Free Land Of Yaskonia
© Surazeus
2026 02 08

Escaping cruel thugs of the police state,
Heyhlamas travels northwest on winding roads
to snow-frosted land of mountains and lakes
where he stops along Yellowhead Highway
and stares amazed at Yehaihaskun Mountain
that shimmers bright with stripes of black and white.

"Here I shall found new empire of my heart,"
Heyhlamas proclaims to eagles and bears,
"which I shall name Yaskonia to replace
British Columbia, imposed by invaders,
as declaration of our sovereignty,
free from greedy exploiters of the east."

Climbing halfway up the striped rugged cliff,
Heyhlamas carves cave from darkness of fear
where he finds bright spirit of Manitou
gleaming in enormous diamond of fate,
so he reigns with justice and liberty
over peaceful land of Yaskonia.

While gathering nuts and berries in pine woods
to cook nutritious meal for energy,
wise mountain emperor with moon-black eyes
encounters giant woman with long hair
tangled with bones of demons and kings
who whispers to red raven on her shoulder.

When army of tanks invade mountain vales
to impose dictatorship of King Midas
on lush fertile lands of Yaskonia,
Mother Dzunukwa grabs them with large hands
and hurls them far into the Salish Sea
where they transform into Mikinaak turtles.

Inviting Kwan Yin, Lakshmi, and Athena,
Heyhlamas convenes World Council of Sibyls
who protect free land of Yaskonia
from powerful states of Telluria,
safe from tyranny of corporate kings
hungry to mine minerals from her hills.

Inviting with open arms of respect,
Heyhlamas welcomes homeless refugees
who flee civil wars in America
and many other lands around the world,
to dwell free in land of Yaskonia
where every human lives with equal rights.

While dictators and kings in many lands
exploit work of their people to steal wealth,
people in free land of Yaskonia
dwell together in peaceful paradise
based on justice and liberty for all
in vision Heyhlamas dreams in his cave.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus and Heyhlamas camp by the lake beneath Mount Robson and discuss ways to free peoples of the Earth from dictators of corporate empires.

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

Facile Force Of Fate
© Surazeus
2026 02 08

If we ignore how our tears drown the world
with cheerful anecdotes of weird success
we might find ancient mask of innocence
in gloomy evening of the silent house
by counting raindrops streaming down cracked glass
which seem to represent people we love.

If we must think about empowerment
by running across shifting sands of change
we should assess treasures from cabarets
that we inherit without ache of need
so we may fashion better way to live
beyond confusion of hypocrisy.

If we escape cage of bewilderment
with shining faces of gods we could steal
we may dispel deception of the state
that preys on us with facile force of fate
by choosing who plays prophet of our creed
though trapped in shadow of the global church.

If we sell bread of hope to lonely souls
who wander in the signless neighborhood
we might learn how to fish for compliments
that we can roast on flames of poverty
while we adore the new celebrity
who gives us cans of food we cannot eat.

If we think we are not responsible
for safety of our stolen relatives
we cannot sell torn tickets to the game
because we lost the key to global fame
so we extinguish smoldering fears of death
to sell our luggage in the marketplace.

If we presume to be more innocent
without insurance to back up our claim
we should suspect the holy priest of fraud
who sells us tickets to the afterlife
that we leave scattered on the desert sand
as we keep searching for the Promised Land.

If we try to improve our attitude
by waiving all our inalienable rights
we may have to fight for rotten respect
because we are the lost cause of the world
detained by secret police without eyes
who accuse us all of being foreign spies.

If we divine state of our bankruptcy
through gleam of trophies on the sagging shelf
we could buy forty acres by the sea
where proud grandfather clock of broken time
records each penalty we cannot pay
by burning family albums just at dawn.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus hosts glamorous parties for the rich and famous in his mansion of mirrors in the shining city on the holy hill of America.

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

Civil War In Cyberspace
© Surazeus
2026 02 08

Staring out the kitchen window at dawn,
Martin wonders if his life has been real,
or if his memories are fragments of shows
he saw on television in childhood,
which his mind composed from various tropes
to present himself as hero of fate.

Driving car on crowded highway of hope,
Martin considers possibility
that he is not first son of Bob and Kate,
that he is some manufactured android
programmed with memories his maker designed
from home movies about his son who drowned.

Gasping for breath in wild waves of the sea,
Martin swims away from the sinking ship,
smashed by the white whale of the dark abyss,
till he lies exhausted on beach of sand,
then wanders in dark forest of blind ghosts
to drink fresh water from small bubbling spring.

Typing bold words on bright computer screen,
Martin transcribes company documents
to digital format for the Space Age,
yet dares not daydream he pilots starship
on five-year mission to explore deep space
and go where no android has gone before.

Drinking beer with college classmates at night,
Martin declares with confidential smirk
that his real name, as Android Eight Mark Four,
is Nitram, mirror image of his soul,
then staggers home in darkness of the world
to sleep all night on the library porch.

Transforming from human to demi-god,
Martin extends one hundred thousand arms,
and blinks awake with eighty million eyes
inside the minds of all his relatives
who walk around the Earth in mute surprise,
when he ascends as Nitrama to Heaven.

Transcending physical limits of being,
Nitrama floats above the turning world
on flowing fibers of angelic wings
while watching humans live their futile lives
as they fight civil war in cyberspace
over true nature of America.

Sitting on the couch with his girlfriend Grace,
Martin watches the World Superbowl Game
and cheers when his favorite team wins the trophy,
then stands at the fractured window of time
and feels his god-spirit Nitrama float
too big to contain the world in his head.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus performs role as psychiatrist as he conducts healing session with Martin at the Psychiatric Hospital of America by the Hudson River.

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

Opposing States Of Mind
© Surazeus
2026 02 07

Every soul on Earth can see the same moon
vibrant with carnelian glow of brain quartz
as we dance with faith in strawberry fields
to comfort lost souls on the windy plain,
so I cannot feel lonely in my home
when I can see your faces in its mask.

My restless eyes shift up toward mirror skies
to see electric energy of minds
employ brave perseverance to perceive
star-focused landscape of questioning hearts
which sparks aspirant curiosity
encoded in bold mission to the stars.

Through cosmic contradiction of our faith
we comprehend opposing states of mind
as mirror images reflecting clear
both aspects of each complex circumstance
conditioned by global state of affairs
so we build castle from hard blocks of ice.

With furtive glance of cautious interest
I shout into vast void of innocence
while standing on Mount Carmel before noon
to eat the poisoned fruit of haughty hope
which cures depression of anxiety
so I know why the caged bird is dead.

Though fallen from bright Heaven of respect
on tattered wings of comfortable despair
I walk beside dark sea of nonchalance
to clear my heart of soul-wounding fatigue
by cultivating calm aesthetic mood
which fuels my brave ascension beyond fear.

Fertile landscape of our generous world
is filled with people wounded by their pride,
trapped by ambition of time-spiraled hearts
to play ecstatic receiver of love,
palpable with angst of harrowing hope
no more inevitable than sunrise.

