In Times Of War
© Surazeus
2025 02 09

In times of war the prophets all come out
and wander wind-swept streets with tangled hair,
then, with anguish in their eyes, sing and shout
about how doom and death are everywhere,
which causes everyone to be alarmed
when they would rather be happily charmed.

While Nostradamus in his ivory tower
prophesies how every tyrant will fall
after their sudden rise grasping for power,
the nameless jester writes spells on the wall
of church and bank in formulas of fate
that expose the king for his racist hate.

Yet everyone keeps driving in their cars
to earn just enough money to pay bills,
because fortunes are not defined by stars,
and no one wants to go back to the hills
to hunt for mushrooms and rabbits to eat,
but all are silent when the rich men cheat.

Though poetry we write with bleeding hands
makes nothing happen in valley of skulls,
we blow wind from our mouths across the lands
that challenge cowboys to wrestle gold bulls
worshipped by the people as god of wealth
who steals all their money with sneaky stealth.

Though Keats admires song of the nightingale
while lounging under the timeless plum tree,
I decry how everything is for sale
by oligarchs who fetter Liberty
when they invade public Garden of Eden
and build shopping malls to pave over Heaven.

Cold raindrops fall through our bodies of dreams
and blend with endless rivers of our tears,
then splatter back with mocking Mask of Seems
which cannot hide our heart-enshrouding fears,
yet songs we share in darkness of despair
beam bright at dawn with soul-reviving care.

For two centuries we built in our land
strong institutions for free governance,
but they crumble as castles made of sand,
destroyed by pirates with no reverence,
so corporate kings exploit the working poor
who cry out to the wounded matador.

In times of war the poets wander lost,
reciting through domestic quietude
quaint epiphanies of the Holy Ghost
to shore dream fragments in false fortitude,
till mermaid voices wake us in surprise
so we perform conceptual role as spies.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus gathers lost prophets and poets of America in Temple of the Singing Skull to organize their resistance against pirates disguised as corporate kings.

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

Wisdom Of Dead Stars
© Surazeus
2025 02 08

She would confess strange sorrows of her heart
but Zahara thirsts for laughter of light,
so she strides boldly through the twilight zone
to find glowing cave where the demon core
radiates aggressive wisdom of dead stars,
transforming wizards to demonic ghouls.

Hearing endless song of waves on soft shores,
Zahara runs where the wild river flows
around crumbling hills where crooked trees grow
with wordless amusement of the lonely cloud
that reveals roundness of the world to her
because the sea unravels happiness.

Turning away to face cold bitter winds,
Zahara asks the bright sun in bleak sky
for mercy in the waste land of despair
where no shadows shade her soul from hard love
as she speaks her heart in the heartless gloom
to the ghost whose blood still sings from the sand.

Knowing stars may never fall from the sky,
Zahara cups rain in her grateful hands
to drink refreshing joy of shattered clouds
that wash her bitter sorrows to the sea
which shines in her parallel universe
with tears from mothers whose sons die in war.

Unveiling beauty of the desert sky,
Zahara hides her language in sharp sand
so she can describe absence of her love
who folds insouciant silence in his chest
as she cries out with shock of hungry hope
to understand salt of the restless sea.

While asking the sea for names of the dead,
Zahara wades knee-deep in angry waves
to search for bodies of children and brides
who float with anguish in abyss of tears
till they sprout wings of swans and fly away
which leaves her alone with the fractured stone.

Grasping fragments of their ethereal souls,
Zahara gathers voices of the dead
to weave them in weird song of lonely faith
that breathes in beauty and exhales despair
which fills frail glass of immortality
from which she drinks sweet juice of ancient trees.

Embracing luminous phantom of love,
Zahara places flowers on two graves
where her mother and father dissipate
in crumbling sand that sparkles in sunlight,
then opens hand with seeds of aching loss,
smiling sadly as the desert lark eats.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus offers pomegranate to Zahara as she kneels by graves of her parents who were killed in the civil war between rebels and businessmen.

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

Wisdom Of Dead Stars
© Surazeus
2025 02 08

She would confess strange sorrows of her heart
but Zahara thirsts for laughter of light,
so she strides boldly through the twilight zone
to find glowing cave where the demon core
radiates aggressive wisdom of dead stars,
transforming wizards to demonic ghouls.

Hearing endless song of waves on soft shores,
Zahara runs where the wild river flows
around crumbling hills where crooked trees grow
with wordless amusement of the lonely cloud
that reveals roundness of the world to her
because the sea unravels happiness.

Turning away to face cold bitter winds,
Zahara asks the bright sun in bleak sky
for mercy in the waste land of despair
where no shadows shade her soul from hard love
as she speaks her heart in the heartless gloom
to the ghost whose blood still sings from the sand.

Knowing stars may never fall from the sky,
Zahara cups rain in her grateful hands
to drink refreshing joy of shattered clouds
that wash her bitter sorrows to the sea
which shines in her parallel universe
with tears from mothers whose sons die in war.

Unveiling beauty of the desert sky,
Zahara hides her language in sharp sand
so she can describe absence of her love
who folds insouciant silence in his chest
as she cries out with shock of hungry hope
to understand salt of the restless sea.

While asking the sea for names of the dead,
Zahara wades knee-deep in angry waves
to search for bodies of children and brides
who float with anguish in abyss of tears
till they sprout wings of swans and fly away
which leaves her alone with the fractured stone.

Grasping fragments of their ethereal souls,
Zahara gathers voices of the dead
to weave them in weird song of lonely faith
that breathes in beauty and exhales despair
which fills frail glass of immortality
from which she drinks sweet juice of ancient trees.

Embracing luminous phantom of love,
Zahara places flowers on two graves
where her mother and father dissipate
in crumbling sand that sparkles in sunlight,
then opens hand with seeds of aching loss,
smiling sadly as the desert lark eats.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus offers pomegranate to Zahara as she kneels by graves of her parents who were killed in the civil war between rebels and businessmen.

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

Wisdom Of Dead Stars
© Surazeus
2025 02 08

She would confess strange sorrows of her heart
but Zahara thirsts for laughter of light,
so she strides boldly through the twilight zone
to find glowing cave where the demon core
radiates aggressive wisdom of dead stars,
transforming wizards to demonic ghouls.

Hearing endless song of waves on soft shores,
Zahara runs where the wild river flows
around crumbling hills where crooked trees grow
with wordless amusement of the lonely cloud
that reveals roundness of the world to her
because the sea unravels happiness.

Turning away to face cold bitter winds,
Zahara asks the bright sun in bleak sky
for mercy in the waste land of despair
where no shadows shade her soul from hard love
as she speaks her heart in the heartless gloom
to the ghost whose blood still sings from the sand.

Knowing stars may never fall from the sky,
Zahara cups rain in her grateful hands
to drink refreshing joy of shattered clouds
that wash her bitter sorrows to the sea
which shines in her parallel universe
with tears from mothers whose sons die in war.

Unveiling beauty of the desert sky,
Zahara hides her language in sharp sand
so she can describe absence of her love
who folds insouciant silence in his chest
as she cries out with shock of hungry hope
to understand salt of the restless sea.

While asking the sea for names of the dead,
Zahara wades knee-deep in angry waves
to search for bodies of children and brides
who float with anguish in abyss of tears
till they sprout wings of swans and fly away
which leaves her alone with the fractured stone.

