Fishing On The Lake
© Surazeus
2025 02 25

Listening to Johnny Cash country songs,
Grendel drives his green pickup truck to work
at the refrigerator factory
past the lake where he loves to fish on Sundays,
but slams on the brakes when he thinks he sees
the Loch Ness Monster rising from dark waves.

Filming the giant monster in the lake
with his eye-phone, too shaky in his hand,
Grendel plunges through bushes to the shore,
and exclaims "Holy Cow, look what I see!"
as he stumbles knee-deep in sparkling waves
to get a better view of the huge beast.

Catching sight of the tall mountain Sasquatch
who runs frantically along the lake shore,
Nessie leans her head down to better see
his hairy face, and asks, "What is your name?
You look just like your father Gandolar
who used to visit me with chocolate cake."

Startled when the lake monster clearly speaks
name of his father, Grendel shouts with joy,
"My father often told me about you,
Nessalina, daughter of Melusine,
about how you met in the Sognefjord
where you fled after your husband was killed."

Bowing her head so tears fall in the lake,
Nessalina whispers, "Gandolar-Son,
I am honored you remember my sorrow
at how Apollo slew my husband Python,
then roasted him on moon-feast pyramid
while wearing his skull as unholy crown."

"Instead of punishing that arrow-shooter,
when I appealed to Jupiter for justice,"
Nessalina cries with big eyes of sorrow,
black as the night sky where stars glimmer dim,
"he rewarded that smug arrogant boy
with hand of his daughter Daphne in marriage."

Patting her head with honest empathy,
the big-footed Sasquatch commiserates,
"I am sorry for your loss, Nessalina,
so remember that Grendel is my name
when I return on Sunday to talk again,
sharing stories about happier times."

Waving goodbye to the sad Loch Ness Monster,
Grendel climbs up the steep hill to the road,
then continues driving quickly to work
at the refrigerator factory,
but stops and shouts, "I shall quit that stupid job,
and enjoy my days fishing on the lake."

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus joins Grendel fishing on the lake and offers chocolate cake when Nessalina joins them in the afternoon sun.

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

Essence Of Our Happiness
© Surazeus
2025 02 25

Reluctant to understand why trees cry,
Candice wanders out glass doors of high school,
along high chainlink fence of the sports field,
past restaurants, clothing stores, and trinket shops,
then sits on wood chair outside car garage
where Beowulf in overalls fixes engines.

"I had no epiphany about life
encoded in proverbs of secret wisdom,"
Candice mumbles as she ignores the cars
flashing sharp rays of sunlight in her eyes,
"though I observed the landscape of this world
composed of objects human hands create."

Grinning as he adjusts small engine part
and twists the monkey wrench with subtle nudge,
Beowulf glances at the teenage girl
wearing purple jeans and puffy pink coat,
and gold silk scarf wrapping perm of blonde curls,
with lots of makeup masking her cute face.

"Every time I see your Greek goddess face,
just like those statues in museum halls,
I see perfection of the human form
expressing ideal beauty of design
in classic yet unique features that glow
with star-vital energy of your soul."

"There you go again talking in weird riddles,
which shows you could run your own company
if you want to wear the slick business suit
and hire talented people with mad skills
where you provide essential services
that help companies managed their finances."

Chuckling as he fiddles the engine core,
Beowulf considers her compliment,
"Though I am no David with sly slingshot
aiming to conquer Goliath for wealth,
I feel inspired by your calm confidence
that I could slay dark monster of despair."

Peering at his face as he tweaks the engine,
Candice sees halo of light on his head,
"Though secret nature of our lonely hearts,
core to the self of our specific being,
eludes our sight, we ever strive in vain
to create meaning for life where not exists."

Kissing her mouth with chuckle of respect,
Beowulf gazes into her green eyes,
"Therefore our search for the meaning of life
as we progress on road of our desires
where we create our fate with each new choice
becomes the essence of our happiness."

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus walking by the garage clandestinely photographs the car mechanic as he crouches before his blonde girlfriend to capture the essence of their happiness.

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

Virgin Mary Of America
© Surazeus
2025 02 24

Relentless beauty of the daffodil,
so golden bright in delicate contempt,
inspires the Virgin Mary to rebel
against oppression of the police state,
hands shackled by gold cuffs of blind desire
that chain her to the dirt-road country shack.

Eyes glowing with divinity of faith,
the Virgin Mary stares beyond the world
to see bright paradise of honesty
beneath the crumbling town of broken dreams
with generous heart of social purity
providing silent energy of love.

Asserting calm respect of sacred faith,
the Virgin Mary plots conspiracy
to shatter absurd paradigm of power
based on presuppositions of esteem
that prop patriarchy through arrogance
which still enforce domestic slavery.

