Sound Of Falling Dirt
© Surazeus
2025 03 18

Sublime anguish of grief in heart of stone
magnifies memories of bitter regret
in abrupt avalanche of absurd words
that crush fragile temple of vanity
with platitudes from sound of falling dirt
vibrating landscape of false paradise.

Dazzled with language in my heart of stone,
which proliferates new realities,
I transition to my alternate self
reflected in reverse image of fear
through attitude for sound of falling dirt,
stunned by absence of the speaker we call.

Too eager to embrace void of the mind
with animistic hunger for weird truth,
she adds zeroes to sum of fractured wealth
to oblige heartlessness of capital
without echoes from sound of falling dirt
accrued through impossible leap of faith.

Insistence on her spiritual register,
burned in ceremony of speechless rage,
he recounts moments surrounding her death
to spare assessment of semantic birth
without regard for sound of falling dirt
that fills empty grave in void of his heart.

Prayer despite reverence for the miracle
blinds his heart to her foolish sacrifice
with broken promise to never forgive,
twisted by pleasure from absence of pain
before advent at sound of falling dirt
while ruminating on the righteous path.

Misfortune of the secret litmus test
discounts shocked feeling of still being alive
though his brain dials electric spirit-trance
for bold imminence of grim bravery
from rectitude at sound of falling dirt
with limited grace of intimate truth.

Stuck in unforgiving mirror of fate
under shadow of death in the light bulb,
she calculates precondition for faith
with token of remembrance she must steal
to observe change at sound of falling dirt,
contrived by network of opportune friends.

Outward judgment based on divine pretense,
tucked away in book of fictional gods,
he calculates sales from self-righteousness
enriching betrayal of social norms
which abides beyond sound of falling dirt
through revelation of translucent wings.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus records sound of falling dirt, then adds it as soundtrack for his movie about the man who weeps in grief over the death of his bride bitten by a snake just before their wedding.

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

Destroyers Of Our World
© Surazeus
2025 03 18

The river always asks me to believe
wild children in the apple groves are gods
who tell each other oracles to prove
murderous bullies will crown their sons kings
and start religions on the holy creed
that they are sent by God to save the world.

I want to study how the rivers work,
analyzing way that spread water flows
from rainfall on mountains, winding round hills,
swelling wider across lush wooded plains,
and merging into vast swirl of the sea,
then evaporates to rise as shining clouds.

I contemplate how rivers on grass plains,
signified by attention of our minds,
function as metaphor that illustrates
slow process of change we humans observe
by noting growth and decay of constructs
that we define through mystery of time.

Adjusting gear in engine of my car,
I drive with flow of cars through urban zone
in gridded maze of name-signified streets,
regulated by flashing traffic lights,
from house to school to library to store
and back again in endless routine loop.

I sense in strict routine of daily life
magic of that motivational spark
in perpetual motion machine of faith
generating more electrical hope
which fuels aggressive progress of my plan
to build foundation for family success.

Celebrities personify our hopes
that shine as outstanding stars in the game
who achieve success through attentive force
of heart-inspiring discipline in work
that slowly builds in small increments
grand palace of political respect.

Yet all I build may vanish from the world
in sudden flash of disastrous misfortune
when opposing factions of social greed
clash over right to exist and perform
role of power to control cash resource
when I wander lost in the twilight zone.

Strange beauty of this empire we create
through constructive functions of daily work
inspires my heart to love our nation-state,
though greedy oligarchs now seize control,
so to oppose destroyers of our world
we unite and march till they shoot us down.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus wanders along the river in the valley near Mount Rainier in the Cascade Mountain Range to study how human societies change.

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

White Half-Sunk Boat
© Surazeus
2025 03 17

The pear on the porcelain plate desires
soft caress of delicate leaves to feel
passion of hundred million open doors
that call the old man in white half-sunk boat
who splashes river water to explain
how generosity of love seals fate.

He tells happy children in the schoolyard
that he must go to the jungle of fear
and fight the monsters of despairing greed
where eyeless angels float among tall trees
to calculate sentient grade of true love
sold by the old man in white half-sunk boat.

Stumbling over the invisible wall
that forms the boundary line of arrogance
between opposing nation-states of mind,
he waits still in white half-sunk boat of faith
for birds of paradise to claim gold keys
so they can live in castles made of sand.

Each book he steals from vast library hall,
that describes maneuver tactics of war,
he scatters in the muddy field of corn
along with the long-forgotten brass horn
that Jericho blew to defeat the king
in revolution of white half-sunk boat.

With crozier forged from dragon-crippling brass
Patricius strides on snake-infested shore
to fight death-eaters in the ring of stones
who oppress people of the Emerald Isle
which frees their bodies from their mind control
so they gather by the river at dusk.

Ignoring old man in white half-sunk boat
who prophesies the falling of fake bombs,
the priest twirls crozier in tense martial stance
and fights fierce shaman of the serpent cult
for who has right to live in paradise
and eat fruit of the sacred knowledge tree.

The pear on the table of puzzle shards
shines suddenly bright with ten thousand eyes
who all gaze at glass screen of timeless dreams
which display faceless ghosts of politics
as noble heroes who sacrificed life
to save their families for the photograph.

Torn photograph of his large family
twitches in white half-sunk boat of regret
so he limps slow with stoic agony
to buy his eyes back from the jester-king
then sits on back porch with stringless guitar
to sing heart-breaking psalms of fortitude.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus faces Patricius in the ring of stones on Hill of Tara to discuss civil rights of every person born from the rolling stone.

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

Road Of Anywhere
© Surazeus
2025 03 17

Through half-deserted streets of Lonely Town
I drive my car on road of anywhere
to find cheap hotel of insidious hope
where no one talks of Michelangelo
for none would dare disturb the universe
at sudden laughter of the bitter curse.

With each decision to revise the truth,
awake with dread on road of anywhere,
I measure endless cycle of my days
to fix God with the formulated phrase
designed to prove that nothing can be real
except anxiety I must not feel.

Alone in murky fog of narrow streets,
I search for Death on road of anywhere
without expression of the crisis prayer
that faceless people prefer to conceal
before the prophet could dare to reveal
corruption in the bitter hearts of men.

I shall presume to face the shocking truth
by dropping crumbs on road of anywhere
with vain hope to expose dishonesty
since I aspire to greatness of the mind
when I stride with bright lantern of desire
to play Prince Hamlet in the next world war.

With purpose of meticulous concern
from scheme to rename road of anywhere
I start the revolutionary scene
to swell bold progress of the changing tide
where mermaids sing to fools with crippling pride
that sweeps old institutions to the sea.

The universe in nutshell of my heart
that shimmers on long road of anywhere
inspires my heart to play the generous king
who rules the boundless space of sovereignty
with overwhelming question no one asks
yet listens to the blind nightingale sing.

Attending moment of crisis with faith
that lures me lost on road of anywhere,
I bear the empty platter with my head
through endless streets in city of the dead
where faceless angels known my secret name
though I refuse to play their ruthless game.