Far down dark passage I will never take
toward door I never open till I die
I follow echo ringing beyond time
to twirl on still point of the multiverse
since I follow deception of the crow
who teaches me to sing with dignity.

Though I cannot say where I always am
I weave weakness of my body with pain
so I gain courage to endure long hours
when I expand scope of my consciousness
to dream the future present in the past
till I may reconcile with nothingness.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus realizes, though every spell he sings seems significant to mystery of the world, they only bear this quality for healing of his heart.

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

Impact Of Modal Verse
© Surazeus
2026 02 07

Articulation of conceptual thought
through modalities of image and sound
motivates heart of Luke with weird insight
to navigate complex landscape of truth
by crafting virtual vision of our world
that connects passive viewer to the seer.

Impactful statement of the portrait sears
assertive code of emotional truth
to bridge linguistic gap of writhing words
between the artist and their audience
by sparking private connection of hope
within broad cultural framework of desire.

Intellectual impact of modal verse
echoes proverbial jokes of social change
based on transcendent principles of love
that lights our journey beyond simple myths
through complex maze of ambiguous facts
in large-scale exhibition of strange tales.

Process of engaging multiple layers,
that support opposing concepts of truth,
through non-linear installations of scenes,
guides Luke across political landscape
as character in national tapestry
woven from our human experience.

Depictions designed by mad fools present
natural, rural, and urban environments
through digital landscape of photographs
where Luke explores modalities of truth
with image of divine authority
preserved in gesture of dream-tangled text.

Abstract creeds of grand ideologies
form critical structure from fractured states
based on accessible puzzles of fate
through sensory experience of pleasure
so Luke interprets song of ocean waves
which translates nodes of psychic energy.

Diverse methods of expression enhance
impactful progress of remembering
when Luke conspires with personalities
he finds lost deep in mordent maze of myths
to finetune resonance of social tropes
that help us navigate emotional states.

Physical context of critical thought
extracts raw concepts from cave of illusions
so Luke converts soul-wounding angst to love
through alchemical transference of fear
to mold verbal container for dream wraiths
who writhe rooted in semiotic trance.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus works as docent in Tellurian Museum of Impactful Art to help common folk navigate modalities of experience conceptualized as visionary insight.

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

Helpless Fantasy Of Wealth
© Surazeus
2026 02 07

Irrational residue of vibrant matter
contracts through sentences of phony words
which resonate with blackness of the night
based on virtual reality of thoughts
we sell each other in dark alleyways
while leaning on the chain-link fence of faith.

Each morning we wake up stronger than hope
by sealing midnight pain with almost love
despite expressive stones of ardency
contained in familiar story untold
about how society breaks in bands
who dwell unpeacefully in dead-end towns.

Heroic figures straddle tallest clouds
to scatter coins of water on our heads
while we watch prophet of the fallen god
wrestle vainly in fields of rotten wheat
where characters from stories never read
wither with helpless fantasy of wealth.

Awake on our wedding night, I explain
how sorrow burns beautiful hearts to glass,
deeper than inability to talk
about violence half-seen in dim woods
where noble warriors get caught in traps
yet yell at houses with exploding doors.

Clever belief system of structured facts
intrigues hungry gangs of wandering clowns
who insist they are hunters of the heart
though biographies they scribble with blood
are thrown on junkheap of religious faith
beneath great mountain carved with face of God.

Alert to sudden truth of angry kings,
she spreads her arms out to the fractured sky
that disappears in tone of screaming trees
with courage to oppose the police state
that imitates how Heaven controls minds
based on progress of economic games.

Through unilateral breath of holy law
our car mechanic memorizes jokes
encoding principles of moral tricks
which illustrate our failure and success
despite dissatisfaction shared by all
concerning state of illusion we flee.

Gorgeous fortune never favors the bold
for superfluous gears programming time
since we must accept emotional traps
which we present as the true way we live
supported by traditions mothers mend
through symbiosis of our pageless book.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus dissects conceptual puzzles of language epiphanies for children of the laughing rain to comprehend how death calculates fate.

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

Certified Clown Of Faith
© Surazeus
2026 02 07

Seven million years after my first birth
I ask the shadow tree of flashing clocks
how to find the Whirlpool of the God Eye
so I can jump worlds through the multiverse
in quest for garden where you are the one
I would choose to weave my destiny with.

I am only one of billions on Earth
reluctant to close my heart with faith locks
in case my spirit swells huge as the sky
though commissioned to play my part as nurse
healing innocence wounded by the gun
contrived to celebrate my life as myth.

Eager to gain legal acknowledgement
for calculating chemistry of hope,
I craft component for each curious scene
in which I play certified clown of faith,
designed to integrate mineral brains
based on mutation of logical code.

Weird assumption of social argument,
sealed with triode rate in my envelope,
presents elective destiny to mean
extraction proves my birthright as the wraith
assigned to maintain engines of mind planes
we fly with fuel of visions from the toad.

Embedded lectures are not guaranteed
to nourish formal principles of fate,
so we buy life insurance from the spy
who always seems to know what integer
we need to maximize our profit gain
required by soul mechanics of desire.

Modified concept of my puzzling creed
converts opposite patterns from blind hate
through mechanics of medicinal why
to published prototype of Lucifer
I wear as mask in effort to be vain
with reference to harmony of the choir.

Mystery programmed in our life narrative
presents migration of relevant tribes
regarding ransom notes for refugees
who seek salvation through false privacy
managed well by our solemn treasurer
who requires that I update my world view.

Religious beliefs far less cognitive
deliver customized faith with proud vibes
based on dynamics of sad adoptees
who choose to live with brave efficiency
through deviant loyalty to Jupiter
who chooses Venus for our rendezvous.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus considers why people invent religious creeds to overcome terror of transrealism that hypnotizes our brains with visions of Heaven.

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

Fractured Globe Of Ghosts
© Surazeus
2026 02 06

Winter brightness blinks from core of my soul
with closed alacrity of searing glints
that wrench my freckled happiness with fear
since hour I first reach out my helpless hands
for mother of mankind to lift me high
though I revise my memory with hope.

Before I fall from complicated choice
to measure future success with tree limbs,
I drag withered bag of my punctured pride
across heat-withered yard of honesty
that leaves chunks of my memories behind
which I collect and stew in pot of dreams.

Adjusting tone of fierce anxiety
with evening darkness of sequestered thought,
I name each faceless ghost I meet with number
to honor stars that blaze across the sky
and smash our world view into smithereens
so we remember why we are not born.

Frost on the window glass of memory
refracts clear light of wisdom bent to faith
by severed sighs of wordless desperation
which I would package with symbols of fate
to understand how ice erases death
each time I wake with arrogant surprise.

So this is how I deconstruct your truth
from mocking laughter of the greedy priest
with rooted pleasure to expose your hate
for everybody on this world but you,
which leaves us stunned on threshold of world change
beneath new arch of triumph stained with blood.

Blurred flicker-flash of my immortal soul
appears on both sides of the door at once
with leaping fracture twisted by contempt
when I cross field of alabaster skulls
to visit every variant of our world
till I find paradise unlost on Earth.