Waiting tables in the greasy spoon diner
between the railroad and the factory,
the Virgin Mary brings liberal plates
of scrambled eggs with fried bacon and toast
for farmers and truck drivers who admire
graceful beauty of her celestial eyes.

Dressed in simple yellow blouse and green skirt,
the Virgin Mary of America
attends the white church on the country road
but always sits in the last lonely pew
where she soft sings hymns of piety
and quietly listens to sermons of faith.

"We gather every week to pray with faith
for Jesus to return and rule the world
as global monarch who unites all nations,
so, when the greedy scammer crowns himself
King of America with Crown of Thorns,
we should not be surprised at his vain pride."

Shocked at intensity of her soft voice,
everyone in church turns around and stares
at prophetic eyes of the Virgin Mary
that blaze with righteous anger of the Lord,
then they all vote to excommunicate
that evil woke feminist from their church.

Walking alone down unpaved country roads,
past rundown shacks where poor families live,
barely surviving with little to eat
since all government services were cut,
the Virgin Mary kneels by the plum tree
and cries for America lost to greed.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus searches thousands of small towns sea to shining sea to find the Virgin Mary who will save America from tyranny.

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

Secure Global Democracy
© Surazeus
2025 02 24

When the war is won and the killing done
I put the four-leaf clover in my gun,
then dance in hall of mirrors with the ghost
who laughs with innocent faith when I boast
about how we defeated tyranny
and helped secure global democracy.

For eighty years we ruled over the world
with magic lantern of the cosmic herald,
opposing tyrants with courage of wolves,
trusting that democracy always solves
contentious issues in united land
monitored by the invisible hand.

Before dividing walls of fear we stood
and preached the triumph of all that is good,
proud our Stars and Stripes flew over world peace,
secured by service of honest police
and soldiers on crusade of the red cross,
obedient to the Heaven-reigning boss.

But someone replaced Jesus as our king
with fierce-eyed Odin and his magic ring,
canceling the woke hippie and his love
who never appears from the clouds above,
while crowning bold warrior with sharp ax
who defends pirates pilfering our tax.

Though we once challenged Russia at its gate
their puppet has now overthrown our state
and crowned himself messiah of the Earth
while his jester steals everything of worth,
then swings his hammer and revs his chainsaw
to destroy our complex system of law.

Wrecking havoc with his hammer of greed,
King Midas decrees his capricious creed
as law that we must all obey or die,
while he protects his sly sniveling spy
who cuts funding for all social programs
while blackmailing us to pay for his scams.

Recovering from shock of his brute campaign
to impose dictatorship for his gain,
we rally around flag of Liberty
to oppose their lawless oligarchy
and free our nation from their avarice
with righteous blow from Stone of Sisyphus.

For eighty years America ruled well
the Free World against tyrannical hell,
but now our democratic government
has been hijacked by the fake president,
so we must fight to defeat tyranny
and help secure global democracy.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus and Woodie Guthrie play guitars and sing folk songs against tyranny with the machine that kills fascists.

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

Cold Mind Of Winter
© Surazeus
2025 02 24

With cold mind of winter I approach spring
to scatter snowflakes as tears of the dead
that sprout from misery of the blood-soaked sand
swirled by too many voices in the wind
that blow snow from high mountains of desire
to soak the waste land with hope for new life.

With cold mind of winter I ask the moon
why she replicates bright mirror of her eye
ten times across the bleeding crystal sky
to cast dark shadow of our naked souls
on windy meadow of the laughing snake
who mocks us as we try to find the fake.

With cold mind of winter I eat the flame
of sorrow hidden in the bleeding fruit
sweet as pineapple in the cave of dreams
where ghosts of the dead explain to me why
so many people are unfairly killed
by angry people terrified of death.

With cold mind of winter I punch the rain
to feel harsh ache of pain from sting of Death
who mocks Apostle Paul for arrogance,
then shows me where that Christian preacher lies
rotting in his grave for eternity
as Lucina gives me grape wine to drink.

With cold mind of winter I curse the sea
with omen from the laughing skull of god
who offers diagnosis on my state
of mental health through sacred oracle
that Sibyl sings while hanging in her cage
above indifferent waves of honesty.

With cold mind of winter I attend school
to develop deeper concept of truth
based on vast invisible universe
of unchange beneath the transient surface
that supports day-to-day reality
where I sell records in the red brick store.

With cold mind of winter I channel words
in dusty canyon of the singing skull
where two rivers merge in blue flash of rain
to conjure magic spells of psychic myth
as thought meets passion of the hungry heart
which nurtures chemical body of fame.

With cold mind of winter I strife for love
that heals dream-festered wounds of innocence
so we accept that suffering sparks regrowth
which fuels our transformation of the soul
to glorious angel from chemical wretch
as we sing the splendor of life on Earth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus focuses attention with cold mind of winter on the psychological system we use to perceive the world with stories of fate.

