns,
tears freezing into lucent Pierres de Lune
that gleam with rainbows trapped in gem of time,
then pantomimes his tragic comedy,
pining with love for graceful Columbine.

Descending in cave of Trophonius
with cheese wheel, honeycomb, and jar of wine,
Pierrot searches grim darkness of despair
through underground of moral prejudice,
but finds nothing more in cold heart of doom
than star-eyed lizards on purple mushrooms.

Holding Torch of Freedom and Book of Tales,
Columbine searches Museum of Fate
to find the spirit who had called her name,
but finds only white mask of Lucifer
that Pierrot would wear to woo her love,
so she hangs it in Gallery of Popes.

Returning from cave of Trophonius
with Crown of Thorns Jesus wore on the cross,
Pierrot climbs stairway to the Parthenon
to offer Janus moonstones as a bribe,
who ushers him in Museum of Fate
to find Pope Petrus lounging on the throne.

Heart beating with desperation of the hawk,
Columbine runs through endless maze of myths,
past startled idols of dead popes and kings,
to enter Hall of Mirrors just in time
to see Pope Petrus bare sharp vampire teeth
and leap to attack innocent Pierrot.

As avatar of the disenfranchised,
buffoon outside norms of society,
disillusioned foe of idealism,
lonely sufferer of symbolic sorrow,
Pierrot is the alienated observer
struck by mysteries of the human condition.

Soaring swift on angelic wings of love,
Columbine snatches bow from Cupidon
and fires sharp arrow of Platonic Love
that strikes undead heart of the vampire pope
who explodes into frantic butterflies
that flutter halo round head of Pierrot.

Crowned Pope Petrus Secundus of Gothinia,
Pierrot, with Columbine, in red silk robes,
parades before large cheering crowds of Roma,
then enters gold-walled Museum of Fate
where he presides on jeweled Judgment Throne
just as a meteor strikes the Earth with fire.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus kneels before Pope Peter II and offers Sibylline Books he dug up from the tomb of Jupiter.

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

Code Of Uncertain Faith
© Surazeus
2025 02 16

When they try to disrupt language we speak
in vain attempt to prove their awesomeness
their treasures that seem to shine in their hands
crumble to dry dust of meaninglessness,
so we reclaim lamentation of love
with shrill elegies of uncertain faith.

Elegant curves of our picturesque coast,
that unfurl fate of fractal consciousness,
provoke our compulsive analysis
through hypnosis of arbitrariness
with each striking revelation of love
that lurks at the end of uncertain faith.

Secret memory of the dream-shadowed mind,
severed with arson of mischievousness,
obscures inner void of the sacred truth
silvered with hard plow of fierce quietness,
despite hurtful passion of brutal love
dependent on code of uncertain faith.

Absence of the migrant soul singing spells
exposes forced solace of eagerness,
dignified by transparency of blind lust
that enlightens moribund hopelessness
through primary notion of vivid love
to relish process of uncertain faith.

Acoustics of dream truths unfixing facts
align alienation through otherness
not commonly accepted by networks
anchored to time by standard lawfulness
when we enter the same room without love
to exchange tokens of uncertain faith.

Glossary of wounds defines characters
trapped in fake purity of loneliness
through valence valued greater than distrust
based on paradox of grand saintliness
which reflects how the hateful barter love
conditioned on force of uncertain faith.

Witness to emergent reality,
we calculate progress of trickiness,
never wavering to compose melodies
that dispel opposite of gloominess
while remaining the same on stage of love
beyond irony of uncertain faith.

Crowded horizon of glass surfaces
wields eye-loop of unmapped contrariness
to reveal inner landscape of desire
which connects our hearts to world nothingness
churned by static waves of innocent love
hidden in riddles of uncertain faith.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus programs code of uncertain faith to manage artificial intelligence intrinsic to operation of religious institutions.