Half sunk in ardent lake of hungry hope,
I beam electric sparkles through my bones
because this world should be more beautiful
though countless creatures have died miserably
over four hundred million years of lust
to dominate this fractured globe of ghosts.

I teach my children secret of this world,
that we are driven by desire to breed
new children who incarnate soul of genes,
yet worship people who succeed as gods,
dream guides who show us how to kill to live
because we eat sweet sorrows of our hearts.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus explains how he feels to his therapist who looks just like the statue of Arthemis in the Zarathian Museum of Psychological Codes.

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

Healed By Cassandra
© Surazeus
2026 02 06

Heart twisted by sweet laughter of the sea,
who gives her wrecked ships full of long-lost hopes,
Hilda brings mass of violets from the marsh,
tufted with pungent soil in tangled roots,
to haunt men cluttered in their wave-tossed ships,
breaking their taut hearts with lies of their thoughts.

She plans to make disciples of all nations,
so they can lounge on decks of sinking ships,
while eating hamburgers and chocolate bars,
and listen to calm sons of Frankenstein
play violins and trumpets with pizzazz
while rich people from bankrupt estates drown.

Opening her bloody mouth of shark teeth,
Hilda explains with confident discourse
that the gold crown with pointed spikes kings wear
represents the crown of thorns Jesus wore
while hanging crucified on the phone pole
as he sings, "Look on the bright side of life."

Wielding eye-phone as sword Excalibur,
Hilda photographs leagues of wind-blown sand
because she loves how little ridges curve
as great waves of time break over our plans
and wipe out our empires with calm respect,
then posts them on her social media site.

Breaking out beyond the crowded town gate,
to escape precinct of the temple hall
where marble statue of Artemis cracks,
Hilda wanders up cold path of the stream
on unclaimed stretches of bleak mountain slopes
to secret altar in the alder grove.

Leaving Phoebus to his sheltering porch
of white marble, luminous with his logic
applied to system of the market game,
Hilda tries not to think about his eyes
blue as the restless sea after fierce storm
that drives her in the cave of lonely toads.

Far from strident business of shipping ports,
in jeweled cave among towering pines,
Hilda breathes mountain air of wild desire,
and sings enchanting hymn to Artemis
against rhythms of sycophantic priests
who try to trap her in garden of walls.

Ship-wrecked on rough shores of Arcadia,
Hilda hides from angelic helicopters
to run with wolves among luminous trees
far from hard temples of powerful wealth,
to nurse her bitter heart with fruit of faith,
healed by Cassandra with voice of the wraith.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus and Cassandra eat ice cream as they stroll on the river walk at sunset, then gather with the whole town to welcome the Buddhist Monks on their Walk for Peace.

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

Return To The Blank Room
© Surazeus
2026 02 05

John wakes up when Fate knocks on his fake door
with polite insistence of the wet towel
so he argues with cracked cup at the sink
while history drips on germ-infested floor
with calm regret for leaving the burned book
on the bench in the park where small frogs think.

Eating eggs and sausage smeared with vain sauce
at wobbly table set with common sense,
John thinks about the girl with long red hair
who never will wave from the train he missed,
then awkwardly tangles his trench coat on,
and wears bowler he forgot in the bar.

Certain he will return to the blank room
sooner or later with ashamed respect
for trembling body that Death passes by,
John thinks about the time he kissed her cheek
beneath the streetlamp that judges his failure,
concerned the moon clocks out before his time.

If we will become briefly infinite,
despite the way typewriters erase truth
with holy racket of the gangster code,
John chooses to believe with wounded heart
that Tomorrow will forgive our worst sins,
though Fate records our deeds with broken pencil.

Since love says nothing about jokes he tells,
which not even cruel laughter can erase,
John decides that is the trick of brave faith,
so he leaves unpolished shoes by the bed
which walk away while he is fast asleep
and visits the graveyard where no one lies.

Arranging numbers in accounting books
with professional focus of sharp puzzles,
John misplaces his soul in the bookstore
where he has never been before the fall,
forever alone just outside the door
where he cannot hear her voice in the glass.

When John hums sad tune of Amazing Grace
even Death leans in to listen with hope
though he always gets the simple tune wrong,
so he sells record of his latest hit
to Death who breaks it on rock of salvation
because lyric truth makes him want to cry.

Because the moon measures passage of time
in harmony with fast typewriter dance,
John decides time is sequence of weird words
that keep arriving with permissive shock
at vastness from the silent pause of faith
between each knock that Death raps on his door.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus affixes number address to every door in the endless maze of myths to note where each long-forgotten god lives quiet life of desperation for faith in their existence.

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

Door To The Dream World
© Surazeus
2026 02 05

Standing on round table of aging knights,
Sarmentus shouts with serpent voice of pride
that worthy men rise up from poverty
through brave assertion of creative work
to push through golden doors of elite clubs
and claim their place at feast table of power.

What more should humble men of farms endure
when they perform before greed-bloated king
to prove inalienable right to exist
when Herod mocks their country bumpkin talk
and forces kind Sarmentus with harsh sneer
to crawl on hands and knees, and bark for food.

After escaping from gold feasting hall,
body and mind scarred by brutal abuse,
Sarmentus stumbles to the River Styx
where he cleanses sorrow from broken heart,
then lies on his back beneath sparkling stars
to remember his brave father Orion.

Startled from reverie on the river shore,
Sarmentus sees appear through grove of elms
graceful Diana with yew bow and arrows
glide on winged feet over rugged hill,
long gold hair flowing in cool river breeze,
while her favorite dog ambles by her side.

Running along with the swift moon-eyed hunter,
Sarmentus offers assistance to bear
with strong arms in wagon of his calm heart
game she dispatches with accurate aim,
and though at first she seems annoyed with him
lithe wood-leaper soon appreciates his help.

Relaxed in small temple among oak trees,
Diana rests while Egeria combs her hair,
Virbius roasts deer steak on the cooking altar,
and Sarmentus fletches arrows with care,
binding points he sharpens with focused skill,
as she peeks at his chest through half-closed eyes.

Embracing separate bodies in moonlight,
Diana and Sarmentus merge two souls
in one romantic blend of gentle faith
to writhe entangled with attentive trust
till they transcend bounds of all time and space
and she becomes pregnant with their love child.

Suckling baby Janus in gentle arms,
Diana sings soft lullaby of love
while gazing in both pairs of curious eyes,
then Sarmentus teaches his two-faced son
how to navigate endless maze of myths
where he stands guard at door to the dream world.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus gives gold coin with face of Herod to Janus who allows him to enter Temple of Dead Gods where he plays lyre of Mercury for the evening feast.

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

River Of Dream Keys
© Surazeus
2026 02 04

Rather than eat the ocean stone of faith,
while thinking about black milk of the Earth,
I prefer to become the first apple seed
that dares to crack the asphalt parking lot
where holy angels park cars to attend
church service in glass cathedral of lies.

Jealous that I found secret jewel mine
from which I extract wisdom of star gods,
the faithful servants of the Lord attempt
to chain my hands in dungeon of despair,
but I am subtle whisper of the breeze
that dances on the river of dream keys.

