Where We All Belong
© Surazeus
2025 03 05

Attempting to climb high Ladder of Light
to find eternity within the flower,
I fall back into reality state
where I seek spiritual beauty of faith
in physical forms that molecules take
as our bodies manifest the star wraith.

Awake in dreamtime my brain conjures bright
as seer of illusions in ivory tower,
I perform my sentient Zephyrian role
of mapping divine rhythm of the mind
that mistakes my private plan for the goal
my secret concept of God has designed.

The golden-eyed toad tells me I am right,
as I dance with Maenads in the spring shower,
this present is not inevitable,
though I claim reward for accomplishments
unseen in abyss less relatable
than world stage empty of astonishments.

Leaping from my body in psychic flight
to find my true love in protective bower,
I realize I am but one tiny drop
of spiritual energy in the world sea,
so I work hard to tend the yearly crop
which I guard as Loaf-Ward with the door key.

The tree outside my window calls my name,
so I sail vast ocean in fragile boat
to found New Heaven in America
as paradise I build with bleeding hands
where I learn to plant corn from Onatah
who weeps at foul state of her pristine lands.

Illustrious wisdom of our social game,
encased in hill castle with guardian moat,
motivates my quest to unite the world
in global community of just laws
designed by insight of the cosmic herald
to base justice on our Liberty Cause.

Yet Utopian projects all fail the same,
so I will do nothing but sulk or gloat,
allowing humans to destroy themselves
as they succumb to greed of tyranny
instead of fighting ghosts with honest elves
to preserve our global democracy.

Ever evading thirsty vampire Fame
to maintain system where we all can vote,
I fly forward into the gathering storm
on wings of laughter for transcendent song
to wake divine spirit in mortal form
which conjures nation where we all belong.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus lounges in garden of his secret Utopia while outside walls of paradise the institutions of government crumble into chaos from greed of oligarchs.

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

Divine Darkness Of Faith
© Surazeus
2025 03 04

My heart will scry lost treasure map of faith
that reveals where the Bluebird hides my tongue
while I sleep among Arizona pines
because the children of my pulsing cells
are all the spiders crawling on the sand
who rejoice in cool sprinkling rain of spring.

Though I walk alone on signless desert road
far from my home in rain-wet Oregon,
I feel my heart of eager raven wings
woven into spider web of the land,
connected to millions of beating hearts,
so we all feel each other in our dreams.

Shocked by prophecy of the pouting Sphinx
that predicts fall of the clay-footed king,
I watch Coyote skitter across the road
with casual attitude of the lost fool
while pushing cart of apples in the suburbs
where children ask if I have popsicles.

Pausing by abandoned gas station store,
where homeless people now gather and drink,
I ask the Singing Turtle if she knows
why the flaming meteor never hits Earth,
and she explains that time circles around
so we repeat our duties every day.

Road runner races down the desert road
through tunnel painted over sandstone wall
that opens portal to alternate Earth
where fairies dance in ring of diamond stones,
but Coyote smacks at the solid wall
to symbolize my search for Paradise.

Digging water well in heart of the world
to clear room so we flourish in the land,
I signify its presence with the name
Rehoboth as symbol for Flow of Life
that waters fields of barley with new hope
which shimmer bright on our ancestral plane.

Entwined with psychic souls we never meet,
we walk as our own shadows to retrieve
treasured memories hidden in hollow oaks
with eyes of quartz that perceive secret love
heavy with false guilt of the rainless moon
moistened by silver kiss of subtle rain.

Still on threshold of ever-moving home,
that radiates with divine darkness of faith,
we share our weirdest secrets without speech
by how we hold each other in moonlight,
and give each other names that bind our hearts
with flashing ring of sacred molecules.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus hitchhikes along the desert highways of Arizona to study the divine darkness of faith with eyes of quartz.

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

Waxen Wings Of Regret
© Surazeus
2025 03 04

Spooked by soft whisper of the window light,
the young deer runs across the fenced-in yard,
then darts across the narrow asphalt road
to wander gracefully down to the lake
where no swan-god swoops from clouds of desire
to bear the tongueless girl up to the stars.

Annoyed at flight of crows across gray clouds,
I search echoing caverns of my heart
to locate voice of my poetic soul
that produces speech with ethereal vibes
which radiate from iron core of the Earth
to replicate mask I wear in the play.

Assembling fractured memories of hope
to concatenate my identity
from tangled genes of psychic energy,
I arrogate emergent property
of my immortal spirit through my voice
to channel desires into roles I play.

My true ancestral self, which I create
from stark necessity to survive fear,
floats between mirrored aggression of fate,
refracting psychic energy of love
in pointillist portrait of my God Mind,
and subtle reaction I play with verve.

Mapping quick uncertainty principle
with circling atoms of distorted truth,
I measure vast awareness of my brain
to locate my body on spinning Earth
in relation to Sibyl in bright cave
where ghosts of my ancestors call my name.

The mad tarantula inside my brain
navigates recessive canyons of hope
with false sensation of electric laugh,
so I flap my waxen wings of regret
to prove I will not fall like Icarus
when I steal faded laurel Phoebus wears.

I will sing no hymns to royal-blood gods,
nor kill Chimera couched beside my house,
though I may mourn youth killed in senseless war
with dirge at waste of wisdom for the state
while his young bride grieves in the empty church
where preachers charge ransom to save his soul.

With honey bees in grove where Martin paints
grand murals that depict our Golden Age,
I sing our victory in the third world war
when everything we value is destroyed,
except the milk cow in sad field of wheat
where no one is left to manage the farm.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus decides to revive the farm to restore wheat and cows as economic foundation of our global civilization.

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

Flash Of Eternal Now
© Surazeus
2025 03 04

The sad tarantula inside my brain
calculates which way I will want to go
to stay in shape for the end of the world
that will occur during the evening show
we watch on television by the door
which fractures belief system we abhor.

The souvenir I buy from the quaint store
contains demonic spirit of the girl
who used to dance in wild waves of the sea
before she decided to marry me,
so we stroll together in our neighborhood
to feel pulse of life we decide is good.

Disordered proverbs of the holy mind
proclaim that babies we create from love
are all the meaning of life we shall need
despite the weird apocalypse each year
where everything we believe is proved wrong
so we together compose our own song.

Flowers open to catch innocent snow
that covers everything in veil of hope
so we climb the stairs to top of the world
where we can see the home our love creates
spin forever on the merry-go-round,
then kiss in harmony with the Earth Sound.

Among tall willows on the river shore
we dance with arrogant disdain for Death
who fails to demand our honest respect,
so we defy expectations contrived
by jealous people to inhibit how
we mature through flash of eternal now.

Ignoring tragic fate of life we choose,
we preserve shadows of our vibrant souls
inside amber stone that reflects the sea
with shocking gospel of the humble bee
through consolation of the raven wing
when we translate psalms the mountain winds sing.

Imperfect portrait of our partnership
frames glamor of our love on sunlit wall
at sudden vanishing of clumsy lies
that expose our hearts to star-shattered skies
though we hold hands and leave it all at that,
against convention of their social law.