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

Glass Brain Of Faith
© Surazeus
2025 02 16

Nothing seems real to the glass brain of faith
who watches the world television show
depict villains stealing wealth from our hands
while soil of the Earth crumbles into words
that turn into butterflies of despair
so hopes and dreams vanish in silent rain.

Fruit trees blossom from the glass brain of faith
at second coming of messiah sleuth
who works at the Museum of Lost Dreams
where people visit after work to pray
since rivers keep on flowing to the sea
regardless of who tries to rule the world.

Messages beamed from the glass brain of faith
declare with confidence of rain-smooth rocks
the situation is under control
despite thieves seizing computer machines
that distribute payments to hungry hearts
who wander with horses on windy plains.

Laughing clocks unwind the glass brain of faith
faster than hawks snare rabbits in the bush
too late for laws protecting innocence
when banks charge fees for the air people breathe
though we hold our breath and jump in the lake
to find salvation in tears of the sky.

Something is true to the glass brain of faith
that sees Heaven with kaleidoscope eyes
where Lucifer dances on glowing clouds
with Emerald Tablet of chemical laws
on which he scribes weird formulas of fate
that define process of cause and effect.

First flash spirals in the glass brain of faith
to map expansion of the universe
that flares forth from big bang of conscious love
forming galaxies of suns which feed globes
with energy that evolves into beings
who tell each other stories of the real.

Star atoms pulse in the glass brain of faith
who wakes from strange dream of eternity
to name itself as separate conscious being
exploring landscape of its hungry heart
before it invents weird concept of God
as supernatural being that never dies.

I see myself in the glass brain of faith
that conjures virtual model of the Earth
composed of memories I experience
which I organize in Tale of My Life
within narrative framework of my soul
which will end in death I cannot foresee.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus holds up the glass brain of faith while lecturing to students about psychological system of Plato he called Realm of Ideas.

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

Door Of Eternity
© Surazeus
2025 02 16

Lonely for the way ghost clouds shimmer white
with sobbing heaviness at hour of birth,
I stand outside door of eternity
to welcome newcomers to our weird world
who emerge from the pregnant mother tree
that binds their bodies with the change of time.

To touch the face of Death I touch your face
so I can feel fierce coldness of the stone
when I push through door of eternity
and sob with gravity of changing time,
soul leveled against broad breast of the globe
to taste tumbling song of the silkened sea.

Each stone of Earth tumbled by waves of the sea
cries out to me with anguish for pure light
we feel within door of eternity
when we hang half-awake in poise of hope
between ice-glistening air and damp earth
which beckons our hearts with alluring voice.

With grip of honest passion for the truth,
I cling to the edge of vast emptiness,
long falling through door of eternity
which I describe in letters I must hide
that still lie scattered on forgotten desk
where birds eat words I never meant to write.

Cold lamentation of the burning hill,
despite how far stairs curl around despair,
reveals repaired door of eternity
where children watch our global fight for power
play out on field where leaves of time fall slow
to shroud false geometry of our love.

Through elegant dribble of happy rain
I head for somewhere far beyond my grave
which imitates door of eternity
to wait between the rotten and the ripe
with unperceiving passion for the truth,
bewildered by how flowers grow in mud.

Yet immanence of death prefers my speech
explaining frail fate of philosophy
brought forth to crack door of eternity
and savor intricate concept of grief
based on rubble of homes destroyed in war,
manifest in miracle of my eye.

My face mirrors nameless divinity
with subtle amusement of graceful shock,
able to lock door of eternity
extravagant with horror we conceal
with heart-enchanting song of ocean waves
where ghost clouds whorl across the crystal sky.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus gazes with visionary awe at ragged white clouds that blow across the sky after the long night of thunderstorms.

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

Blowing In The Wind
© Surazeus
2025 02 15

While standing on the pyramid of truth
to watch events of world history unfold,
I realize that this hour is the end
of the world we have known for eighty years,
and the weird answer we once gave our friend
is now no longer blowing in the wind.