After selling ice cream to Tantalus
and soothing hand lotion to Sisyphus,
Socrates attends the Rolling Stone show
to dance with wild abandon of the fool
because he is in love with Hecate
who brews wine in cavern of innocence.

Despite regret for beheading the seer
who prophesied his fall from mental grace,
King Herod sends goon squad with guns of hate
to chase immigrants out of paradise,
so Phoebus builds ark of the covenant
to sail home on the river of dream keys.

Forgetful how he came to rule the world,
the Weeping Jester of Wohalia
paints portrait of grand eagle on tall pine
with noble bearing of angelic power,
then calls Rapunzel in her prison tower
who listens to him talk about the truth.

Nobody knows why men kill other men,
invading valley of the laughing skull
with principle of faith to colonize
Garden of Eden with new shopping malls
where gangsters fight battles for thought control
over who owns the river of dream keys.

In our search for freedom in the woke world,
programmed by urgent need to evade death,
we give each other fake holiday gifts
with preciously obscene anguish of love
while staring at rose window in the church
that slants conceptual truth with psychic heft.

Though Jesus Christ will never come again
because his mortal body is now dust,
brave spirit of Good Leader he embodied
appears each generation in the world
to free the people from cruel tyranny
so we fish on the river of dream keys.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus maps the river of dream keys while working as hydrologist at the University of Zarathia to write his doctoral dissertation on how humans translate the song of water to poetry.

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

Erase My Secret Name
© Surazeus
2026 02 04

Stuck alone between the heart and the mind,
floating in the river that swirls nowhere,
I laugh at how often crows call my name
as if they know how I feel about love,
so I explain to them, nothing is real,
but they insist on giving me mushrooms.

My brain receives signals from singing trees
that beam flashes of emotions in code,
so I listen closely with attuned ears,
but I cannot understand what they say
though I fold my hands and attempt to pray
as I reply with caws wild crows express.

Clouds glow gold on horizon of my hope
so I reach out my hand to touch their thoughts
but I feel nothing since I am so small,
no more than speck of dust in the vast world,
no more than drop of water in the sea,
though I feel the whole world inside of me.

Electric buzz of frantic arrogance
jolts suddenly through fail frame of my being,
so I scream loud to crack the crystal sky
till my voice vanishes through everywhere,
which leaves me stranded on the roadless globe,
laughing at how significant I feel.

I write my thoughts in letters on the scroll
that form words linked in writhing sentences
to bundle flashing concepts in tight pack
containing huge vision in fractured jars
yet strange emotions leak out through its cracks
so I feel confused what I really feel.

When I sing weird emotions of my heart
in structured patterns of conceptual thoughts
defining rapture that expands clear scope
involved in conscious vision of my mind,
I feel confident my insight is clear,
yet people stare at me, then mock my song.

I wonder with surprise of muted shock
what alien language outside their purview
I must be using to express my thoughts
that no one seems to understand my truth,
mocking me with vicious sneers of contempt,
though I sing with beautiful voice of faith.

Perhaps I should erase my secret name,
Elijah, from book of the bleeding crow,
but when cruel people throw stones at my head
I bat them away with my magic wand,
then stand before tower of the mad king
and expose his crimes with dire prophecy.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus plays lyre of Mercury while Elijah calls down wrath of Jupiter to strike down the false prophets who praise the mad king on television news shows.

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

Invent Fractured Identities
© Surazeus
2026 02 03

I telephone absent friends who are dead
because eyeless birds are answering machines
whose eyes of wisdom set the world ablaze
though I ardently desire to transform
beyond definition of the sad clown
who wants to make people laugh as they cry.

My memories flock across the burning sky
as ravens searching for the Promised Land
which I design with perfidy of faith
through penchant for supple tonalities
I share with blood-stained angels who detest
men who abuse people with selfish greed.

Stymied by corruption of sterile greed,
my quest to free the world from cage of hope
persists against iniquities of bombs
which I encode with riddles of respect
in constitution of progressive pride
through checks and balances of honesty.

Determined to settle colonial scores
through dispensation of the frightened clerk,
I sharpen schizophrenic knife of truth
between discourse of brave equality
and double-talk of arbitrary power
based on practice of plundering pure prayers.

I constantly question the lyric I
through careful ridicule of structured cost
by undermining pride of calm concern
based on writhing analysis of truth
that shimmers with ethereal travesty
since I invent fractured identities.

Amused they crucify the robot clown,
I host peace conference of global fate
on holy island of the prison camp
where bankers play chess with peasants and fools
when they negotiate fraught settlement
between opposing gangs of hungry thieves.

King of the most reviled pariah state,
I give nicknames to everyone I meet
when I convince them unicorns are real
as vibrant shadows of our bleeding hearts
who steal light of our complex legacy
by selling cynical doubts to believers.

Reptilian tears of biographic myth
reveal entitled right to eat ripe fruit
that falls from twisted limbs of power poles
from which hang voiceless lines for telephones
because we dream of worthless paradise
while climbing hills in seasons out of time.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus hosts peace conference in Cathedral of the Singing Skull to broker cooperation between ever-fighting empires of arrogant kings.

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

Declare Myself Uncitizen
© Surazeus
2026 02 03

Straight over broken rocks of rugged hills
toward azure infinity of the sea
I walk across Thasos Island at noon
to join Staphylus in his wicked dance
for mocking small kings who think they are gods
though they are hidden in towers of glass.

My heart spurts blood on barbarian land
to cleanse attentive angst of thought control
while soaring wingless across the last sky
which gains finality beyond exile
by wrenching free from cubicles of gold
before blind gods expel me from their myths.

Since I lost interest in the shining world
based on supreme fiction of global fame,
I stand mute on stage bathed in dusty light,
perched equidistant between East and West
to map topography of broken minds
crushed by bland forces of conformity.

Thus I declare myself Uncitizen
of every crowded country on the Earth,
accomplished emblem of democracy
since I transcend strict borders of the state
as psychic chameleon with many names
detached from national greatness of pride.

I dwell in Middle Earth of shifting tones,
devalued by elite crowd of the state
as parrot nomad of the mapless mind
till I return to my ancestral land
disguised as savior of humanity,
trapped by principles of the Underground.

As the most dangerous public enemy
who established network of terrorists
I paint cute demons in the holy book
with pretty faces of celebrities
while imprisoned in legend of my fate
where I watch angels hanged by the world state.

Threatened by otherness of common folk,
proud haughty butcher of the twisted tree
builds walls of Aparthood as paradise
enclosing special people inside fear
who buy and sell identity with gold
melted from skull of Ozymandias.

Awake at edge of our pulsating world,
we live in dark times of our poisoned pride
as sparks streaking vaults of eternity
to annotate our victories on church walls
with Voice of the People they crucify
till Staphylus gives me glass of sour wine.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus prances along the wall of Aparthood while strumming lyre of Mercury that causes vibrations which destroy the false separateness of racial pride.

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

Sword Heavy In My Hand
© Surazeus
2026 02 02

When my just sword grows heavy in my hand
from brave defense of world democracy,
I must find the place to end my crusade
in our noble fight against tyranny,
so I will face the tyrant with calm faith
and cast him down from tower of his greed.

