Crowns Of Jeweled Power
© Surazeus
2025 11 08

I try not to begin with sudden rain,
but how it leaps from hollow hole of light
startles me awake from numb reverie
to wonder at strange mystery of its way,
drawing wild torrents from the surging sea
to soak sun-sorrowed hills with agony.

Collapsing into absence of desire,
I hide from eager caress of cold rain
that seeks to penetrate my silky skin
and flush my brittle body with hot words
from lush-grass humming of laconic lust
that saturates my heart with subtle faith.

Though desiccated by sardonic hope
with arid honesty of withered will,
I cling to concept of enormous hills
protecting me from mockery of sharp rain
that splatters into pungent mist of fear
which scatters wingless soul of everywhere.

Trees stripped of contemplative ecstasy
endure aggressive rage of bitter rain
so I persist beyond extracted light
against contagious hate with polity
by organizing ghosts through bravery
to shelter against winter in my heart.

Each day another seer of ancient truth
stumbles down steep slope of indifference
and crumbles into globs of mindless mud
washed away by deluge of ruthless rain
so all grand visions of his divine brain
dissipate into mist of molecules.

When fierce warriors with arrogant swords
clash in civil conflict to control rain,
Death thrusts sharp blade of pain into their hearts
and teaches them frail vanity of pride
as they hang impaled in helpless surprise
that power is delusion of the weak.

Safe in tangled web of sheltering trees,
I watch opposing armies of fierce men
hack each other into quivering steaks
on which feast black-eyed ravens of blind death
till sudden rain of indifferent thirst
exposes fragile skulls to ache of time.

Not even their two competitive kings
still stand alive as they thrust blades of pride
in cold fraternal hearts when they embrace
and die face to face on blood-muddied field,
so I bury their crowns of jeweled power
hidden in hollow darkness of my heart.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus finds young girl staring at two dead kings in the middle of a field heaped with the battle-mangled bodies of noble warriors, and gives her an apple to eat.

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

Plutonian Halls Of Fame
© Surazeus
2025 11 07

Death welcomes me to her bountiful feast
each day I visit her cavern of gems
that gleam with bright Plutonian light of stars
which she brews in nutritious wine of fear
which intoxicates my heart with pure love
for all conscious souls of the multiverse.

Venomous wine, brewed with demonic blood,
inebriates my sponge brain so I perceive
strange shadows cast on mirror of the world
by ghostly absence of people I know
whose voices echo softly in cold breeze
that scatters pages of books in my house.

Numb from excess sparks of telephone wires,
I watch as Thea tries to rouse Saturnus
from sorrow of defeat in civil war
when bold Hyperion cast him from high clouds,
so my hand offers cup of demon blood
which transforms his body in polished marble.

Bright shadows of melodious utterance
bleed bitter words of epic deeds on vellum
that guide my feet in melancholy trance
to eternal domed monument of fame
where Pythia waits in hooded sacrament
to bless my heart with solemn prophecy.

Sole priestess who still sings in the waste land
extracts shade of memory from my breast
so I expand through planetary eyes
enormous as fermented lakes of faith
when I unravel web of holy lies
to find I am Saturnus in grim woods.

Though no force seems to wake me from my trance
I breathe celestial flames of innocence
that rouse me from my slumbrous solitude
to stride reborn through crowded city maze
and sing with bold pernicious code of fate
to claim moral victory against greed.

No more will I bewail my earthly loss
since I strum dolorous tunes of respect
on tragic harp of earnest honesty
so faceless gods humanity forgot
may never fade in mist of history,
preserved as masks in hall of global fame.

In form of grand Saturnus every day
I feast well in Plutonian halls of fame,
then strum my tragic harp to recite tales
recording fate of every conscious soul
who ever wakes in fleeting dream of life,
then place mask of their soul on wall of death.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus offers Saturnus plate of roast beef with baked potatoes, and bowl of cottage cheese with pineapple rings, so they feast and share anecdotes about the fall of America.

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

Highway Six Six Six
© Surazeus
2025 11 07

If the second mother even returns
from gathering flowers by the highway
that bloom from the corpse of the seventh son,
she might find the last telephone on Earth
on the broken desk in the empty room
where the ram goes to escape sacrifice.

After the minister of finance faints
from loyal despair of the star-blind seer,
the leprous king who wears the golden mask
might stare in shock at Sibyl in her cage
whose riddles prophesy his sudden fall
from heart-twisting scream of the butterfly.

Because ten thousand airplanes in the sky
bounce lost in swirling fog of arrogance
that billows from huge factories of greed,
three angels with last message for mankind
might hang out in the highway bar instead
and throw beer bottles at Phoebus on stage.

Still strutting out on Highway Six Six Six
after defeating Anubis at chess,
Orpheus might remember where he left
the broken lyre of Mercury he stole
which I have hidden underneath my bed
to prevent the thirteenth apocalypse.

Enchanted by the heart-reviving hex
Minerva casts on me with wicked words
that cause apple trees to writhe in my shape,
I might ride my white horse of innocence
to fight four horseman of holy crusades
who try to burn my castle to the ground.

Though primal cause of creation flares forth
from dreamless God-Eye of the universe
that formulates organic life on globes,
Apollo teaches children how to count
with numbers al-Khwarizmi diagrammed
to imitate snakes in the Tree of Life.

Forever favored by the Tree of Knowledge,
registered in Book of Nature by Death,
I might climb highest mountain in the world
to eat dream monster crawling in my heart
so I can find the Diamond Eye of Fate
that gleams on Tower of Babel at dawn.

Startled by gold shadow of Azrael
that flickers on wall of my living room,
I might call angels driving without hands
who throw violins at the purple sky
that drips blood of bells on our fractured skulls
while we drive home on Highway Six Six Six.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus joins Phoebus and Azrael for supper at the fancy Italian restaurant that overlooks the River Styx where hundreds of ferries full of people who have died from starvation or war are stuck behind the freighter.

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

Frantic Clock Of Nevertime
© Surazeus
2025 11 07

Tricked by the frantic clock of nevertime,
I race across the waste land without wings
to follow haughty horse of global fame
who teaches me strict archery of wrongs
embodied by brave warriors fighting gods
whose fears control dreams of our psychic grids.

Lured by the flashing clock of everywhere,
I type adaptive tales of ardent minds
based on assessment of the puppeteer
who advocates retrieval by quick hands
of new synthetic concepts from dire fruit
designed to cycle emotional freight.

Trapped by the moral clock of vanity,
I paint enormous murals from sea slime
depicting bitter gods with honesty
unlucky to mature from social shame
who cling to magic thinking about love
as optioned objects festering in the cave.

Launched by the private clock of abjectness,
I twist soul servitude of loyal faith
to weave assertive wings of deviousness
in holy mission to blaze my own path
on sacred quest to find the Promised Land
watered by celestial tunes of the pond.

Wired by the ancient clock of confidence,
I customize my heart with currency
contrived to purchase social competence
in bid to launch career with potency
through cultural custody of molecules
in catalogs of psychic chemicals.

Doomed by the coding clock of pieties,
I spend my working hours in cubicles
erasing portraits of celebrities
whose tragic tales are cleansed as musicals
through mythic roles performed by faceless folk
depicting world view that praises the woke.