The dove of peace still sails across the sea,
having never once found rest in the sand,
and missiles have been fired to destroy homes
every year since that young prophet cried foul,
for the weird answer we once gave our friend
is now no longer blowing in the wind.

I keep on walking down the signless road
where I have seen things I will never tell,
finding diamonds of truth I cannot sell,
yet still they refuse to call me a man,
since the weird answer we once gave our friend
is now no longer blowing in the wind.

The vast mountain of patriarchal power
may never be smoothed to democracy,
and hard-working people are still not free
for people do not care, though they can see,
so the weird answer we once gave our friend
is now no longer blowing in the wind.

Searching for God, said to dwell in the sky,
I keep looking up for Justice to come,
but then I realize the face I see
is my own, mirrored in how I will act,
for the weird answer we once gave our friend
is now no longer blowing in the wind.

While I have lived on Earth for sixty years
I have heard millions of hurt people cry,
so I have become huge eyes full of tears,
and my ears ring with tales they never tell,
for the weird answer we once gave our friend
is now no longer blowing in the wind.

Walking road of fortune around the Earth,
I recite the name of each human soul
killed in countless wars of national pride
who all follow me to the Promised Land,
since the weird answer we once gave our friend
is now no longer blowing in the wind.

Though the world we have known comes to an end
we support United Nations of Earth
to build new world based on democracy
with liberty and justice for all people,
though the weird answer we once gave our friend
is now no longer blowing in the wind.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus strums guitar before the Lincoln Memorial and sings Blowing in the Wind to ghosts of the dead killed in global wars.

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

Bones Of Dead Men
© Surazeus
2025 02 15

Numberless dice formed from bones of dead men,
smoothed round by endless sorrow of sea waves,
roll tumbling over sand of timeless hope
cast by Hand of Death with indifferent grin
when captain of our ship gambles for life
against grim embassy of wingless angels.

Alone in my small river boat of faith,
adrift on swirling sea of moaning mist,
swept downriver from wooded Saxon hills,
I see moonlit wrecks of enormous ships
floating sail-less toward dim Elysian shore,
captained by grim Charon with serpent eyes.

Then, smooth skin gleaming white as snowy fields,
huge demon of the sea, Leviathan
or Cetus with faithless wings of despair,
emerges from abyss of surging waves,
and gazes with indifferent frosted eyes
at me immobilized by gleam of truth.

Entranced by Mobius Strip of diamond eyes
which mirror boundless vastness of my mind,
enhanced by spectrum of eternity,
I read in flashing verses of bright stars
complex formulas that define pure state
contrived by liquid relativity.

With compass gleaming in my red right hand,
influenced by magnetic waves of light,
I sail straight across Sea of Oceanus
west through towering Gates of Hercules,
with pears from garden of Hesperides,
toward pristine island where Atlantis shines.

With quadrant pointing toward Unmoving Star
that fixes axis pole for spinning Earth,
I measure boundless space of surging tides
from gleaming pyramids of Babylon,
past apocalyptic Isle of Avalon,
to land on lush shores of Chesapeake Bay.

Since Moby Dick swallowed my fragile soul
and spit me on shore with mission from Zeus,
I walk back east from woods of Oregon,
where Liberty on high Takoma Mountain
gave me crystal globe scrolling human history,
to prophesy at the locked White House gates.

When Midas seizes thorny Crown of Christ
to crown himself King of America,
Minerva waves starred flag of Liberty
to fight against nationalist theocracy
so we support global democracy
to build strong United Nations of Earth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus sets thorny Crown of Christ in Zarathian Museum of World History as solemn reminder of the brief tyranny of Midas.

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

Ten Million Ways
© Surazeus
2025 02 15

More than ten million ways to sing the dream
befuddle me with possibilities
for dancing with flow of the river stream
to join our national festivities
disguised as wingless angel of the moon
commissioned to oppose the rich tycoon.