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

Hollow Flux Of Fate
© Surazeus
2025 02 23

We shall embrace the hollow flux of fate
to scribe clever proverbs on cement walls
which reckons conduct of the lawless gang
who gamble perverse notions of despair
in fraught rebellion of the lonely fool
through vain contest against the faceless bank.

Through endless rain on buildings of state power
walks grim Aquarius with blazing eyes
who bears witch hazel wand of psychic flare
to face Narcissus in the mirrored hall
where they hurl flashing strikes of energy
in clash for who will wield the key of wealth.

His vision blurring in the leaden sky
where twisted creatures from the sunless sea
scuttle across barren angst of his heart,
Narcissus shouts with ferocious disgust
at thousands of angels in business suits
who tremble in mute horror at his rage.

Translucent bones of his delicate soul,
cleansed of sorrow in pool of bitter snow,
Aquarius reaches both hands to the sky
to gesture with kinetic sleight of thought
which channels straight somatic bolt of light
to shatter illusion of psychic power.

Encircling spiral swirls of fetid fog,
congealed in roughened pungency of fear,
Narcissus strikes back with aggressive growl
at crumbling shudder rage contrives to fake,
then howls in shock as all his evil plans
to crown himself global king dissipate.

Shocked by intense desire to live with faith,
Aquarius radiates conceptual soul
on crystal wings of ringing chandeliers
to render wholesome solitude expired
with calm reptilian honesty of pride,
then strikes the fatal blow of history.

Triumphant over gang of growling thieves,
who flee the crumbling walls of social wealth,
Aquarius declares great victory
of honest people fighting for their rights
against the faceless oligarchs of wealth
who wail as their fake dollars dissipate.

Though weight of wisdom in our hollow hearts
bears imperceptible whorl of false dreams,
we utter spells of horror all alone
in doorless rooms where no photographs hang
framed by world view we accepted as real,
so we embrace the hollow flux of fate.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus arrests Narcissus to prevent his theft of the national treasury, and tries him as traitor to Zarathia.

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

Sing About The Dark Times
© Surazeus
2025 02 23

To spark and fuel the faint light of hope
so it shines brighter in looming dark times,
we sing about the dark times with bold courage
to help our hearts endure destructive change
as we evade stark nothingness of death
whose rage dissipates as we sing its name.

Because the universe of glowing light,
where atoms swirl in globes teeming with life,
remains indifferent to our suffering
as we strive to record nature of life,
we sing about the universe we love
since we accept it has no conscious mind.

So many times in human history,
when we were frightened tribes of wanderers,
wise men and women, who experienced joy
in painful resurrection from almost-death,
transcended mortal state to become gods
who taught us new ways to perceive the world.

Now we are all near-gods with larger views
expanded by grand songs our dead gods sang,
so we feel forsaken by divine mind
we think incarnates in ascended souls
as if God, whom mortal seers personify,
has forgotten us on this messy globe.

Abandoned by the God we hoped was real,
whom our ancestors worshipped with long prayers
the past two thousand years of global wars,
we dance with wild expression of free will
to channel divine energy from stars
so we can sing brightly in these dark times.

We name the terror, that haunts our great land
with dark despair of greedy tyranny,
and so reduce that monster of blind rage
to sniveling rodent sniffing in the dust,
for that tyrant, who puffs his chest out huge,
is not the scary devil he portrays.

When these dark times almost muzzle your Muse
and despair seems to paralyze your heart,
this is the time, as Bertolt Brecht declared,
to sing about the dark times with bold courage
so you shine bright as beacon of respect
which guides silenced people to join your choir.

Though gang of thieves, motivated by greed,
are wrecking machinery of government
so they can oppress us with tyranny
to suck wealth from hard labor of our hands,
we rise from darkness overwhelming us
to sing about the dark times we transcend.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus teaches young poets in the MFA program at the University of Zarathia to sing about the dark times with bold courage.

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

Here In This Meadow
© Surazeus
2025 02 22

Whistling as she glides in the forest meadow,
Cholena gathers ripe berries and herbs,
wraps fish in clay to bake it in hot ashes,
then sings while she feeds her cute baby boy,
"Katonah, who dreams with eyes of my father,
you are my mountain where birds sing in joy."

Racing along the rocky river shore,
leaping like the wolf he saw in the woods,
Katonah chases deer with spotted hide,
shooting arrow that pierces its wild heart,
then sings as he skins it, and smokes its meat,
"I honor your spirit that feeds my soul."

Gathering shells of quahog clams and whelks
that glisten on the beach of sparkling sand,
and animal bones that gleam in grass tufts,
Katonah grinds shells into wampum beads,
sews them onto leather belt and long skirt,
then strings shells and bones on necklace of love.