Thus I will sacrifice health of my soul
to save brave people of Earth from his greed
by rolling stone of justice up the hill
so power of the people may roll down
and smash idol of gold with feet of clay
that leaves his head lost in waste land of truth.

Just as spirit of Jesus comes again
each generation as prophet of freedom,
spirit of Satan erupts from foul hearts
with fierce aggression to exploit our souls,
endless battle between darkness and light
since Mazda and Iman fought for the crown.

Nebuchadnezzar with his iron fist,
Ozymandias with his jeweled crown,
and Herod with his eagle on the pole,
possess bodies of morally weak men
who enforce dictatorship of their greed,
tearing through institutions with mad rage.

When weird angelic son of Tantalus,
shifting deep in dragon egg of our hearts,
struggles to be born from chrysalis
of social justice in depths of the well,
we unleash black dog of our revolution
and beat our plowshares into swords of fate.

Weak men who rage against machine of death
with fierce intention to control the state
expend intense amounts of energy
to sustain fragile structure of fake power,
till they fall exhausted in cave of Hell
so creative work may blossom in peace.

All mad kings grasping at rainbows of wealth
collapse from rotten anguish of despair
while clever smiths who design work machines
wave aprons high as flag of liberty
to design system of social exchange
that benefits every soul who works well.

When bloody sword grows heavy in my hand,
I beat firm function of its sharpened state
in plowshare I employ to furrow fields,
and tend wheat as loaf-ward of the warehouse
disbursing loaves of bread to every soul
so we may feast while Phoebus plays the lyre.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus adjusts the plowshare and the sword in the Zarathian Museum of World History for people to study the dual nature of civilization.

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

Vanish In Wordless Wind
© Surazeus
2026 02 02

If I stand on the edge of our lost world
so I look forward and backward at once,
I might perceive how process of the past
guides where we go in the future through change
with clear insight to analyze progress
we achieve to build on what we conserve.

Haunted by star-bright ghosts of famous souls
who performed grand roles on stage of the world,
I want to record tales of the nameless souls
who wander nowhere in vast maze of myths
while they live and die with no role to play
till their names all vanish in wordless wind.

Since Death can be adjusted without change
through strict dynastic system of control
I build citadels of conceptual truths
that cannot be dissolved by silent fear
so I waste not my life with frantic search
by dancing on the river shore of fate.

To hear strange voice of Earth in song of fire
I exit maze of myths with crystal ball
to stand frail on volcano cauldron rim
and listen to churning rumble of rocks
tumble over ocean of liquid metal
that beams magnetic field from swirling streams.

Material of the churning iron core,
effusing through thin mantel of our globe,
transforms from burning minerals of hope
to plants that blossom fruit we humans eat
while we sing hymns in choric harmony
with seismic waves that pulse in joyful tunes.

If giant ocean deep inside the Earth
springs forth from fracture in mirror of time
organic creatures who breathe oxygen
may drown in seething waves of endless change
yet fish will evolve again into humans
who ache to fly with brave angelic wings.

Awake from ancient dream of singing stones,
I register with jovial delight
I am indigenous to Avalon,
that mist-veiled island floating in the sea
where I lived for almost one million years,
cultivating cherry trees on lake shores.

With Helen I sail from Laconia
to populate the world with Calibans
who dance with drunken revelry of faith
then program concept of the world wide web
that weaves our brains in cosmic mind of god
till meteors smash our globe to smithereens.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus attends a lecture at the University of Zarathia where Inge Lehmann explains how seismic waves prove the core of the Earth is a spinning and pulsing lump of iron.

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

Lost In Fog Of Delusions
© Surazeus
2026 02 01

This republic of ours I vow to keep
by joining with my fellow human beings
to maintain fair justice for every soul,
declares the oak on Seventh Avenue
where people tie yellow ribbons of faith
to celebrate this time of all last things.

Snow covers round table in the back yard
where ghosts of animals who never speak
gather to discuss how democracy
should encourage our loyal brotherhood
in fighting to defend the sacred right
of every breathing person to live free.

Based on heroic wealth of hall and bower,
my project to redeem this angry world
leads me to search for sword and pen of truth
in stagnant water of our crowded land
so mighty souls of Milton and Wordsworth
may teach us brave freedom of the small voice.

Their souls still shine in firmament of faith
that shelters scattered peoples of our land
where we now dwell in teeming maze of myths
with selfish wisdom of majestic pride
to mission to expand scope of our laws
enforcing equal rights for every soul.

Greedy taskmasters in towers of glass
oppress our freedom to express dark fears
that haunt our daily exercise of speech
because we stumble toward paradise lost
in fog of delusions our hearts discharge
in frantic quest to find the Promised Land.

What noble purpose to build paradise
once challenged our bestial hearts to aspire
with courage to transcend our tribal past
and dwell in peaceful commune on lush land
with fellow humans from diverse estates
as we strive to create Heaven on Earth.

Unchecked power of cruel self-proclaimed kings
who grasp state power with familial wealth
was rendered obsolete by brutal wars
they fought to maintain fascist grip of greed
so we elect with liberty-bound vote
wise man whose program benefits us all.

Though gang of thieves disguised as oligarchs
threatens to seize control of federal gears
so they can exploit labor of our hands,
we join Minerva in her noble quest
to keep our brave republic free from greed
so we live as we will, if we harm none.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus encourages us all to join Minerva in her quest to expel greedy King Herod from the Temple of Democracy.

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

Material Otherness of Nature
© Surazeus
2026 02 01

Though grim shadow of mortality haunts
harsh hills of prelapsarian Arcady
full of lovesick shepherds and prancing sheep,
I search for vision of transcendent truth
through experience of Nature I record,
suspicious of mystical sentiment.

If shimmer of pure sentimental love
for Nature distorts perception of life,
I shall assert my clear identity,
reflected in Narcissan pool of fate,
and conduct solemn quest with open heart
to comprehend essential soul of Earth.

Alone on hilltop by the windswept tree,
where I enclose the whole Earth in broad scope
of my world view projected from its base,
I seek God in clear absence of its power
through which my consciousness expands to glow
in tune with numinous phantom of love.

Since humble shepherd with the raven quill
advises I look at the land with love
and not confuse my own flesh for its field,
I feel its blank indifference to fate
almost seem to mock effort of my will,
but I laugh knowing Nature has no mind.

Material Otherness of Nature glows
with personality my mind projects
so I see in vitality of fruitful trees
compassion for fragile being of my soul
which is not there in radiance of its growth,
pathetic fallacy of fearful hope.

When scolding moralist with magic wand
cautions me to avoid idolatry
that worships mindless Nature as its God,
I cast aside delusions of false pride
that local spirit of this land loves me,
and treasure spinning Earth is glob of dirt.

That vision of God on huge mossy rock,
who seems to gaze at me with loving eyes,
I realize through epiphany of faith
embodies soul of my ancestral fathers
whose guidance showed each new child how to live,
mortals providing ideal form for God.