More than ten million ways to speak the word
confound my heart with eager scrappiness
known for contriving instinct of the herd
to construct grand palace of happiness
constrained by mortgage no one wants to pay
except the king conned by the castaway.

More than ten million ways to build the home
inspire my mind with vision of world peace
where no one conscious ever has to roam
propelled by malice of the Golden Fleece
to purchase honesty from the blind seer
who hides spy cameras in the chandelier.

More than ten million ways to fly on wings
increase my mountain-fierce anxiety
for learning how to forge new magic rings
as horcrux programmed by psychiatry
which grounds electric flash of my brain soul
masked by performance of my special role.

More than ten million ways to sail the sea
compel my drive to channel pressure straight
through psychic force of social liberty
designed by brave souls who reprogram fate
so I can proudly say with thunder voice
I blaze my destined path with each blind choice.

More than ten million ways to cook the cake
record each vain attempt that witches brew
when stirring elements drawn from the lake
by laughing jesters of the Argo crew
who seek out new worlds of tribes to explore
without ever stepping outside the door.

More than ten million ways to pray to God
enforce wild revolution of the lost
who frame the honest king as greedy fraud
miscalculating what services cost
in coup to destroy our democracy
and enslave our minds with theocracy.

More than ten million ways to rule the world
chronicle how all empires rise and fall
in chaos controlled by the cosmic herald
who translates bloody writing on the wall
through revelation that earns him respect
as prophet who plays social architect.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus calculates more than ten million ways to tell Ophelia about his love for her personality.

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

Walk With Broken Wings
© Surazeus
2025 02 15

Elimination of his crippling guilt
motivates his selfless attendant drive
to steward progress of the bigger deal
firmly based on the arbitrary scale
expansive with fabulous honesty
that double-locks rotating door of time.

Through routine strike of equanimity,
to check strange matter of distracted fear
for inconvenient focus on desire,
he hopes fraught method of the falling rain
upholds blotched breath of exhaled fortitude
that may metastasize hopeful regret.

Beyond reach of intervention, expressed
by distorted results of radiant words,
inserted by electric scream of rain,
he prevents ineptitude of dream rage
that mirrors disquiet of peopled streets
crowded with faceless ghosts who search for love.

Burdened by despair washed ashore by fate,
he bears sorrows in backpack with mute heart
to flee burning house of false memories,
and wanders fields of stale grass wet from tears
children scatter from crippled hands of hope
till we are threads of light lost in blind night.

Enriched alternative of crashing walls
encourages him with startled ardency
to rebuke evil-hearted sycophants
who flatter agents of the secret clan
to parley nationalist goals with harsh shout
that takes shape from triumphant honey bees.

Immersed conception, crawling from hot sea
with humid efficiency of mute stones,
exerts projected pattern to enclose
matter in final form of evolved faith
when he proclaims with gravity of pride
his spiritual retreat from loneliness.

Brain spun by spiders born from fierce sunlight
to stretch beyond ideal shape carved by words,
he threads strange memories in new world view
with rapid keystrokes that encode respect
earned by harsh suffering, self-insured by fate,
to trudge dispirited in swirling leaves.

Mind captivated by the infinite,
unreachable with concept signifiers,
he scatters words of wisdom on sidewalks
that freeze human tears in patches of ice
where heart-broken wanderers slip and fall,
then rise again to walk with broken wings.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus leads thousands of angels with broken wings on the signless road to the Promised Land that has never existed except in minds of the lost.

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

Glycon Snake God
© Surazeus
2025 02 14

The plum tree gleaming white on grassy knoll
lures young boy across tangled clumps of grass
with eager desire to consume sweet fruit,
but hiss of serpents slithering in the grass
causes him to freeze, though his heart beats wild,
so breathes misty air that stings his soul.

Breathing deep intense spirit of the mist,
Alexander centers beam of starlight
to gyrate coils of fraught anxiety
in brass wand fixed with diamond at its tip
as he steps slowly over tufts of grass
among the snakes with eyes gold as the sun.