My old weather vane heart turns with the wind
of angry sorrow blown from surprised mouths
when people of the land shout with outrage
at how deceitful thief they voted for
steals everything they made with crafty hands
so all their castles crumble into sand.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus and Ophelia stroll around the neighborhood to photograph everybody the meet.

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

Roaring Waves Of Change
© Surazeus
2025 03 04

Yellow egg splats on linoleum floor
to illustrate process of life and death
with voiceless agony of daily hope
when roaring waves of change wash over us
with frothing teeth of hunger for the free
as we swim to the bottom of the sea.

Thin black wolves lurk in old Victorian house,
trotting up and down solid oakwood stairs,
eyes gleaming gold as ancient burned-out stars,
so we hang portraits of ghosts on blank walls
and give our melancholy children names
our ancestors wore to play psychic games.

Stacking classic books of weird poetry
on lace-covered table with glass of wine,
cloth-covered notebook, and brass fountain pen,
I photograph conceptual dramaty,
then post it on my social media sites
with snarky comment about pious kites.

Late winter sunlight glares on window panes
while Ellen turns soil in her garden plot,
preparing to plant carrots, melons, corn,
and tomatoes in land her father bought,
then wipes her brow and gazes at the sky
as she wonders what happens when we die.

Ghosts of five children she birthed and raised up
swarm around her soul in the empty house,
and voices of their secret thoughts still echo
in shadows behind each half-open door,
so she closes her eyes to morning gleam
and sips coffee as she savors their dream.

I cannot go back in process of time
to rearrange furniture of our hearts
so we could better adjust cordial clocks
to interact through accurate respect
with cold honor toward cunning deathly ploys
which tends to erase our sorrows and joys.

Painting landscapes with her house among trees
surrounded by shadows of faceless beasts
that emanate from hearts of human beings,
Ellen searches for ways to perceive truth
beyond self-blinding surfaces of things,
and sighs at sudden flutter of finch wings.

Hiding her useless memories in books,
Ellen encodes strong opinions about life
in clever fairy tales of lonely girls
who seek truth in forests of nameless ghosts
which children in libraries like to read,
as her rotting corpse nurtures apple seed.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus visits the grave of his grandmother Ellen, and wipes away leaves that buried the headstone in sorrow of passing time.

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

Contrived By Fortune
© Surazeus
2025 03 03

If leaves cover my invisible grave
with brutal silence that erases love,
silver chickadees will break free from ice
till arrogant ghosts call for global truce,
yet children no longer play hide and seek
in secret tree forts fathers never make.

Electric ruler measures silent flow
between emotionless masks people wear
because devils teach angels how to fly,
anticipating success of world war
started by the traitor and the mind thief
to tax any person who tries to laugh.

Since no one can find my grave anymore
I will be happy to steal their new car
so I can journey to the Promised Land
with Stone of Sisyphus as contract bond
designed to smash gold idol with clay feet
while Minerva plays the cracked crystal flute.

If you dig deep enough in tangled code,
that programs how you see the changing world,
you might perceive idea for each form
that composes state of the perfect farm
based on stewardship over cows and wheat
designed well by the social architect.

Each special person ever born on Earth
by random chance of fate from humble mirth
embodies features through genetic test
arranged to maximize productive quest
contrived by fortune to generate life
long enough to breed till undone by strife.

Nearly successful at building from scratch
global religion of conceptual faith,
I race to Heaven with enjambing clutch
accelerating engine through the wraith
to trash security programs of wealth
for the poor to thrive based on clever stealth.

War twists hearts of men into mindless wolves
who cause more problems than charity solves
with spiteful nonchalance of hungry hope
because I still wear my Superman cape
while bearing Flag of Liberty to fight
fascists who think they can rule us with fright.

We hide our memories in poetry books
that no one ever reads but hotel cooks
who aspire to heal the soul with good food
which depends on divine robotic mood
exuded by the crownless jester king
who jokes to kill us if we fail to sing.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus codifies theology of his global religion of conceptual faith that worships the Atom God.

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

Passion Of Our Legacy
© Surazeus
2025 03 03

Clear-eyed with hope beyond the coming storm,
I glide gracefully on lake of thin ice,
silver blades singing brightly as I carve
starred silhouette of our secretive pride
on cosmic mirror of epiphany
that reflects passion of our legacy.

Intense attention to elegant form
with tensile arms outstretched in wingless flight
motivates our progress through muscled pace
to transcend limits of our fragile frame
and soar with breathless joy on gleaming ice
that inspires passion of our legacy.

Beyond clumsy stumbles of eager hope
we inhale ethereal breath of blue sky
to leap high over obstacles of fear
with bold resilience of heartfelt faith
and glide with self-control of energy
that revives passion of our legacy.

Extending wings Daedalus wove for me,
with gentle arrogance of grim success,
I push against harsh wind of mocking fear
which cycles spirit through extremity
to focus certitude of honesty
that excites passion of our legacy.

Though frozen deep in lake of solitude
from morbid anguish of sorrow-crushed dreams,
I reach from core of heart-numbing despair
for eye of light reaching me in cold dark,
and break free from hard shell of fear to fly
that incites passion of our legacy.

Trapped stiff beneath hard ice of broken faith,
long paralyzed by fall from heights of pride,
I feel warm hands of light from Mother Sun
caress my frozen soul with gentle grace
which motivates rebirth through purest love
that ignites passion of our legacy.

Soaring on skates over thin ice of life,
I sing mercurial psalms with nightingales
to blaze with beauty in the starry sky,
then flame out into swirls of voiceless ash
which leaves traces of my dreams carved on stone
that records passion of our legacy.

In tearful memory for innocent souls,
young graceful skaters with angelic wings
who fell from Heaven in the burning plane
that crashed into the dark Potomac Stream,
I skate figure-eights through infinity
that preserves passion of our legacy.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus skates with Kristi Yamaguchi in graceful dance to honor the skaters who died in the plane crash in the Potomac River.

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

Stone Of My Tongue
© Surazeus
2025 03 03

After the turtle takes away my tongue
I walk the roadless plain of humming wind
to find that my tongue has become the stone
that sings strange language by the river bed,
so I hold it up to swallow the sun
that makes it vibrate with ancestral tales.

The shadow of the person I should be
rides the horse quickly on the roadless plain,
so I throw stone of my tongue at the sky
where it becomes the moon that keeps my name
hidden from thieves who steal my secret words,
then returns to me as turtle of faith.

I see the oldest woman in the world
whose face is soft red as the desert sand,
so I ask Nihasdazaan Mother Earth
if she can give me the true name I lost,
but all that comes out of my mouth is wind
that blows seeds of squash and corn far away.

Preparing fresh meal on stone of my heart,
heated by wild words trapped inside my mouth,
Nihasdazaan hands me sweet round fry bread
heaped with beans, lettuce, tomatoes, and corn,
so I eat ancient memories of my tribe
which wakes the Bluebird in the cottonwood.

Holding blue stone of my tongue in my hand,
I walk down to the river of bright tears
and set the stone among Indian Paintbrush,
then I dance slow steps in spiraling curves
and hum with vibration inside my heart
as thunder rumbles low on distant hills.