Nature bristles with bright ancestral souls
of all my fathers and mothers who lived
millions of years in vales by sparkling streams
with negative magnitude of mind power
so God embodies spirits of their love
awake in conscious dreaming of my brain.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus plays lyre of Mercury while Theocritus sings about mystical beauty of Nature that radiates through bodies of humans in touch with spirit of the Earth.

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

We Hear The Weeper
© Surazeus
2026 02 01

If every dream deferred were to explode
with fear from sweet syrup of rotten meat,
then Red Maria with hands of hawk wings
will lead the hungry refugees of war
across the Jordan River of despair
and to crumbling church where devils sing.

When Red Maria passes by my home
to tell us how the new day has begun,
we turn away from where war always burns
to hide in silver mist from factories
that shroud the lake of fish in silent rage
where singing stones inform us of the score.

If we should all arrive in Lombardy
where rumors of mutual acquaintances
reveal secret code of conspiracies,
I shall prowl restless archives of my mind
to find the gentle Monster of our state
who wants to sing instead of scaring us.

Hydra-headed bird of America
lurches with wounded wing of arrogance
across the windy prairie of the heart
to ask if Red Maria could restore
score for our cheerful tune of nourishment
despite how milk-cart horses wait for wealth.

We hear the Weeper in the doorless home,
whose voice is querulous with shrill regret,
express blind silhouette of wordless grief
explicit with strange idiom of the street
preserved in dictionaries no one reads,
since we are all reluctant witnesses.

Packed on the bus that bears dead souls to Hell,
we race through forest of the howling wolf
in vain attempt to escape bombs of rage
by seeking ticket to the Promised Land
without pretense of pleasure in fine art,
hearts tangled in strings of the violin.

We face our fate with courage of the fool
while all the world weeps at harsh tyranny
established by cruel kindness of the king
who would pardon both assassin and thief
by stabbing them with smile of unfair law
that traps us in these strange times of despair.

Over the trading world in fractured ship
Odysseus sails beyond all legal bounds
to grasp lost treasure with his diamond hand
by selling coal to peasants in glass shacks
who vote for Sun Thief as World President
while clutching at their useless dreams deferred.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus rescues Red Maria from masked agents of the state who attempt to arrest her for being a human being, and hides her safely in the doorless house where she weeps so everyone can hear.

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

Moral Parasites Of Faith
© Surazeus
2026 02 01

If we are moral parasites of faith
then life is programmed to generate life
when self-replicating genes of molecules
design new bodies to maintain concept
of lithe organic hope while God evolves
from fish to wingless angel born of angst.

Hygeia gives me grail of honey wine
that wakes immortal soul of divine genes
bright in my brain as timeless energy
composed of memories my ancestors lived
which programs how my mind perceives the world,
inventing quest for my soul to fulfill.

Transparent flame of conscious energy
contrives to cause my brain to visualize
stone wall enclosing garden of fruit trees
so I play architect of paradise
constructing haven to protect my clan
in cathedral of bones where angels pray.

We worship Wise Fool, who woke from weird dream
with conscious vision of our spinning world,
as God who teaches secret of rebirth
through conjugal relations which conceive
new bodies for immortal soul of genes
so children carry on our legacy.

Love urges me to find soul mate of hope
so we transform our dreams of paradise
to children running in lush yard of trees
where they play hide and seek to learn the game
of social power, trapped by hierarchy
by judging who can eat and breed new souls.

Erased by mirror of conceptual thoughts,
I project bright silhouette of my soul
as faceless shadow encoded in verse
which reprograms how brains perceive the world
so strangers recite spells dispelling curse
that opens space for selfless love to grow.

Awake through divine fever of desire,
though trapped in mortal shell of aching flesh,
I journey on quest for the Holy Grail
that drove my ancestors for centuries
to expand from castle on hill of faith
and build world empire to enheaven Earth.

Arresting progress of my world conquest,
shocked at aggressive stance of blinding fear,
I survey wreck of history in old myths,
preserved in fractured nations of the world,
and wonder how we plan redesign
social system to equalize all souls.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus conducts research in socio-psychology to understand how individuals act within moral systems of communal paradigms based on religious traditions.

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

Raised Fist Of Desire
© Surazeus
2026 01 31

Glass city clenches raised fist of desire
with knuckles whitened by harsh winter light
that signs its name in smoke along gray docks
with brute authority of iron rules
that click sharp as rosary beads in the head,
each prayer grim bargain struck with appetite.

Since power prefers mirror of respect
instead of human face that hides intent,
it studies angled posture of slow grins
that pass for brave conviction on the stage
where mortals portray gods with human grace
before assassination of the heart.

Power sits at home in slippers and robe,
and sips hot tea while counting silver spoons
passed down as heritage from merchant kings
when fathers harden sons with silver coins
as profits kept in ledgers by the hearth
through blessings rationed thin on winter nights.

History enters hall of haughty tycoons,
dragging rusty anchor through living rooms,
to offer glass of wine with palsied hand
to faithful dogs who always bark on cue,
while those who bite the feeding hand will bleed
black tears of sorrow in the surging sea.

Young heroes seeking glory in the game
may trip on names and dates of broken vows
when they attempt to wake from gold-filled vault
blind ghost of Fortune who requires their hand
in bargain with the Devil bought with hope
to steal the pot of truth from leprechauns.

Cracked radio recites weird measured calm
of aching violins that makes wives cry,
while sirens teach hard streets the sharper truth
that strength and wiles will always win the day
in second civil war to rule the world
fought long between the Joker and the Thief.

Shy savior who appears from swirling smoke
feels power pulse from bruise beneath his skin
as weather front that chooses who will freeze
which leaves dark print of ash at tender touch,
yet when he wields lost sword of just reward
his bullhorn voice is silenced by cruel lies.

Still when he stands on tower of lost faith,
stripped of awe at grand principles of good,
he feels brute power shiver with torn wings
as moth caught in vast spider web of rage,
strange truth that dies when he names it aloud,
yet rises strong when he names it again.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus wander streets of Boston covered in endless swirls of delusional snow to find the new messiah who will free the world from tyranny.

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

Fields Of Mute Bones
© Surazeus
2026 01 31

Young silent menace wanders mountain trails
to find ghosts of her childhood by the lake
where flowers transform our bodies of flesh
to unseen beauty of assertive faith,
yet search for secret identity fails
through revelation of the falling rain.

Awake in forest of anxieties
without broken lamp of Diogenes,
he gathers apples in basket of faith,
yet ponders cost of his self-sacrifice
to save the world from tyranny of greed
when men destroy what they cannot possess.

When she brings wet lavender to his home
and gives him cinnamon of her desire,
he gives her cheerful sparrow of his heart,
so they sit by the pool of gold moonlight
and smile shyly as they eat apple pie
while they invent new language of their love.

Her song of longing wakes him from strange dream
so he gathers stones of the mountain trail
to repair crumbling wall of paradise
and fix the leaky roof of their small house
to keep her warm and dry in winter rains
that weave new rivers in fields of mute bones.

Because his homeland has become deep well
that fountains sorrow from his wounded chest,
he gives loaves of bread with honey and nuts
to all his neighbors in dark anxious woods,
then kneels before shrine of the faceless god
carved from scented pine that gleams in ice rain.