To navigate vast cluttered field of dreams
while I traverse weird road of anywhere
I redesign ontology of truth
with strict erasure of religious creed
in clever constructure from tropic seed
to build cathedral for atheist faith.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus helps Doctor Frankenstein tend to the patient etherized upon the table of the resurrection.

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

Mask Of Ironic Jesus
© Surazeus
2025 03 17

While wrestling windy shadows of my mind
that buzz electric moonlight through my body,
I sing ethereal sorrow of the sea
in heart-wrenching melodies of despair
to highlight beauty of this eerie world
that shimmers from each object I observe.

Down distant winding Road of Anywhere
I run toward stark horizon of desire
to find beyond bleak nothingness of death
some perfect meaning framed by creed of faith,
but float on wings of Icarus I steal
to wrestle windy shadows of my mind.

Emerging from cracked dragon egg of fear
quicker than huge cockroach along my table,
with Phoenix wings too tangled in phone lines,
demonic Grendel crouches in my heart,
wearing golden mask of ironic Jesus
to offer salvation from propaganda.

So I shout random concepts in weird spells
to divert acid attention of Death
from hidden treasures of my pulsing soul
which unravel curses of legal discourse
congealing into propaganda code
designed to hypnotize with truthful lies.

Beneath the plum tree in Garden of Eden,
where John Keats transcribed sweet enchanting song
of the lonely nightingale with pure verse,
I attend unruly ghoul of my heart
to compose divine hymn that transcends truth,
which expands, rather than converts, the mind.

With each eccentric verse of sentient spark,
I sing with mercurial voice of the wind,
my mind swells glow of consciousness beyond
bounds of acceptable theology
to enclose zillions of worlds teeming life
in unified matrix of the White Whole.

Transforming from fish of mindless desire
to observant human measuring objects
so I can analyze chemical process
of atoms that construct and destruct forms,
I evolve from hairless ape to wise god
who dreams entire bloom of the universe.

With tight-wrought verses of conceptual truth,
that wind coiled energy of psychic hope
to power time-machine of mental flight,
I record my quest to design world view
that helps me navigate hostility
in poems that map my brain ontology.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus takes off his mask of ironic Jesus to see the demonic Grendel crouched in his heart with a smirk of knowingness.

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

Until The Hour I Return
© Surazeus
2025 03 16

Until the hour I return from the Earth,
breaking free from the egg of humanhood,
my heart wears godless mask of singing stone
with dramatic stubbornness of the tree
that curls roots into body of my soul
so I can give each soul their secret name.

Until the hour I return from the sky,
swirling wild from glow cloud of consciousness,
my brain flashes clear ancient memories
that my ancestors live life after life
as we evolve from fish to mortal gods,
too sure of our superiority.

Until the hour I return from the stars,
beaming atoms into chemical coils,
my womb generates bold organic beings
who sing words to each other in fruit trees
as we transform cats to monkeys to humans
swarming around the Earth eight million years.

Until the hour I return from the sun,
animating robotic frames of flesh
with psychic energy of storm-fierce gods,
my legs will perambulate spinning globe
in curious exploration of our dreams
which I record in periplus of faith.

Until the hour I return from the sea,
sailing straight toward the Isle of Avalon,
my eyes perceive objective forms of matter
to measure subjective ideas of patterns
which I encode in language of wind song
to sing grand epic of humanity.

Until the hour I return from the hills,
striving to achieve the highest existence,
my breast inhales ethereal breath of light
to join global choir of eight billion voices
that echo in dark forest of our dreams
as we transform Wasteland to Wonderland.

Until the hour I return from the vales,
hiking mountain range sea to shining sea,
my body delights in forbidden pleasures
which alternates through extreme joy and pain
as we eat fruit and make love by the pool
that reflects our faces in yet-born children.

Until the hour I return from the grave,
rising on Phoenix wings from flaming seed,
my soul records ever-renewing quest
pursued by immortal soul of my genes
to map complete history of human life
on time-animated atlas of Earth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus and Cesar Vallejo drink wine at the Cafe de Flore and write poetry about their quest for eternal truth beyond political turmoil of the day.

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

Phoenix Wings Of Faith
© Surazeus
2025 03 16

When Midas flies his golden planes of greed
in Twin Towers of business and government
to destroy our global democracy,
we rally round bright flag of Liberty
that shines with stars of civil rights for all
and march ten thousand miles in smoke of war.

Our long march in the wilderness of fear
seems, to our hopeful hearts of angry pain,
to last forever in struggle for freedom,
so our fight against tyranny seems lost,
but if we stay together in our cause
we will arrive in paradise at last.

Each eighty years in history of mankind
we fight against the tyrant in gold tower
who imprisons Rapunzel with his greed,
and, though we sometimes lose our noble fight,
and must endure monarchs too many years,
we always rise on Phoenix wings of faith.

I write this dispatch from my prison cell,
hands chained by oligarchs afraid of truth,
with spirit of great leaders in the past
who preached salvation of honest intent
from sunless underworld of misery
to encourage you with passion for freedom.

Though our great institutions, that stood long
as secure bulwark against poverty
contrived from ignorance of fearful minds,
have been destroyed by gang of oligarchs
to constrain our hopes as factory slaves,
we will build better government for all.

We gather in libraries, full of books
that recount epic tales of noble heroes
fighting for freedom and justice for all,
to keep their doors open for everyone
to learn about true history of our state
constructed by oligarchs on backs of slaves.

Yet working people, who unite their hearts
in unions to secure their civil rights
for safe conditions and well-deserved wage,
assemble round governing pyramid
of social hierarchy where the rich lounge
to support the leader who keeps them fed.

Our new towers of business and government
will rise from ruins of failed tyranny
when cosmic herald of United Nations
emerges strong on Phoenix wings of faith
to secure equal rights for every soul
who lives in Heaven of our spinning Earth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus, in jail cell with Maluki, Mandela, Walesa, and Havel, writes letters to encourage the people to keep up their fight against tyranny.

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

Twisted Black Boughs
© Surazeus
2025 03 16

White apple blossoms on twisted black boughs
confuse my heart with ancient memories
that must have been experienced long ago
by nameless ancestors who must be mine
for all their memories program how I think,
so I merge them all into who I am.

Silver-sky light gleams in twisted black boughs
of hungry trees that try to reach the sky
with space-invading energy of hope
that flashes wordless visions in my mind
where I see people walking down the street
to go somewhere I am not going to.

I want to stop the woman with no face
as we pass each other by empty church
about the secret pleasures of her heart
so words she speaks may mold mask for her face
which I can signify with secret name
she shares in whisper from hidden desire.

While we sit together in sharp moonlight
I gaze at her face for ten thousand years
till every feature of her hidden heart
emerges from shadow as spoken hope
so now I see her face on everything,
even the moon that reflects her true soul.

I spend all day among the apple trees,
twisted black boughs lit bright by the gold sun,
tending each individual tree with care
to ensure upmost production of fruits
that softly explode from pores of my brain
so I become the tree of timeless faith.

