Numbered Mirror Face
© Surazeus
2025 04 19

Startled by fragile beauty of the soul,
I gaze into the numbered mirror face
that measures constant change of flashing time
with swift atomic wheels which spiral tight
to weave all moments of my memories
in one smooth flow of wisdom in my brain.

Relentless turning by the clock of fate
erases every bound material form
from shimmering landscape of our spinning globe
for we are transient shadows of One Mind
that dreams the universe of light to being
so we may sing sweet hymn of aching love.

Vague monsters on map of our memories
haunt misty valleys of our secret tales
which we explore in casual enterprise
with jeweled tokens dug from fearful caves
inspired by urgent knowledge of the wind
from lightning storms that wake us from the dead.

Awake on pinnacle of framed ideals
at shocking climax of contained desire,
I balance with opposing force of truth
competing concepts of the world we see
that blends in swirls of colorful aspects
till words we speak refract its brilliant facts.

Exiled by sorrow from my captive home,
I strum strings of the harp with arrogance
between excessive regions long pursued
with each alarming strike the pendulum
radiates in waves of silent attitude
that knocks our boat against the muddy shore.

Since I accept quotidian state of being
with heart of faith untethered from despair,
I choose to act on instinct of my mind
through will to power surging in my frame,
so I control wild flight of breathless thought
to glide with grace above maze of my dreams.

Evading gloom from strips of ardent light
with staggered prance of parallel dream-time,
I weave fragmented rhythms from chaos
with measured order words perpetuate
based on each time I circle unmapped worlds
to build quaint microcosm of the Earth.

Blind owl of my irregular concern,
that leaps on thunderous steps of holy angst,
motivates me with fierce intensive love
to float at stillpoint of the universe
with killer wings of my wandering heart
so I become unmoving shade of death.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus rows his boat merrily on the life-reflecting stream of dream to find the numbered mirror face of the clock in the Tree of Life.

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

Hypothesis Of Our Hope
© Surazeus
2025 04 19

Machine of nature flashing in our hearts
recomposes shadow of timeless faith
that serves as nothing more than glowing mist
which shrouds our valley of the singing trees
who wonder why we weep tears over death
since they will transform our atoms to fruit.

Exasperation of the flowing stream
deprives our hearts of faith in birth of light
with numbing rancor of the falling rain
that reveals how our bodies need good food
in lucid testament our breath declares
as words that fall in soil as dreamless seeds.

Since God is hypothesis of our hope,
devised in desperate circumstance of fear,
we travel forward over windy plains
along invisible road of weird shapes
in dream of faithfulness that leads our steps
beyond the farthest hill of rugged space.

So that is how we figure in our eyes
this world of rivers flowing around hills,
where trees provide sweet fruit of life to eat,
is round as apples red against the sky
that we steal from the hissing snake of death
so we can dance around the burning bush.

Through divine election of hungry hope
we traverse rugged hills in latitudes
of probability with eager faith
to assert amorality of choice
as we progress in motion without laws
to prove we are free agents without cause.

Based on caprice of passion to transcend
frustrating limits from this frame of flesh,
we justify our journey against death
to circle valley of our spirit birth
so we can explore the whole universe
according to Eternal Will of Fate.

Hope to build new Eden in the waste land
highlights the desperate folly of our hearts
that leads us to wander in tangled woods,
howling in horror at shadowy beasts
that haunt our aimless journey to our graves
till we see our gaunt faces in the pool.

Though lumens of our beauty wear away,
we follow flashing moon of changing faith
that chimes progressive flow of unmarked time
in uniform degrees of psychic growth
till we transform into shadowy beasts
and fade into mute sorrow of the lake.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus leads remnants of his tribe that survived the massacre into the valley of singing trees where they build new garden of Eden by the lake of hungry demons.

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

Replay The Eerie Tune
© Surazeus
2025 04 18

Orpheus leads Ophelia by her hand
high up the winding rocky mountain path
while clutching cold frame of his silver lyre
with taut strings humming in the frantic wind,
quickly with caution past the snake of faith,
eager to rejoin the heavenly choir.

Bright angels swirl around them in the sky
as clouds that glow with shocking sunset flames
with hope to lead them to the waterfall
since psychic program code in the blue eye
defines algorithms of their star names
which gives them courage to transcend the wall.