I hear great crack fracture the big blue sky,
so I kneel and watch blue stone of my tongue
crack open and release the small Bluebird
who gazes at me with bright rainbow eyes,
then flies into my mouth with shriek of hope,
transforming into hurricane of dreams.

After the Bluebird attaches my tongue,
Yeibichai teaches me how to speak words,
and commissions me with important goal
to chastise people harming other people
for we all share the bounty of this world,
then gives me Blue Feather of honest faith.

Gathering stones of tongues from river beds,
small eggs of Bluebirds that contain Song Stars,
I walk red land from sea to shining sea
and give Word Stones to strangers from far lands
so they can also speak with voice of love
when they become mute from word-killing wars.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus accepts blue Word Stone from the young woman which becomes his tongue, then begins to sing hymns to honor people of the world.

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

Wyrd Spreadsheet Of Fate
© Surazeus
2025 03 03

Our world that was real ten years ago
has vanished into the mists of dreamland,
so now I dream about the way things were,
walking across campus to the classroom
where I will learn about the distant past
so I can perform the future as play.

John sits in the diner on Nineteenth Street,
eating scrambled eggs and sipping black coffee,
and contemplates how both sorrow and joy
scramble beauty and ugliness of life
like abstract paintings on museum walls,
while the endless morning train loudly clacks.

Three men wearing ski masks break in the store
and fill leather bags with diamonds and jewels,
then whistle as they saunter down the street
to play chess with old men in the lake park
who talk about their life in prison camps
when they survived the war-time holocaust.

Karen types numbers on the white keyboard,
filling columns in wyrd spreadsheet of fate
with expenses and profits of the heart
to calculate health of the national soul,
then wanders past the lake park to eat lunch,
smiling at John as the strangers pass by.

Aiming pistol at the three diamond thieves,
John orders them to lie down on the ground,
but they hurl the wood chessboard at his face
and zig-zag through the hungry lunch-time crowd
till one takes Karen hostage with the knife
his grandfather gave him when he was twelve.

Filming the hostage scene with mobile phones,
the crowd parts as John aims gun at the thief
who presses sharp knife at throat of the woman
who tells him about her daughter named Tammy
who likes to paint castles and unicorns,
but he shouts and curses God in the clouds.

The small white church in the grove of oak trees
with its steeple pointed to the empty sky
calls to the raven stuck in human form
who falls to his knees and drops the sharp knife,
allowing Karen to escape his fear,
so she hugs him as he cries for his mother.

Strolling together on the lake park trail,
John and Karen smile shy on their first date,
then tell each other about their childhoods
as they eat spaghetti and drink red wine,
then hold each other in the silver mist,
and kiss like the world will go on forever.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus asks his mother how she met his father, so she laughs and tells him the funny romantic tale that seems like a movie from the Seventies.

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

Goldfinch Of Nostalgia
© Surazeus
2025 03 02

When the goldfinch of nostalgia steals his name
with busy awkwardness of splashless rain,
he pours himself tall glass of Merlot wine
to regulate excessive flash of time.
Her eyes pretend to conjure spring from death,
dispersing seeds when bells unwind the clock.

Bright green flows the river, and sand gleams gold,
so Tracy dances in long gown of lace
to feel how urgent waves of untime fold
in tangled solitude of psychic space.
Bare limbs of the special sun-woven tree
lean gracefully over the finite sea.

She summons him with tragic voice of hope
broadcast over the radio at midnight,
concerned about death of the lonely pope
who fries fish for her meal with second sight.
Weird blueness of the alligator lake
sparks her most ancient ancestor awake.

Moonlight fills her bedroom with ghost of words
who gives her cup of secret honey juice,
so she drinks sorrow of eccentric birds
till he drives her back home to Andaluz.
Iberian chiffchaff flutters sun-gold wings
deep in the Pyrenees where Triton sings.

Since he leaves home to wander mountain vales
on endless quest to find the Demon Book,
his trail unfolds in spell of fairy tales
which alters spiral of the warm chinook.
Still Justice searches landscape of her heart
to find secret cave of Truth on the chart.

Forgetting why she walks the country road
toward blazing sunset of eternity,
she asks voiceless God if he is the toad
who never comes back from modernity.
He asks her name when they meet by the pool,
so she gives him newly-invented tool.

Progressive growth of social values proves
fair justice and truth will always prevail
despite how slowly Jupiter approves
project to measure their hearts on love scale.
While he surveils the world of broken hearts,
she puts baskets of fruit in market carts.

Now she will never go to Innisfree
to bury her sister in fertile soil
so her rotten corpse may feed the pear tree
with painful love they earn from bitter toil.
Between two realms they remember how breath
exhibits sacred spirit of the rock.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus joins Tracy and Triton at their beach-side resort for barbecue over spring break.

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

Plagiarize Your Dreams
© Surazeus
2025 03 02

He cannot help but plagiarize your dreams
with serpentine grace of the alphabet
that leaves corpses of truth in icy streams
seeking resurrection from Baphomet
who plays violin on the hill of skulls
to avoid judgment of the prancing bulls.

While Janice knits pink sweater for the ghoul
Robert puts vinyl record on the player
so they can rage against machine of school
which trains Accountant to be Demon-Slayer
since the Devil wants to eat apple pie
and gaze at sunset blazing in the sky.

If I should measure out play of my life
with anniversaries of dire events
while writing self-help book to manage strife,
then I should vote for honest presidents
who treat our global allies with respect
each time arrogant thieves try to defect.

He pilfers tropes from dreams that you forget
so he can sneer at Hamlet and his seems
while nursing bitter wounds of fake regret
for angels left to die in cruel moonbeams
since ballet dancers express human form
with elegant grace far beyond the norm.

Barely surviving in forest of noise,
he steals eggs from nests of traitorous birds
which breaks his brain in mirror of mute poise,
paralyzed by hope to manage goat herds,
while pretending everyone is his friend
so he can ride the blue snake to the end.

Brain brimming with spiders of diamond shards,
he kneels and asks the girl with bleeding eyes
if she will let him join the castle guards,
but she prefers he join the palace spies
so she can drink wine on the river shore
while her old mother becomes the locked door.

Deciding to marry the anarchist,
she plagiarizes dreams found in the trash,
then participates in the Eucharist,
eager to eat his body burned to ash
despite assurances from the fake king
that she will receive new angelic wing.

He plagiarizes dreams you throw away
with mocking laughter of the tangerine
because you do not know just what to say
when he sells you to son of Melusine,
so if you acknowledge Glycon as God
he will save you from the telephone fraud.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus decides that no one can be saved except for the girl who gives people better dreams than the ones she steals.

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

Worth Pondered Words
© Surazeus
2025 03 02

The stars inside cells of our bodies buzz
with supernatural energy of light,
so I follow song of the mountain stream,
groping my way into shadowy glare,
because I believe I will understand
the story the water wants to tell me.

Over the Bridge of Hunger without wheels
I drive past houses, churches, schools, and stores
where thousands of nameless people may dwell,
though I never see more than shadows of faith
glow behind torn curtains of privacy
to make masks they wear in pageant of life.

Since the stars are indifferent to my life,
I strut around like I own this whole globe,
but so does every other man and beast
who growl at me if I invade their space,
so I am grateful for the twinkling stars
that still shine though the stars themselves are gone.