Grasping fragments of their ethereal souls,
Zahara gathers voices of the dead
to weave them in weird song of lonely faith
that breathes in beauty and exhales despair
which fills frail glass of immortality
from which she drinks sweet juice of ancient trees.

Embracing luminous phantom of love,
Zahara places flowers on two graves
where her mother and father dissipate
in crumbling sand that sparkles in sunlight,
then opens hand with seeds of aching loss,
smiling sadly as the desert lark eats.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus offers pomegranate to Zahara as she kneels by graves of her parents who were killed in the civil war between rebels and businessmen.

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

Wisdom Of Dead Stars
© Surazeus
2025 02 08

She would confess strange sorrows of her heart
but Zahara thirsts for laughter of light,
so she strides boldly through the twilight zone
to find glowing cave where the demon core
radiates aggressive wisdom of dead stars,
transforming wizards to demonic ghouls.

Hearing endless song of waves on soft shores,
Zahara runs where the wild river flows
around crumbling hills where crooked trees grow
with wordless amusement of the lonely cloud
that reveals roundness of the world to her
because the sea unravels happiness.

Turning away to face cold bitter winds,
Zahara asks the bright sun in bleak sky
for mercy in the waste land of despair
where no shadows shade her soul from hard love
as she speaks her heart in the heartless gloom
to the ghost whose blood still sings from the sand.

Knowing stars may never fall from the sky,
Zahara cups rain in her grateful hands
to drink refreshing joy of shattered clouds
that wash her bitter sorrows to the sea
which shines in her parallel universe
with tears from mothers whose sons die in war.

Unveiling beauty of the desert sky,
Zahara hides her language in sharp sand
so she can describe absence of her love
who folds insouciant silence in his chest
as she cries out with shock of hungry hope
to understand salt of the restless sea.

While asking the sea for names of the dead,
Zahara wades knee-deep in angry waves
to search for bodies of children and brides
who float with anguish in abyss of tears
till they sprout wings of swans and fly away
which leaves her alone with the fractured stone.

Grasping fragments of their ethereal souls,
Zahara gathers voices of the dead
to weave them in weird song of lonely faith
that breathes in beauty and exhales despair
which fills frail glass of immortality
from which she drinks sweet juice of ancient trees.

Embracing luminous phantom of love,
Zahara places flowers on two graves
where her mother and father dissipate
in crumbling sand that sparkles in sunlight,
then opens hand with seeds of aching loss,
smiling sadly as the desert lark eats.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus offers pomegranate to Zahara as she kneels by graves of her parents who were killed in the civil war between rebels and businessmen.

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

Wisdom Of Dead Stars
© Surazeus
2025 02 08

She would confess strange sorrows of her heart
but Zahara thirsts for laughter of light,
so she strides boldly through the twilight zone
to find glowing cave where the demon core
radiates aggressive wisdom of dead stars,
transforming wizards to demonic ghouls.

Hearing endless song of waves on soft shores,
Zahara runs where the wild river flows
around crumbling hills where crooked trees grow
with wordless amusement of the lonely cloud
that reveals roundness of the world to her
because the sea unravels happiness.

Turning away to face cold bitter winds,
Zahara asks the bright sun in bleak sky
for mercy in the waste land of despair
where no shadows shade her soul from hard love
as she speaks her heart in the heartless gloom
to the ghost whose blood still sings from the sand.

Knowing stars may never fall from the sky,
Zahara cups rain in her grateful hands
to drink refreshing joy of shattered clouds
that wash her bitter sorrows to the sea
which shines in her parallel universe
with tears from mothers whose sons die in war.

Unveiling beauty of the desert sky,
Zahara hides her language in sharp sand
so she can describe absence of her love
who folds insouciant silence in his chest
as she cries out with shock of hungry hope
to understand salt of the restless sea.

While asking the sea for names of the dead,
Zahara wades knee-deep in angry waves
to search for bodies of children and brides
who float with anguish in abyss of tears
till they sprout wings of swans and fly away
which leaves her alone with the fractured stone.

Grasping fragments of their ethereal souls,
Zahara gathers voices of the dead
to weave them in weird song of lonely faith
that breathes in beauty and exhales despair
which fills frail glass of immortality
from which she drinks sweet juice of ancient trees.

Embracing luminous phantom of love,
Zahara places flowers on two graves
where her mother and father dissipate
in crumbling sand that sparkles in sunlight,
then opens hand with seeds of aching loss,
smiling sadly as the desert lark eats.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus offers pomegranate to Zahara as she kneels by graves of her parents who were killed in the civil war between rebels and businessmen.

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

Wisdom Of Dead Stars
© Surazeus
2025 02 08

She would confess strange sorrows of her heart
but Zahara thirsts for laughter of light,
so she strides boldly through the twilight zone
to find glowing cave where the demon core
radiates aggressive wisdom of dead stars,
transforming wizards to demonic ghouls.

Hearing endless song of waves on soft shores,
Zahara runs where the wild river flows
around crumbling hills where crooked trees grow
with wordless amusement of the lonely cloud
that reveals roundness of the world to her
because the sea unravels happiness.

Turning away to face cold bitter winds,
Zahara asks the bright sun in bleak sky
for mercy in the waste land of despair
where no shadows shade her soul from hard love
as she speaks her heart in the heartless gloom
to the ghost whose blood still sings from the sand.

Knowing stars may never fall from the sky,
Zahara cups rain in her grateful hands
to drink refreshing joy of shattered clouds
that wash her bitter sorrows to the sea
which shines in her parallel universe
with tears from mothers whose sons die in war.

Unveiling beauty of the desert sky,
Zahara hides her language in sharp sand
so she can describe absence of her love
who folds insouciant silence in his chest
as she cries out with shock of hungry hope
to understand salt of the restless sea.

While asking the sea for names of the dead,
Zahara wades knee-deep in angry waves
to search for bodies of children and brides
who float with anguish in abyss of tears
till they sprout wings of swans and fly away
which leaves her alone with the fractured stone.

Grasping fragments of their ethereal souls,
Zahara gathers voices of the dead
to weave them in weird song of lonely faith
that breathes in beauty and exhales despair
which fills frail glass of immortality
from which she drinks sweet juice of ancient trees.

Embracing luminous phantom of love,
Zahara places flowers on two graves
where her mother and father dissipate
in crumbling sand that sparkles in sunlight,
then opens hand with seeds of aching loss,
smiling sadly as the desert lark eats.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus offers pomegranate to Zahara as she kneels by graves of her parents who were killed in the civil war between rebels and businessmen.

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

Wisdom Of Dead Stars
© Surazeus
2025 02 08

She would confess strange sorrows of her heart
but Zahara thirsts for laughter of light,
so she strides boldly through the twilight zone
to find glowing cave where the demon core
radiates aggressive wisdom of dead stars,
transforming wizards to demonic ghouls.

Hearing endless song of waves on soft shores,
Zahara runs where the wild river flows
around crumbling hills where crooked trees grow
with wordless amusement of the lonely cloud
that reveals roundness of the world to her
because the sea unravels happiness.

Turning away to face cold bitter winds,
Zahara asks the bright sun in bleak sky
for mercy in the waste land of despair
where no shadows shade her soul from hard love
as she speaks her heart in the heartless gloom
to the ghost whose blood still sings from the sand.