Stopping before the plum tree gleaming white
with delicate blossoms that veil green fruit,
Alexander reaches out trembling hand
to touch rough bark with courageous despair,
but Glycon, enormous serpent with wings,
rises on coils and leans close to his face.

"Small hairless monkey with moon-silver eyes,"
hisses Glycon with emerald-green eyes,
"I am incarnation in serpent form
of wise Asclepius, healer of the soul,
so I have returned from Realm of Ideas
to offer salvation to all lost souls."

Young Alexander with long wheat-gold hair
spreads arms open and smiles with calm delight,
"Great Glycon, spirit serpent of our world,
teach me arcane wisdom you bring from stars
so I foresee events that will occur
when I trace primal cause to each effect."

Coiling around brass wand with diamond tip
that Alexander holds in his right hand,
Glycon lifts his head above moonlit gem,
"I commission you, wingless monkey seer,
to preach salvation of my holy word
for common folk against fake gods in power."

Striding boldly in Paphlagonian hills,
Alexander journeys with serpent wand
to bustling city of Byzantium
where he proclaims that kind Asclepius,
son of Apollo, has been born again
to save mankind from doom of corruption.

Hundreds of hungry souls searching for truth
gather around the tall angelic man
who preaches, "Though you are all lost in gloom,
I bring light of Apollo to your lives,
for Glycon Snake God reveals to my eyes
how I can make our nation great again."

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus watches Alexander preach salvation through oracles he receives from Glycon Snake God with skeptical analysis of his prophecies.

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

Coil Of Taut Time
© Surazeus
2025 02 14

Inspired by beautiful calyx of death
that provides bounty from coil of taut time,
Consus oversees harvest of gold grain
heaped on four-wheel wagons, Helius designed,
hauled by horses along the river shore
to store fruit of the Earth in temple hall.

Skipping cheerfully with basket of apples
along wooded shore of Albula River,
where Tiberinus drowned to save Albina,
Spuria Tarpeia sings enchanting tune
to express her love for the wolf-boy Remus
whose silver eyes make her heart flutter wild.

Hiding behind oak in the shadowed vale
between two hills where the twin brothers reign,
Spuria watches as Romulus and Remus
grab arms of Hersilia, then each declares
intention to crown her their city queen,
and gasps when the wolf-boy she loves is killed.

"Once rival gangs on opposing fort hills,"
Romulus proclaims to swift-foot warriors,
"Now we can merge our forces in one army,
and thus I crown Hersilia Queen of Roma,
mistress of the water well whose wise words
you must obey with loyalty of love."

Plowing furrow around lush Palatine peak,
Romulus sets foundation stone in soil,
then proclaims construction with honest hands
high Wall of Romulus built with strong stone
to surround pale of paradise with hope
that provides haven for wandering tribes.

Stepping forward from assembly of men,
Neptunus requests word scepter to speak,
"Because our wall-enclosed haven of Roma
is crowded now with swift-foot warriors,
our rising glory of power will die
if we have no children to build our state."

"Your words inspire me with clever plan,"
Romulus grins, "so I hereby announce
new games festival I name Consualia,
lead by you, bold equestrian Neptunus,
as Consus, warden of the harvest grain,
to host in honor of your sea-wild father."

Festooning horses with garlands of flowers,
Consus Neptunus and his cult of grooms
lead horses to parade in streets of Roma
past swift-foot warriors with long spears and bows
who capture Sabine virgins as their wives
while Romulus reigns as Jupiter Feretrius.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus plays lyre of Mercury while people watch the horse races at the Consualia hosted by Romulus who presides as Jupiter.

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

Frosted Winter Nights
© Surazeus
2025 02 13

Long after starry eyes of winter night
ceased looking in window pane of his mind
because Robert passed from dream of this world,
the outside world looks darkly now at me
with the same indifferent intensity
of time-wound emptiness that knew his soul.