Sublime beauty of the blank starless sky
would make my heart ache with sorrow of loss
despite substantial lack of unity
inadequate to bind our hearts as one,
so I reach out my invisible hand
to touch tangible remoteness of time.

Potential meaning of existing things
reveals that my perception of their forms
relies on language first mother designed
to help precisely define what exists,
how all things move from assertion of will,
and what qualities are worth pondered words.

Though the dreamer who loves horses attempts
to prove that the importance of elsewhere
relies on loneliness our bodies feel
based on strangeness of our essential being,
I perform customs of society
to underwrite existence of the mind.

Since I never beweep my outcast state,
nor trouble Heaven that does not exist
with cries of victimhood from lack of gain,
I disdain disgrace fortune casts at me,
and treasure art I create with my heart
because I am king only of my mind.

Time causes all things to disintegrate,
and hope creates things from atoms of light,
so I savor beauty of teeming Earth
blooming richly with plants and animals
which all share genes our first mother creates
to mold bodies for temporary souls.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus wanders across the crowded bridge over the river of ancient memory to find the spirit of art he lost years ago.

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

Flood Of Divine Truth
© Surazeus
2025 03 01

Sleepless in cluttered room of memories,
I lose interest in conundrums of faith
devised by weak abusive control-freaks
to keep me dependent on their false creeds,
so I throw their books up into the air
where they turn into crows with bloody beaks.

Unlocking paragraphs of bitter words
that flutter on limbs of arrogant trees,
I turn the corner to the crowded street
where blind people wear masks of movie stars
to scatter apple seeds on cracked sidewalks
while bobbing their heads to the engine beat.

When I speak works that I am told to say
to entertain bored people of the world,
I leave my self-mask broken on the stage
so when people throw tomatoes at me
I take them home to eat with omelets,
then hide my sorrows on the bleeding page.

Through diagnosis of the pristine curse
I analyze omen carved on the door
by trembling hand of the shy oracle
who hurries away with hammer of flame
through loud disquiet of ineptitude
to sail Loch Ness in hide-bound coracle.

That face I see in cracked mirror of time
smiles back and calls me on the telephone,
so I wear mask of Jesus Jupiter
to play his character in world dreamtime
erased by winners who write history books
which prove I must be son of Lucifer.

Born sixty years ago in Oregon,
I journey with guitar on signless road
without my mask from sea to shining sea
because we humans, hungry to be loved,
are actively dying as we transcend
nothing except pretense that we are free.

When I find your sorrows on the wet ground
as fragments of verse on the tattered sheet,
I record the sad dreams you threw away
with wry obsession of the desert saint
who thinks neglecting our bodily needs
will transform their bodies the way gods pray.

Exhaustible resource of empathy
limits expression of my broken heart
based on prerequisite puzzle of fate
because love multiplies when freely expressed
and flows from infinite well of faith
till we drown in the flood of divine truth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus wears mask of Jesus Jupiter to the masked ball at the inauguration of President Lucifer.

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

Allowing You To Live
© Surazeus
2025 03 01

Blue water ripples in white porcelain tub
as Cassandra stretches and cleans her skin
with flower-paste soap on the soft sea sponge,
and flames of candles delicately dance
in soft river breeze among plum tree limbs
that gleam black in purple evening dusk glow.

Long red silk gown draped around her lithe curves
flutters in river breeze tinged by moonlight
as Cassandra glides gracefully alone
past portraits of ancestors that swell bright
and reach gaunt ghostly hands to grasp her hair
that swirls free from desperation to live.

Climbing tall maple tree on the hill top,
Cassandra gazes far across broad valley
where the river winds among orchard groves
with seven villages where angels dwell
in stone cottages with gardens of herbs,
and cries at vision of them all in flames.

Approaching locked door of the castle tower,
Cassandra gestures hand sigils to spark
invisible flame that knocks the door open,
then climbs stairs winding up into the sky
to find her daughter Rapunzel hogtied,
so she cuts ropes and they flee down the stairs.

Five men with swords surround the open door
so Cassandra swirls and knocks them all down,
then crouches in martial stance of calm force
to fight Tereus, who kidnaps young girls,
but he shoots her with bullet from long gun
and she lies bleeding under the red moon.

Weeping distraught at cruel death of her mother,
Rapunzel flees through mist in mountain woods,
clambering past tangled vines of despair
till she lies gasping by small sparkling pool
as gold sunlight gleams through indifferent pines,
trying not to scream loud as she births her child.

Cradling new-born baby in trembling arms,
Rapunzel gazes in her silver eyes
with heart-breaking ache of desperate love
that banishes her vow of just revenge
to drown child of her rapist after birth,
unable to commit that tragic act.

"By allowing you to live, my dear Sibyl,
I reward evil man, driven by greed,
who kidnapped me and locked me in his tower,
then forced me to bear child against my will,
with life for immortal soul of his genes,
but you are innocent of his foul crime."

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus woos Sibyl as she picks strawberries by the sparkling river, strumming lyre of Mercury and singing sweet hymns as she shyly dances for him.

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

Chessmaster Of Time
© Surazeus
2025 03 01

Luminous salamander of my heart
rejoices when rain falls on maple leaves
because she reigns as chessmaster of time
when she maneuvers dictators and kings
to believe they can fly on divine wings
yet fall into the sea of arrogance.

If the moon becomes the white horse of hope
who gallops toward me on the open field,
I may drive east across the prairie road
while singing holy songs of grim despair
which opens hole of possibility
though another war is soon to begin.

Among the lonely daffodils of fate
we shall stop beside the rotting oak
and eat sweet honey from heart of the world
while contemplating where we shall go next
on the secret journey of our own play
for we are the stars of our cute romance.

Though quicksilver storm of the holy mask
crackles over vast fields of wheat and corn,
we shall dance through the wild radio song
with spectral sheets of anguish turned to joy
when we join the grand victory parade
swept by the wind down lonely small-town streets.

Someday I want to see the Star Heart Sea
which covers half our lumpy spinning globe
with sparkling water of pacific calm
so I can meet the Goddess of Despair
who teaches me to show mercy to all
though her eyes crackle with the judgment flame.

Somnolent beauty of the apple tree
sparks ponderous hunger of my stubborn heart
to preach theology of mortal faith
that every conscious creature dies someday
and floats to nothing in stark empty light
with soft distempered soul of unconcern.

I never find tombs where my ancestors lie
rotting in coffins of unshielded scorn
till bones of their special characters form
structure of bleak hills where children play chase
with seamless fabric of our lost world view
that flaps as melancholy flag in wind.

Yet flowers of our bodies woven taut
with private memories of lost childhood hours
shine on the other side of silver light
ten thousand years longer than empires last,
prophesied by kind chessmaster of time
who rides white horse of hope to Scythia.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus never tells anyone he meets on the signless road of fate that he is the chessmaster of time who always wins.

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

Cherubic Frame Of Fear
© Surazeus
2025 02 28

My shadow wounded by the silent sky
transforms into angel wings of desire
I cannot use to glide above this world,
for my heart is heavy with songs of death,
compressed by gravity of mute despair
as I recite names of souls killed in war.