Cursed by the morbid clock of dividends,
I calculate rich profits from thought sales
earned through financial support of fake friends
who hang masks of their faces on stone walls
that should preserve true spirits of our hearts
for millions of years on tropical charts.

Framed by the artful clock of gaieties,
I build new world view for the world to use
that forges courage from anxieties
through clever guidance of my earnest Muse
who teaches me to translate songs of waves
to principles for brave creative lives.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus practices yoga to focus intense psychic energy on restoring democracy through justice and liberty for all after the fall of the empire.

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

Electric Horse of Fame
© Surazeus
2025 11 06

The subtle difference between pears and guns
confounds mind of the robot with blue stones
when children chase electric horse of fame
to sell his glass skull in the market place
where Death keeps watch on pyramid of eyes,
commissioned to judge business arguments.

Addicted to sweet beauty of red clouds,
spies leap across neurodivergent sky
with tangled concepts wrapped in riddled jokes
disguised as magic formulas of hope
which angry people throw from bridge of tears
till all our treasures sink into green gloom.

Slouched in his office without telephones,
grim clown who plays messiah on world stage
rants rabidly about invading hordes
who steal doors from cathedral of mushroom brains
when gangs of secret police arrest teachers
who sing about our land of liberty.

Laughing scissors in hands of the sad fool,
who prances on edge of the paper tower,
slice contracts into eyeless dolls of greed
that decorate nuclear missiles of love
before soul adjustment requires fake cash
to count as profit from war refugees.

Almost forgotten by their worshippers,
faceless gods, who pay prophets to invent
tales of miracles they never perform,
drive trucks on highways around hopping toads
whose hurricane eyes hypnotize believers
with fantasies of true America.

Gathered in communes on old failing farms,
office workers, who analyzed spreadsheets
with programmed computers to calculate wealth,
plant corn and squash with bleeding hands of faith
after their empire collapses in debt
because salary thieves play golf all day.

While our grand world view crumbles into lies
that we are heirs to noble principles
based on justice and liberty for all,
we work together on the country farm
to rebuild commercial base of exchange
connecting communities with brave need.

Though King Midas destroys America
by stealing taxes from our treasury,
Odin rides on electric horse of fame
to restore stature of democracy
so everyone who shares this fertile land
creates their version of Heaven on Earth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus rides electric horse of fame across America to gather army of people who believe in justice and liberty for all to restore democracy.

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

Land Where Our Skulls Sing
© Surazeus
2025 11 06

My sad raven keeps my secret name hid
in sun-purpled shadows of lonely spruce
so I can see my soul inside my home
built from bones of ancestors who hold
holy words of wisdom my mothers mold
from stories blind ghosts whisper in the wind.

Through swirls of fog over the blood-black sea
I sail fragile boat of my heart to find
secret island where my enemies dwell
as I cross boundary of the craggy land
to gather raven eggs with wounded hand
for we spring from deep furrows of the past.

Respect for strange beauty bound by cold light
reaches high to caress sky of my mind
that reflects secret thoughts I never share
with people who build walls of our abode
yet always walk with me on the long road
that winds around high mountain of the stars.

From breath of silence in valleys of lakes
my tongue spirals words on the origin
of primal thunder that powers our hearts
with solemn rattle of mortality
for we accept spirit finality
in songs that death articulates with hope.

Yet thunder that vibrates on mountain walls
expresses passion of my wordless heart
with bitter honesty of splintered faith
when I meet Cadmus by the singing sea
whose letters give my heart wings to fly free
over cloud-capped summits of boundless hills.

Though scattered now across the endless plains
our fragmented tribes build homes on lush shores
where they all sing with voices of the wind
tale of our first mother in ancient lore
whose wisdom programs our rich mental store
as lamp that guides our quest for paradise.

If our first mother rises from the dead
she may stride bravely in fear-shadowed woods
to gather golden resin from spruce trees
so we can chew nurturing blood of faith
that sparks in our hearts dream of the god wraith
whose spirit feeds our souls with blood of time.

Our bodies writhe from roots of ancient spruce
so we spread raven wings of curious hope
to heap dust of the dead in bulging hills
where we build homes from dragon bones of truth
according to rules of messiah sleuth
because we own the land where our skulls sing.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus travels village to village along the river from the mountains to the sea where he sings about legendary deeds of first mother Scythia.

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

Blind Analyst Of Love
© Surazeus
2025 11 06

Each time I pause in hectic game of life
while leaping worlds across the multiverse
I feel eternity flash through my brain
as mirror sparkles of absolute rain
refracting souls of gods in cells of light
so I become blind analyst of love.

Acknowledgement of anger-fractured faith
radiates abundant laughter in delight
through classic form of my customized heart
extracted whole from love-hydraulic chart
so I perform at fairy festivals
my state role as blind analyst of love.

Explicit code of swift angelic fate
expands generic format frequently
through furnishings of mental platitude
designed to amplify my attitude
with flexible attention to detail
since I remain blind analyst of love.

Deviant angels hunting cultural clowns
vote with cracked diamonds of hope to extend
duration of creative courtesy
that supports my goal to rule fantasy
by earning dividends from failed attempts
of fools to block blind analyst of love.

Annulled by bitter judges of respect,
I join bold fellowship of honest thieves
to steal neutral diamond of global being
while prancing haughtily with crystal wing
for princess who appoints me guardian
trained to sing by blind analyst of love.

Secure in secret sessions gods attend,
I survey syntax of supreme welfare
to bear electric waves of god-eyed light
through sibylline records of seventh sight
when worship transmits wireless energy
to heal faith for blind analyst of love.

Equation focused on genuine code,
guaranteed to enlighten dreamless brains,
expands eternity beyond glass books
transcribed by ravens in windowless rooks
through intimate index of graphic facts
once compiled by blind analyst of love.

If bane of my existence replicates
arrogant clones of my specialized soul,
I could preserve with fracture of my heart
flash of eternity on my dream chart
till everything I find is true adjusts
world view mapped by blind analyst of love.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus teaches me how to perform my new role as blind analyst of love in the Multiverse History Department at the University of Zarathia.

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

If Rain Writes My Name
© Surazeus
2025 11 05

If rain writes my name on frail windowpane
in silver letters forged from valid thoughts
which imitate adventurous concern
for subtle comfort of time-fractured code,
I could sense glance of arbitrary sight
through graphic urge of spirit-building flight.

Yet rain remembers secret name I hide
in moral method native to dark woods
where ghosts seek outcomes by percentage points
confined to sprawling palaces of time,
so I adjust with standard roulette course
viral confession witnessed by the horse.

Unwelcome voyeur stuck in urban zone
of worldwide providence for painted power
plots placement of unnoticed pipeline quotes
sweet as perfume for insecure syntax
supreme with passion of our royal race
updating syndrome of my spectral face.

Attending workshop of our vital scroll
to honor welfare programs that provide
wondrous sustenance of unmeasured wealth,
I study private manners of respect
referred by quantum refund of pure light
to revise presence of physical right.