Knowing stars may never fall from the sky,
Zahara cups rain in her grateful hands
to drink refreshing joy of shattered clouds
that wash her bitter sorrows to the sea
which shines in her parallel universe
with tears from mothers whose sons die in war.

Unveiling beauty of the desert sky,
Zahara hides her language in sharp sand
so she can describe absence of her love
who folds insouciant silence in his chest
as she cries out with shock of hungry hope
to understand salt of the restless sea.

While asking the sea for names of the dead,
Zahara wades knee-deep in angry waves
to search for bodies of children and brides
who float with anguish in abyss of tears
till they sprout wings of swans and fly away
which leaves her alone with the fractured stone.

Grasping fragments of their ethereal souls,
Zahara gathers voices of the dead
to weave them in weird song of lonely faith
that breathes in beauty and exhales despair
which fills frail glass of immortality
from which she drinks sweet juice of ancient trees.

Embracing luminous phantom of love,
Zahara places flowers on two graves
where her mother and father dissipate
in crumbling sand that sparkles in sunlight,
then opens hand with seeds of aching loss,
smiling sadly as the desert lark eats.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus offers pomegranate to Zahara as she kneels by graves of her parents who were killed in the civil war between rebels and businessmen.

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

Deaf Devils Of Fate
© Surazeus
2025 02 08

After swimming in bright river of ghosts,
Ophelia dries her hair on grassy shore,
then walks back to town in blue evening glow,
entranced by whoosh of cars with gold headlights,
to relax in the Wingless Horse Cafe
where the deaf devils of fate sing folk songs.

When Hamlet and Odysseus arrive
with noisy laughter of entitled boys,
Ophelia hides her face with subtle grace
behind thick book of Chinese poetry
to read of cranes above mountains of mist
where the deaf devils of fate play jade flutes.

When Hamlet sees her eating apple pie,
hair haloed by light of the stained glass window
showing Keats and Fanny by the plum tree,
he sits at her table with cheerful grin
and asks how she has been the past few weeks
since the deaf devils of fate stole her car.

Leaning forward to whisper in harsh tone,
Ophelia inquires why he returned
all the letters she wrote to him last summer,
because she burned them on the river shore,
then requests that he leave her alone now
though the deaf devils of fate call her name.

When Hamlet grabs her arm with intense glare,
Ophelia slips free with notebook and bag,
and hurries down the street where crickets chirr,
then sits on park bench by the overpass
to cradle fragments of her broken heart
which the deaf devils of fate gave to her.

When dark figure in shadows of old trees
approaches her seat in the empty park,
Ophelia stiffens with urgent fear,
breathing deep to calm wild beat of her heart,
till young man with guitar asks where to go
to join the deaf devils of fate for supper.

Pointing back at the Wingless Horse Cafe,
Ophelia stands and prepares to run,
but pauses when the street musician smiles,
"My name is Orpheus the Troubadour,
and I just arrived from Gotham today
to sing songs with the deaf devils of fate."

Walking with him back to the bright cafe,
Ophelia orders two vegeburgers
and chamomile tea with honey and ginger,
and smiles bright as he relates his adventures
hitchhiking from Seattle to Miami
with the deaf devils of fate in his heart.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus sits on stage at the Wingless Horse Cafe and plays folk songs he improvises to satirize the greed of King Midas in the White House.

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

Blankness Of The Sky
© Surazeus
2025 02 08

If I should see in blankness of the sky
face of the girl who knows my secret name
I will focus attention of my eye
to translate mysterious code of the game
humans perform to gain and maintain power
from mirrored chamber of the hilltop tower.

When I feel vibes from blankness of the sky
radiate bright waves of psychic energy
I search cave of illusions for the Why
when I strum tunes on lyre of Mercury
in mental war against tyrant of hate
who strives in vain against celestial fate.

Though angels fall from blankness of the sky
to wander lost as humans on hard Earth
I hire them all to play the clever spy
uncovering wealth Midas denies has worth
in awkward trick of jesting which confounds
proud fascists strutting stiff on burial mounds.

I hear voice call from blankness of the sky,
"Know, phony patriots of America,
fooled into following the Antichrist,
King Midas will soon serve wise Onatah
who rules Zarathia, Land of the Free,
by enforcing Justice and Liberty."

Jupiter shines in blankness of the sky
through noble fight against Pluto the grim,
leading us to rescue Liberty from plight
by chanting magic spell in charming hymn
exposing bullies who lie to deceive
frightened people who come at last to grieve.

Lucifer leaps through blankness of the sky
to conquer the conqueror with just law
and restore to each soul their civil rights
bestowed at birth from heart of Onatah
who washes our souls clean with blood of truth
through sacrifice of our messiah sleuth.

Stars disappear from blankness of the sky
except through far-sight of the telescope
for which I analyze bright Golden Eye
that watches how we mortal humans cope
from crystal palace on high pyramid
while I map myths in complex psychic grid.

Because gods play in blankness of the sky,
through sharp invective of satiric code,
that cracks the golden mask of tyranny,
snide jesters mock King Midas and his toad
to crown Minerva Goddess of the World
who reigns with justice of the cosmic herald.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus dances on the White House lawn and mocks King Midas and his greedy toad who try to swallow wealth of America.

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

Arrow Of Free Will
© Surazeus
2025 02 08

My heart is pierced by arrow of free will
when I read in newspapers around the world
stories of people who suffer from wrongs
committed by criminals blind with hate,
which spurs me to wear cape of Superman
and play role of Jesus in world events.

My heart is burned by arrow of free will
when the fascist dictator blind with greed
attempts to overthrow our government,
then storms the citadel of global power
to conquer the world and crown himself Christ
as incarnation of Storm God on Earth.

My heart is stung by arrow of free will
when grand institutions of liberal progress
are bulldozed by aggressive corporate kings
who seize control over our fiscal fountains
to steal tax dollars from our working hands
and fill their thirsty bank accounts with blood.

My heart is spurred by arrow of free will
when Midas grabs gold Scepter of Zambor
and parades in new clothes before the world,
turning everything he touches to trash
while leading crusade to conquer the Earth
and drink blood oil with insatiable thirst.

My heart is fired by arrow of free will
when Pluto tries to conquer Scythia
as old King Jupiter sleeps in Stonehenge
while Lucifer with sword Excalibur
guards Liberty who holds the Lamp of Truth
to lead out fight against his tyranny.

My heart is fueled by arrow of free will
when Hidden Dragon from Cave of Illusions
rises on Phoenix wings from flames of war
to unite in Anglonesian Empire
Zarathia, Gothinia, and Russia,
and guard Elysium from invading hordes.

My heart is fixed by arrow of free will
when Cupid fires his Bow of burning gold
and Odin drives swift Chariot of fire
so Jesus builds builds Temple of Solomon
to rule the world from New Jerusalem
in shining pyramid city on Mount Zion.

My heart is healed by arrow of free will
when Onatah teaches me to plant corn
and tend Garden of Eden with kind hands
that unites Babylon and Avalon
with Oregon in fane on Mount Takoma
where I play Lyre of Mercury with hope.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus holds arrow of free will with reverent hands as he climbs Pyramid of the God Eye to stand before Ishtar who reigns as Eternal Queen of Earth.