Late winter evening gloom shrouds charity
with soft unfiltered cries of agony
encased by strict cherubic frame of fear
which sublimates our suffering with proverbs
contrived to conceal aggressive abuse
asserted by weak men who fear the truth.

Preserving silence of brave mountain peaks
in subtle valley of exploding oaks,
my heart flies up on wings of solitude
to listen for clear encouraging words
carved with bloody knives on cathedral doors
locked against desperate hope of refugees.

Though accountants still hover over Earth,
clutching bones engraved with names of dead kings,
the chorus girl walks out into the street,
draped in torn curtain from the theater,
to arrange white-painted branches of trees
so alligators know how to get home.

The honeycomb I find in rusted truck,
abandoned ninety-seven years ago,
explains to me her strangest dream of fate
about warships that drown in the raindrop,
so I ask Robert wearing the iron mask
what god he saw in mundane streets of Rome.

The Assyrian lion who plays flute
in the nameless meadows of Idaho
leads children killed in wars on signless road
past haven where Jehovah deals cocaine,
which proves confusion of America
means nothing to haughty Phoenician priests.

Gathering flakes of snow in humble hands,
Charlemagne returns jewels of false faith
to farmers getting drunk in country bars
while wheat and corn rot in arrogant fields,
so Vulcan recasts soul-bent saxophones
into automatic rifles preachers bear.

The chestnut that blossoms from my first grave
transforms bitterness of communal pain
into streets soaked with patriotic rain
that drenches innocent horses of faith
who lead me to the forest of sad wolves
where I find my wounded shadow in books.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus and Robert Bly dive into Lake of Grendel to find the android Iron John programmed by artificial intelligence to paint portraits of men as gods.

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

Brave Savior of Scythia
© Surazeus
2025 02 28

Less subtle than bombs blowing up our homes
are sensitive boys in crowded bookstores
softly reciting love poems by dead angels
while they gaze longingly at their first love
who picks flowers in lush meadow of skulls
that sing about the rise and fall of empires.

When Volodomyr stumbles to his knees,
beset on both sides by bullies with guns,
David gives him his slingshot and smooth stone,
so Zelenus stands on his feet again
to face Pluto and Midas with brave courage,
emboldened by support to fight Goliath.

When despair grips Zelenus with cold hands,
as he pushes forward against harsh storm,
his heart is lifted by the glorious sight
of blue skies shining over gold wheat fields
where Scythia, Goddess of our star-eyed tribe,
descends on wings of fire to give him strength.

Though far away across the Atlantic Ocean,
where I now dwell in Appalachian Hills,
my heart still grows as white viburnum flowers
beneath the great oak tree of Mother Scythia
that bows heads over Borysthenius River
with heartache for good people killed in war.

When Zelenus runs exiled in oak woods,
hunted by cruel warriors of greedy Pluto,
Anahita, daughter of Borysthenes,
gives him fresh water from Fountain of Hope
that fills his heart with courage to stand tall
and renew our fight against tyranny.

Dancing gracefully in field of sunflowers,
Anahita brings basket of ripe apples
for soldiers who defend their motherland
against cruel invaders who kidnap children
whose voices whisper in the weeping wind
with desperate hope to return home again.

Just as David defeated cruel Goliath,
Aeneas defeated arrogant Turnus,
and Beowulf defeated vicious Grendel,
so Zelenus, brave Savior of Scythia,
will defeat the greedy dictator Pluto
though Midas refuses to help him fight.

Zelenus, brave Poet of Patriotism,
strides with Minerva, Queen of Liberty,
to rally freedom-loving people of the world
in our noble fight against tyranny
as we support global democracy
which sustains United Nations of Earth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus stands with Zelenus and the people of Ukrainian Scythia against the bullies Pluto and Midas.

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

Fairy Tales Of Why
© Surazeus
2025 02 28

Conceptual difference between falling rain
and stone walls human hands erect with fear
divides my mind with ocular respect,
so I rejoice in spinning of the Earth
that tangles my heart in telephone lines
till I grow fraught wings from my wounded heart.

If we consider the best way to start
chanting magic spells the blind crow defines,
we might discover that each soul is worth
more than our visual looks or intellect,
as if we cannot feel the ghost glow near
enough to vibrate in tune with our pain.

Stark vision billowing from exhaust pipes
of cars rumbling down snow-encrusted roads
glows bright with faces of long-dead monarchs
who ruled their empires with insight and rage
in cruel relentless chess game with blind death
who always wins every humanized game.

Every year I invent myself new name
so I can speak through my old mask with breath
that shadows spirit of the fox on stage
who runs with elegant grace in state parks,
then guides lost pilgrims to pond of wise toads
where immortal grandson of Hamlet types.

Yet smiling nurse in clinic by the lake
tenderly cares for children without souls
who ask with innocent voice of despair
if they will be able to live long and well
so she howls with sorrow in stormy wind
at unfair randomness of mindless fate.

When we explore our wild deserted state,
while wearing dresses dead grandmothers send,
I smile that brittlebush blossoms in hell,
which does not prove that Jesus might care
to gather brickleberries in clay bowls
with noble intention to bake us cake.

Tall ocotillo that knows why I cry
comforts me with song of the cactus wren
who refuses to accept lame excuse
I offer that I cannot love myself
because my mother harshly judged my lack
of common sense with bitter words of love.

I turn my face up to Heaven above
where I see nothing but clouds in huge stack
of contemptuous disdain for my bookshelf
that bears books about both Jesus and Zeus,
so I replace them all with poems about Zen
which should explicate Fairy Tales of Why.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus finds Ophelia crying by the ocotillo, so he hugs her and they stroll together among the blooming brittlebush by the river.

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

Leopard Of Paradise
© Surazeus
2025 02 27

After snarling at lost pilgrim in dark wood,
the leopard glides gracefully into shadow
to rest in warm sun on the mindless rock
that Moses split to find the well of hope,
and watches Virgil lead Dante through Hell
with casual nonchalance of the wild beast.

Hidden among bushes on the broad hillside,
Orpheus films the leopard as it glides
gracefully in shadow of grim despair
to hunt Cernunnos and his flock of does
who flee when the leopard and the hart fight
grand epic battle in cool evening dusk.

Ophelia grills deer steak on the altar
as Orpheus scrapes the leopard skin clean
and stretches it taut in the wood frame
beside the frame with the skin of the deer,
then Artemis sews them into warm clothes
for everyone to wear when winter comes.

Eyes flashing with moonlight of golden joy,
the leopard returns to vine-covered cave
where his mate and two cubs shelter from harm,
dragging fresh-killed meat for them to consume,
then lounges on warm stone by the clear pool,
purring with pleasure as his family eats.

Eyes glowing gold as the moon in rain clouds,
the leopard watches Narcissus and Echo
tip-toe slowly into grove of pear trees
and kneel before glistening pool of truth,
then cocks his head with curiosity
when the two hairless monkeys softly kiss.

"When I was lost in vision of my face,
entranced by beauty of this alien creature,"
Narcissus whispers, caressing her cheek,
"your sweet voice in shadows of my desire
released me from infertile trance of hope,
so I can see your face with clarity."