Remote home built on progressive platform,
reserved for proper query through calm prayer,
retains premier pleasure of portraiture
depicting pregnant princess without wings
who tries to manage licenses of love
through secret mission from Star Wraith above.

Achievable results through bankruptcy,
applied by brave aquatic architect,
divides distinguished editors from dreams
which we decide with cards to implement
through solemn intervals of assumed facts
when we must bargain agency through pacts.

Artwork assets bookmarked by bracelets
archive attentive tales of abstract ploys
adapted to comply with constant laws
in deluxe compact with devilish clowns
who hold no council with deleted roles
in outright defiance of common goals.

No explanation for new-bought franchise
requires hybrid framework of focused fear
for me to handle excess arrogance
which combines complicated dealership
with default attitude of cornered gods
who write my name with rain on campaign pods.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus translates names of people written with rain to calculate fateful fortune that curses some with excessive fame in the world.

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

Coffin Of My Car
© Surazeus
2025 11 05

Isolated in coffin of my car,
I explore endless maze of everywhere
to see young children dancing on wild hills
at mournful tolling of torturous bells
so I can understand how angels feel
when they fall wingless in the faceless pool.

Arrogant by scale with precocious grief
through mechanical progress to play safe,
I dream how Death could preach electric faith
designed through artifice of sacred myth
since nothing we can do will change the way
wingless angels pilot airplanes to fly.

Since nothing beautiful in this world lasts,
despite calculating what belief costs,
we go beyond ourselves around this Earth
to gather conceptual fragments of wealth
in fierce competitive game to transcend
frame of reference built on this wild land.

Confused by beauty emanating bright
from fractured mirror adjusted by fate,
I still attempt to play celestial tunes
through effervescent words of rolling stones
excluding warriors of enchanted trees
who wander lost in ever-changing maze.

Impertinent treaties no god can sign
reveal extravagant code through the stone
that helps us navigate large crowded stores
where curious angels terminate fake stars
with luminous laughter of queried spells
sold to influencers who attend balls.

Respected wolves who wear humanized masks
share secret principles on taking risks
against suspicious gods of paradise
who hire economists to write new lease
by selling reviews without evidence
our bodies are stuck in psychotic trance.

Exhausted by how fast fate ruins love,
I smear mental blood inside the sea cave
without regard to nuisance I present
when I shout in the Senate truthful rant
as virtual reading of instinctive tales
based on empathy for breaking weird rules.

Uneven level twirled by symphony,
more locomotive than the honey bee,
projects my conscious molecules in words
mistaken for chirps of demonic birds
who follow coffin of my car to Hell
where I find my bride by the forest well.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus gives Melusine box crafted by Pandora after she is elected Mayor of New Woke City.

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

Barbaric Boulevard Of Fame
© Surazeus
2025 11 05

If memories of my messy random life
mislead my heart with glow of paradise
suffusing landscapes of my long-lost past,
then I accept with brave alacrity
that what I want to remember with joy
must be truer than strange sadness I feel.

I spend each period of my random life
in far different places across the land
where patterns of fate are scattered about
in disjointed fragments of anxious hope
so I must invent with haphazard code
narrative of progress that contrives sense.

Sunlight gleams through pines on enormous hills
ranged around sleeping volcano of fate
to fill round church with bright angelic wings
when I consider possibility
that God seeks salvation through my respect
to become conscious in visions of my brain.

Wind swirls sand along black asphalt highway
that leads east away from the Promised Land
while I strum strings on guitar at my breast
and improvise epic tale in tense verse
about the common man who wanders lost
with no mission to save his state from greed.

To analyze weird crisis of my heart
outside mental frame of social context
designed to organize random events,
I chant electric hymns of faceless gods
by lonely fountain near the storm-wild sea
till my sorrows transform into black swans.

Every person I meet in every town
as I hitchhike east sea to shining sea
fades into faceless ghost of somewhere else
whose absence haunts my endless morning hours
when I watch deer graze on front lawn of flowers
because I wear no face that I can see.

I wear ring of demonic energy
to transform my limited form of self
to imitate shape of every conscious being
who has ever lived on this spinning globe
so I understand how every soul feels
driven by urge to procreate more souls.

Yet still I wander in vast maze of myths
where idols of humans transformed to gods
line long barbaric boulevard of fame
and ask if man will worship them again
till I transform into statue of stone
to stare forever at the bleeding sun.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus explains to psychology students at the University of Zarathia that Victor Frankenstein is a father who becomes disappointed that his socially rebellious son fails to live up to his high expectations.

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

Yellow Fruit Of Faith
© Surazeus
2025 11 04

If I could vote for wild girl in gold clouds
who flies where she wants on electric wings,
I would photograph moments of her life
with obsolete system of ardent play
to record memories of vanished days
in three-dimensional world of dream words.

When I assemble genuine collage
presenting history of the human race
in endless tapestries of faceless gods,
I curate ephemeral ghosts of time
designed as masks my future self may wear
to educate the dead with moral laws.

Though gangs of angry men with guns of hate
attack libraries filled with truthful tales
in vain attempt to erase history
that presents crimes their ancestors commit,
brave heroes of our long-forgotten myths
still shimmer in weird texts of holy books.

Dark fabric of our granulated hills
preserves attentive anguish of our hearts
where Rama wanders in forgotten past,
detached from passion of our hungry flesh,
and stretches arms to channel beams of light
that connect stars to center of the Earth.

I swim across flowing river of hope
to follow heart-thief I ever adore
who leaves me dripping on the river shore,
but then returns with yellow fruit of faith
that fills our bodies with light of the sun
as we perform slow yoga dance with breath.

Mira gives her heart to Rama alone
who hides seed of truth in rain-polished stone
because true love must be buried in soil
for trust to flourish in lush tree of fruit
though wind blows bird of her heart in the sky
each time she returns to nest in his heart.

Transfiguration of her aching heart
renews her body formed from swirls of rain
so Mira kisses Rama on the mouth
as he surrenders to her gift of light
that frees their spirits from limits of flesh
as they become every creature on Earth.

Defiant passion of their privacies
in quiet wildness of mutual respect
expands clear scope of knowledge they access
each time they dance together in wet grass
to write their love song on heart of the Earth,
bodies nourished by yellow fruit of faith.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus and Ophelia visit their friends Rama and Mira in mango forest to celebrate sacred holiday of the pregnant moon.

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

Eclectic Clarity Of Love
© Surazeus
2025 11 04

Feverish with eclectic clarity,
my heart configures holistic respect
for manic miracles I monitor
to leverage offensive mysteries
too obvious with potent policies
for me to comprehend the orthodox.

With lack of tolerance for trivia,
summarized through our special strategies,
we must regard consensual unity
as vital to our surgical contempt
for insufficient evidence that love
transmits statistics with insecure words.

Preserved by periodic polymers
that process unregistered privacy,
my heart projects parallel paradigms
designed by raucous parliament of pain
to manage judicial latitudes well
before our fellowship builds fisheries.

Dynamic laughter based on discipline
encodes communal laws of competence
beginning with behavior borne from faith
certified by blind inspectors with books
who compel companions to return keys
confiscated from bold brokerage firms.