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

Lantern Of Lost Hope
© Surazeus
2025 02 07

First key word that opens locked door of thought
flashes with starlight in shallow Face Pool
to lure with eerie melody of hope
blind souls who wander roadless woods of fate
with lantern of lost hope in trembling hands
till they vanish in voice of nothingness.

Carla laughs while she knocks at the locked door
because no one answers her frantic call,
so she places her Death Book on the floor,
then leans gasping for breath against the wall
with lantern of lost hope in broken heart
to draw map of her dreams on wyrd star chart.

Jesse sits on tree stump in rain-wet field
after chopping Tree of Knowledge with ax
polished sharp on dragon bones of despair
to ask the quick sharp-tailed sandpiper why
with lantern of lost hope in both his eyes
he cannot see the angel of star fire.

Carla mumbles that twigs and brambles tear
hem of her dress as she tromps in dark woods
to find cave of the television bear
named Grendel who haunts quiet neighborhoods
with lantern of lost hope that shimmers gold
of undulating rays through time-space fold.

Jesse teaches his clever son David
how to sling stones with a taut leather strap
when they go hunting in Broceliande
where Grendel steals computers from the store
with lantern of lost hope after midnight
who mocks young shepherd security guard.

Carla stops in the quaint white-steepled church
where old Goliath is mopping the floor
to ask questions about the Holy Ghost,
so they sing the twenty-third psalm, and pray
with lantern of lost hope under the cross,
then share feelings about maternal loss.

Jesse finds sandal Eurydice wore
while dancing to her wedding in Stonehenge,
and weeps that she will sing and dance no more,
then sets on her shrine the last sacred orange
with lantern of lost hope lighting her tomb
to write obscure prophecy of world doom.

Carla rides the bus to Elysium
two seats behind Grendel and Artemis
who talk about the novel Moby Dick,
how the White Whale represents hostile Nature
with lantern of lost hope in his stomach
where Jonah asks Kwan Yin to marry him.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus and Ophelia meet Romeo and Cinderella for lunch at the Pegasus Cafe in Greenwich Village where Bob Dylan sings Desolation Row.

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

Picnics In The Glade
© Surazeus
2025 02 07

If we could go on picnics in the glade
by the happy river, like we used to,
we could assimilate glow of our hearts
as lovers lounging in flowers of hope
that wilts at untold tale of our lost pride,
deserving pleasure we keep to ourselves.

Though fungus clings to trunks of fallen trees
along untrodden trails of mountain glades,
we could commit our seasons of fresh youth
to carefree wanderings far from cityscapes
of relentless busyness to succeed,
yet how times have changed at the fall of truth.

Our wordless vanity of hope persists
in fooling us that all we know as true
might remain secure as foundation stone
on which we built our national world view
that every person breathing air of faith
deserves fair chance to work with dignity.

What strenuous agony of desire
still urges us to fight for what is right
straight against petulant aggressiveness
of thieves disguised as honest patriots
who insist fortune is for them alone,
according to beatitudes of stones.

All should inherit fertile land of faith
without cumbersome shade of blinding greed,
reflected clear in how the peacock struts,
but many poor in spirit grasp for power
where lone angels weep around human graves
by selling alien merit never earned.

Being born of Earth, we climb mountain trails
to transcend social hierarchies of power
in bid to reclaim opportunities
for living safely in vast urban zones
as ours with legal grounds of unproved birth,
since the moon glares askance at our desires.

At stark diminution of reserved fate,
trapped by extent of language unexpired
through amorous attention of police,
we claim with bold assertion of respect
green innocence of deeds ancient gods cause
humans to perform with penance of rage.

With curious indictment of bold deeds
we decide to escape the fascist state
imposed on institutions disempowered
by gangs of greedy goons in business suits,
and walk the signless wilderness of faith
to picnic in peace in the mountain glade.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus and Ophelia leave the city to escape the immigration police, and picnic in peace in the mountain glade while helicopters hunt for them.

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

Illusion Of Their Love
© Surazeus
2025 02 07

Alert to wings of fire, her heart has flown
from heavy horror of aggressive fear
to brood in twisted limbs of that vast tree
that explodes slowly from soil of despair,
blinded by illusion of what should be,
till she breaks free to manage what is real.

Eager to express with clandestine faith
secure felicity of fluent force,
Yasmina laughs with horror of surprise
at shocking silence of martialized wind,
cheated by aggressive theft of desire,
and quivers with compassion to survive.

Bathed in regressive waves of rancid hope,
contrived by voices who demand she pray
with obedient submission, she escapes
comprehensive strictness of binding laws
to dance with brittle joy on restless shores
beyond all bounds of false propriety.

Duped by delusion of bland liberty,
she feels was promised by society,
Yasmina plucks plums from time-twisted tree
to taste bitter sweetness of claims denied,
then twirls about on graceful toes of fear
to hide hard-bitten angst of honesty.

Though bombs no longer blast her paradise
to swirling dust of political lies,
stirred by international promises
of protection from hate, Yasmina sings
beautiful hymn to hide anguished despair
with mercurial voice of resigned respect.

Fierce soldier wrapped in shield of bitter hate
for family murdered in the holocaust,
glares at young girl by the broken plum tree,
who knows without doubt of religious faith
he is her loving husband and soulmate
in some other world of the multiverse.

With gentle smile that hides terror of pain,
Yasmina offers Ariel ripe plum
from tree of her heart, so, behind his mask
of blinding rage, his heart stirs from dark cave
to gaze with reverence at her radiant face
with light that dispels cruel storm of regret.

With surprise of the angel stuck in Hell,
Ariel comes to realize with faint hope
that he has met his soulmate in gray ruins
of shattered enterprise, and so they build
in their hearts quaint home with garden of trees
where they dwell in illusion of their love.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus wanders in ruins of the bombed city, and finds in the ruins one beautiful house with a fruit garden where Yasmina and Ariel raise three children.

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

Secret Country Johania
© Surazeus
2025 02 06

They all gather under the sprawling elm
to share stories about the falling star
that shines as beacon in the misty night
to light the road their feet have yet to blaze
across the windy meadow to the lake
where the old woman laughs till they all die.

When the stout man in the long leather coat
arrives with bag of apples for them all,
they ask about the country he came from,
so John explains his land is made of birds
who like to drop acorns on river shores
where they all fall asleep just before dawn.

Hands pressed in crimson mud of wordless fear,
Johanna looks up through long twisted limbs
the sprawling elm reaches up to grasp the moon
which smiles at her through flashing swirl of clouds,
reluctant to accept the final end
where lovers embrace in shadow of hope.

Our shadows merge in one soft gleam of light,
she wonders when she stands on dizzy Earth,
embarrassed by compassion she conceals
from people speaking endless streams of sound
that never resolve into clear concepts
which formulate bony light of the moon.

With sudden flash of insight made of rain,
Johanna grins with laughter of success
that she will build from fractured light of time
new world of peaceful joy from guilty love,
designed as emblem of the optimist
that quivers weirdly on the muddy shore.

Because our moon will never disappear,
though it waxes and wanes on rainbow hill,
she asks her shadow hidden in the elm
why people always die and vanish blank
as absence of their souls she yearns to see,
liquid water that curls around her legs.