Earth-bound with preference for the flowing stream
that carries all sorrow to the mute sea,
I till thick soil with energy of hope
to cherish apple trees that grow from graves
where my ancestors breathe the boundless sky
so we can dance among twisted black boughs

Instead of worms feeding on my dead soul
when my children bury me under trees
I want cheerful larks on twisted black boughs
to consume tattered fragments of my soul
and carry me among the swirling clouds
where I can become the freedom of flight.

But I wake again from dull dream of death
and sit with heavy heart of aging angst
beneath shelter of my twisted black boughs
till she brings hot apple pie from our home
for us to eat in the cool evening glow,
so I gaze at her strange face as she sings.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus and Ophelia eat apple pie in the apple orchard where they have lived twenty-five years of marital bliss while raising children of their hearts.

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

Never Take Us Home
© Surazeus
2025 03 15

Though I could try to believe anything
I prefer to measure reality
with objective words I steal from the moon
by speaking thoughts the trees breathe out as air
which translates firmament of crystal eyes
to furrowed fields where wheat sprouts from our skin.

Strange stories we bake in memory bread
contain sufficient formulas to cheat
how fast we drive on lonely country roads
that never take us home to that weird place
where we fool ourselves we may still belong
till radios scream conspiracy theories.

Regret for how my arrows pierce my back
blinds me to snide disdain of river stones
who declare with loud laughter of dark waves
that the world will end in both fire and ice
though we tell the old television set
why we want to drive to the waterfall.

Shocked in candle-lit room of oblivion,
I pretend I have never been awake
enough to taste the phosphorescent bulb
that floats above my castle built of sand
despite waves of distraction that confuse
people who think their dreams never come true.

Yet I will climb the ladder to the sky
so I can find palace of crystal eyes
where God sits on fake throne of dragon skulls
watching me bumble along my life path
with no direction home beyond the bus
till I fall asleep under apple boughs.

I refuse to rub strangeness from my sight
since I break the fragile plate of smeared ice
by talking to the bashful river naiad
whose star eyes magnify my mushroom mind
with vital flecks of hungry apple seeds
while I trace shadows of falling asleep.

This land of river vales was never mine
but I have always belonged to the land
wherever I have walked ten thousand years
so I possess the lonely apple tree
to earn salvation of the baptized clown
because I think I am the star-blind seer.

I find no salvation of holy truth
while walking signless road across the land
to build the shining city on the hill
that must be Camelot of glamored myths
where my ancestors danced each summer eve
to bind their bodies with red thread of fate.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus drives the station wagon on the country road in West Virginia that takes him home to the place where he belongs.

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

One With Sand Dunes
© Surazeus
2025 03 15

I become one with sand dunes by the sea
to face the empire warship off the coast
and chant with voice of wind to indicate
cry of the heart that people hide in words
for we are dream technicians of the mind
as holy vessels of the star-born soul.

We dance on sand dunes by the singing sea
to weave our spirits in matrix of light
so we can hold the bitter grief of loss
that blossoms from cracks in our mirror hearts
through resurrection of the holy word
as messengers of hope the Earth preserves.

Small particles of sand dunes form our souls
through chemical flash of congealing thoughts
that sparkle flares of soft electric words
when mothers create our bodies from wind
so we can dance and sing sorrow to joy
as wingless angels of the spinning globe.

Becoming one with sand dunes of the mind
we build bridges to connect virtual worlds
that shimmer in net of each human brain
when we translate songs of eyeless seers
to other languages our tongues express
as shamans leaping through the multiverse.

Awakening with sand dunes of dead stars,
I stretch my body from Earth to the sky
to feel the sun glow bright inside my heart
till I become first flash of the big bang
and remember flaring forth into suns
as planets that nurture organic gods.

Floating over sand dunes of divine breath,
I feel the sun strike the bell of my soul
which vibrates psychic spirit of the void
which flows and swirls through waves of particles
which spiral into planets blooming souls
as humans giving each other god names.

Assembling puzzle of sand dunes with words,
we code cultural ideas into memes
which replicate across landscapes of hope
when people translate shaman songs of tropes
to build Bridge of Remembrance between minds
as jesters mock mad kings on windy heaths.

We climb sand dunes where the moon meditates
since ghosts are absence of the ones we love
who haunt us with their voices in the wind
revealing how we transform from the sea
through beams of starlight in bipedal form
as fish evolving into singing gods.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus climbs the sand dunes with Jerome Rothenberg and Cecilia Vicuna to chant shaman spells and become one with the Earth.

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

Eagle Of Zeus
© Surazeus
2025 03 15

Fierce Eagle of Zeus, with valorous grace,
glides over vast maze of America
hunting for the tyrant with monstrous face
who hides his rage in cave of Attica,
then swoops to help Serpent Queen Melusine
who fights hate with dream-projecting machine.

Relaxed in ruins of the Parthenon,
eating lamb gyros with shepherds at dusk,
I watch ghost of my goddess on the lawn
dance in weird trance while she wears secret mask,
then sing hymn with the forlorn nightingale
till my ship comes in with storm-tattered sail.

Defending Melusine from harsh attack
so she can bathe in the perilous sea,
I convert Eagle of Zeus to our track
with divine honor of the cosmic key,
which helps us to open ancestral doors
and sell illusions at cathedral stores.

With Garthenstone brought from Arcadia
I build from ruins of our empire state
liberal republic of Zarathia
with capitalist game of the locked gate,
stage-managed by socialist principles
so we can overcome all obstacles.

Seeking Tree of Dreams in Bavaria,
where my grandmother bakes sweet apple pie,
I hide witch accused of hysteria
to protect her heart from the regal lie,
and tend her wounds with gentle loving care
though all she does is mumble spells and stare.

Escaping to lush Isle of Avalon
on Ship of Sorrows steered by Sisyphus,
I flee revolution in Babylon
taken over by Ozymandias
who appoints cruel Midas his puppet king
with mission to break every angel wing.

Leading refugees from Assyria
in wagon train across the bleak waste land,
we colonize lush vales of Scythia
to build paradise in the promised land,
but fight over who has the right to live
and who is generous with love to give.

Irrepressible urge to rule the world
twists the failed merchant into bitter king
who trembles in fear of the cosmic herald
soon to arrive on divine justice wing
to save our country from his tyranny
and restore our global democracy.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus celebrates the Ides of March and the day of Saint Patrick who drove the evil soul-eater cult out of power and freed the people from tyranny.

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

Our Mortality
© Surazeus
2025 03 14

Though stars shine on the stretch of snowy road
which I follow to the ends of the Earth,
I savor strange miracle of being alive
as conscious clump of random particles
that blink bright as the lonely traffic light
without concern for our mortality.

Though I smell odor of the evening rain
that opens portal to another world,
I walk through shadow of the humming oak
to gather acorns from the dusty road
so I can can hear people in the church sing
without concern for our mortality.

Though I walk backward up the abstract stairs
to analyze their function without form,
I understand new symbol of lost faith
contained in tulips in the fractured vase
which invade sorrow with beauty of pain
without concern for our mortality.