"When I felt invisible to all eyes,
misunderstood by everyone I love,"
Echo smiles brightly with tears in her eyes,
"your hearing my thoughts with your open heart
applied mask of confidence to reveal
beauty of my heart to your loving mind."

Racing down through winding levels of Hell,
then ascending mountain of clear insight,
the leopard arrives in lush paradise
and finds Dante lounging with Beatrice
by the Fountain of Youth, who both exclaim
joy to see him, and pet him as he purrs.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus snaps photograph of Dante and Beatrice petting the leopard in paradise, then posts it on his social media page.

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

Blood Of Warriors
© Surazeus
2025 02 27

Sunset light glows red on tips of tall trees
like blood of warriors on sharp spears of war,
so I carve their names on the rolling stone
I push to the top of Helicon Hill,
so when the Stone of Sisyphus rolls down
its justice will smash idol of King Midas.

Beneath wind-blown banner of the Red Cross
we march on crusade to conquer the world,
but return home after years of bitter loss
to crown justice warrior our cosmic herald
who leads us safely to the Promised Land
with soul salvation of the red right hand.

Awake in meditation of calm faith
in Cave of Illusions on Mount Cecropia,
I rise as serpent from womb of the Earth
to abolish cruel human sacrifice
and teach people how to write thoughts in words,
then hand Wand of Wisdom to bold Athena.

Though spirit of Cecrops, the Serpent King,
sleeps coiled inside marble Capitol dome
to nourish heart of Liberty with Truth,
fierce Midas and his greedy minions swarm
sacred Halls of Justice to seize control,
then crowns himself king of our world empire.

When Melusine wakes in my aching heart,
shocked at political coup of the rich
who pervert our great Land of Liberty
into their factory-funded tyranny,
she urges me to call on Jupiter
to help us fight dictatorship of Pluto.

Yet John Keats, grandson of Beowulf Geats,
gazes entranced at the old Grecian urn,
and teaches me to see ideal forms
which forever preserve transcendent beauty
that beams through body of our mortal soul,
so I lament fall of America.

Roused from slumber by pure River of Fate,
I wear conceptual mask of Jupiter
and join with Lucifer, lawyer of justice,
to oppose Pluto and his oligarchs
and free America from grip of greed
through civil war we fight in courts of law.

I want to savor beauty of this world
that glows with eerie shimmer of calm faith
as sunset light red on tips of tall trees
like paint of respect on soft brush of art
when I paint Sisyphus rolling his stone
to smash idol of King Midas with justice.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus films Sisyphus pushing the stone down the hill and the huge crowd of Americans cheering when it smashes the clay-footed idol of fake King Midas.

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

Universal Beach Of Solitude
© Surazeus
2025 02 27

Folding my heart in gramophone of hope,
I become wild swirl of wordless sea waves
in vain attempt to reconcile my fear
with anxious honesty of awful truth
that keeps me circling my own private spot
on universal beach of solitude.

Wrapping my heart in peelings of the orange,
I disappear in swirls of morning mist,
happy to erase my face from the world
as mindless waves erase my faint footsteps
so all traces of my existence vanish
on universal beach of solitude.

Burying my heart in shifting sands of time,
I wear corrupted mask of victimhood
to solicit sympathy from blind gods
who mock my pain with silence of the wind
as I stumble randomly without hope
on universal beach of solitude.

Tracking my heart with seismograph of love,
I quake with hate for monsters of despair
that devour frightened people of my tribe
who could not run fast enough over sand
to escape sharp teeth of their hostile rage
on universal beach of solitude.

Hiding my heart in cavern of illusions,
I watch shadows of demons on the wall
writhe with horrible happiness of fate
till I grip jagged metal wand of light
and run screaming to attack monstrous fear
on universal beach of solitude.

Mapping my heart with raven quill of faith,
I track my journey to the Promised Land,
Egyptia to Arabia to Persia to India,
ten thousand generations of lost souls
forever hunting demons of despair
on universal beach of solitude.

Trapping my heart with proverbs of control,
I confirm my soul with reins of the law
my father designs to help me perceive
demons of danger before they attack
so I can evade monster of despair
on universal beach of solitude.

Building my heart in temple of the feast,
I keep walking toward grave of fate I dig
to roast demon I killed on altar stone
and feed five thousand people steak and wine
while wearing the demon skull as my crown
on universal beach of solitude.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus finds Neptunus wearing fish skull as crown while he presides as pope on the flat-top pyramid of power while people dance and praise his name.

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

Our New-Built World
© Surazeus
2025 02 26

Before we step into our new-built world
we must endure destruction of the old,
uniting in our quest to journey forth
through swirling smoke of arrogance and hate
when fearful men in castles of false gold
try to kill us when we oppose their reign.

Surprised at coming of the cosmic herald,
I leap in swirling vortex of the void
to measure conscious spirit of the Earth
who programs formulas of psychic fate
in emerald on the magic wand I wield
when I translate secret code of the crane.

Amused by photograph of the rock star
who sings anthem of patriotic pride
while twisting sorrow on the glass guitar,
I ponder how wise leaders know to sing
heart-warming melodies of old folk tunes
that women chant as they till garden soil.

Now that I am wise King of Zathamar,
anointed servant of Emperor Toad,
I build starship inside spinning Earth core
to beam my soul in horcrux of the ring
worn by my Muse when she invents Thought Runes
as memes that code my soul-genetic coil.

I cannot describe with clairvoyant words
sacred institutions of the new world
that we will build from ruins of world war,
but I predict we will elect our Gods
from sacred Bloodline of the Holy Grail,
born from wombs of Mermaid and Melusine.

Therefore I translate riddles of blind birds
who predict coming of the cosmic herald
as social architect of Zathamar
who rules the world with social justice squads
patrolling nations with judicial scale
in mental starship fueled by gasoline.

As Global Savior built by Frankenstein,
designed to represent humanity,
I reign on Pyramid of the God Eye
that sees everything which happens on Earth
in whole time-animated atlas globe
preserving history in Realm of Ideas.

When I work for President Clementine,
who maintains our global democracy,
I forge gold plates of truth on Mount Sinai
encoding secret of spirit rebirth
to navigate time with my astrolabe
as last grandson of mad prophet Tiresias.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus produces documentary about his grandfather Tiresias who designs the new world order as social architect of Zathamar.

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

Same Good Savior
© Surazeus
2025 02 26

Through false epiphany of mindless fear
as biased Observer of the Human State,
I perceive structure of the New World Order
taking shape across landscape of the Earth
where six empires grow from two hundred countries
as puzzles assembled by self-crowned kings.

Congregating in sprawling empire-states,
tribes contesting over resourceful land
ally with enemies of civil hope
to fight cruel strangers in that nearby state
who want to take our land and eat our fruit,
so we follow the howling prophet of death.

Sarcastic comments on blind human pride
may never open hearts of wounded souls
distraught by threats to their security,
so we gather in temples of bold faith
and pray with fervent wish to Faceless God
that we survive and thrive in wars of death.

Dionysus wants me to drink sweet wine
and dance with wild abandon in the wind
that swirls from restless ocean waves of hope
to motivate my hopeless leap of faith
so divine energy fills me with love
when I release fear and set my heart free.