From apples ripening on Tree of Fate
swift goldfinches leap on moon-woven wings
to bring scroll of prophecy to the toad
which swells huge enough to swallow all hate
when Orpheus chants spells in magic rings
that beam eidolic illusions of God.

They share cold darkness of their aching hearts
to glimpse strange beauty of the alien face
reflecting shadow of their secret souls
with urgent care to conjure from dream charts
predawn endurance of their tribal space
defining how they perform cosmic roles.

They agree to meet at the next full moon
when Ishtar resurrects the Earth from death
in secret mountain cave where time was born
with mission to replay the eerie tune
which sharpens pure flame of their psychic breath
at haunting horror of the martial horn.

Each day they perform their ritual routine,
gathering food from the generous world
with constructive gestures of crafting hands
to maintain function of the mind machine,
programmed to perform as the cosmic herald
in project to reclaim colonized lands.

Love language of the holy messenger,
who plays the lyre that Mercury designed,
adjusts attentive focus of his heart
on needs of his romantic passenger
who asks with frightened voice if he can find
snake of fear highlighted by her star chart.

Avoiding traps that tempt him to gain power
of authority over reverent souls,
Orpheus turns away from Throne of Law
and discards key that unlocks golden tower
to focus attention on sacred scrolls
preserved in Hall of Truth by Onatah.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus gives Ophelia leather belt made from skin of the snake that tried to bite her heel till she crushed its head with her foot.

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Trickery Of The Zodiac
© Surazeus
2025 04 18

Too high above confounding maze of doors
on wings of angels stolen from dark Hell,
young son of Hamlet and Ophelia
falls in love with Juliet in red dress
when she dances gracefully by the stream
and sings eerily, "Life is but a dream."

Amazed by trickery of the zodiac
by which he calculates the road to take,
young son of Hamlet and Ophelia,
who calls himself mad jester with the crown,
decides to erase history of mankind
from pure Edenic vision of his mind.

Insisting they call him Ophelius,
instead of Hambert, lost prince of Denmark,
young son of Hamlet and Ophelia
steals gold Maserati from the garage
and races swiftly by the moonlit gulf
with engine growling loud as the wild wolf.

To treasure beauty only blind fools see
by eating apples from old Tree of Fate,
young son of Hamlet and Ophelia
declares before the cheering stadium crowd
that he is prophet of war refugees
who follow buzzing of the honey bees.

Entranced by beauty of her star-black eyes
when Juliet dances on the nightclub floor,
young son of Hamlet and Ophelia
saves her from Romeo when he gropes her thighs,
so they run laughing to the city park
where they make love till singing of the lark.

Face lit by rays of rosy-fingered dawn
while he keeps watch over his sleeping bride,
young son of Hamlet and Ophelia
contemplates meaning of life till she wakes,
then gives her apple he stole from the tree
because she is queen over land of the free.

When Romeo charges at him with sharp knife
to stab him in the heart with howl of rage,
young son of Hamlet and Ophelia
punches him in the face with calm restraint,
but Juliet clutches him and weeps in shock,
heartbroken at the death of her life rock.

Arrested for murder by grim police
for killing son of the bank president,
young son of Hamlet and Ophelia
declares his innocence in court of law,
but he is sent south to El Salvador,
locked in the prison camp forevermore.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus flies with Ophelia to El Salvador to try and free her son who was illegally detained and deported though he was born in Texas.

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Psychic Graph Of Cogency
© Surazeus
2025 04 18

Since candid words of terrid innocence
spark dreams to bloom in my lucible mind,
I hope their psychic graph of cogency
could vigify my heart with providence
based on fervific passion to express
clear insight earned through appliance of pain.

Not horrible as pallid nonchalance
through torpid indifference of charity,
my stringent livor based on vigid spite
enhances verdant particles of fear,
destined to rigify my argument
with legal articles of fervid faith.

Fierce principalities of torpid trust
assemble various codes of cogent facts
to aid construction with adjusted thoughts
of ever-shifting proverbs stating proof
that conscious vibes of rigid potencies
exacerbate our tendency to laugh.

Despite fervific focus on desire,
designed to lucify our state of mind
with latticed wisdom, trapped in formulas
none can unravel with rigific hope,
we maintain progress beyond tepid trance
to claim astringent fields as ordered truth.