Advertised agreements between our tribes
align our conscious batteries with trust
according to addicted analysts
who program algorithms of weird truth
which aggregate disparate elements
in authentic maps of our dreamless brains.

Authorized to broadcast beautiful jokes
with challenging concepts of chromosomes,
we chronicle classified currencies
to record deposits of depressing dares
distinctive with indifferent state of mind
Nature applies to fortune of mankind.

Essential theories of digital tracks
lure me to tread mountain roads of fireworks
with blistered feet of corrective defense
through approximate pauses of desire
removed by signals of vague radiance
exploding afterimage of tense doubt.

Encumbered appetite of dwindled scent
with uninvested gaze of fortitude
disregards my consolation through search
for expansive longings that seize my heart
with arrogant humility I play
based on eclectic clarity of love.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus floats in feverish dreams while sick from necropastoral attitudes of modern civilization, forever waking up in another dream.

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

Scroll That Sybil Wrote
© Surazeus
2025 11 04

Each time Orion twists the monkey wrench
to tighten screws of arrogant dismay,
he tests the rumbling engine of his heart
to see how fast bold pistons of regret
can spin firm axle of psychic intent
when racing car of talent down the road.

Leaning close to hear each unspoken word,
Othreis writes dishes on the order pad
with plastic pen now running dry of ink,
then glides quick as the sly desert gazelle,
bearing trays heaped with soul-comforting meals
for patrons in Temple of Artemis.

Driving past diner where Othreis waits tables,
Orion consults map of fairy tales
to find secret cavern of the God Toad
who guards with care the scroll that Sibyl wrote
while aging in the golden cage of time
that outlines social rules for power games.

Sensing something terrible in the air,
Othreis stares at old man in the black coat,
but backs away when grim-eyed Orcus stands,
then runs through bell-tinkling glass door of fear
onto the highway of electric turtles
where Orion slams on car brakes of faith.

Helping Othreis stand, and cleaning skinned arm,
Orion asks what frightened her to death,
so she points at dark shadow of despair
that haunts quaint diner on the desert road,
eyes frantic with hysterical regard,
till his gentle voice soothes her beating heart.

Notching arrow in bow of burning gold,
Orion enters diner of frail glass,
where thousands of faceless people eat pies,
to confront demonic Orcus with red eyes,
surrounded by swirl of red butterflies,
who sucks souls of humans with holy lies.

Firing arrow of desire in his heart,
Orion asserts law of equal rights
that every person in the world retains
as brave gift from the Countenance Divine
with force of justice that scatters in dust
hate that writhes from nationalist pride.

Though ironic prophets design grand goals
as ideals for great empires to attain,
state leaders stumble blindly through each crisis
as Jesus and Satan take turns to rule,
while Orion hunts exploiters of men
to free our minds from slavery of greed.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus wears white gloves as he presents scroll that Sibyl wrote to world literature graduate students who visit the Global Archives of Zarathia.

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

Othreis With Olive Eyes
© Surazeus
2025 11 04

Breaking free from parochial self-regard
through calibration of disparate facts,
Narcissus composes observant spells
engaged in radical recombination
which encapsulates complex postulations
to construct hypothesis of the heart.

Squinting his eyes with intense scrutiny,
Narcissus tries to see beyond his face
that shimmers on silver surface of water
enclosing ancient darkness of the world
so he can better perceive state of mind
that motivates his research into fate.

Probing secret thoughts with hard inquiry
through progress to interrogate his motives,
Narcissus surveys forest of tall trees
encircling luminous pool of star eyes,
startled at echo of his hollow voice
that answers his words with eclectic code.

Turning away from image of his face
that scatters at ripples from sudden breeze,
Narcissus searches shadows of dark woods
till he sees young girl with long flowing hair
who sits in cluster of gold buttercups
while caressing petals with curious hands.

Entranced by beauty of her alien face,
so different from features of his own,
Narcissus sits beside her on lush grass,
extending hand of generous respect
to offer apple from tree of his heart
which glows when she smiles and accepts his gift.

Because he is no child of destiny
as ironic prophet of cloudy states,
Narcissus analyzes songs of birds
to play interpreter of whispered verse,
so with sincere incompetence of love
he asks Echo if she will be his wife.

With the fruitful world whole before their eyes
Narcissus and Echo clasp hands in trust
and choose what path of fate they will explore
without false Providence as faulty guide
that could deceive their truth-perceiving eyes
as they seek rich fruit in bountiful woods.

Raising playful daughter of their two hearts,
light-winged dryad Othreis with olive eyes,
Narcissus and Echo teach her to sing
enchanting hymns of faith to celebrate
strange beauty of this globe that spins in space,
whose face reflects sweet passion of their hearts.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus gasps with awe at sight of Othreis with olive eyes when she leaps and dances on delicate wings of light in shimmering field of buttercups.

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

Glass Doors Of Success
© Surazeus
2025 11 03

Marilyn stands beside the broken sign
and ponders why she feels inadequate
to analyze complex state of affairs
entangling human hearts in fantasy
of perfect paradise we dream is real,
then crosses the street when the light turns green.

Ten thousand airplanes scream across the sky,
bearing wingless angels to paradise
instead of dropping bombs on palaces
where pompous kings cling to false divine right
as their empires dissolve to words of trust
scrawled on documents in museum cases.

With fingers graceful as ballet-lithe girls
Marilyn enters numbers in spreadsheets
to analyze trends of profit and loss
displayed as charts that measure social worth,
compiled from stream of data into psalms
that angels sing in cathedral of ghosts.

Ten horses gallop in the dew-wet field
beside the highway full of speeding cars
driven by angels lost in paradise
who chase quick butterfly of happiness
beyond the far horizon of desire
where Sibyl prophesies how empires fall.

Marilyn eats turkey sandwich on rye
at small round table in the mall food court
where people shop for utensils and clothes
stuck on endless merry-go-round of wealth,
then rides elevator to the nineth floor
where she strides past the glass doors of success.

When Superman completes mission from God
to stop aggressive warplanes of the king
from bombing villages in Scythia,
he flies to city by the shining sea
and floats by window of accounting firm
where Marilyn waves and blows him a kiss.

Riding the bus home in dark evening rain,
Marilyn ponders the meaning of life
that unwinds random journey of her fate
based on decisions she makes without thought,
then opens front door of her mortgaged home
where Superman watches golf on the couch.

Marilyn takes photos with her eye-phone
of her daughter Wednesday in black lace dress
who goes trick or treat on Halloween night,
till pumpkin transforms to Carriage of Hope,
which they ride with sweet Emily and Death,
pulled by swift horses of Eternity.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus gives young Wednesday Three Musketeers candy bars when she knocks on door of his house because no airplanes of nationalism bomb their town.

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

Hysterical Reality
© Surazeus
2025 11 03

I want to understand how the world works
erected on grand scale of psychic games
through plot that incorporates everything
which has ever happened to human brains
with ambitious vitality of truth
based on hysterical reality.

Trapped in perpetual loop of hungry greed
to work all day in cubicle of games
evading ghosts of arrogant dismay,
I transform fiction of psychic events
into social theory that attempts
to reveal how humans contest for power.