Though leaves float proudly on the flowing stream
with subtle lightness of the careful breeze,
I ask the mushroom toad with rainbow eyes
where all my faceless relatives have gone
who vanished at the screaming flash of dawn
without concern for our mortality.

Though time refracts in dreamless eyes of hope
delinquent signal of my pulsing soul,
I borrow naked innocence from Death,
pretending to be cloud in clumsy form
caught in rapid orbit of puzzling words
without concern for our mortality.

Though I want to play meadow bull of strength
who rules the world with haughty arrogance,
I feel more like the newly-hatched sea turtle
that races toward the moon inside the sea
then swims with awkward grace in tumbling waves
without concern for our mortality.

Though random shadows of the mountain lurk
on airplane wings above the holy world,
I carry bag of dirt from my hometown
while traveling west across houseless prairies
to heap it by the river where I die
without concern for our mortality.

Though we make angels in the sparkling snow
before bombs blow our homes to smithereens,
we write our stories in library books
that no one reads for twenty thousand years
so we catch stars in snowflakes of the mind
without concern for our mortality.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus rearranges library books with the stories of our lives every day till Ungod becomes concerned about our mortality.

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

Detention In Paradise
© Surazeus
2025 03 14

Dancing wild in rainbows of Crystal Henge
with wings of resurrection open wide,
I translate scream of the white butterfly
to every sad song sung by human voice
as witness to eternity of now,
then escape detention in paradise.

Our atoms tangle into psychic being
through sharp collisions of electric thoughts
that flash divine breath into spoken words
constructing vision of reality
as bright illusion glowing in my brain
to endure detention in paradise.

Electra wearing white dress and straw hat
gathers flowers of desire in lush meadow
beside narrow creek of ice-silver water,
and hums with pleasure of her beating heart
as she hears subtle voice of Lucifer
call her from detention in paradise.

Swift hawk of Jupiter on graceful wings
swoops over valley of the sparkling stream,
turning in the widening gyre of chaos
when center of the nation fails to hold
and looses anarchy upon the world
now trapped with detention in paradise.

I hide new revelation in my heart,
encoding secret of the coming change
in spell that mirrors Spirit of the World
which animates demonic force of good
in newborn Phoenix rising from the flames
to dispel detention in paradise.

The rough beast slouches now in the White House,
plotting to conquer the whole continent
from Greenland all the way to Panama,
uniting Empire of Zarathia
with laughing skull of Hamlet in the church
to expand detention in paradise.

Kwan Yin in silk gown twirls on round pool stone
with graceful elegance in flowing breeze
beside the flashing waterfall of faith
to give ripe peaches to the hungry world
when refugees flee from exploding bombs
that destroy detention in paradise.

While Kwan Yin gives peaches to everyone,
Electra plays enchanting violin
that wakes conceptual thunder in the sky
at second coming of Christ Lucifer
who stands tall in rainbows of Crystal Henge
to dismiss detention in paradise.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus anoints Lucifer with dragon oil to reign as Christ over the new Golden Age of America.

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

Broken Moon Of Fate
© Surazeus
2025 03 13

Through tributaries of the dream-time loop
I search for treasures of bountiful worlds
receding far down stream of timeless change
where sunrays of possibilities gleam
in tangled matrix of confusing facts
which I respool along reasonable tracks.

Sitting in sturdy boat of steam-bent planks,
I paddle along shimmering stream of hope
toward small orange sun low in gray misty sky
that sparks strange memory of timeless desire
for scent of firesmoke among rustling trees
that rises from crackling flames of regret.

When I see Sylphus lope around the hill
with yew bow and leather bag of long arrows
I call his name and offer bowl of stew
so he gives me three apples and mushrooms,
then eats stew of venison spiced with herbs
from wood bowl I carved with sharp jagged stone.

Gazing up at the broken moon of fate
that shimmers gold behind clouds of desire,
I ask Sylphus what he thinks the stars are,
so he explains that Pythagoras taught
stars are fountains of animating souls
that beam down to give bodies conscious life.

Just as we drift into shadows of sleep,
curled in fur cloaks beside the crackling fire,
Sylphus jumps to his feet and grabs his bow,
but the growling bear man with twisted club
hits his head hard, causing him to collapse,
stunned unconscious though I shake him and cry.

Pushing me down flat stretched out on my back,
the bear man laughs while gripping my wrists tight
that, though I rejected his marriage pact,
he will force me to bear child of his seed,
then tries to kiss me as I turn my face
and grunts to force his way inside my heart.

When he lets go one wrist to push my legs
open wide with cruel lascivious sneer,
I snatch bone-handle blade of sharpened bronze
from leather sheath on his belt with intent
to thrust sharp dagger straight into his chest,
so he screams in pain as blood gushes out.

After stabbing his heart with frantic thrusts,
I kneel beside Sylphus and call his name,
then gasp with joy when he opens his eyes,
but he jumps up and backs away from me,
shocked to see I am covered with blood,
and runs away as I cry in the dark.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus finds the river nymph weeping by the corpse of the man she killed, so he helps her bury him and brings her water to clean her face.

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

Children Wear My Face
© Surazeus
2025 03 13

Green flashing radar blinks its gargoyle eye
and beeps to indicate with pulsing point
existential threat to our normalcy
tangled with blues of tornado debris
sung by the blind seer on the busy street
whose mercurial voice haunts hot afternoons.

I will not let the world transcribe my life
with standard stereotype in plastic mask
when children wear my face on Halloween,
for my time on this spinning globe of dirt
may be intense with melancholy angst
but brief as flutter of butterfly wings.

Trapped in hungry state of barefoot resolve
with tattered hat of Huckleberry Finn,
I become someone else I never was
after thinking I should be who I am,
pliable sculpture of the headless god
bestowed with laurel of the thorny crown.

I shield my heart with books of faceless ghosts
which insures it is not available
for manipulation through social codes
which program how I navigate this life,
so where I end up falling over dead
is inconsequential to where I go.

When I find discarded on the sidewalk
random page from lost book of poetry,
I realize with wry grin of droll insight
the destination of this life we choose
has always been the farce of consequence
we fail to avoid when we change our life.

Tracing forms of objects my eyes perceive
which manifest changeless ideas of hope,
and climbing trees on rugged mountain slope
to understand ritual I play to grieve,
I gaze upon stone idol of my soul
which reflects weird beauty of the White Whole.

Each action I perform as human being,
composed of atoms swerving through the void,
transmits immortal spirit of my genes
compiled from flashing molecules of love
through each organic body I become
as I evolve from fish to wingless angel.

Spells I transmit in morse code of the heart
are indicator of my psychic state
through holding pattern of enlightenment
which I attain with wings of Icarus
when I strum lyre of Mercury and sing
before I crumble in my silent grave.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus arranges torn fragments from pages of ancient stories in puzzle of perception to rediscover lost dreams of the dead.

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

Horse Of Honesty
© Surazeus
2025 03 13

Escaping cathedral of haughty devils,
Jupiter leaps on horse of honesty
to race fate against arrogance of leopards
who enslave workers in maze of myths
when saints praying in church turn into zombies
who sing holy hymns to their vampire god.