Thus I hide from perception of my eyes
men shaved and stripped of social dignity,
then stacked in cement cells of impudence
by fascist gangsters gripping guns of fear
who sing grand hymns of patriocity
to sustain patriarchy of contempt.

Yet still conceptual vigor of my soul
remains the leaping fountain of respect
with unquenchable faith to sing of truth
as hungry human suckling milk of stars
from breasts of light in wicked satiety
with ravenous desire to know your heart.

Merciless attention to basic rights
through luminous landscapes of loneliness
applies contingency of urgent faith
with pride to psychic graph of cogency
so I create adjusted warmth of love
with shining wisdom of exploding rain.

Therefore we gather on the river shore
to fight for universal rights of man
against kleptocracy of greedy kings
since we outnumber wealthy oligarchs
while Zarathustra raises flag of faith
and leads us forth to build democracy.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus joins Zarathustra in the march for justice as millions of people demonstrate their faith in freedom and justice for all where no man is above the law.

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Library Of Hearts
© Surazeus
2025 04 17

Divine longing to walk the hidden course
through irregular bloom of hungry shadows
urges my eyes to perceive ordered forms
blurred in abundant rhythm of desire
with undeterred gestures to manage growth
of wild trees that obscure pathway of faith.

Beaming within limits of its taut sphere,
the sun weaves bodies of organic brains
from flashing molecules of timeless truth
who dance together on the ocean shore
and sing in harmony with swirling waves
with rapturous awe at beauty of light.

Mind-pulsing revery of honey bees
causes clovers to sprout from rancid prairies
where children splash in starry-silver pools,
then hold their breath and float on nothingness,
suspended between credence and despair
based on narrative of hope we compose.

Crouched inside encompassing wall of mounds
that shields our bodies from hunger of monsters,
we whisper perfect names in secret code
to realign attention of our eyes
with focus on dark shadows of despair
that lurk among indifferent trees of faith.

Eager to erase ignorance of Earth,
we attempt to explore beyond the pale
of sacred haven where we clutch word keys
with fierce objective to protect the truth
in tandem with speech of electric leaves
that rustle softly in the haughty breeze.

We catalog strange objects we observe
as mind-animated parts of blind trees
that teach our hearts to be reliable
with rooted stories of the wanderers
who transplant ghosts from garden of mad gods
to prove our souls are born from wind and rain.

Gold warblers lounge in maples by the lake
with holy mission to retrieve the star
that falls in blaze of glory from storm clouds
to write our memoirs in black-feathered books
we store with care in Library of Hearts
where daffodils bloom from our rotting brains.

Dawn wrenches lonely hills from wordless graves
without respect for how we humans feel,
so we map signless roads of everywhere
which all lead straight to City of the Owl
embodied by the girl with moon-gray eyes
who teaches me to sing when angels weep.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus plays lyre of Mercury so lost souls may follow him on the hidden course to City of the Owl.

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Matrix Of Dream-Webs
© Surazeus
2025 04 17

When the shadow butterfly of my heart
flutters into bright planet of your eye
I forget myself and become your hope
as sweet electric current of respect
flows between our bodies in spiral rings
that blossom into wings of honest love.

When the star-flashing honey of our words
weaves taut beams of early afternoon light
in startling mystery of mutual desire,
we merge our bodies into glowing cloud
as precious wings of respect bind our minds
in compassionate embrace of pure love.

We want this temporary flame of love
to glow as long as we are both alive,
connecting our alien bodies with trust
as we stroll hand in hand on ocean shore
to sing in harmony with awe-formed waves
so we tend energy of faith we share.

The more we talk about the world we see,
sharing anecdotes of wondrous events
that we experience in our times apart,
the larger virtual world inside our minds
expands to accommodate formulas
we devise to explain what we perceive.

Though we are chemical cogs of desire
as bodies bound in matrix of dream-webs,
propelled by natural forces of the Earth
in global wheel of flashing molecules,
we navigate landscape of sun-sparked forms,
choosing our way with axiom of free will.

We write the script of our predestined fate,
dispelling illusions of hopeful dreams
to measure status of reality
so we can comprehend nature of things
enough to choose what actions to perform
within variable range of possibilities.

