Brave Self-Sacrifice
© Surazeus
2025 10 13

When half-moon shimmers in the silver sky
where people wander hungry in the maze,
young wolf-witch climbs the lonely mountain peak
to gaze with love on the drought-stricken world,
then stabs obsidian knife into her heart
so her fertile blood soaks the world with rain.

Why must our nation of fear-stricken souls,
her mother cries out to the half-moon ghost,
require brave self-sacrifice through selfless love
of that pure soul who loves without constraint,
then weeps as she holds daughter in her arms
whose eyes glow with immortal light of stars.

The individual body with bright soul,
unique to psychic vision of its brain,
cannot be resurrected from the dead,
for spirits vanish when their bodies cease
to function through their chemical concept,
and dissipate to swirls of mindless dust.

Yet story of her noble sacrifice
to save her people from frantic despair
inspires each person to transcend their pain
and work together in grand harmony
constructing social system based on laws
that enforce equality through respect.

Bright blood that flows from pulsing of her heart
soaks in hard sunbaked soil of cracked despair
to fertilize telic purpose of seeds
that sprout from their efficient cause of being,
transforming ideas into final forms
inherent in prime structure of their fate.

Explanatory factor of our being
guides how we grow from spark of urgent hope
when we build factories to produce goods
that form global food-production machine
designed to capitalize strict fabrication
then socialize uniform distribution.

Emerging from tomb of humanity
with hunger-fashioned wings of ardent faith,
Minerva rises from brave sacrifice
in war against cruel kings of tyranny
to free all peoples of our spinning globe
who compose United Nations of Earth.

Through heart-inspiring vow of loyalty,
people, focused on world democracy,
consolidate fractured religious states
in global faith endorsing Liberty
designed by Ishtar, mother of all faiths,
to focus our hearts on progress of love.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus manages capital investments in various corporations to regulate creative progress for production and distribution of goods so everyone in the world may live in harmony of hope.

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

Vile Radioactive Waste
© Surazeus
2025 10 12

If I slip on the sidewalk of regret,
I might learn how to fly on my own wings
while working all night stocking food store shelves
with fruit angels steal from the Tree of Knowledge
to prove the question we hide in our hearts
is worth analysis by the glass skull.

She tells me ten years later at the store
how her mother lay dying from disease
in vast hospital of auspicious ghosts
who hide in frames of lonely photographs
despite my wish to process rare earth metals
which produces vile radioactive waste.

Except for three bells ringing in the tower
I cannot hear brave voices of dead cows
who argue tenets of psychology
regarding how the brain knows it is real
each time lovers kiss under the elm tree
to symbolize endurance of our faith.

Saturnus calls me on the telephone
so we chat about my student loan bill
heavy as the albatross in my heart
who guides us on our arctic expedition
to find the north pole where blind devils dance
through harmonic convergence of despair.

There is no treasure I would trade for life
except ever-flashing mirror of truth
which chooses not to reflect my fake face
because I want to hide my arrogance
behind the pious smile of faith I wear
when we attend the evening college party.

The ghost horse waiting for me in the rain
teaches me how to play chess against Death
but I prefer to write computer programs
based on large language model of the mind
in project funded by cryptocurrency
from pyramid scheme for the wealthy crowd.

If I dance on the electric phone line
strung between crosses where messiahs die,
I might transcend the weakness of my heart
bound to the safety of your precious soul
that generates children from divine genes
which still evolve four hundred million years.

Wandering weird streets of Paris at midnight
we find cafe of ghosts in alleyway
where sweet Persephone brings us good food
while mute Pierrot plays lyre of Mercury
till dawn strips all illusions of despair
and leaves us happy on the road of life.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus wears yellow hazmat suit as he cleans vile radioactive waste that pollutes the Garden of Eden.

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

Faith Untangles My Brain
© Surazeus
2025 10 12

I want to know if faith can weave my brain
from frantic memories of swerving atoms
that spool aggressive thoughts of honesty
into vast planet spinning in the void
so children without hands can eat sweet fruit
that never freely falls from Tree of Life.

Two billion people sit in temple halls
and listen to the man in long white robe
describe how light creates the universe
from random thoughts of Faceless Deity
who wanders listlessly on ocean shore
and cries with sorrow for his murdered son.

Bearing Lucifer limp in caring arms,
Jupiter climbs steps up the pyramid
and lays his body on the altar stone
while women in black robes of angel blood
lament cruel crucifixion of the boy
who fought to save people from slavery.

When the movie director cries out, "Cut!"
and gestures that their filming is complete,
the costumed actors cheer and clap their hands,
then, after cleaning and loading equipment,
they drive in thirty vans along the road
that winds around the ancient hill of skulls.

I wonder why faith untangles my brain
from undulating waves of radiant dreams
beamed by eight billion bodies from the Earth
till I become nobody else but me,
conscious of myself alone on this Earth
of every soul who lived since dawn of time.