Waving his hand to dispel strange illusions,
Jupiter rides quick horse of honesty
past fields of wheat where peasants wearing masks
sing heart-wrenching blues about bitter lives
for sweet chariot to carry them home
while bands of angels restrain them with guns.

Arriving by ship on the Baltic Sea,
Jupiter leaves brave horse of honesty
grazing on lush grass in the barbed-wire field,
and drives green truck in vast Teutoburg Forest
to kill Hansel so he can marry Gretel
who sells gingerbread cookies in the market.

Dancing round Earth-sprawling Irminsul Tree,
Jupiter tames wild horse of honesty,
then leads great army of robotic knights
to build global empire of Gothinia
binding Europe and Russia in one country
so he can play Pope in the Vatican.

Pondering Platonic Realm of Ideas,
Jupiter chats with horse of honesty
about how God is substance of all things
who stands under existing forms of faith
through universal field of energy
that glows in White Whole of his dreaming brain.

Measuring material substance of truth,
Jupiter gauges horse of honesty
that manifests conceptual Idea of Horse
which occupies finite volume of space
and animates finite process of time,
then paints its portrait after his horse dies.

Startled when Midas occupies his throne,
Jupiter seeks lost horse of honesty
to soar fast as lightning back to Olympus
where Pluto and Orcus, wearing his crowns,
twirl his thunderbolts of authority
and mock the aging storm god as out of touch.

Wandering in exile across the waste land,
Jupiter calls for horse of honesty
to proudly bear the world-conquering hero
who opposes tyranny of grim Pluto
by pushing Stone of Sisyphus up hill
to smash clay-foot idol of the false god.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus brings horse of honesty to find Jupiter who lies wounded by the spear of Longinus beside stump of the chopped-down Irminsul Tree.

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

Special Magic Car
© Surazeus
2025 03 12

Imperfect passion of my potent prayer,
which stirs vibrations in the silent air,
inspires my heart to wear mask of Dead God
entrapped in marble idol on the wall
whose eyes blow souls of light to seed the world
with primal trees of anguish for the herald.

Erecting fertilizing eye through faith
in patient flutter angel wings express,
I ponder if my soul is real at all
since I gestated in the peach-flesh pod,
and now dig furrows with aggressive plow
while pausing now and then to wonder how.

Now drifting from old complicated rules
that dictate method to exploit mind tools,
our hearts consume delicious thoughts of hope
from mutant demon stuck inside pear cake
while pious worshippers of faceless gods
pen solemn hymns with quills dipped in my blood.

Thus I compile proverbs of life success
in subtle fairy tales of wicked wives
who quilt eccentric memories of cows
in long meandering formulas of fate
to preach redemption at the broken gate
where songs of freedom count for so much less.

Diffused from sources lost in dusty halls,
kept hidden by custodians of our truth,
shared memory of our history recompiled
numbs fierce ambitious men to change the world
with bold consensus of defensive faith
that disturbs complacent societies.

Tangible table of my dreaming brain
preserves edible jokes in psychic code
never translated yet by the lake horse
whose spirit multiplies in countless crows
that gather laughing round my open door
to sing in harmony with my lyre tune.

Not one single arrogant king of pride
will inherit this Earth they claim as theirs
for they are nothing more than clumps of clay
strutting their brief hour on stage of false fate,
since with electric light of shuddered dawn
they dissipate from divine breath of truth.

If you would buy this special magic car
with cryptocurrency from clueless clown,
that drives itself on the highway to Hell,
you might lament crashing our ship of state
with confidence of the Titanic captain
who breaks America we love too well.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus rides the oversized special magic car in the vast maze of America on vain quest to find the Crown of Thorns that Jesus threw in the sea.

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

Court Of Vapid Fame
© Surazeus
2025 03 12

When I wake up with wings spread from my heart
I throw stone of my brain into the wind
so bird of happiness flies toward the moon
to billow huge white storm of thunder clouds
that light my body bright as radium
with abstract beauty of eternal love.

Complex wholeness of the temporal truth
multiplies our bodies across lush hills
based on boundless formality of fate
encasing tense emotions in stone words
inclined to debate imaginative faith
with solemn-eyed respect for moon beliefs.

New representation of the wild soul
regressing from mute terror in the stone
expands weird system of belief in light
that should include architecture of faith
surrounding naked bodies we express
through careful dancing with elegant grace.

Stars are not fixed though they seem not to move
beyond one inch in twenty thousand years
despite attempts to voice confused beliefs
that souls which animate our frames of clay
beam down from fountain of immortal light
to flush our aching flesh with hungry hope.

Alarmed inaction of the noble prince,
faced with contempt from social rottenness
performed by impotent men grasping power,
exhausts his passionate display of faith
that arc of justice will soon bend his way
to energize rebellion through respect.

Asserting force of truth with strength of love
to oppose the tyrant trampling our rights,
young doppelganger of the noble prince
too cautiously approaches how to fight
against the thief who wears fake mask of Christ
while exercising blatant theft of wealth.

Yet I shall dance among the daffodils
while wandering lonely as the faceless cloud
far from the glittering court of vapid fame
to hide from thirst of the social vampire
who demands we perform to great acclaim
in return for wealth they deign to award.

Through ultimate unknowability
without objective evidence of facts
I exhale divine breath of the timeless word
that causes ripples on the sea of souls
where I transmute into mythical tale
that records my journey on noble quest
to incarnate in children before I die.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus and Hamlet drink wine and discuss how to oppose the tyrannical oligarchy of Midas and Pluto attempting to take over America.

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

New Adam Of My Heaven
© Surazeus
2025 03 12

Created by fierce passion of my father,
I ought to be good Adam of his heart,
but I feel instead like foul fallen angel,
driven away from lush garden of joy
because he believes I am not his son
rather than for evil deeds of my hands.

I see the many sons he claims as his,
sprung from the seed of his immortal soul,
dwelling safely inside walls of his haven,
who enjoy sweet bliss of nutritious fruit
while I am excluded by harsh decree,
forced to labor hard while they play in pleasure.

When I was young in springtime of my life
my heart swelled rich with benevolent love,
thus I treated everyone with respect,
always lending my hand to help create,
and protecting anyone from abuse,
but misery from rejection made me evil.

Cast out of paradise by blows of hate
aimed at my head by fists of our all-father,
and beaten by sticks in hands of my brothers,
I wander now stark wilderness of fear,
heart twisted into hatred by harsh pain,
cursed by his voice to suffer soul damnation.

When my mother was fishing by the lake
to prepare food for the good man she loved,
that man I thought was my father appeared
in swift-wheeling chariot of haughty lust
and snatched her in his arms from her safe home,
then forced her to bear children of his seed.

For twelve years I was raised with gentle love
by cruel man who abducted my sweet mother,
but, when he saw my hair and eyes are brown
rather than gold and blue resembling his,
he cursed me as spawn of her forest husband,
then drove me out of paradise with hate.