Constrained by universal laws of Nature,
we exercise expansive force of hope
to balance forward motion of desire
between extremes of energy and form
as aggressive souls of organic brains
in compliance with machinery of time.

Lithe with play of illusory free will
within atomic framework of the Earth,
we breathe ethereal spirit of the sun
to surf on undulating waves of fate
along trajectory of flexible laws
in tune with inexorable flow of hope.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus explains how we create our fate to his children as they fry fish on the beach and drink apple juice brewed by Ophelia.

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Island Of Sweet Hope
© Surazeus
2025 04 16

When the shining sun of desperate hope
is obliterated from the clear sky
by haunting shadow of the howling moon,
Odysseus crawls on sore hands and knees
across the sparkling sands of Ithaca,
and cries out with joy at his return home.

Three thousand two hundred and three years later
I stand in evening dusk on back wood deck
of my home in sultry Appalachian hills
near turbid waters of Oconee River,
and feel ache of nostalgia in my heart
for homecoming of heroes from harsh wars.

How far from Ithaca in sailing boats
my ancestors journeyed on endless search
to find lush valley with the Tree of Life
where we may gather in the evening dusk
to party with pleasure of being alive,
sweet visions that program how my brain dreams.

Now far away from Island of sweet hope
I dwell in temporary paradise
in quaint comfortable home I did not build
where my wife and children may safely dwell
to create beautiful art about life
with eager passion of dream-crafting hands.

Soon the shining sun of desperate hope
may get obliterated from the sky
by readjustment of the fate machine
when devil of greed who escaped from Hell
possesses old king with ambitious pride
to again wreck grand towers of Ilium.

This cruel Agamemnon in our White House,
who has unleashed mad Achilles in hate
with avaricious chainsaw of contempt
to exile countless good people from Heaven,
sneers with bitter disgust for honest law
while he rampages in careless revenge.

If wily Odysseus with clever ploy
would evict cruel tyrant from our White House
to rebuild our great empire he destroys
instead of helping trash America,
he could return to Island of sweet hope
with esteem that he saved our land from greed.

We call on wise Athena to attend
urgent mission restoring our great land
by turning heart of sly Odysseus
from selfish greed to selfless courtesy
with courageous compassion of respect
to save our homeland from invasive thieves.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus plays lyre of Mercury and sings tale of the Return Home at the feast when Odysseus celebrates saving America from tyrannical thieves.

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This Hour Of Faith
© Surazeus
2025 04 16

Emerging from wood fane by the pear tree,
Sabina stands before her frightened people.
"Now that we have secured haven of hope
on lush shore of swampy Albula River,
protected by our guardian Curinus,
may Mother Ceres bless us with ripe wheat."

Gesturing toward their boats anchored to oak trees,
Sabina reminds them of their hard journey.
"My father, Sabus Jupiter Fidius,
assembled our tribe, driven from their land,
on rugged sea shore of hilly Laconia
and lead us here to this lush mountain valley."

Sabina presses her hand on her heart.
"His noble father, Sancus Fisovius,
divine guard of our tribal sanctuary,
god of heavenly light, sanctified oaths
of agreements in contracts of respect,
and avenged dishonest ones who broke oaths."

Sabina gazes in their hopeful eyes.
"Now that we enclosed our town with safe walls,
we shall build temple to our tribal founder
to preserve memory of his honest reign
as son of Dius Fidius and his bride,
wise Neith, graceful daughter of Sobecus."

Sabina wipes tears from her sparkling eyes.
"Sobecus reigned as river priest of oaths
in land of Egyptia in hot Africa,
till his brother overthrew him in coup,
and set him adrift on the wine-dark sea
with his young daughter and beloved books."

Sabina raises right hand to the sun.
"Generous Feronia, Goddess of Mothers,
found Sobecus and his daughter shipwrecked
on shore of Laconia, hungry in rain,
so she gave them shelter and food to eat,
and told her son Fidius to guard them well."

Sabina crosses her arms across her breast.
"When Neith grew tall and graceful as the willow,
her kindness and beauty won the bold heart
of Dius Fidius, defender of his tribe,
so they pledged their love before Feronia,
then she gave birth to our Lord Fisovius."