Collective net of conceptual intent
catches significant demons of fear
through awesome trick of wrestling sentiment
from television shows of soulful tales
about bold men who colonize the mind
with fractured equations of disrespect.

Elaborate maze of faceless characters
channels complex plots of aggressive theft
based on excessive amount of weird facts
that clutter information box of books
framed by historical context of lives
that enclose us in grand system of fate.

Obscure topics pilfered from alphabets
reveal emotional states of disgust
tangled deep through interiority
that struggles to expand beyond blank walls
at expense of psychological health
purchased from old bankrupt moralities.

Inspired by coded keys of petulance
contrived from bitter faith of innocence,
I chronicle whole history of mankind
through endless flowing verse of fairy tales
polished clean to imitate holy books
pronouncing victory of some long-dead god.

Detailed social observations, designed
by manic energy of random jokes,
sprawl frantically across dark cityscapes
with overwhelming nature of desire
billions of people perform on world stage
in swirling chaos of attentive ploys.

Alone in empty room of nothingness,
small doorless cube that twirls in outer space,
I draw one circle with blood of my heart
to symbolize God Eye of the White Whole
from which the multiverse of endless worlds
flares forth hysterical reality.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus composes vast sprawling novel based on principles of hysterical reality to prove futility of adequately analyzing the sprawling complexity of contemporary global society.

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

Rugged Hills Of Fate
© Surazeus
2025 11 03

Undying stillness of the dancing heart
reveals strange paradox of vibrant hope
which oscillates between opposite poles
of rage against indifference of fate
and acceptance of chemical process
that translates bodies into transient souls.

Dust from bazillions of organic souls
swirls swift in arrogant beams of sunlight
which slant through grand cathedrals of despair
to luminate our childhood memories
we watch replay in frantic scenes of fear
because we carry our dreams to the grave.

Unnecessary laughter, wild birds trap
with thoughtless passion for collected wealth,
exposes horror writhing in my heart
with eagerness to posture on the stage
when seeking revenge against eyeless death
that leaves us stranded on the signless road.

Remembered as the honest clown of faith,
I sculpt clean imitations of the moon
from jagged diamonds in caverns of Hell
wrenched from heart of darkness by hungry hands
to play uncertain music in dark rain
for abandoned angels of Nowhere Land.

Map of my backward journey displays way
we struggle over rugged hills of fate,
obsessed with holy mission from blind god,
that abandoned angels carved from white stone,
to build perfect Heaven on messy Earth
where everyone has food enough to eat.

Secret key to unlock meaning of life
is always hidden in lines of fake code
beneath the ferric stream of arguments
so those who understand the evening mist
may unlock every tower door of wealth
where Sibyl chronicles signs of the times.

If I open barred door that hides the dark
as shield against brutal horror of life,
I might reveal divine light of the brain
concealed in pounding serenade of faith
that casts stark beams of truth in ruined hall
where skeletons of gods pose no dire threat.

Each nameless bird in Elysian woods
discusses dominance of haughty gods
who crush all opposition to their rule
with legal bullets of righteous disdain
that scatters people from safe homes they built
to wander lost on rugged hills of fate.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus analyzes flight patterns of birds that migrate with refugees in Elysian woods to discover the secret passage to paradise.

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

Sagacity Of Wild Seas
© Surazeus
2025 11 02

If I sail star-streams between Then and Now,
brooding on sagacity of wild seas,
I might wake from madness of this vast world
and rise from box of Pandora on wings
benignant with aggressive thoughts of truth
to analyze wonders of our weird mind.

Surprised at tree full of angels in masks,
I grasp heart of the lion with my mind
bright as the diamond beamed with divine eyes
that contains the whole entire universe
in grain of sand stuck to sole of my foot
when I arrive at the locked gate of Heaven.

Each time sharp ache of sorrow for death loss
pierces my heart with acceptable truth,
I pluck another key sharp as rose thorns
to unlock gate of shocking ecstasy
that frees glory of Heaven from my brain
through swirling beauty of insanity.

Arrested by black stone sphinx of respect,
whose search-light eyes glare into my dark heart,
I fling enormous stones of naked power
to build colossal towers of fake wealth
from which I cast deceitful miracles
in shrewd schemes of honest duplicity.

To wander witlessly in maze of myths
with obvious treasures pulsing in my hands
I ride splendid lion with eagle wings
to lead parade of long-forgotten gods
that gears precession of the equinox
with regal attitude of jaded bards.

Appalling city sealed with demon eyes
exerts contemptuous confession of hope
for fattened oligarchs duped by mad bards
dissembling profit stolen from brave hands
till weltering fire consumes unfathomed faith
that justice will be served with sword of truth.

Snared in idle toils of small cubicles
where fortune unwinds stained celebrity,
I play role of the bard who curses pride
through brutal satire on ravenous greed
never satisfied with mountains of gold
that crush fragile souls under weight of fear.

No rapturous dream of heavenly peace
could slake immortal thirst of withered hearts
for people blinded by illustrious truth
conceived by Death and Pain in boundless space
because lovers always choose to embrace
alien phantom of fear-invented love.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus analyzes sagacity of wild seas in sensuous songs about metaphysical angels trapped in limiting bodies of chemical-driven humans who gather at bars to drink and sing.

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

Drink Honey Of Madness
© Surazeus
2025 11 02

While picking mushrooms at the edge of dread,
where ghosts of people killed in ancient wars
sing heart-wrenching hymns to their vampire god,
I hear their voices echo from dead trees,
so I listen to necessary tales
reveal road of destiny I should choose.

Uprooted ghosts of lost forgotten towns
crowd in my backyard when moon glitters gold,
so I transcribe love letters they dictate
which flutter frail butterfly wings of hope
to swarm around the lightning-crippled tree
where children burn their costumes at midnight.

Sequestered in garden of azaleas
that shimmer pink as sorrow girls conceal,
I drink honey of madness brewed by bees
that alters whole perspective of my brain
so I see angel fluttering in the sky
who gives me crystal sphere of prophecy.

Sniffing lethal scent of azaleas,
I feel nostalgia for my long-lost home
infect my heart with noxious lust for truth,
so I walk east on ten-thousand-mile road
to find in misty woods of Avalon
first home my mother built from angel bones.

Light glows behind lace curtains of sad ache
in purple dusk that lingers over hills
carved by the narrow stream of earnest faith
that flows by lawn of home my mother built
where she cooks cornbread, beans, and apple pies
in the same routine for ten thousand years.

Abstract concepts encased in primal words
expose aggressive angst of ardent faith
that chains our bodies to this hour-taut space
through ceaseless cycles of incarnate thoughts
that fear forges into alarming keys
for adventurous fools to explore Earth.

Taproot of my vengeful heart expands deep
to grasp unblinking eye at psychic core
in iron battery of immense concern
which powers electrochemical surge
transforming atoms to organic beings
who seek companion to create new life.

We find each other on the signless road
that leads through every city in the world
where we build homes on every river shore
so children of our brains conceive new goals
to conquer Heaven with armies of Earth
by drinking honey of madness gods brew.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus teaches class at the University of Zarathia on how to brew honey of madness made by bees from azalea pollen, mixing it with dragon milk, red mushrooms, and insanity grapes.