Approaching Odina as she grinds corn
and fries flat cakes on large round cooking stone,
Katonah kneels and presents in both hands
necklace he made with shells, bones, and wolf teeth,
so she beams with joy and accepts his gift,
then feeds him corn cakes and coal-roasted cod.

Strolling together in meadow of flowers,
Katonah and Odina, holding hands,
sit on the rock beside the sparkling river
and share with each other their childhood tales,
then kiss and make love by the maple tree
as the silver moon luminates their souls.

Standing by the bright river in dawn light,
Katonah raises his hand to the trees,
"Here in this meadow beside our Moon River
I will build large home of leather on poles
to shelter you and our children from harm,
and bring you fish and corn to feast and sing."

Holding bow and arrow with firm resolve,
Katonah shows his young son Mahigan,
whose eyes gleam fierce as the wild mountain wolf,
how to shoot the arrow with confidence,
and grins when his clever boy pulls bow taut
and fires arrow straight with accurate speed.

Sitting around the fire that shimmers gold,
that family of Odina, Mother Mountain,
listen as Cholena sings of creation,
"Kishlemakong dreams the world, then creates
first man and woman from the maple tree,
and sets it on back of Tulpe the turtle."

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus brings gift of a brass cooking pot to trade with Katonah for leather breechcloth and moccasins made by his wife Odina.

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

We Sing For Life
© Surazeus
2025 02 22

We sing about what breaks our hearts the most,
and present noble visions of the good
we hope we can achieve where we fail the worst,
for what we praise with eager heart of hope
is what we feel we lose with grim despair,
so we sing for life even as we die.

We gather in groups on broad river shores
to remember the terrible event
that almost wiped our ancestors off Earth
with solemn ceremony of sad prayers,
then feast in honor of the noble dead,
so we sing for life even as we die.

We wander together across the land,
our feet blazing trails that become the roads
where our descendants walk ten thousand years,
singing about the sorrow of our loss
and about our hope for the Promised Land,
so we sing for life even as we die.

We write the stories of our painful lives
with sticks in shifting sand on beach of time,
but laugh when ocean waves of moonlit tides
erase our stories from heart of the Earth,
then we bury our parents by the tree,
so we sing for life even as we die.

We hide our memories in the polished box
Pandora gave us as the Christmas gift
to preserve photographs of those we love
with keys that open doors to homes and cars
that burn down and get left on the trash heap,
so we sing for life even as we die.

We build our homes from memories of fear
to shelter our hearts from terrible dread
when we huddle together under trees
against bitter cold winds and blasting rains
to stay clean and warm from the elements,
so we sing for life even as we die.

We construct machines with passionate hope
to produce more food for people to eat
after we suffer centuries of famine,
but still millions have not enough to eat
while rich men enslave us in factories,
so we sing for life even as we die.

We write songs of joy from sorrows of loss
and hymns of happiness from bitter pain
to sing about the paradise we want
while still surviving through chaotic hell
as if we hope to manifest vain hope,
so we sing for life even as we die.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus writes and sings hymns to praise the rich and famous people who rule the world from their shining palace on the hill.

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

Cottage By The Elm
© Surazeus
2025 02 22

Trinkets people made with creative hands
flicker in sunlight as they twist and turn
in river breeze blowing them where they hang
from limbs of the ancient elm on the hill
where ghosts of people who lived in the vale
gather to feast at cottage by the elm.

I watch rich drama of their life unfold
for each ghost gathered in the river vale
who lived and died in time of endless change
each generation for ten thousand years,
flames of life bright with energy of love
till they vanish at cottage by the elm.

I hear their voices echo in lush groves
as they express dialogues of desire
to negotiate through romantic love
who will generate life in children named
for spirits who glow in each river stone
though they linger at cottage by the elm.

I stand alone in small deserted town
by long-dried well surrounded by quaint homes
where ghosts of many generations float
nameless outside frames of old photographs
though I can almost seen them in sun gleams
where they dream me at cottage by the elm.

I feel vibration of their hopes and dreams
radiate from river stones on cobbled streets
where they walked on daily routines of faith
to maintain bodies with chemical flash
of psychic passion programmed by lost myths,
emanations at cottage by the elm.

I feel their conscious memories of joy,
transformed from fear by hymns of honest faith,
program how my brain perceives complex world
framed by mythic context of bleak despair
which motivates my quest to find the truth
hidden as ghosts at cottage by the elm.

I strum the lyre of Mercury with care
and sing enchanting melodies of faith
so trees and stones vibrate with conscious glow,
or so I imagine as I sing spells
which translate river flow to human song,
long trapped by time at cottage by the elm.

Names of every person who ever lived
on every planet in the universe
glow before my eyes as sunlight on water,
so I record their tales in Book of Life
while chanting epic of human desire
to live in peace at cottage by the elm.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus visits every deserted village in every river vale of the Earth to record the name and life of every person who ever lived in epic of human desire.

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

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