I long have wondered with fierce grumpiness
what strange spirit is looking in at me
with timeless light of ancient burned-out stars
till I read spell he wrote with demon blood
about his endless frosted winter nights
brooding mute with the broken moon of fate.

No nameless ghost of my ancestral genes
disturbs my half-slumber by the cold hearth
while I compose angelic spells with runes
of gleaming light on glass screen of the sky,
for I scare not the night of everywhere
nor does eternity of night scare me.

I keep behind placid mask of my face,
which I took from the ancient gallery,
terror of nothingness with unconcern
of calm acceptance that we all will die,
so I watch moonlight gleam on backyard lawn
with heavy breathing of monstrous respect.

I gaze at outerness of the vast world
and fancy some omniscient super-mind
returns my gaze with divine nonchalance
that fills my chemical frame with cold shock,
yet I must laugh at quietness of God
who smiles as reflection of my own soul.

To understand strange darkness of our world
which watches me with eyes of nothingness,
I ask sly smirking ghost of Robert Frost,
whose ghost emanates from book of his poems,
what weird mysterious spirit of blind gloom
haunts our houses on frosted winter nights.

Slumbering dreamless by moon-silver stream,
the word wizard wearing Saturnian mask
stirs at puzzling code of my anxious voice,
rises tall with lumbering stillness of faith,
and slowly chants Hyrkanian spell of hope
that stirs majestic spirit in my heart.

Then I step back with startled state of mind,
surprised by wyrd epiphany of truth
that I am darkness of the outer world
gazing at myself through the window pane,
for God is mirror of my conscious mind
as atomic light in my dreaming brain.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus hangs out with Robert Frost on frosted winter night in his farmhouse, drinking apple cider and talking about the demonic night.

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

Idol Of The Holy Fool
© Surazeus
2025 02 13

I hear the yellowhammer bird reply
with platitudes of stoic principles
to the crippled angel with tattered wings
who limps down the signless road of false hope
after blowing up bridges to strange worlds
where the fool makes the whirling world stand still.

The old woman under the maple tree
tells the laughing turtle with raspy voice,
"The most accurate measurement of courage
is how people endure harsh suffering
when they are the most vulnerable and weak,"
then gives last jar of honey to the fool.

The half-blind man with weed-entangled curls
paddles small wood boat on the purple lake
and explains to the swan with diamond eyes,
"Only cowards hide behind silence of faith,"
then dips his hand in waters of the mind
when the fool throws his book into the water.

The red tyrannosaurus with gold eyes
blinks when steel bullets pelt his heaving chest,
so he grasps green army tank with sharp claws
and hurls it screeching into the swamp pool
where soldiers scream in horror as they drown
clutching gold idol of the holy fool.

Raindrops glisten on the clear window glass
as wind blows clouds across the desert plain
where lizards scurry among the sagebrush,
and devils make deals with poor guitar players,
painters, and poets to sell them world fame,
laughing as they all bow before the fool.

The young girl in pink boots and green raincoat
runs along wood fence in the rain-wet field
as she flies her kite over the white church
where blind angels sing hymns of ecstasy,
then gazes entranced in sea-silver eyes
of the fool who recites love poetry.

Sitting upstairs in the small theater
to watch the play Our American Cousin,
Lincoln tells the ghost with the laughing gun,
"Those who deny freedom to other people
deserve it not for themselves," then he spreads
vast wings to fly to Heaven with the fool.

Watching finches on Galapagos Islands,
Darwin explains to the tortoise of truth,
"Freedom of thought is best promoted by
gradual illumination of human minds
with follows from the grand advance of science,"
while the fool writes his words in the notebook.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus and Rimbaud walk the summer-hot road in the rugged hills of France while chatting about the Dionysian energy of poetry.

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

Manna Of Courage
© Surazeus
2025 02 13

This block of cheese should elicit no laugh
from those of us contrived by poverty
to struggle against privilege of wealth
seemingly imbued by that divine hand
which assigned Tablets of the Law to Moses,
for dairy chunks are our manna of courage.