While he is sweating in fever of fear,
she nourishes his wisdom-wounded heart
with milk of stellar light drawn from the moon
that writhes trapped in limbs of the hawthorn tree
though she prays to the impossible sky
for miracle from stones that question why.

Stopping as she gathers herbs in dark woods,
she observes the clock of infinite time
that ticks in trunk of the elegant tree
to measure transformation of her heart
urged by pain to assume passionate love
for every creature living in the world.

Breathing ethereal spirit of the moon,
she determines to remain honorable
with plan to survive evil of this world,
so she hugs him when he wakes from weird dream,
and caresses his cheek with ghostly hand
that dissipates into swirls of snowflakes.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus reaches out his hand to caress cheek of Eurydice as her ghost dissipates into swirls of snowflakes that shroud the land with her faint song.

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

Find Tellurian Beryl
© Surazeus
2026 01 31

I will never tire of this spectacle
of humans fighting each other for power
for that is all we have done to each other
through ten thousand years of the miracle
we call strange passion of living in peril
on sacred quest to find Tellurian Beryl.

Dark energy of life that moves our souls
in harmony with seasons of sea tides
contrives no grand goal of hope, yet abides
as blind lust driving us to play our roles
in global theater of tragic fame
that bleeds with wealth from idol without name.

Thus I record with chronicles of fear
senseless splendor of love we dare express
stumbling across Bridge of Forgetfulness
to win ruthless grace of the puppeteer
who mocks our victories with hollow praise
even as we transcend each psychic phase.

I shall not think of those I love as dead
though they are ghosts my song revives with care
for grief of loss fuels energy we share
till they are but faint shadows in my head
who build snow demon on our sun-bright yard,
safe in paradise where I still stand guard.

No more do I feel terror of the grave
for that small hole in surface of this world,
where I rest after I play cosmic herald,
converts my body to its spirit wave
which beams my voice to radio of faith
so you hear haunting song of my star wraith.

Awake in higher consciousness from pain
that spurs our mental growth from animal
to god whose thoughts are philosophical,
I grasp dire emptiness of social gain
entrapped by fraud of mental suffering
which I forge as horcrux in magic ring.

Inured to agony of knowing fate
that calculates how every soul will die,
I search for Ungod in soul-empty sky
till I know how to extract love from hate
in progress that blooms from truth I believe
to generate new life our hearts conceive.

Startled awake from dream of crowded towns,
I float in viridescent haze of tunes
that fill my sky with hundred million moons
bright as fire-lit forts on mist-shrouded downs
where my angelic heart becomes more feral
when I gaze deep in found Tellurian Beryl.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus inspects the Tellurian Beryl with a loupe to comprehend strange mystery of divine consciousness that emanates from the pain-forged human brain.

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

Masked With Seraphic Light
© Surazeus
2026 01 31

Embrace my body when I die, great Earth,
so I may live masked with seraphic light
bestowed as grace by angel of my heart
who congregates in one immortal Muse
all female ancestors who weave my soul
from their memories that program how I love.

Ascension on effective wings of faith
provides pure psychic energy of hope
for me to dance on light quicksilver toes
on winding path around harsh obstacles
so I evade cruel Death in Slough of Despond
when I transform on whirring edge of night.

Blind Mother Sea creates from beams of light
these heavy bodies of muscles on bones
through which immortal spirit of our genes
transcends immensity of pulsing byss
along jeweled streams to sheltering lakes
where we rise from water to walk on Earth.

While hard Earth, carved in curves by wind and rain,
supports our journey to the Promised Land,
she shelters our frail bodies in her heart
when temporary nodes of conscious souls
wither and decay till we fade away
and sleep while our children maintain our soul.

Perennial flowers bloom from corpse of God
whose chemical engine of chugging veins
urges passionate response of tense hope
as Isis searches every land on Earth
to find his severed limbs of rotten flesh
and sew fragments of Horus in one mind.

Now wild Prometheus, restored to life
by Doctor Frankenstein in castle tower,
presides over corporate empire of wealth
that binds sovereign nations with strands of greed
in global state of fraught relationships
as fractured federation based on faith.

Yet Queen of Maytime, rising from despair,
still burning bright with holy taunts of prayer,
howls wild with mantra of the flower child
to rule war-torn world as Lord of Misrule
so Jesus joins with Buddha on high hill
to flash the world awake with blinking eye.

All brutal tyrants grasping reins of power,
who try to kill all who oppose their rule,
exhaust their souls from bitter rage of hate
when Earth embraces them with gentle arms
and snuffs out flames of war so trees of fruit
may bloom from corpses of their rotten souls.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus stands over graves of Midas, Pluto, Herod, Napoleon, Hitler, and Stalin, and plays lyre of Mercury to sing elegy about how all tyrants are mortals blinded by fear.

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

Tathagata With Nine Eyes
© Surazeus
2026 01 30

When she travels back to land of her birth,
small island ever floating in blue mist,
she finds photos and relics of the past
as treasures that vibrate with psychic signs
containing spirits her ancestors beam
that preserve their memories in mute form.

When she opens old leather-covered book
to read poems her great-grandmother composed
concerning life of curious characters
who lived in village by the mountain lake,
dust of her long-vanished soul from the page
causes her to sneeze as she starts to cry.

Fragile photo with crumbling edges gleams
with gray fading ghost of the slender girl
wearing long batik skirt and white lace blouse
whose body aged and vanished long ago,
wrinkled and thin as long vine in moist heat,
eyes black with beauty of the midnight moon.

She rides Garuda halfway round the Earth
to visit village by the muddy stream
and walk in grove of old banana trees
where her ancestors lived six thousand years,
lush paradise now teeming with small cars
that crowd narrow roads in vast city maze.

She opens tin box hidden in the drawer
to find small jewel her ancestor found
eight hundred years ago one afternoon
when he was hunting demons in dark woods
on slope of Mount Semeru where swift birds
lead him to cavern of One-World God.

Enchanted by tune of the Gamelan
that rings with voice of Nyai Roro Kidul
in sun-gleaming temple of Achintya,
she ponders oneness of all deities
who emanate from supreme nothingness
to manifest multiple states of mind.

She feels glow deep in vastness of her heart
emptiness of truth that beams energy
composing all material forms of being,
so she takes new selfie with her eye-phone
and posts it on her social media site
to preserve ancestral soul of her heart.

Having worked her way up to state of love
for every creature living on this Earth,
she becomes Tathagata with nine eyes
as she glides gracefully on glowing clouds
when she returns home to Oconia
where she eats Batavia soup with her family.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus kneels with Nyai Roro Kidul in temple of Saraswati who plays Veena and sings epic tale about the life of Rice Goddess Sri Dewi.

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

World King By Accident
© Surazeus
2026 01 30

Commencing slide into abyss of faith,
we try to surf electric waves of truth,
but tumble laughing with frantic delight,
sprawled across fraught landscape of broken skulls
because our faces are erased by light
though we humans invent magical tools.