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

Find Out Who I Am
© Surazeus
2025 11 02

I travel far to find out who I am
by walking signless road of everywhere,
face blazing with unnatural light of faith
that luminates strange darkness of my heart,
but I keep hidden secrets of my soul
so none but Death could guess my skillful role.

Though shadows of infinity crawl slow
with shifting turn of suns across the sky,
I sound my voice in silence of the world
that echoes up the sun-lit street of fate
where sadness walks beside me in the heat
and tells me secrets no one else could know.

I want to know where roots of trees grow deep
through fractured diamonds of obdurate pride
to ever-spinning center of the world
where mind of God pretends it knows its name
though none but devils trapped in human form
deem rules of games defined by molecules.

I sing my small tale in the giant world
while slow clouds tumble over hungry hills
to flow with rain in winding river play
where people who created me from mud
dissolve to dust that swirls in sudden wind,
translating substance to concepts of words.

My tongue would kiss the sun awake from night
beyond primordial chaos of wild storms
till voices of my dead ancestors ring
with sparkling swirl of water over stone
in quick perpetual dance of energy
that fuels my restless journey somewhere else.

When light of dawn undoes my careful words
that shatter into shards of innocence,
I ditch deep ditch of hope to irrigate
dry fields of weeds and crickets who still sing
when haze of mist shrouds ruins of my dreams
and frost of fear melts from my pulsing heart.

Awake from weirdness of in-between times
on wind-swept landscape of forgotten fears,
I wrap my fragile skeleton of stones
with flashing words of elegant surprise
to understand the lively laugh of love
that motivates my journey beyond death.

Hard ground of rolling hills on which I walk
considers nature of my dreamless mind
light as the tree that spirals toward the sun
with tender arrogance of loyalty
so I transcend tight limits of my soul
to find I am me everywhere I go.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus teaches new generation of seekers fine art of finding out who they are as they wander randomly in the vast complicated maze of cities filled with distractions and temptations of love.

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

Disassembled World View
© Surazeus
2025 11 02

Her laughter cracks the sky with happiness
so we assemble on the river shore
to share delicious food of energy
we gather from dark wilderness of pain,
then describe beauty of things we have seen
that powers passion of our dream machine.

Her hands dig potatoes from pungent soil,
peels them clean with dull knife of honesty,
then mashes them in hot pan on the fire
till they are mush-thick with delicious hope,
sweetened with molasses, butter, and chives,
nutritious meal on which mankind survives.

Gang of men on horses invade the town,
smashing everything with hard arrogance,
and stealing beauty from the crafting hands
of people who run and hide in the woods,
then return and cry for treasures they lost,
but wipe away tears and get back to work.

Hiding her favorite memories of pleasure
beneath tangled roots of the sprawling oak,
she writes his name in runes with dragon blood
on fractured shell of his curious skull
to conjure ambitious spirit of his heart
which gives her courage to explore the world.

To calculate value of time we lost
rebuilding beautiful structures of fate
destroyed by thieves who have no skill to make,
we sit in circle on the river shore
and teach each other secrets of our hands
that we conceal from swindlers of the wind.

Still clutching fragments of her lost world view
that crumbled from attack of angry thieves,
she huddles under sprawling oak of faith
splintered by lightning strike from wrath of fate
who stalks desolate shadows of desire
in vain attempt to control water flow.

If someone asks to know her secret name
that writhes entangled in roots of dead trees,
she stares at sunlight flickering on the stream
where angels sell new wings to refugees
assembled in the ring of stones to vote
for who will save their paradise from greed.

Her laughter heals disassembled world view
by melding shards of wisdom in new mirror
clear enough to reflect secrets we lost
so we can see the future of success
comprised of concepts written by dead stars
for us to cherish in the fertile zone.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus teaches children how to assemble new world view from shards of dignity fractured from mirror of wisdom forged by first father in cave of laughing sibyls.

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

Vast Emptiness Of Mictlan
© Surazeus
2025 11 02

Trapped in anticipation of regret
by hunger to consume my own fraught soul,
I rattle bones of my glass skeleton
to shake my heart loose from its twisted cage
so I may leap with grace of lithe gazelle
who leads me through bleak desert of despair.

Wandering without direction of hope
in ancient forest burned to heaps of ash
past limbless trunks against the stark gray sky,
I search for edible concepts to eat
but find no more than clumps of agony
that writhe to break free from stone of my heart.

With empty hands that grasp at ghosts of faith,
while dreaming of cheese and bread in my mind,
I explore vast emptiness of Mictlan
where children wearing robes of rainbow silk
carry skulls of their ancestors in jars
to reserve their stories in whispered words.

Surprised I carry no ancestral jars
with mirror skulls reflecting long-dead stars,
I break into temple on Lesbos Isle
to steal the skull of Orpheus as mine
so no one questions my right to exist
while I dwell in city maze of Mictlan.

Faceless in unpeopled Eden of faith,
I lie beneath the apple tree of truth
and pluck broken strings of the turtle lyre
I dug up from grave of the tongueless bard
to understand the strangeness of the mind
which animates our bodies with desire.

When I free shadows from roots of old trees
I give them faces and names of the dead
so they can live again in paradise
where they pick apples for the filthy rich
who pay them pennies for their blistered hands
to fill their tables with grand feast of gods.

Cracked walls of deserted houses, by roads
that stretch straight forward through eternity,
preserve secret fingerprints of the blind
who leave their bodies on the desert plain
so they become the landscape of Mictlan
mapped by the clown who weeps in holy books.

If soft raindrops may harden tears of faith
to gleaming diamonds forged by the first flash,
I may find all the people of the world
still alive in great houses by the sea
where they host barbecue parties all night
to pervade vast emptiness of Mictlan.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus explains to me the intricate principles of socio-psychology that formulate how people evolve in their transactional relationships as nations merge into global empire of greedy gods.

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

Psychic Theory Of Radiance
© Surazeus
2025 11 01

Based on psychic theory of radiance,
exposed by ebbing tide of valiant stars,
soil of my heart absorbs god-memories
framed by conceptual cycle of the moon
through solemnized vicissitude of charm
that measures tremor of our changing globe.

As my obsessive consciousness of fate
loops forward through regressive wave of time,
my brain designs complex model of Earth
which replicates everything I perceive
through fluid fabrication of false faith
to fuel my journey to the Promised Land.

Blue apples in gold bowl of security
twinkle at sweet song of the lonely wren
who teaches me to climb stone walls of fate
and leave book of my heart on windowsill
where faceless ghost of my reluctant love
calls out my secret name as I retreat.

Since midnight veils quaint cottage of my heart
where pumpkins and tomatoes swell in mist,
I gather wrinkled leaves from weeping trees
and write names of the dead on each frail page
to chronicle success of working souls
who walk curve of the river with full bags.

Bright flames of wisdom in dark crowded rooms
leap with experience of wordless tongues
to cherish green tide of our shared world stream
that irrigates expansive fields of wheat
between lined phalanx of broken tombstones
from which relentless rain has washed all names.

Thin apple blossoms white as evening clouds
float on black stream of snow-fed innocence
which ponders how frail humans live so long
while suffering harsh abuse of corporate greed
because beauty flares from contours of pain
in branching canals of nurturing care.