Apollo wants me to rein intense flash
of psychic energy pulsing my brain
with strict attention to constructive form
that winds taut vibrancy of aching hope,
so with each careful strum of lyric strings
I weave graceful melody of pure love.

Releasing anguish of my wounded heart
to channel flush of psychic energy,
I arrange harmonious tones of desire
fraught with elegant grace of starry tones
which beams bright rainbow after raging storm
to enchant despairing hearts with new hope.

When people of nations misunderstand
people of other nations with blind fear,
because principles of our world views clash,
we sit together in the feasting hall
to share Epic Tales of our Cultural Heroes
so we see they are all the same Good Savior.

With true epiphany of heartfelt love
as biased Observer of the Human State,
I share insight of my vision in song
that every God who founded their nation
is noble hero we can all respect
as soul who represents the best of us.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus admits he is biased Observer of the Human State as he records his latest epiphany on the complex nature of human society.

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

Greed Of Angry Kings
© Surazeus
2025 02 26

Through fresh beginning from this fallen age
run children laughing in bright cement maze
to mock the jester on the global stage
who prepares the way for the next growth phase
by burning everything we value down
till he is consumed by the Thorny Crown.

With hands raised to the swirling clouds of faith,
I conjure Thespia from the mountain cave
to channel divine passion of the wraith
with sacred mission of the fool to save
humanity from greed of angry kings
who howl in rage and break our angel wings.

Inspired by holy wisdom of the sea,
I wear oak mask of Thespis on my face
to play the hero fighting to live free
against mad tyrants with musical grace,
then worship Eros in the sacred grove
on Mount Helicon to celebrate love.

Rolling stone of sorrow up Helicon
to smash idol of the king with clay feet,
Sisyphus sails north to found Avalon
with head of Ozymandias on the street,
where he gives diamond to the Fairy Queen
who bears him daughter he names Melusine.

When Heracles storms bright Olympus hall
to proclaim himself emperor of the world,
Thespia causes that mad tyrant to fall
when she gives Justice Sword to cosmic herald
who locks him in dark labyrinth of hell
where bull-head rages against moral spell.

Tricked by the rainbow eyes of Pegasus
to think he is strong when he has grown weak,
King Midas gives gold key to Narcissus
who steals the national treasure devils seek,
till we rally round Minerva with plan
to save our country from that traitorous man.

Black yellow-spotted salamander crawls
on jagged stone in forest of beech trees
where Thespia hides from Midas behind falls
to escape lust of his fascist decrees
when he escapes prison and reclaims
Thorny Crown of Christ to play mental games.

That crackling sound that thunders in the skies
is our world view crumbling from social change
so honest citizens play crafty spies
to reprogram thought-concepts that seem strange,
supporting new world order based on truth
with justice enforced by messiah sleuth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus protects Thespia from abduction by the goons of King Midas after they steal the national treasury from Temple of Saturnus.

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

Undoor Of Time
© Surazeus
2025 02 25

Each day I glide through undoor of time
to walk with my beloved in the park,
I stop and feel strange beauty of despair
as dead leaves drift from hungry naked trees,
then step into the riverboat alone
and row in dream to laughter of the sea.

Stars guide my journey through undoor of time
with spangled proverbs bleeding cherry pits
that poison angels of the rancid land
who cradle mothers fallen from the clouds
whose bodies form fertile fields of our farms
from which we grow new trees from aching hearts.

Death lures my wild dance through undoor of time
because my body tangled with glass bones
remembers violent ecstasy of love
that swells my spirit larger than the sky
with pulsing arrogance of shocked insight
when I see vision of our spinning world.

Pure sea waves wash me through undoor of time
on surging tides of frantic honesty
with currents that still flow invisible
though I map vastness of our throbbing globe
with beauty-measuring glimpse of timeless flash
that beams divine light in my dreaming brain.

Unseen grandeur beamed through undoor of time
connects my body to galactic mind
as substance glowing spirit from the flesh
constraining awed assertion to transcend
material process of chemical force
which animates our motion toward untime.

Strange stories dispersed through undoor of time
map brave new world of beautiful concepts
when we create meaning of noble truth
from random anecdotes of world events
that thrust the fool on stage of history
whose sacrifice elevates him to god.

Tossing rock of truth through undoor of time,
cracked open wide by gentle words of faith,
I gaze at my face in Pool of Narcissus
to understand true nature of Star God
who always seems to silently watch us
perform calm rituals of our frantic lives.

With reticent faith through undoor of time
I carefully explore world of ideal forms
beyond terrified walls of paradise
when Lais of Hyccara calls me name
then takes me to sparkling Fountain of Youth
to eat and discuss the meaning of life.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus follows Lais along the rugged mountain trail, picking berries as they flirt, then kiss under Grandmother Tree.

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

Fishing On The Lake
© Surazeus
2025 02 25

Listening to Johnny Cash country songs,
Grendel drives his green pickup truck to work
at the refrigerator factory
past the lake where he loves to fish on Sundays,
but slams on the brakes when he thinks he sees
the Loch Ness Monster rising from dark waves.

Filming the giant monster in the lake
with his eye-phone, too shaky in his hand,
Grendel plunges through bushes to the shore,
and exclaims "Holy Cow, look what I see!"
as he stumbles knee-deep in sparkling waves
to get a better view of the huge beast.

Catching sight of the tall mountain Sasquatch
who runs frantically along the lake shore,
Nessie leans her head down to better see
his hairy face, and asks, "What is your name?
You look just like your father Gandolar
who used to visit me with chocolate cake."

Startled when the lake monster clearly speaks
name of his father, Grendel shouts with joy,
"My father often told me about you,
Nessalina, daughter of Melusine,
about how you met in the Sognefjord
where you fled after your husband was killed."

Bowing her head so tears fall in the lake,
Nessalina whispers, "Gandolar-Son,
I am honored you remember my sorrow
at how Apollo slew my husband Python,
then roasted him on moon-feast pyramid
while wearing his skull as unholy crown."

"Instead of punishing that arrow-shooter,
when I appealed to Jupiter for justice,"
Nessalina cries with big eyes of sorrow,
black as the night sky where stars glimmer dim,
"he rewarded that smug arrogant boy
with hand of his daughter Daphne in marriage."

Patting her head with honest empathy,
the big-footed Sasquatch commiserates,
"I am sorry for your loss, Nessalina,
so remember that Grendel is my name
when I return on Sunday to talk again,
sharing stories about happier times."

Waving goodbye to the sad Loch Ness Monster,
Grendel climbs up the steep hill to the road,
then continues driving quickly to work
at the refrigerator factory,
but stops and shouts, "I shall quit that stupid job,
and enjoy my days fishing on the lake."

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus joins Grendel fishing on the lake and offers chocolate cake when Nessalina joins them in the afternoon sun.

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

Essence Of Our Happiness
© Surazeus
2025 02 25

Reluctant to understand why trees cry,
Candice wanders out glass doors of high school,
along high chainlink fence of the sports field,
past restaurants, clothing stores, and trinket shops,
then sits on wood chair outside car garage
where Beowulf in overalls fixes engines.