Sabina spreads arms open as they cheer.
"Each generation of our bold ancestors
wandered lost in this world of hostile tribes,
but we build our new home with crafting hands,
for we are blessed by Feronia and Neith,
whose spirits wake in me this hour of faith."

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus bows his head before statue of Sancus Fisovius in the temple on the Quirinal Hill, then joins the marriage feast between Roman men and Sabine women.

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Farm Fields Of Paradise
© Surazeus
2025 04 15

Warned by stones in the walls of paradise
about fish flipping the sky upside down,
we untangle memories of this wild land
which we name after first mother of faith
who walked these lush hills centuries ago
to hide our bodies in egg of her heart.

Vulnerable to hungry machines of hope,
which plow fields of grass into furrowed verse
where wordless men with taut wind-weathered faces
scatter seeds of stories in graves of fear,
old paradigm of Earth we cherished deeply
hides redolent spirits of our dry bones.

Words ferret mysteries with the sense of touch
we connive to prove Earth remembers us
so cities of stone we build on her breast
creak with anguish of forgotten desires
that bloom from rain-wet fields into gold wheat
we bake into bread to weep for Adonis.

Consorting at twilight with honest lovers,
we weave strange loneliness of midnight flowers
in wreaths we wear to May Day festivals
with unrelenting passion to transcend
cadence of broken hearts in sprightly dance
though we relapse to status of lost fools.

Our bodies vanish into fields of wheat
where we first rose from corrugated tombs
to map eccentric meadows teeming angels
who chase each other twenty thousand years
as we gather berries from tangled vines
which represent weird history of our race.

Buoyant spawn of our hearts escaping caves
grasp roots of trees with elegant disgrace
to organize wild herbs from shadowed woods
into neatly aligned rows of fruit trees
which flourish thick in hush of river winds
for sweet unsingable hymns of old faith.

Amazed at startling beauty of gold mist,
that frames the rising moon with arrogance,
we calculate our peaceful absences
with daring urgency to comprehend
crystalized wisdom of our drifting house
that shelters our children from angry storms.

Conjured by gale-warning voice of the sea
that sings with sibilance of honest hope,
our spirits beam with marvelous intent
to count each raindrop shining with its star
that animates seeds with ambitious pride
we feel tending farm fields of paradise.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus plows the field and sows seeds, then joins villagers at the sowing festival to celebrate the bursting vital energy of spring.

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Fervent Prayers To God
© Surazeus
2025 04 15

The words I speak are transient as the wind,
yet mold from conceptual clay of my brain
timeless state of reality I feel
vibrate in ruthless wind of constancy
with arbitrary perfection of thought,
for I create the world with words I speak.

The mystery of the weirding words I speak
reveals the way to balance truth with lies
halfway between reality and dream
when I stand on the rock of haughty hope
to proclaim the meaning of world events
that swirl our bodies in currents of fate.

The faultless vision of the way things are
highlights the pointless passion of desire
that drives our spectral progress to transcend
walled obstacles of belligerent faith
contrived by gestures our bodies invent
to program fortune of successful plays.

The process I prescribe with strict respect
provides clear method we articulate
to catalog all objects of the world
with words that shape forms into clear ideas
demarked by boundaries of conceptual fact
depicting accurate state of primal being.

The card tricks jesters play on loyal fools
expose selfish greed of each conscious soul
who risks their hard-earned wealth of social pride
to gamble for salvation against Death
who always wins in fate-adjusted time
despite our fervent prayers to God for Life.

The eerie laughter of the apple tree,
who understands fierce hunger of my flesh,
excites erotic wisdom of my brain
to plant small seeds in putrid river mud,
and faithfully attend their fragile sprouts
till forest of fruit trees grows from my corpse.

The monstrous toad beneath the murky waves
lurks in disguise as beauty I desire
with glamorous allurement of sweet eyes
for pleasure promised by ecstatic faith,
so I dive in dark lake where Grendel hides
to fight the demon Nature with word spells.

The painful memories of our harvest hour
compose the sturdy bridge of honesty
across which humans walk with trembling faith
to find the Promised Land of fruitful trees
across the waste land of sterilized faith
defined by rapture of true words I speak.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/04/…

Orpheus guides lost refugees from the collapsing empire to climb Mount Takoma where they meditate to transcend all realities with song of truth.

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