Since we are living on sharp edge of time
that spirals forward with excessive pride
our bodies stumble gracefully through Hell
till brave sincerity of aching hearts
constructs true Heaven on this messy globe
where we now assemble to feast and sing.

Despite relentless change of our world view
refolding morals beyond bounds of faith,
quicksilver arrogance of star-blind gods,
we debate in global councils on truth
based on how light atoms swerve in the void
to map psychic theory of radiance.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus attends Conference on Psychic Beauty at the University of Zarathia to present his paper on the Psychic Theory of Radiance in American Poetry at the Fall of the American Empire.

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

Temple Of The Hurt
© Surazeus
2025 11 01

Stopped in the middle of the treeless plain
where wind ghosts search for conscious stones to haunt,
Louise tries to weave silence into rain
while fooling Death with laugh so nonchalant
that he will never see her moon-bright face
so she can disappear without a trace.

Bleak barrenness of trees without green leaves
strips sultry merriment from limber bones,
asserting right to steal gloom when she grieves
telluric hunger grunged, though fate atones
for crooked laughter in paralyzed stance
when Louise lurks in huge moldering manse.

Etiolated through regressive contempt
for withered worthiness fortune deletes,
Louise evades despair, no more exempt
from solemn ritual she never completes,
despite solemn cortege of ghostly kings
who entreat Fate for secret magic rings.

Without petition to restore state of grace,
derived from legal attributes of dirt,
Louise considers searching for her face
that hangs as mask in Temple of the Hurt,
souls wounded by stark project to survive
competition where only gods survive.

Startled by sudden sough of voiceless minds
that wander lost in grim sepulchral field,
Louise spies eidolon that fear designed
from timeless vision molded on the shield
that marks where bold Achilles lies in state
which proves that none can outmaneuver Fate.

Bare feet punctured by crackling crystal rime
from frost formed by fog freezing on dead grass,
Louise listens tense for numinous chime
that tinkles soft as evanescent glass
reflecting ghosts in mirror of the mere
where empty boat floats in weird shining sphere.

When eager birds decide where to alight
with nonchalance on outstretched limbs of faith,
Louise feels vision in her mind ignite
attentive insight in heart of the wraith
that opens wings of wisdom to the sky
where she longs with passion of love to fly.

Based on paralysis of memory loss
that twists her curious mind with juggling doubt,
Louise ruminates through ennui of moss
on strange uncertainty of her Life Route
while watching flowers blossom from mucked dirt
that reveals void in Temple of the Hurt.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus finds Louise alone in the treeless plain so he gives her a ride to the capital city where they eat steak and broccoli for lunch in Temple of the Hurt.

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

Journey Around The World
© Surazeus
2025 11 01

Halfway to the other side of the world
I find the valley where I was first born
when I crawled from the lake of dreaming eyes
to climb the tree of truth for tryst with love
who gives me fruit of innocent respect,
so I return to water of my soul.

Climbing endless stairway to golden clouds
where angels play harps in grand crystal halls,
I stop and look back down the winding road
where I have journeyed for millions of years,
amazed I continue to generate
new bodies for ascension beyond death.

Soft yellow shortness of infinity
expands surrounding tightness of my heart
to breathe celestial wind of honest hope
that song of sorrow in the rippling stream
may heal the festering wounds of blind despair
that never trap me in the Promised Land.

Each life I generate with you evolves
fish to lizard to mouse to cat to monkey
to wingless angel singing thoughts of faith
while strumming lyre designed by Mercury
to help me manage buzz of anxious rage
and translate fear to vision of creation.

My thoughts are pebbles on vast ocean shore,
polished by ninety million years of waves
that pump hot blood of vanity in veins
of tangled matrix containing my soul
which radiates bright from neurons of my brain
till my frame dissolves from indifferent rain.

While holding pink lotus blooms in her hands,
she smiles at me with pure angelic joy
that glows as fragile candle of delight
through vast eternity of heavy gloom,
so we embrace and generate new life
who sings still long after we disappear.

Breathing ethereal spirit of the sun,
I control swirl of anxious energy
that buzzes into tangles of regret
in taut accumulation of fierce guilt,
then transform fear into brave confidence
through mental action of composing songs.

After four hundred million years of growth
through quadrupedal forms from fish to god
I analyze true nature of my being
to gaze with wonder at our spinning globe
from which sprouts conscious spirits in the flesh
who journey around the world countless times.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus strums lyre of Mercury and leads billions of souls along the endless winding road of evolution millions of years on journey around the world.

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

Escaping Bankrupt Nation
© Surazeus
2025 10 31

If darkened hills yield sorrow of soft rain
our hearts assemble with cows in wet fields
to ponder barrenness from pestilence
that twists our hearts at beauty of the moon
as ghosts of the dead wear discarded clothes
and ask for food from people of the sky.

Yet broken melody of the glass moon
excites my hesitant heart to assert
laughter of ocean tides with orphaned dreams,
hesitant to wake from darkness of truth
so I can shelve books in their proper place
before the weeping willow learns my name.

When I survive sharp surgery of grief
beyond stark limitations of concern,
my heart hides thoughts in secret passages
within the hollow hearts of honey trees
so we can share key to the afterlife
where paper skeletons of angels dance.

Trapped in well-lit room of infinity
with all the lost objects of fallen kings,
I outline theory of the fractured mind
designed to explicate wholeness of death
when we emerge from womb of otherness
to claim our place in heaven of lush fields.

Escaping bankrupt nation of despair
to display happy memories of youth,
we sell our sorrows to the bitter god
in exchange for fame we could never earn
because development of mental code
has been arrested before clocks explode.

Safe in the sad forever of our song,
I leave my body floating in sea waves
to permeate wholeness of our spinning globe
with conscious fortitude of honest hope
that we paint our fears on rough walls of caves
to prove we are more than fate of the wrong.

Sophistication through insipid tales
could spite our solemn vow to comprehend
unspoken sorrows people try to hide
in bold dramatic movies no one sees
except blind clown on the telephone pole
who longs to join the carnival of gods.

Morose but calm at blast of angry bombs,
I write my lamentation on the sky
with blood of angels killed by mindless guns
since Mother Nature is indifferent
to whether we humans survive of not,
so I wear disguise to hide from my ghosts.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus prints fake passports for millions of people who seek to escape bankrupt nation that has been taken over by vampires disguised as oligarchs.

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

Umbrella In Sweet Rain
© Surazeus
2025 10 31

When umbrellas fall in sensuous rain
at passionate kiss between lonely lovers,
silver drops erase social memories
so we become two bodies intertwined
with sweet electric energy of trust
that generates new life from our desire.

Stark rays of light through storm-impatient clouds
illuminate demon wings in our hearts
so we transcend tight bounds of naked fear
through slow expansion of our conscious hopes
to glow as constellated stars of love
arranged by plans we weave with whispered words.

Together holding hands of shy regret
we wander through deserted park of signs,
ignoring careful paths of social roles
to tread with bare feet of assertive faith
fear-muddied trails in shadows of cruel trees
who weep flower blooms on our tangled hair.