"I had no epiphany about life
encoded in proverbs of secret wisdom,"
Candice mumbles as she ignores the cars
flashing sharp rays of sunlight in her eyes,
"though I observed the landscape of this world
composed of objects human hands create."

Grinning as he adjusts small engine part
and twists the monkey wrench with subtle nudge,
Beowulf glances at the teenage girl
wearing purple jeans and puffy pink coat,
and gold silk scarf wrapping perm of blonde curls,
with lots of makeup masking her cute face.

"Every time I see your Greek goddess face,
just like those statues in museum halls,
I see perfection of the human form
expressing ideal beauty of design
in classic yet unique features that glow
with star-vital energy of your soul."

"There you go again talking in weird riddles,
which shows you could run your own company
if you want to wear the slick business suit
and hire talented people with mad skills
where you provide essential services
that help companies managed their finances."

Chuckling as he fiddles the engine core,
Beowulf considers her compliment,
"Though I am no David with sly slingshot
aiming to conquer Goliath for wealth,
I feel inspired by your calm confidence
that I could slay dark monster of despair."

Peering at his face as he tweaks the engine,
Candice sees halo of light on his head,
"Though secret nature of our lonely hearts,
core to the self of our specific being,
eludes our sight, we ever strive in vain
to create meaning for life where not exists."

Kissing her mouth with chuckle of respect,
Beowulf gazes into her green eyes,
"Therefore our search for the meaning of life
as we progress on road of our desires
where we create our fate with each new choice
becomes the essence of our happiness."

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus walking by the garage clandestinely photographs the car mechanic as he crouches before his blonde girlfriend to capture the essence of their happiness.

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

Virgin Mary Of America
© Surazeus
2025 02 24

Relentless beauty of the daffodil,
so golden bright in delicate contempt,
inspires the Virgin Mary to rebel
against oppression of the police state,
hands shackled by gold cuffs of blind desire
that chain her to the dirt-road country shack.

Eyes glowing with divinity of faith,
the Virgin Mary stares beyond the world
to see bright paradise of honesty
beneath the crumbling town of broken dreams
with generous heart of social purity
providing silent energy of love.

Asserting calm respect of sacred faith,
the Virgin Mary plots conspiracy
to shatter absurd paradigm of power
based on presuppositions of esteem
that prop patriarchy through arrogance
which still enforce domestic slavery.

Waiting tables in the greasy spoon diner
between the railroad and the factory,
the Virgin Mary brings liberal plates
of scrambled eggs with fried bacon and toast
for farmers and truck drivers who admire
graceful beauty of her celestial eyes.

Dressed in simple yellow blouse and green skirt,
the Virgin Mary of America
attends the white church on the country road
but always sits in the last lonely pew
where she soft sings hymns of piety
and quietly listens to sermons of faith.

"We gather every week to pray with faith
for Jesus to return and rule the world
as global monarch who unites all nations,
so, when the greedy scammer crowns himself
King of America with Crown of Thorns,
we should not be surprised at his vain pride."

Shocked at intensity of her soft voice,
everyone in church turns around and stares
at prophetic eyes of the Virgin Mary
that blaze with righteous anger of the Lord,
then they all vote to excommunicate
that evil woke feminist from their church.

Walking alone down unpaved country roads,
past rundown shacks where poor families live,
barely surviving with little to eat
since all government services were cut,
the Virgin Mary kneels by the plum tree
and cries for America lost to greed.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus searches thousands of small towns sea to shining sea to find the Virgin Mary who will save America from tyranny.

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

Secure Global Democracy
© Surazeus
2025 02 24

When the war is won and the killing done
I put the four-leaf clover in my gun,
then dance in hall of mirrors with the ghost
who laughs with innocent faith when I boast
about how we defeated tyranny
and helped secure global democracy.

For eighty years we ruled over the world
with magic lantern of the cosmic herald,
opposing tyrants with courage of wolves,
trusting that democracy always solves
contentious issues in united land
monitored by the invisible hand.

Before dividing walls of fear we stood
and preached the triumph of all that is good,
proud our Stars and Stripes flew over world peace,
secured by service of honest police
and soldiers on crusade of the red cross,
obedient to the Heaven-reigning boss.

But someone replaced Jesus as our king
with fierce-eyed Odin and his magic ring,
canceling the woke hippie and his love
who never appears from the clouds above,
while crowning bold warrior with sharp ax
who defends pirates pilfering our tax.

Though we once challenged Russia at its gate
their puppet has now overthrown our state
and crowned himself messiah of the Earth
while his jester steals everything of worth,
then swings his hammer and revs his chainsaw
to destroy our complex system of law.

Wrecking havoc with his hammer of greed,
King Midas decrees his capricious creed
as law that we must all obey or die,
while he protects his sly sniveling spy
who cuts funding for all social programs
while blackmailing us to pay for his scams.

Recovering from shock of his brute campaign
to impose dictatorship for his gain,
we rally around flag of Liberty
to oppose their lawless oligarchy
and free our nation from their avarice
with righteous blow from Stone of Sisyphus.

For eighty years America ruled well
the Free World against tyrannical hell,
but now our democratic government
has been hijacked by the fake president,
so we must fight to defeat tyranny
and help secure global democracy.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus and Woodie Guthrie play guitars and sing folk songs against tyranny with the machine that kills fascists.

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

Cold Mind Of Winter
© Surazeus
2025 02 24

With cold mind of winter I approach spring
to scatter snowflakes as tears of the dead
that sprout from misery of the blood-soaked sand
swirled by too many voices in the wind
that blow snow from high mountains of desire
to soak the waste land with hope for new life.

With cold mind of winter I ask the moon
why she replicates bright mirror of her eye
ten times across the bleeding crystal sky
to cast dark shadow of our naked souls
on windy meadow of the laughing snake
who mocks us as we try to find the fake.

With cold mind of winter I eat the flame
of sorrow hidden in the bleeding fruit
sweet as pineapple in the cave of dreams
where ghosts of the dead explain to me why
so many people are unfairly killed
by angry people terrified of death.

With cold mind of winter I punch the rain
to feel harsh ache of pain from sting of Death
who mocks Apostle Paul for arrogance,
then shows me where that Christian preacher lies
rotting in his grave for eternity
as Lucina gives me grape wine to drink.

With cold mind of winter I curse the sea
with omen from the laughing skull of god
who offers diagnosis on my state
of mental health through sacred oracle
that Sibyl sings while hanging in her cage
above indifferent waves of honesty.

With cold mind of winter I attend school
to develop deeper concept of truth
based on vast invisible universe
of unchange beneath the transient surface
that supports day-to-day reality
where I sell records in the red brick store.

With cold mind of winter I channel words
in dusty canyon of the singing skull
where two rivers merge in blue flash of rain
to conjure magic spells of psychic myth
as thought meets passion of the hungry heart
which nurtures chemical body of fame.

With cold mind of winter I strife for love
that heals dream-festered wounds of innocence
so we accept that suffering sparks regrowth
which fuels our transformation of the soul
to glorious angel from chemical wretch
as we sing the splendor of life on Earth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus focuses attention with cold mind of winter on the psychological system we use to perceive the world with stories of fate.

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