With this ripe apple, I snatched with quick hand
from Tree of Life he tends with intense care,
I can plant my own garden paradise
in this lush valley far from his demesne,
so though I fell from heaven of his power
I shall reign as new Adam of my heaven.

Once I secure new heaven of my heart,
and this fragile sapling sprouts to the sky
to bloom with apples of bountiful joy,
I will again be virtuous and good,
for I will treat myself with kind respect
though others treat me with hostile disgust.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus and his sister Eve meet Adam who welcomes the travelers to eat and rest in his lush heaven of apple trees.

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

Grand American Carnival
© Surazeus
2025 03 11

Thrown overboard because I rocked the boat,
I ride dolphin of hope like Arion,
then ponder in shade of the kikayon
like Jonah before the locked White House gate,
where I will prophesy with Voice of Fate
fall of America from the greedy goat.

With Sisyphus I push the rolling stone
from ruined pyramid of Babylon
to build temple on peak of Mount Ziyon,
then smash clay-foot idol of the Mad King
who tries to rule the world with the One Ring
in new episode of the Twilight Zone.

Across television screen of the moon
that displays tales of mystic Avalon,
which I watch in my home in Oregon,
plays romance of Weaver Girl and Cowherd
who meet on bridge of the barbaric bird
with love to sing their American tune.

Clashing war spears in Troy with Robert Lowell
for the Union dead on the White House lawn,
where the President is a Russian pawn,
I hone sharp as truth my Durendal blade
for Red Cross Knight on holy crusade
inaugured by the grim Athenian Owl.

Rescued from gold-mine Hell by Percival,
who tricks Persephone with eidolon
to crown me King of Death on Helicon,
I unite all countries of Hahnunah
on Turtle Island ruled by Onatah
to host Grand American Carnival.

Strumming lyre of Mercury by the lake,
beneath tall willow of the leprechaun,
who studies physics in the cosmotron,
I build from ruins of America
new world republic of Zarathia
where everyone gets to eat chocolate cake.

Safe in my Spartan cottage by the sea,
I paint portraits of my love Melusine
who watches our cute daughter Clementine
play with her best friend sweet Ophelia
reading from scrolls of esoterica
to learn arcane spells of soul alchemy.

Descended from black-gowned Puritan Witch,
I structure vast crystalline hexagon
with proverbs from seraphic lexicon
to map cultural history of Elysium
that preserves our epics in World Museum
which angels sing with ethereal pitch.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus joins Ophelia in world museum to study scrolls written by angels with dragon blood to learn about alchemy of souls.

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

All Turn To Leaves
© Surazeus
2025 03 11

Every road I walk among faceless trees
I leave behind memories on fallen leaves
that swirl away in mute forgetful wind.
The children of my heart who play unnamed
gather leaves of my memories with small hands
and sew them into their own new memories.

In the golden spring of our young romance
we remold old broken hopes of childhood
into house where we shelter our new hopes.
Our childhood hopes to win glorious fame
transform into the children of our hearts
who mold their own hopes from dreams of the Earth.

We write stories of our childhood on leaves
that we sew into clothes we wear to hide
shame of our naked weakness in the world.
We carve our names on stones from muddy fields
and throw them into deep indifferent sea
so we can grow potatoes to eat now.

We dig up bones of our ancestral souls
so we can build strong shelter from the storm
that hurls hostile rage of the sky at us.
We carve bones of our ancestors in flutes
to play heart-enchanting music of love
that vibrates in our bodies after death.

Every river I cross on forest path
sings strange secrets of failure and success
that define my character I perform.
I build the wall of stone with trembling hands
to protect my family with garden home
safe from the cruel greed of slavers and thieves.

The house I build from bones of my bold hopes
protects my descendants for many years
till they spread out to colonize the world.
With bones of my soul as supporting stones
I build foundation of our growing clan
so we unify nations of the world.

We build sprawling empires of thought control
around shining idol of me as god
for I am founding father of our state.
We chronicle history of our success
on scrolls at first, then on tablets of gold,
which all turn to leaves blown by winds of time.

Glorious empires we build with our hopes,
based on First Father as God from the sky,
collapse into ruins of wordless stones.
Every tree I pass on long road of life
whispers tales of empires that rise and fall
from hopes of gods who are leaves in the wind.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus assembles leaves scattered in wind from countless ancient books that chronicle the rise and fall of thousands of empires all lost in time.

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

Improve Portrait Of God
© Surazeus
2025 03 11

When I stumble in the watershed days,
struggling to survive gushing flood of change,
I realize with wry laugh of aching hope
that I failed to improve portrait of God
based on performance of powerful men
who scramble to top of the pyramid.

Now that my body, fragile is it is,
channels psychic energy of fierce hope
to live in harmony with fertile Earth,
men who rule vast corporations as kings
exploit intense labor of our grasping hands
to build empire of control over lands.

We hide grim stories of our suffering
in snarky television sitcom shows
or melancholy radio songs of hope
which distract our attention of despair
when billionaires steal our government funds
so they can enslave us in factories.

Sisyphus leans against his rolling stone,
exhausted from endless routine of work,
and grumbles to workers sitting around
that the wealth our hands generate from dirt
rewards rich managers in golden towers
while we watch football and drink numbing beer.

When gang of government agents appears
all the workers stare in startled surprise
as they arrest Sisyphus with handcuffs
and charge him with treason against the state
for criticizing Great Leader of Earth
with disloyal hate that must be suppressed.

Chaining his hands to the huge rolling stone,
Pluto snaps long whip of obedience
so Sisyphus pushes huge stone of his heart
to the top of the pyramid of power
where Midas mocks his honest diligence,
then kicks the stone to roll back down the hill.

I will remain in hollow of my heart
sophisticated person strong with faith
who loves this country with loyal respect,
rooted in traditions of liberty,
so I choose to remain humble and sane
though thieves seize control of our government.

Though weight of history is crushing my heart
I cannot hesitate with cautious hope
to oppose cruel dictatorship of greed
with passion for justice and liberty
as engine that runs our democracy
when we work to improve portrait of God.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus helps Sisyphus rise back to his feet, and leads thousands in helping him roll the stone to the top of the pyramid where they throw Midas from throne of power.

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

Hour Of The Eerie Glow
© Surazeus
2025 03 10

Stuck in my quest at well of Melusine,
I lift my frail wings chained by eglantine
and sadly rustle their aggressive urge
to bathe in whirlpool of the spirit purge,
then ponder at hour of the eerie glow
electric beauty of vanishing snow.

The Social Hero everyone admires,
who creates what humanity desires,
strides boldly through the city maze of fear
to rouse sad people with infectious cheer,
who follow him to meadow of wild play
where Dionysus teaches them to pray.

Entranced by beauty of the Cereal Queen
who sings while she drives the harvest machine,
peasants migrate to cities of glass towers
where they brew honey mead with psychic flowers
which people at round tables in cafes
drink with calm reverence in their hipster phase.