Great need for shared responsibilities
binds our individual hands with red thread
of heart-connected moments we perform
to nurture trust of stricken insolence
combining separate minds with one new goal
that guides our navigation beyond death.

Weird way light glows on cautious open doors
alerts our skittish hearts to sudden trap
that could still fracture fragile innocence
with misconstrued words of false sentiments
distorted by perceptive nonchalance
that twists our haven into paradise.

No agitated guilt of lonely vales
projects bright stars on stone walls of the church
where faceless ancestors we never meet
wait sleepless in tombless graves of the heart
for hour we choose to rise from numb despair
and strike with truth against contempt of fate.

Pungent scent of lilies after dawn rain
disguises familiar anger with hope
that disciplined poise of honest respect
may splinter monuments to social pride
erected by the living left behind
who carve our names on rain-smooth river stones.

Unreachable home of galactic tides
lures our aching hearts to return at last
from endless journey to lost paradise
with brave humility contrived by prayers
till we meet again by hate-ruined hall
to kiss under umbrella in sweet rain.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus and Ophelia kiss under umbrella in sweet rain while imperial planes drop bombs on homes in lands far across the sea of arrogant dismay.

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

Ghost Of My Lost Lover
© Surazeus
2025 10 31

Haunted by absence of people we love,
we disguise our souls with stereotypes
of people who existed in the past
so ghosts of our ancestors cannot find
exuberant homes of ephemeral faith
where we teach children how to play themselves.

If paper angels hanging from roof eaves
sing heavenly hymns of ephemeral faith,
bats may flock from huge abandoned warehouses
and transform into children with snake teeth
who want to understand math formulas
for calculating games that increase wealth.

Dressed as Saturn with sea-electric eyes,
I walk black asphalt street among tall oaks,
bare feet squishing thin orange leaves wet from rain,
to catch shooting stars with death-wrestling hands
and turn them into shadows in dark rooms
where faceless people talk to photographs.

Aware of every soul alive on Earth,
I walk toward white rectangle glow of light
to talk with sparrows in meadow of skulls
who understand assignment of the queen
to feed every child hungry for respect
who gathers wings of angels from wet grass.

Beneath black metal skies of rippling thoughts
we wear stiff plastic masks of long-dead gods
to harvest red clouds from silver trash cans
while Death walks beside us without sharp scythe
to wait before locked doors of the white church
where blind Rapunzel in the dark spire sings.

Sharp fever of poisonous flowers swirls,
buzzing from empty mirror of dark void
where Cain asks Persephone for the time
though she hides behind purple velvet drapes
to kiss grim murderer of the silk-white moon
while Jengu tends her wounds with gentle care.

Green raven wearing crystal mask of fate
consumes despair from hands of lonely kids
who hide harmonious stars in grumbling books
when blue spotted deer with attentive ears
leads them over white-stone bridge veiled with moss
toward faces of mothers floating in clouds.

I look around for ghost of my lost lover
but see cries of desolation in jars
floating on river of abandoned boats
because our souls echo in city wind
mocking the fool who crowns himself world king
since we all vote instead for Melusine.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus and Ophelia take their son Orion, dressed as a conservative politician, trick or treating in the wealthy neighborhood where no one has any candy to give the hungry homeless children of America.

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

Vital Force Of Manitou
© Surazeus
2025 10 30

Since the situation has become dire,
where puzzling fragments of our shared world view
crumble into riddles of arcane code
scrambled by artificial intelligence,
Orpheus walks into the wilderness
to hide nuclear missiles from mad King Midas.

Eager to rejoin the heavenly choir
that performs for Ishtar in Katmandu,
I travel back east on ancestral road
to map their long journey with diligence
that leads to misty vales of Inverness
where Thoth writes spells with feather of the ibis.

Three angels with vast wings of holy fire,
propelled by vital force of Manitou,
preach salvation of hypnotic God Toad
whose song reveals cosmic indifference,
so we all cross Bridge of Forgetfulness
constructed by clever daughter of Phoebus.

Reborn in cavern of hermetic lyre,
which David made from the flexible yew,
I chant epic tales in Saturnian mode
depicting deeds ruled by world conference
to measure moral scale of worthiness
contrived from fairy tales by the blind abbess.

Mother of Gods stands in the open door
to watch airplanes glide in the silver sky
which augurs progress of terrestrial fate
derived from various tropes of surreal dreams
portending fractured signs of happiness
which prop facade of our imperial nation.

Every Sabbath when I drive to the store
to purchase ingredients for apple pie,
I ponder strength of our socialist state
designed to function based on special teams
who allocate rewards through wealthiness
that positions each person in their station.

Weaving computer from globe iron core
which links all our brains in one divine eye,
God teaches angels how to astrogate
by surfing galactic waves of star beams
through soul-game of transdimensional chess,
then joins Death on Caribbean vacation.

Determined to excel my psychic score
by working for Jesus as secret spy,
I convince every king to abdicate
through noble key of political schemes
which only innocent princess can bless
when Orpheus guides us all to salvation.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus restores institutional authority of the United Nations of Zarathia with help from Phoebus to support eternal reign of Goddess Ishtar.

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

Grace Of The Word Witch
© Surazeus
2025 10 30

Vulnerable to sufferings people endure,
Anne weeps for how we struggle to survive
in social turmoil of collective wars
when tribes fight tribes over valleys of lakes,
inventing myths about the Primal Father
who rose from this soil at the dawn of time.

Gowned in black dress woven from sea-storm clouds,
Anne walks in gloomy Massachusetts woods
with affectionate grace of the Word Witch
born from angelic egg of the glass moon
that reflects cryptic beauty of her face
while bearing Book of Angels at her breast.

Scarlet beams from the moon illuminate
grove of oaks and plum trees around the lake
where Anne places book on the large flat stone,
then lights two candles that gleam in her eyes
as she opens volume of arcane lore
and chants spells she composed with blood.

Vibration of her voice expands in waves
which undulate as ripples of gold threads
to weave protective dome of energy
that gleams in flashing matrix of star eyes
concentrating electric potency
which spirals into tall ethereal form.

Tall bearded man with sun-gold waves of hair
congeals from sparkling haze of psychic will
through pulsing specter of intelligence
who opens emerald eyes of star-born power
and gazes at young woman in black dress
whose words conjure his soul from Book of Angels.

Extending both arms to embrace the sky,
Anne chants eclectic spell of radiant thoughts
and queries spirit from the Netherworld
to comprehend his name and lineage
and how his timeless spirit emanates
from star-dilating spirals of her genes.

Immortal spirit beaming from her brain
reveals through vision of his emerald eyes,
"My name is Gandalf, wise King of Alfheim,
descended from grim Odin, son of Skjoelder,
and, through my elegant daughter Alfhild,
my grandson Ragnar Lothbrok flows to you."

Snapping Book of Angels closed just at dawn,
Anne draws ghost of Gandalf back in her heart,
then returns to her home in Ipswich town
where she cooks breakfast of cornmeal mush samp
sweetened with molasses, and apple cider,
then writes poetry at her desk by the window.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus teaches Anne Bradstreet how to write poetry in harmony with melodies as she strums the lyre of Mercury while channeling ancestral spirit of Gandalf.

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