Despite arduous task assigned by God
to build social system from psychic mud,
we skip with carefree joy of happy fools
in haunted valleys of Elysian Fields
to rescue children from church-funded schools
in scenes depicted on Achillean shields.

Digging trench to assemble water main
which channels spirit energy of rain,
Daedalus directs construction project
to link our hearts across Antarctic waste
according to plans of the Architect
on which our social system will be based.

Arrest of Midas and Herod at last
will prove the second civil war is past
when journalists reporting latest news
find Isaiah mute on the White House lawn
after he escapes with help of the Muse
from gulag prison of the Golden Dawn.

While twanging electric guitar on stage
to sing lyrics that express youthful rage
against machine of empire we oppose,
Bacchus collapses from huge heart attack
that blooms from his heart as angelic rose,
recorded live on film with the laugh track.

Mask of his face illuminated bright
when Fame finds Mad Prophet with truth spotlight,
Phoebus declares campaign for President
when he preaches salvation by faith of works,
then finds himself World King by accident,
so he rules wisely without power perks.

Electrocuted by conceptual wire
of language code programmed for global choir,
Jove plays police with authority voice
with crucial help from lamp clown Lucifer
who preaches truth by democratic choice,
conceived through Liberty by Jupiter.

Crowned God by Melusine and Guinevere,
to nurture people as the Puppeteer,
new World Messiah floats on pyramid
as Big Brother watching all with One Eye
to guide our growth beyond being Hominid
till I fall head-first from Heavenless sky.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus sits all day at Desk of Dreams in Realm of Ideas and fashions new puppet to play Messiah Sleuth who will save America.

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

Pencil Of Secret Codes
© Surazeus
2026 01 29

Not clever enough to avoid the trap
of telling sick jokes to the lizard king,
cute ray of sunshine dressed in methane skirt
nurses child of the devil with black milk
while chewing the pencil of secret codes
that crouch with moon toads in abandoned mines.

Adjusting perspective through edgy truth,
she deals with hilarious opposites
that pivot around Still Point of all time
within framework of cerebral concepts
based on project to design new world view
that deconstructs imperial rule with lies.

Misdirect focus of attentive greed
from propaganda project to brainwash
fools willing to believe religious tales
presenting miracles as measured facts
which support grand state ideology
so we can see essential truth of being.

She surfs event horizon of star waves
with graceful anguish of lonely respect
through slow revolving door of formal change
programming how we understand the real
based on aggressive twinkle of brain stars
that twitch in cosmic wind of endless change.

Raindrops paint dry dirt with radiant eyes
that dazzle hearts of young vivacious ghosts
who count how many crows fly outside time
forever west to find where the sun hides
with sharp intention of untampered books
to build palace of notes from broken bones.

Immaterial orchids by garden pool
explain confusion about soul rebirth
involving various objects without names
that we assemble inside walls of stone
with plan to purchase from ghost in the cave
house of the haunting melody we play.

Amorphous desire of rational fate
urges me to invent new simple words
that lurk on edge of aesthetic regret
through intellectual game of puzzling charge
based on sensational spark of dawn light
that misleads progress of our retrospect.

Social collision between private kings
and public jesters over whose world view
will better assimilate in one myth
psychic trauma every human endures
transforms countless warring states of the Earth
in global drama no one wants to play.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus walks around the crowded streets of London with boxes of pencils he tries to sell to homeless poets who lounge around the fountain of Neptune.

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

Curse Of Global Fame
© Surazeus
2026 01 29

This collapse of our old world view is no loss
because blind butterflies carry gold stones
to build colossal web of fragile words
from shining filaments of memories
which maps how glass bees pollenate our brains
with frantic visions of escaping cars.

When first my pencil beautifies the world
with breathing figures sprung from rancid eggs,
I purchase prospects to give soul delight
with new creation blooming from fake sight
that spurs my deathless passion to transcend
hard obstacles that block my noble path.

Trapped deep in maze of my seraphic theme,
I hide in vain from curse of global fame
to survey blissful wonders of the sky
we share with every living soul on Earth
which should elate our brains with wishful keys
that opens gate to splendid hall of fears.

Celestial Salem settled long on Earth
decays from endless centuries of change,
no longer calm from lost serenity
despite how high my Muse ascends to Heaven
with balmy wings now crippled by contest
to mold weird vision in tablets of fire.

Blinded by radiance of her bitter eyes,
Damon guards Aurora with hard work,
adjusting parts of engines with steel tools
in brick garage near highway of brave wealth
that shimmers on ethereal plain of hope
beside the warehouse full of romance books.

I fix my ardent view on moon-haze goal
to map whole history of our spinning world
with tale of each lost soul on signless road
composing chronicle of long-dead gods
who spread seraphic pinions with intent
to savor anguish of this comic hour.

Majestic grandeur of thundering flash,
that luminates abyss between our worlds,
expands from passion of my mountain wing
when Zephyr dances in bomb-shattered church
to gather pages torn from book of dreams
and weave them in new global myth of fame.

We bear in trembling hands of honesty
fragments of our lost world view with care
with arduous task of intricate concern
to assemble new puzzle of world truth
which assimilates all religions in creed
that factors all obsessions in one myth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus arranges fragments of our old world view on the round table of Avalon to comprehend wholeness of eternal truth in our hearts.

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

Crippled By Attentive Lies
© Surazeus
2026 01 28

Whatever the wind carries my heart will lose
because its pain-carved riverbed contains
memories of my youth scattered on dry plains
in strange country with language devils speak
through riddles about my fugitive past
since time omits my being from beams of light.

Fake mask I wear through solidarity
with faceless strangers I meet on long roads
reveals no anger twisting my hard heart
with fierce solidity of transient truth
too terrible for children to recall
based on ambiguous stories of the fall.

Guilt-laced cape draped with calm alacrity
exiles my soul to vale of absent grief
shaped thick from shadows no one dares retrieve
though I walk crippled by attentive lies
in place unreconciled by correct laws
beneath renegade star of fate I sell.

Shape of my shadow, heavy on frail Earth,
regrets how guiding constellations prove
altered course is not incorrect way home
though I maintain calm dignity of fear
based on crumbling grace of abandonment
against belief people cling to with hate.

Penance purchased in marketplace of rage
contrives reward for deeds of wretched hope
despite concern innocent friends express
in proverbs tangled by electric words
that teach us how to survive lies we choose
if we should cover our tracks with sly laugh.

Because I think of how apples may fall
at bitter crack of brave barbarity,
I play my own ghost in bright morning glow
by treading iced path up high rugged hill
where I survey lush valleys of wheat farms
while flakes of snow swirl cutely from gray clouds.

Gestures of my fingers weaving weird words
manipulate auras beaming from brains
fractured by paradigm shift where old truths
reframe spooky perception by new faith
presenting morals for how we behave
as rules enforced by the world justice squad.

Amused by anguish of electric eyes
that glows with optimistic view of change,
I find my memories carried by the wind,
scattered as feathers on dry river shore
because I meditate ten million years
on how nothing is solved with honest tears.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus gathers memories of our childhoods and weaves new pair of wings based on blueprints left behind by Daedalus in the tower of illusions.

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