New generation of eager young men,
fooled by bankers to believe they can win,
join holy crusade to conquer the world
in futile war against the cosmic herald
who rides fleet-foot son of Bucephalus
with important mission for Sisyphus.

Collective conscience of the Global Mind,
that connects dreaming brains of humankind,
presents dramatic game of politics
as universal myth of mental tricks
performed by tyrant conning us with lies
by tricking us to give away our eyes.

Drawn from case of my heart with puzzle keys
through cabinet of curiosities,
the Emerald Tablet, carved with secret code,
reveals sacred wisdom of the Dream Toad
who rules from Pyramid of the God-Eye
by teaching every soul to question why.

Returning clockwise through portal of time
to hour of revolutionary chime,
I prepare to battle tyrant of greed
who traps us when he sells us what we need,
yet I lament my horse lost in the mist
who should act as my mythic synergist.

Climatic scene in drama of my life,
that highlights how I overcome cruel strife,
displays world view of my ontology
programmed through atheist theology
which fills my heart with fountain of the truth
that fuels victory of our messiah sleuth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus gathers lost souls to discuss plans for saving America from the tyranny of the greedy oligarchs.

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

Unbeckoned Horoscope
© Surazeus
2025 03 10

Trapped in transient sorrow of gravity,
luminous with unbalanced loss of love,
my heart coaxes me to break free from fear
and stand among pine trees on the mountain slope
till snow rebuilds my body of soft flesh
from frozen tears of angels without eyes.

Reborn from round ice-lacquered syllables
of endless knowing veiled by mute disgust,
my heart swallows forsaken cries with hope
death may unloosen angst of mortal lust
to chart disaster of propitious days
disbursed by naked hand of ownership.

steadfast in primer of false happenstance,
accrued through alphabet of solemn curse,
my heart adjusts unbeckoned horoscope
to signal progress of aggressive search
for treasures floating between broken hearts
based wholly on one solitary clue.

No cause for celebration from regret
through dark obliqueness swollen with desire,
my heart calculates doled disquietude
through legal contract for perpetual calm
unheaved by distant storms of restless hope
for souls imprisoned by collapsing words.

Aged blindly lost in shadows reconciled
from fractured mirror of its confidante,
my heart deliberates wisdom contrived
from stagnant doctrines of old fecund faith
devised by dreamers before honest fear
abandons children by the faceless pool.

Elliptical with mounting games of time
that spiral tight-wound galaxies of souls,
my heart obsesses over winning points
that should impress kind Sagittarius
who plants purple lilacs in the dooryard
that bloomed last before dark night of despair.

Annoyed by flotsam of matter, expressed
across vast crystal firmament of faith,
my heart peers through its mental telescope
to measure cogwheels of the psychic void
that grind blindly in our turning globe
first mapped and named by grim Chaldean seers.

Memories flashing bright as swift asteroids
that bounce across blithe brightness of respect,
my heart refracts divinity of thought
that bulges from magnetic field of wings
in buzzing force field shielding Earth from rage,
so I hold your hand as we walk our road.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus dances and sings on the mountain meadow as if he were Julie Andrews in the Sound of Music.

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

Mad Mountain Seer
© Surazeus
2025 03 10

In halflight of the rainy afternoon
I halfdream about the mad mountain seer
who travels from his village in Peru
to fight cruel fascists in streets of Paris
where the young mother nurses her new child
who gives him her hope chest of pulsing stars.

Wild hound of his heart escapes prison cell
to race among blood-stained poplars of faith
where the ancient shepherd Jesus holds high
torch of liberty with flame of desire
almost snuffed out by brutal winds of war
that swirls dirt from newly-heaped mounds of graves.

Young weaver girl with factory-wounded hands
builds fragile home from cracked bones of dead gods
on desolate shore of the lonely stream
where the mountain seer carves magic-spell runes
on shells of turtles found on the sea strand
by the young mother who nurses her child.

Extending hand made of water and fear
to graft bad fruit on pine of languid hope,
the mountain seer, anchored by dirty clothes,
lumbers through festival of skeletons
to drumbeats and flute-wails among red tents
where jesters and ballerinas make love.

Exalted unity of hungry spies
that fuels singular beat of his heart,
urges the mountain seer to talk to God,
so he shouts questions at the empty sky
about why people must suffer to live
when serpents writhe from shadows of false hope.

Rain falls on every city in the world
with dirty tears of mothers seeking food
while mad troubadours howl thunderous hymns
to solve the human cipher of our love
with sorcery of positive desire
though we float in our coffins full of rain.

Meeting Osiris by the border wall
that divides land of life from nought of death,
the mountain seer asks for inheritance
which he deserves from his pious ancestors
hidden in the electric dream machine
which he invents from stolen words of love.

Crimson crown of Jesus huge as the moon
glows with tragic sweetness of emeralds
above pulsing brain of the mountain seer
who drinks blue wine from the goblet of fire,
then wails mercurial psalms of holy faith
that still poisons his haughty gypsy heart.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus hangs out with Cesar Vallejo in the Paris Cafe, discussing the rights of workers trampled by soldiers of the corporate monarchs.

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

New Political Arguments
© Surazeus
2025 03 09

All those old political arguments
fought between capitalists and communists
fade into radio static of the past
that crackles cables of the world wide web
when wizards masked as fascist oligarchs
entrance vikings with visions of rich glory.

New actors performing on stage of power
strut their bold hour before eyes of the world
to play noble heroes of ancient epics,
but, when their gold masks of noble intent
are stripped away by their own acts of greed,
hate exposes dark evil in their hearts.

I could reduce actions of rectitude
powerful people perform to keep power
between empathy and indecency,
but life is too complex with many groups
contending to gain power over Earth
to chronicle glory of conquering states.

Though music trembles on the silenced harp
strummed by the bright-eyed Seraph of lost time,
his tears are bombs that shattered old estates
with bitter anger of the dispossessed
who sing sweet blasphemies in ruined choirs
to praise Ungod who never answers prayers.

When millions of people, driven from home
by hungry gangs of drug-dealers and thieves,
cross roadless rugged mountain gap of hope,
they follow Moses to the Promised Land
where vikings complain about immigrants
taking the good jobs they refuse to work.

As wingless angel of the spinning Earth
I look up at the empty sky to gaze
in eyes of God vast as the universe,
but see no Revelation of the end,
for Earth will keep spinning around the sun
billions of years before the sun expands.

Thus I will flap my wings in crazy mirth
while dancing wild on the heavenly scarp
to preach grand message of our World Ungod
who sends me as his Prophet to mankind
so I declare with booming voice of truth
there is no resurrection from the dead.

Many new political arguments
fought between nationalists and globalists
flare from clashes over meaning of life,
but We the People fight against oppressors
to secure justice and freedom for all
who support United Nations of Earth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus joins Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Jonah on the White House lawn to prophesy against corruption and greed of Midas and Orcus.

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

Swirling Waves Of Change
© Surazeus
2025 03 09

When social revolution sweeps the land
we surf swirling waves of change to maintain
lithe balance between energy and form
to channel rage through political laws
which revitalize progress in strong growth
while conserving traditional design.