Only the Orphean Warbler of fate
ever answers her desperate query of hope,
so she opens her hands to offer seeds,
and stands still with eternity of faith
while he hops on her arm with casual trust
at joyful sparkle of her silver eyes.

I will name my secret country Johania,
Johanna giggles while she twirls around,
delighting in how her skirt becomes wings,
and though she cannot fly high she pretends,
then everyone under the sprawling elm
cheers and claps when she dances beyond death.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus whistles so the Orphean Warbler darts from the sprawling elm to land on his wrist while Johanna dances into the glowing clouds.

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

Secret Country Johania
© Surazeus
2025 02 06

They all gather under the sprawling elm
to share stories about the falling star
that shines as beacon in the misty night
to light the road their feet have yet to blaze
across the windy meadow to the lake
where the old woman laughs till they all die.

When the stout man in the long leather coat
arrives with bag of apples for them all,
they ask about the country he came from,
so John explains his land is made of birds
who like to drop acorns on river shores
where they all fall asleep just before dawn.

Hands pressed in crimson mud of wordless fear,
Johanna looks up through long twisted limbs
the sprawling elm reaches up to grasp the moon
which smiles at her through flashing swirl of clouds,
reluctant to accept the final end
where lovers embrace in shadow of hope.

Our shadows merge in one soft gleam of light,
she wonders when she stands on dizzy Earth,
embarrassed by compassion she conceals
from people speaking endless streams of sound
that never resolve into clear concepts
which formulate bony light of the moon.

With sudden flash of insight made of rain,
Johanna grins with laughter of success
that she will build from fractured light of time
new world of peaceful joy from guilty love,
designed as emblem of the optimist
that quivers weirdly on the muddy shore.

Because our moon will never disappear,
though it waxes and wanes on rainbow hill,
she asks her shadow hidden in the elm
why people always die and vanish blank
as absence of their souls she yearns to see,
liquid water that curls around her legs.

Only the Orphean Warbler of fate
ever answers her desperate query of hope,
so she opens her hands to offer seeds,
and stands still with eternity of faith
while he hops on her arm with casual trust
at joyful sparkle of her silver eyes.

I will name my secret country Johania,
Johanna giggles while she twirls around,
delighting in how her skirt becomes wings,
and though she cannot fly high she pretends,
then everyone under the sprawling elm
cheers and claps when she dances beyond death.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus whistles so the Orphean Warbler darts from the sprawling elm to land on his wrist while Johanna dances into the glowing clouds.

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

Secret Country Johania
© Surazeus
2025 02 06

They all gather under the sprawling elm
to share stories about the falling star
that shines as beacon in the misty night
to light the road their feet have yet to blaze
across the windy meadow to the lake
where the old woman laughs till they all die.

When the stout man in the long leather coat
arrives with bag of apples for them all,
they ask about the country he came from,
so John explains his land is made of birds
who like to drop acorns on river shores
where they all fall asleep just before dawn.

Hands pressed in crimson mud of wordless fear,
Johanna looks up through long twisted limbs
the sprawling elm reaches up to grasp the moon
which smiles at her through flashing swirl of clouds,
reluctant to accept the final end
where lovers embrace in shadow of hope.

Our shadows merge in one soft gleam of light,
she wonders when she stands on dizzy Earth,
embarrassed by compassion she conceals
from people speaking endless streams of sound
that never resolve into clear concepts
which formulate bony light of the moon.

With sudden flash of insight made of rain,
Johanna grins with laughter of success
that she will build from fractured light of time
new world of peaceful joy from guilty love,
designed as emblem of the optimist
that quivers weirdly on the muddy shore.

Because our moon will never disappear,
though it waxes and wanes on rainbow hill,
she asks her shadow hidden in the elm
why people always die and vanish blank
as absence of their souls she yearns to see,
liquid water that curls around her legs.

Only the Orphean Warbler of fate
ever answers her desperate query of hope,
so she opens her hands to offer seeds,
and stands still with eternity of faith
while he hops on her arm with casual trust
at joyful sparkle of her silver eyes.

I will name my secret country Johania,
Johanna giggles while she twirls around,
delighting in how her skirt becomes wings,
and though she cannot fly high she pretends,
then everyone under the sprawling elm
cheers and claps when she dances beyond death.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus whistles so the Orphean Warbler darts from the sprawling elm to land on his wrist while Johanna dances into the glowing clouds.

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

Something Seems To Become
© Surazeus
2025 02 06

Something seems to fall somewhere for some time.
Someone asks somebody about something
and they reply with some words about why.
Somewhere someone else now goes nowhere else.
The angel of death walks on the sea shore
and talks to the shadow with wordless thought.

Tangled vines heavy with grapes hang on poles.
The girl talks nonsense words to the blind tree
about why clouds erase shadows of light.
She dwells at the beginning of the end.
She asks if she is who she thinks she is
and listens to no one ever respond.

She puts blank books on the library shelf
where no one reads them till the end of time.
When anyone asks her about her name
she smiles and pretends they can understand.
Something floats past her face with ancient wings.
She wonders why she cannot see her face.

Wheels spin in flashing ecstasy of thought.
No one believes they are the one robot
who understands human nature the best.
She points her finger to reveal the west
where the sun bleeds into the desert waste.
Something acquires value when it gets bought.

Something seems to become more real than real.
She refuses to explain how she feels.
Someone asks her if she wants to return
so she stands somewhere else just for some time.
Everyone sees her shadow on the ground
disappear each time clouds bring silent rain.

She runs somewhere for some time to explore
some place where she has never been before.
Everywhere encloses somewhere in walls
designed to make things seem invisible.
Else she backtracks on signless road to show
everyone why she is someone they love.

He stands somewhere and thinks about someone
who is doing something to become real.
She gives him photograph of his real face
but he decides he is sure it is fake.
She gives him bones of children time devoured
to prove she understands nothing at all.

With minimal effort of divine breath
she speaks to everyone about how death
will erase everyone from light of time.
Something seems to appear before her eyes
so she reaches out and touches the mask.
She wonders why she is nobody else.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus gives cake she bought to everybody who is anybody in the everywhere of the heart.

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

Green Eye Of Faith
© Surazeus
2025 02 06

Imaginary life of sunlit trees
transforms my garden into metaphor
for memories of my childhood in my heart
preserved as fruit transformed from wordless dirt
by green blood flowing in its heartless trunk
so I perceive this world with green eye of faith.

Green limes on twisted limbs at midnight flash
when joyful thunderstorms drench Earth in rain
to spark life from barren waste land that makes
indifferent Nature seem most generous
with bountiful gifts we humans accept
when we offer prayers with green eye of faith.

Complex spectrum of feeling, we design
to be accessible with social code,
helps us determine state of mental health
which reprograms our national world view
to learn lessons of life from tragedy
ordaining plain truth with green eye of faith.

Contriving panorama for new grief,
relevant to political respect
that expands bright insight in human nature,
we attend progress of garden estates
where vital crops bloom in meadows of hope
based on harmony with green eye of faith.

To meditate in theater of time
we enter cave of illusions and dream
patterns for eternal forms of ideas
embodied within bounds of time and space
by growth and decay of material bodies
for precise structures with green eye of faith.