No Mithras wearing red Superman cape,
as noble matador astride fierce bull
that raptured Europa from flowered meadow,
I yet face horned devil of fortitude
when I invest capital earned by labor
to herd cattle with stoic pride of Zeus.

As purple Amaryllis flowers bloom
in lush Arcadian meadows where cows graze,
I play heart-enchanting music of love
on pipes Pan fashioned for amusing play,
while Amaryllis, maiden in lace dress,
extracts sweet milk from teats of lowing heifers.

After curdling milk in cow-stomach bags,
Amaryllis ferments curds in clay pots,
strains thickened curds through linen sheets of cloth,
pours curds in round wood frames, sprinkles on salt,
then sets them on benches to dry in sunlight,
keeping watch till they harden into cheese.

So many variants of delicious cheese
provide savory flavor for rich cuisine,
cheddar, mozzarella, camembert,
brie, asiago, feta, parmigiano,
emmental, ricotta, fontina, gouda,
and many more alchemically designed.

While Moses leads our tribe of refugees,
escaped from slavery of pyramid gods,
wandering lost in waste land of despair,
soul-nourishing manna from dew of heaven
sprouts as mushrooms from desert of desire
we eat with cheese we brew from milk of cows.

Though spider of Arachne, weaving fibers
of flax into comforting linen cloth,
sits beside us as we eat curds and whey,
we savor sweet manna that Hesat brews
from cow milk which nourishes our gaunt souls
as we journey on to the Promised Land.

No tragedy of cruel uncontrolled hubris,
nor comedy that mocks foibles of thieves,
frames noble cheese with mythical concern,
for we have followed cows across dewed fields
ten thousand years of close companionship,
eating cheese they provide with generous love.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus and Daphnis, watching cows, play music and sing while Amaryllis and Hesat brew cheese as manna of courage.

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

Revelation Of False Truth
© Surazeus
2025 02 13

Odd angle of sunlight beaming slantwise
might discombobulate my sense of right
when I express frustration of content,
but I leap shallow ditch of jagged fears
to catch quick winged flight of ardent breath
at shocking revelation of false truth.

Unbroken stone of river-smoothed respect
guides my meandering way of random fate
on stumbling surety through confidence
straight toward eccentric doom of thought
around my blurry goal in circled steps
at blithesome revelation of false truth.

Toward face of God above vast empty Earth,
unseen by eyes of Innocence or Greed,
I trudge past endless hills of nowhere else
in lonely lands where baleful ghosts haunt hope
to mountain shadow of the never-seen
at wretched revelation of false truth.

Across bleak waste land of bare houseless hills
I plunge in verge of fear-shadowed Mirkwood
to wander dreary valleys of despair
where ravens croak on shores of rocky streams
and wolves of sad wind howl from distant caves
at murky revelation of false truth.

My chilled heart misty as blue evening moon,
I search with wandering stars for something true
that gleams with ghostly paleness of lost hope
in elvish groves of faith-forbidden fruit
as bleak wind seems to call "Arthur", my name,
at silent revelation of false truth.

Far from warm castle Camelot I built
I chase receding time of formless faith
for wisdom that long perished in fraught roots
of morbid mountains veiled by silent fog
to wait and watch in shadow world of hope
at woeful revelation of false truth.

Deep in Zarathian Forest of tall trees
I wear gold mask my father forged for me
as I approach vast cave of dragon jaws
to peer in heart of darkness shrouding faith
where eerie light of voiceless wisdom glows
at divine revelation of false truth.

Bright in my reverent hand of awed respect
green emerald God Eye of the holy Earth
gleams with transcendent flame of timeless faith
in arcane runes that spell my secret name,
so I dream whole history of Earth unfold
at primal revelation of false truth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus explores huge dragon cave in the rugged Zarathian Mountains where he finds Arthur gazing entranced in the Emerald Tablet.