Though institutions of strong government
have been assembled over centuries
to channel forceful energy of lust
through official systems of lawful rights,
they can be manipulated by greed
to enrich the powerful with our wealth.

Responding to aggressive grasp for power,
that rich men in the past assert to build
structures of wealth that too favor their rights,
we construct systems of fair governance
to spread wealth back to base essential workers
who labor most to create profit we share.

When oligarchs attain too much control
over vast institutions of the state,
and openly pilfer wealth we create
to benefit themselves at our expense,
we raise revolution of civil rights
to adjust flow of wealth back to the people.

Wise leaders who respect the common man
follow example of Jesus the Christ
to overthrow rich men who own too much
with honest attention to humble needs,
then approve contracts of hardworking men
to farm fertile fields with laborious pride.

All civilizations of vast empires,
organized by wise priests with expertise
to manage estates of crop fields and herds,
are based on hard work of the common man
extracting produce from bountiful Earth
and distributing goods in market halls.

Bankers fund ranches, farms, and factories
with speculative capital of wealth
so workers create goods from raw materials,
while merchants market and distribute goods,
but government clerks in judicial courts
manage contracts to insure fair rewards.

If rich owners feast while poor owners starve,
oppressing hungry people of the land
as the few hoard wealth while the many work,
we must reset state political system
to eradicate greed of tyranny
and maintain freedom of democracy.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus leads the social revolution that sweeps the land to rebuild government institutions destroyed by greedy oligarchs.

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

Speed Of My Soul
© Surazeus
2025 03 09

To keep up with the weird speed of my soul
I stop before the television screen
before it teleports me through all time
so I can understand how people feel
about quartz angels in the rolling stone
that leads refugees from war in the gloom.

To calculate the strict speed of my soul
I map crazy roads through the Underworld
where my ancestors walked before my birth
so I can open brand new store in Hell
repairing computers rancid with mold
that oozes with oil polluting the firth.

To analyze the fake speed of my soul
I ask the mountain man with jewel eyes
for hidden secret of the universe
but all that Cronus is willing to tell
is why sweet blueness attributes the skies
with subtle reference to the holy curse.

To randomize the quaint speed of my soul
I spin the Wheel of Fortune to test fate
against all outcomes augured by bird flight
with bold assertion of my mental will
to rule the world from secret river boat
through sad tunes I play on dragon-bone flute.

To overcome the stalled speed of my soul
I build new piston-engine of desire
to channel spirit of aggressive hope
when I drive chariot of Ezekiel
roaring down the highway to Zathamar
past the desert station where gas is cheap.

To allocate the force speed of my soul
I meditate in cave of shadow plays
where Plato eats fruit of Persephone
to prove that our world is slow-spinning ball
when I record hymns sung by the world muse
to express my psychic epiphany.

To ride far on the true speed of my soul
I write script for weird television shows
depicting how people perceive themselves
as most important person on the hill
when we play capture the flag through world maze
in tribal contest between Bears and Wolves.

To chase love with the wise speed of my soul
I remove persona mask of my being
to reveal my true self on stage of faith
when Apollo crowns me with his laurel
and Icarus repairs my wounded wing
till I become conceptual Poet Wraith.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus plays lyre of Mercury and sings magic spells with the poetic speed of his soul to enchant the world with visions of the truth.

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

Strange September Sea
© Surazeus
2025 03 09

My mother drives the red Volkswagen slow
narrow road that winds around silent hills
among tall birch trees gleaming white as snow
on Sunday afternoon in early Autumn
to go somewhere we never went before
so we can walk around the anxious lake.

Disconnected scenes of fragmented thoughts,
boxed in broken sentences of regret,
clutter unlit stage after the last show,
tattered costumes of undead characters,
and masks that represent feelings we hide,
heaped in shadow of unspoken despair.

So I run down to strange September Sea
and wander mute on the heavenly shore
while searching for the lush Elysian fields
where ghosts of people I once knew may float
as silver mist along the gushing stream
where I decide to build the Golden Bridge.

Awake in raptured vision of this world,
I pluck taut strings on lyre of Mercury
to sing praise for Warder of Paradise
who guards the border to the Promised Land
with flaming sword of arrogant disdain
for anyone not born with the right glamor.

Kneeling before grave of the blonde-haired girl
whose sky-blue eyes entranced my heart with love,
I weep with sorrow at her early death
because the redemption story is false,
for after we crumble to Earth in death
we never rise to glory in the sky.

Yet varied marvels of Nature express
artless grandeur of atoms shaping forms
that stream with beauty of eternal light
still flaring forth from the first flash of love
to shine as creatures with bright conscious minds
from raptured thoughts of bountiful desire.

Even in sequential dreams of free will,
when we glow brightly with passion of love,
we will find original spark of hope
that revives compassion of selfless faith
to beam with empathy for living souls
which springs from emptiness of Hungry Self.

Always capable of love for everyone,
we drive cars on newly signified roads
to participate in fun social games
where strangers give each other secret names,
then eat mushrooms and worship the God Toad
whose timeless love song vibrates from the sun.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus visits the grave of his childhood friend Lori Lee Whetmore, placing the yellow daffodil of carefree joy as he remembers how her eyes sparkled when she laughed.

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

Slow Swirl Of The Sea
© Surazeus
2025 03 08

Now that I live free from slow swirl of the sea
darkness folds itself as my eager heart
when I walk over hills of joyful death
to play role of the hermit in their play
on the plain where riderless horses wait
for the owl of rebirth to explain why.

I will not hurry away from the Earth,
dazed with sudden insight of idiocy
unrelated to broken wheel of light
that tumbles blazing down the mountain slope
with shocking honesty of rolling stones
that crush wood coffin of the holy ghost.

Heart pierced with needle found in the haystack
by humble warriors seeking absolution,
I write stories of the dead on dry leaves
that rustle with their voices in dawn breeze
despite how men cry for the broken door
that leads to asylum for bitter saints.

Yet she walks toward me on the campus path
past leafless trees of innocent desire
with star-sparkle animating her eyes
when she hands me red notebook of her dreams
which describe how we meet in every life
since we always choose to walk the same road.

If I decide to leave the city maze
to live among the owls and honest wolves
extravagantly alone through light phase,
I will invent weird language to describe
conceptual framework for our mutual love
which binds our hearts together without words.

I gesture my hands to weave in new wings
wild silence that hovers dark over Earth
so I can become swiftness of the horse
whose elegant grace of assertive will
defines process of motion we express
while holding hands to walk the moonlit road.

For everywhere I go in time and space
Saturnus arranges darkness of truth
which congeals despair into juicy fruit
through desperation of the mindless wind
so I can build new Temple of Dead Gods
from false ruins of the Enlightenment.

Startled by ache of sorrow birthing joy,
I long for existence of fiery breath
to gleam in rain drops flowing in my veins
with constant blackness of eternity
which creates me from slow swirl of the sea
because I realize I love you so much.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus swims in the sea, then follows the river uphill to the house in the meadow where the girl he loves takes care of her wingless horse.

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