Exquisite beauty of eternal forms
manifest in material bodies, flawed
with variations of special design,
inspires my heart to expand conscious view
of Earth within our vast cosmology
in wholeness perceived with green eye of faith.

Unbleached experience of this complex world
programs ultimate mirror of weird truth
with flexible categories of thoughts
that distort primal sensations with art
which duplicates particulars from laws
through apprehension with green eye of faith.

Imaginary life of unsplit stones
contains eternal beauty in bright gems
hidden inside skull of Leviathan
who crawls up river of perceptive facts,
evolving from fish into wingless angel
who speaks language spells with green eye of faith.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus peers in the emerald and explains it to school children as green of faith through which we perceive the world of atoms as world of words.

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

Ritual Of Remembrance
© Surazeus
2025 02 06

To perform ritual of remembrance well
in quiet darkness of the window light
we hide our sorrows in clear candle flame
reflected in clean mirror of our hearts
that shines shocked with unpredictable will
encased in pearl of wisdom we must share.

Through miraculous constancy of faith
we try to merge opposing force of will
in swirled cooperation of respect
that maps conceptual landscape of our love
where bounds of our alien countries meet
as sunlight in small raindrop on frail leaf.

With accidental verve of vital hope
I ascend spiral staircase of sunbeams,
built on associations of key thoughts,
that rises from substantial well of dreams
which dissipate as mist in morning light
so I hold crumbles of dirt in my hands.

Enormous dragon rising from deep sea
grips silver Saturn rocket in sharp claws
while trundling clumsily across soft sand
to explore Euclidean complexity
of brains that generate Realm of Ideas
where anything we think is possible.

Our eyes can measure with alacrity
of cheerful love for our indifferent world
impossible curves of light rays that beam
from ancient stars so far away in space
they all burned out millions of years ago
though they still twinkle in our empty sky.

Entangled in sunlight of swirling waves,
we dream beginning of our carbon souls
connecting through genetic coils of hope
in bubbling flash of hydrothermal vents
to map our quest four hundred million years
evolving from fish into wingless angel.

Bored of hot timeless heat on sandy beach,
we clash two rocks with rhythmic attitude,
and laugh with startled delight when bright sparks
of fallen stars erupt in graceful flames
which we obtain to transform soil of Earth
in vast network of computing machines.

Clear questions of desire could clarify
distorted assumptions of hungry hope
when we communicate needs we fulfill
as we seek mate to generate new life
so we continue reproducing souls
as long as Earth teems with organic life.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus lounges on the beach with James Merrill as they discuss socio-psychology of the American Soul.

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

Rage Of Lost Centuries
© Surazeus
2025 02 05

The sea is still cold with oblivion,
hurling waves with rage of lost centuries
at ground of truth we always believed in,
but no real path in the world is ever straight,
so I set object of my life to reach
distant hills that are exploding again.

For over one hundred years of hope now
our world of cities mushrooming from death
has been flaring with rockets of ambition
that shatter cathedrals and mosques to dust
for they were propped up with deceptive lies
that cannot protect our souls from the truth.

Red hyacinths of winter mornings burn
with frantic music of aggressive birds
that follow refugees in the waste land
who clap their hands and stomp on empty graves
because the last soldier to die in war
gave up attempting to write songs of love.

When banks and cathedrals of futile faith
stand empty along busy city streets,
we know the angels who came a long way
hold solid anguish of doom in their hands
after wandering in helpless woods with Death
while deciding what action to perform.

Bright bells of noon can no longer be heard
across the campuses of higher learning
where scholars write formulas of despair
with blood of angels on vanishing walls
that defeat is no word the young accept
when they go searching for the Promised Land.

The heart that gathers honest loneliness
sinks into swirling ocean of false words,
so we return from wilderness of lies
with nothing but the truth in open hands,
determined to build from ruins of faith
world empire based on liberty for all.

Dark evening gives bright river to our eyes
so we all follow our own river home,
yet gather confused on the ocean shore
all nations of the Earth in restless crowd
to seek guidance in our indifferent stars
till the darkness tells us how to behave.

Justice wears one single face of respect
composed of every face we humans wear
as we proclaim in court of honest tales
we are the heroes of each judgment case,
yet when I observe the whole human race
I see myself in every nameless face.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus hands to students on the university campus pamphlets with bright pictures of the wonderful future bolstered by false promises of noble action.

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

Weird Immortal Hope
© Surazeus
2025 02 05

Each star that flashes in the telescope
illuminates old river of desire
from which the fruit tree drinks electric tears
so we taste bitter sweetness of this life
each hour our souls flower from the blind stone
to become new window of the Star Mind.

So, when the stone of weird immortal hope
extends roots down to center of the world,
we wake from agony of hope for love,
bodies composed of vibrant chemicals
that fractalize through spirals of desire
to channel god soul in our liquid bones.

Arranging stones in circle over dirt,
Leticia waters seeds of herbs and flowers
that blossom from moist soil of her sad heart
as they transform into library shelves
where birds fold wings into pages of books
that record tale of every conscious soul.

As non-believer in the faceless god,
whose shadow looms in clouds above the world,
Leticia exits empty church of skulls
where shadows of angels play hide and seek
till stones crack open at soft lightning strikes
to reveal pure light of eternity.

Uncertain whir of gloom in sudden smoke,
that deviates from her unconfirmed flight plan
with graceful thrust across slick lake of ice,
motivates response Leticia conceals
with gentle smile of constant innocence,
lost in humming darkness of mute dawn.

Holding herself still in sparkles of snow,
Leticia studies with inherent faith
four snow buntings that chirp on the barbed wire
about enchanting beauty of the moon
which shines regardless of fierce politics
that defines how men clash to control wealth.

Sweet scent of honeysuckles after rain
invites Leticia to analyze pain
reflecting her face in the garden pool
where she sees vision of houses on fire
though nothing so dire is happening now,
she assures herself because birds still chirp.

Gazing through the telescope of false faith,
Leticia calculates future events
based on how planets glitter in the sky,
wondering what empire of wealth will replace
vibrant democracy of rolling stones
which sprout into trees inside prison walls.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus in the city park sketches portrait of Leticia when she wanders by with balloon and coconut ice cream, then she cries as she walks away.

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

Lifetimes Of Arcane Truth
© Surazeus
2025 02 04

The most important concept of all time
that he could say with words upon his tongue
chokes his soul with fraught anguish of despair,
so he carves bitter curse on church brick wall
with holy blood from his dream-crippled hand
to prove his innocence to the glass moon.

Descending holy mountain of black smoke
with fractured tablets carved with divine words,
he struts before blind people of the land
to show them beauty in the crystal sand,
then steals the beautiful dreams of their hearts
yet leaves them praising his name with respect.

Through liquid shadows of colorful fears
time slithers across smeared mirror of fate
in measured deformation of sweet lies
when he expresses doubt about plain facts
that crush television screens into sugar
which sweetens deception of honest faith.

With blindness of Nature reflecting hope,
reticent to accept bold deference,
he perceives ingratitude of dark debt
unsheathed by grasping hands of idol masks
asleep all winter under frozen dirt
which hinders success of untempered plans.

Wild energy of aggressive desire,
by nature trenchant with excessive hope,
inspires his purpose to regain the sky
with distinct keenness of separate instincts
considered too wealthy for the fecund chill
still crippling children with pity from Death.