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

Oscillation Of Desire
© Surazeus
2025 02 12

Between opposing forces of the heart,
respectable self-control of Apollo
and passionate expression of Dionysus,
I balance oscillation of desire
with appellate force of Icarian wings
to analyze and judge creative play.

Through stoic calm of clever fortitude
I attempt to drive piston-engined car
with careful attention to safe approach
that maintains forward motion of four wheels
in turn to actualize successful growth
which proves superior nature of faith.

Aggressive force of passionate endeavor
motivates soul-enhancing enterprise
when I analyze changing consequence,
clarified by flow of cause to effect
that triggers clear original results
safe with inducement of objective play.

Though comprehension of inherent worth
precipitates conditional solutions,
designed to sustain expressive respect,
I deposit mute energy through faith
in sacred mission to institute change
conducive to expansion of the mind.

Between confirmation of self-control,
contrived to manage attitude of hope
with honest deception that should reveal
considerate ringing of psychotic bells,
and unleashed arrogance of shocked relief,
I find safe shelter in haven of dreams.

Thus I expect to catapult my thoughts,
spear-sharpened by projective breath of lust,
straight through curved undulance of honesty
to pierce contemptuous shield of despair
in brilliant victory over fallen gods
ascendant with surprise of truth revealed.

After eating apple of ecstasy,
that he received from Eris with green eyes,
Sariel strums lyre of Mercury and sings
heart-aching melody of naked truth
to explore oscillation of desire
that maintains integrity of his soul.

After snapping some selfies of himself
exploring ruins of the ancient museum,
Sariel posts them on social media sites
with comment about how his heart can feel
spirits of the Muses glowing with life,
then rides the bus to catch the airflight home.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus meets Sariel at the airport and grins while driving home as he listens to his friend describe his trip to Mount Helicon.

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

Valley Of The Muses
© Surazeus
2025 02 12

Hair blowing in brisk mountain winds of faith,
Sariel climbs rugged slopes of Helicon
to ruined Museum, temple of muses,
where no rain has fallen one thousand years,
then sits exhausted among marble pillars
while goats prance among old twisted plum trees.

"I wish to bring them back to life again,
nine charming Muses with their lyres and flutes
gathered around Apollo in round hall
where folk traveled far to hear them perform
songs relating lives of their ancient gods
during the sacred Mouseia festival."

Breathing deep muggy air of solitude
in broad deserted Valley of the Muses,
Sariel gazes at Mount Helicon
that shimmers silently in waves of heat,
while ravens gather in twisted plum trees,
and feels nameless grief well up in his heart.

"I sense hazy shadow of Pegasus
linger near the bubbling Hippocrene spring
where I dip my hands to drink soul of Earth,
liquor which opens eyes inside my heart
so I see nine Muses in flowing gowns
singing before huge crowd of worshippers."

Gazing at his face in clear silver pool,
Sariel grins with amusement of truth
to think Narcissus stood at this same spot
and gazed entranced at beauty of his face
till voice of Echo woke him from false dream
to keep him from drowning in vanity.

"After Narcissus visited this pool,
Tiresias found Athena bathing nude,
and thus received wyrd art of prophecy
because his eyes perceived with reverent awe
divine beauty inherent in her soul,
tended with care by Eupheme and Linus."

Heart aching with fierce passion of insight,
Sariel feels spirit possess his body
so he starts to sing with mercurial voice
tale of Apollo chasing graceful Daphne
till she transforms into the laurel tree
whose leaves crown the greatest singers of tales.

"Though they are long dead, fleeting flames of life
that shone brightly in this valley of music,
their spirits live in me one thousand years
after they danced and sang with eloquence,
so I must sing to keep their art alive
another thousand years of sacred song."

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus arrives in the crowded Valley of the Muses, eager to participate in the Mouseia where he hopes to win the laurels of Apollo.

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