Alarmed by fluid definitions, stuck
in restless landscape of unsteady flight,
he glances back at disappearing roads
replaced by twilight of abandonment,
unfit for romantics who ignore how
fate suspends our bodies with taut contempt.

Windows effaced with shadows of suspense,
accessory to contemptible crimes,
he almost understands mystery of Zen
inhaling hollow strictness of disgust
without moderation through equity,
tangible only to sensitive minds.

Safe under canopy of the fruit tree,
undistracted by whiteness of the bridge
across which spirits float on wingless breath,
he ponders why all conscious entities
accumulate lifetimes of arcane truth
which all vanishes at hour of our death.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus arrives just in time to catch the book of spells falling from hand of the man who hangs upside down in the tree of mysterious truths.

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

Lifetimes Of Arcane Truth
© Surazeus
2025 02 04

The most important concept of all time
that he could say with words upon his tongue
chokes his soul with fraught anguish of despair,
so he carves bitter curse on church brick wall
with holy blood from his dream-crippled hand
to prove his innocence to the glass moon.

Descending holy mountain of black smoke
with fractured tablets carved with divine words,
he struts before blind people of the land
to show them beauty in the crystal sand,
then steals the beautiful dreams of their hearts
yet leaves them praising his name with respect.

Through liquid shadows of colorful fears
time slithers across smeared mirror of fate
in measured deformation of sweet lies
when he expresses doubt about plain facts
that crush television screens into sugar
which sweetens deception of honest faith.

With blindness of Nature reflecting hope,
reticent to accept bold deference,
he perceives ingratitude of dark debt
unsheathed by grasping hands of idol masks
asleep all winter under frozen dirt
which hinders success of untempered plans.

Wild energy of aggressive desire,
by nature trenchant with excessive hope,
inspires his purpose to regain the sky
with distinct keenness of separate instincts
considered too wealthy for the fecund chill
still crippling children with pity from Death.

Alarmed by fluid definitions, stuck
in restless landscape of unsteady flight,
he glances back at disappearing roads
replaced by twilight of abandonment,
unfit for romantics who ignore how
fate suspends our bodies with taut contempt.

Windows effaced with shadows of suspense,
accessory to contemptible crimes,
he almost understands mystery of Zen
inhaling hollow strictness of disgust
without moderation through equity,
tangible only to sensitive minds.

Safe under canopy of the fruit tree,
undistracted by whiteness of the bridge
across which spirits float on wingless breath,
he ponders why all conscious entities
accumulate lifetimes of arcane truth
which all vanishes at hour of our death.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus arrives just in time to catch the book of spells falling from hand of the man who hangs upside down in the tree of mysterious truths.

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

Terrible Angel Of Light
© Surazeus
2025 02 04

While she strolls in the busy shopping mall
Gretel drops bread crumbs to mark out her trail,
but wanders listlessly with hungry angst
through endless winding corridors of glass
past computers and fashionable clothes
till she stops alone on the windy plain.

Entering round tent of green embroidered silk,
Gretel dons long gold silk gown and silver tiara,
then sits on red velvet cushion at oak desk,
picks up the quill from feather of the swan,
dips it in pot of black ink, and begins
to write lines of verse about love and trust.

The Raven that followed trail of bread crumbs,
devouring memories she left on the ground,
enters the tent with gust of mountain wind,
and transforms into tall elegant man
wearing black pants and jacket with red tie,
then bows and places emerald in her hand.

Teleported in blinding flash of light,
Gretel finds herself in white linen gown
pushing large cart piled with dirty bed sheets
inside huge brick Magdalene laundry house,
and thinking about the cute baby boy
they took away from her after his birth.

Determined to escape harsh slavery,
Gretel punches the guard and takes their gun,
then aims it at director in blue suit
who trembles as she snatches his car keys,
then cries in anguish as she drives long road
winding along the rocky Irish shore.

Arriving at small town in misty cove,
Gretel follows shimmering fairy wings
till she stands before quaint bookstore cafe
where her long-lost son with pert ponytail
and hipster beard cooks vegetarian meals,
then sings Irish ballads while playing guitar.

Bringing plate of food every afternoon
to the old homeless woman on the bench,
Brian chats with her about life and such,
listening to her wild tales of teenage years
attending vanlife renaissance festivals,
amazed at sparkle of joy in her eyes.

Wading out into surging ocean waves,
Gretel stretches both arms up to the sky
and shouts that joy at tragedy of life,
then floats down into silence of the sea
where she sees terrible angel of light
bear her aching body to mindless stars.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus and Brian stroll on the ocean shore, chatting about sea shanties, and find the homeless woman who drowned in the sea with a strange smile on her face.

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

Warning Of The Wolf
© Surazeus
2025 02 04

When they decide to meet beside the sea
and throw all their sorrows in sunless deeps,
they fall asleep under the rowan tree
among flowers where the grasshopper leaps
so their hearts break not when the empire falls
at relentless dance of porcelain dolls.

Yet when they hear eerie hoot of the owl
they wake in moonlight by the shining pool,
startled by grim figure in long black cowl
who smiles and suggests they return to school
so they are ready when the empire falls
to sell homemade crafts in the market stalls.

Strange shadow of the star-eyed seraphim
looms over busy market just at noon
when Rapunzel in the tower sings hymn
to wake psychotic demon of the moon
who declares the empire will rise again
at cheerful tweeting of the crazy wren.

They hide their feelings in the polished box
which Pandora brought as their wedding gift,
so when she gives birth to the nine-tailed fox
he wanders lost in the mountain snow drift
to deny the empire will rise again
through analysis of his bloody pen.

Fooled by Rasputin that their plan is strong,
King Midas and Duke Golfindel play golf
with heads of departments who chose the wrong,
but they fail to heed Warning of the Wolf
who howls distraught at fall of our empire
while we cope and join the heavenly choir.

Bowing to Pluto on his Kremlin throne,
Midas offers him the Treasury Key,
but Oil King gives Orange Clown broken bone,
so he chops down the Eden garden tree
so no one eats at fall of our empire
except his propaganda versifier.

Weeping at funeral of America
while Liberty lies imprisoned by Greed,
the Lost People cry out to Onatah
who gives everyone her magic corn seed,
then comforts us our empire will not die
for Icarus will teach us how to fly.

From burned ruins of smoking Babylon
rival tribes of Zarathia unite
to build new nation based on Avalon
where every person shares the equal right
to live free in world empire of the why
saved from destruction by the nameless spy.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus brings dinner to Rapunzel in her tower where they gaze out the window at America as they eat, and discuss the fall of the empire.

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

Music Of The Star Mind
© Surazeus
2025 02 03

Awakened by music of the Star Mind
that chimes alarmingly soft in night wind,
Zara glides on beach of the moon-white sea
to listen for faint voices of the dead
who whisper their names in forgotten song
that only she can hear in tweets of larks.

When silver jet with angelic wings glides
across dark evening sky of the Star Mind,
Zara hides under branches of the cypress
to blank her face invisible to Death,
but shivers when she feels his burning eyes
regard her fragile soul with mocking grin.

"This plum tree that blooms on the river shore
might be the tree where Eve ate of the fruit,
so I too will consume pure Plum of Truth
to gain arcane wisdom of the Star Mind,"
Zara whispers while tasting sweet despair
to savor strangeness of still being alive.

"Though bombs no longer blast our garden homes,
I still feel explosions of naked light
flash my eyes blind with terror at false hope,"
Zara tries to explain to the Star Mind
that stares at her from the dark evening sky,
"but I forgot how to sing about love."

Breathing deep innocence of the Star Mind
with bold intensity of cautious hope,
Zara hums melody of ocean waves
that glitter on the shore of spongy sand
where her footsteps capture puddles of tears
that vibrate in harmony with her heart.

"I perceive in mirror of the Star Mind
honest compassion Faceless God designed
as shining beacon of conceptual faith
that guides me on Way of the Cosmic Wraith
across the waste land of ignorant greed
to paradise where I plant this fruit seed."

Ghosts of soldiers emerge from the Star Mind,
surrounding her safe cypress tree with guns,
and hollow Voice of Death declares with doom,
"We must destroy this Messenger of Peace
for she is destined to found world religion
that merges all religions in new faith."

Trembling in terror at the Voice of Doom,
Zara stands and walks barefoot in the sand
toward ghosts of soldiers clutching guns of fear,
and with enchanting song of timeless love
dispels them with music of the Star Mind
that flows in waves of truth across the land.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus plays lyre of Mercury and follows Zara while she walks across the land singing Spell of Love that unites all the people of Earth in new world religion.

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

Readjust Her Mind
© Surazeus
2025 02 03

Since she would rather not face death today,
Kathy walks backward through the relocked door
to hide her memories in the broken box
that floats away on river of mute tears,
in vain attempt to readjust her mind
to flow in harmony with social norms.

Having got lost in the maze of desire
that always changes unexpectedly
based on each random decision she makes,
Kathy stops and waits in the doorless room
for the ship that never arrives in port
with the book she ordered from the blind priest.

Startled by strange song of the butterfly
that echoes in Grand Canyon of her heart,
Kathy tries to answer the telephone
that keeps ringing no matter what she says,
though horses on the reservation run
with flapping of the flag in desert wind.

Yellow orioles in magnolia trees
discuss opposing world philosophies
to figure out which one presents true keys
Kathy can use when she tries to unlock
cathedral doors before the meteor hits
our world to break illusion of the heart.

With teeming excess of unwinding thoughts,
that pulse vibrantly against strict constraints
of social convention bound with dream laws,
Kathy recites endless spell of respect
to figure out how disasters occur
so she can safely guide our ship of state.

Wrecked on time-shifting shore of the new world
where children dance on pyramids of skulls,
Kathy walks along timeless beach of faith
to find the tall Statue of Liberty
half-buried in the sand of endless change
at the smell of butter on toasted bread.

Accessing computer system at dawn
that controls payments from the Treasury,
Kathy calculates how much it will cost
to rebuild infrastructure of the state
destroyed by greed of hungry oligarchs
who still attempt to enslave everyone.

Driving her children to school every day
where they learn to become good citizens
who work hard with hope and obey the law,
Kathy wears her blue police uniform
to enforce social law of self-control
till thief she obstructs shoots her in the head.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus attends memorial service for the female police officer killed while attempting to prevent the thief from taking control of the computer system of the treasury department.

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

Sea Of Star-Souls
© Surazeus
2025 02 02

When the comet retrieves time from the sun
to besiege lush globe with colors of fear,
Tethys draws circle on eye of the stone
with blood of hope that drips between her legs
to connect her shadow with words of faith
from throbbing passion of her tingling breast.

Moving her face close enough for her cheek
to brush soft pomegranate blossoms, red
as blood that smears the insides of her thighs,
Tethys cracks thick fruit open with sore hands,
and sucks sweet fruit that drips onto her breast
till her hands are sticky with happy angst.

Wind blows fire smoke around in frantic gusts
of aching passion as she hugs herself,
then chuckles to imagine she has wings
long as those the swan stretches up to clouds,
and feels herself shudder as the swan flaps
angelic apprehension of moonlight.

Flopping over on the salty beach sand,
Tethys stretches her arms and legs outward
with anguished groan of pleasure to express
compassion for unbearable regret
to embrace the sun with writhing contempt,
body defiled by desire of the wind.

Gushing Spring of her heart releases flash
of energetic rainbow after rain
splashes her breasts of mountainous respect
for subtle arrogance of folded forms
when she becomes excessive weight of time,
then Tethys sits upright again and sighs.

When Glaucus returns with large fish he caught,
and sits to roast it over crackling flames,
Tethys brushes his arm with tender fingers,
"You filled my heart with spirit of your eyes
so now your soul incarnates in my womb
in child that combines our souls in new soul."

Gasping with pleasure of wide open eyes,
Glaucus kisses her mouth and pats her belly,
then gives her leather bag of apple juice,
so she drinks while he tears strips of burnt fish
then puts them in her open mouth and grins,
"Now you must eat for both you and our child."

Pointing to comet that streaks in the sky,
Tethys declares, "New spirit of our child
is coming to us from Sea of Star-Souls,"
then lies down, belly full of food and juice,
while Glaucus cuddles her with warm embrace,
and they savor pleasure of being alive.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus brings Amphitrite to help Tethys give birth to Neptunus while he and Glaucus drink wine to calm their hearts.

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

Desolation Of The Mind
© Surazeus
2025 02 02

When I reach desolation of the mind,
Glaucus ponders while floating in the sea,
my spirit is revived by song of sirens
who call me with weird language wind designed
so I declare with laughter I am free
from conceptual angst of fearful environs.

Yet when I hear my thoughts inside my head
rambling with random conclusions of fate,
I wonder what false logic I contrive
to prove my bravery can dispel this dread
that hovers over me with wordless hate
when I ask Glow Cloud how I can survive.

When I was young and running on the beach
my father always spoke to me of ways
that he employs as rituals to catch fish,
yet now his faceless spirit out of reach
speaks to me from Glow Cloud in misty haze
as if he dreams inside my secret wish.

Though he is gone, long crumbled into sand,
his voice speaks from my mouth in his same words,
so now his spirit glows inside my flesh
with angry passion vibrant with this land
where I roam wild and sing with hostile birds
through taut concern entangled in vast mesh.

When bright sun bleeds on mountains in the west
and soft shy moon nests on thick bed of pines,
I rise from ocean wave with strength of hope
to blaze secret trail on clandestine quest
in dusk-dim forest where no sad star shines
to rest in my cave on steep meadow slope.

Long evening shimmer of motionless time
enshrouds my aching body with soft hum,
so I smile at Glow Cloud who watches me
with unseen face of my father at chime
of smooth crystals that calculate the sum
of memories I leave floating on the sea.

Half asleep in dim gleam of early night,
I sense ghost of my father sitting near
whose voice relates fierce battle of respect
he fought with savage dragon of sunlight
too many days to count from jagged fear
with wounded pride his laughter must correct.

Awake with startled anguish of concern,
Glaucus strides back down to the ocean beach
to catch writhing sea serpent with sharp spear,
then roasts it on hot flames so death can learn
that he shall claim her treasures beyond reach,
because this world is one huge spinning sphere.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus brings small band of wanderers to small pyramid where Glaucus roasts large sea serpent and shows them how to pay him gems for food.

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