I stare at my face in mirror of truth
and seen one hundred million years of souls
gazing at me from cosmic soul of God
incarnate in each new-born generation
who springs from immortal soul of our genes,
knowing I will disappear when I die.

When I stand on vast beach of history
and listen to timeless song of sea waves,
I feel wake in my temporary brain
memory of every ancestor I Am
as holy vision that weaves all our souls
through endless flow of personalities.

My mother weaves my body from starlight
in process sparked by key my father dreams
so I transform from fish to wingless angel
who walks this planet spinning in my brain
till I transcend all desire and despair
to become God as I vanish in death.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus stands before eight billion Astarians in temples around the world and sings epic tale about how Jesus frees people from slavery in jewelry minds of Hellas.

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

Wake Devil Of Hunger
© Surazeus
2025 10 12

If I dig well of hope deep in my heart
enough to reach the darkness of true love,
I may find everlasting source of truth
to water fields of sorrow with brave tears
so wheat may flourish in bleak field of skulls
as rays of sunlight transformed into food.

When rain falls not on sunbaked hills of fear
and trees groan thirsty in fragile despair,
I wake devil of hunger in my heart
and offer body of desire as sacrifice
so blood of selfless love may crack the sky,
releasing tears of joy to drench the world.

Weird beauty of illusion in my mind,
which my eyes perceive on surface of things,
emanates from essential core of being
and motivates intent of my fierce heart
to strive with passion to transcend contempt
so I build wealth on program of success.

Asserting domination of control
to manage wild chaotic swirls of change,
I breathe ethereal beauty of respect
that channels fierce aggression of blind fear
through weird disfigured mask of angry god
who wastes his energy in futile rage.

Rendered impotent through reckless exertions,
when he lashes out misdirected strikes
at shadows he regards as enemies,
the greedy tyrant stumbles as he flails
against honest walls of reality
till he expends his rage in useless deeds.

Still able to assess dire circumstance
that traps our bodies in perplexing maze
of bitter regret for impulsive choices,
we bond our sore hearts in courageous quest
to fight against cruel tyranny of greed
so we can free our souls from unjust laws.

Though we seem to be scattered in despair,
wandering pointlessly in the waste land,
and rail with ineffective eloquence
that details crimes against humanity,
we trust that bold providence will provide
clear-eyed messiah to lead us from Hell.

United in one purpose to achieve
strong democracy through justice for all,
we join our hearts in communal respect
to rise from rubble of our fallen nation
and build new world state based on Liberty
with courage to defend our equal rights.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus digs deep into sunbaked dirt with eloquent faith that he can find water to nourish the thirsty people of the world with justice and equal rights.

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

Plan To Hallucinate God
© Surazeus
2025 10 11

So I would like to hallucinate God
and argue with Her about Good and Evil
personified as Godin and Evilla
who fall in love in the Garden of Eden,
and through their passionate trust and respect
populate the whole Earth with Calibans.

I wake from dream to hallucinate God
as monstrous beast that lurks in human hearts
set free from gold cage of morality
by harsh humiliation of abuse
as angel of compassion metamorphs
in cruel dictator terrified of death.

I write weird book to hallucinate God
as old bearded man clutching sword of death
who looms enormous as black thunder cloud
and hurls aggressive spears of lightning bolts
to smash illusions of the Narcissist
whose faith is fractured into fantasy.

I devise plan to hallucinate God
as silver-eyed wolf of the mountain vale
who races with me on conceptual wings
along the winding river of desire,
exploring mystery of the human mind
embodied by the demon with sharp teeth.

Still unable to hallucinate God
by cracking mirror of the cosmic eye
that spirals out from black hole of soul light,
I wear mask of Zeus on Halloween night
to play role of judge over right and wrong
by deciding who gets to live or die.

Programmed by faith to hallucinate God,
I incarnate my soul as Jesus Christus
who sacrifices his life in punishment
to save his people from harsh slavery
when he defeats the tyrant in the tower
that cracks and falls at lightning strike of truth.

I sing dream spells to hallucinate God
as Aslan, spirit of the Holy Land,
who reigns in temple of the vatic seer,
assigned to prophesy heroic deeds
of wise messiah who appears on Earth
every eighty years to rebuild the world.

Since I will never hallucinate God
as more than my face in mirror of hope,
I map whole history of humanity
on time-animated atlas of Earth
so we can study progress we advance
uniting nations of Earth in one faith.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus plays lyre of Mercury and sings heart-enchanting spells that cause billions of humans to hallucinate God as the noble leader of their empire.

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

Earth Will Never End
© Surazeus
2025 10 11

Apocalyptic glow of evening light
when the sun glares at me through quiet trees
reveals to me that Earth will never end
for globe of bubbling chemicals will spin
billions of years more in the starry void
so I never have to tell you my love.

Four horsemen gallop on the windy plain
with scales and swords of legal punishment
when they attack traitors on thrones of power
to drive dictators from towers of fear
which frees the people from cruel tyranny
so we can tell each other of our love.

Lost in endless maze of bureaucracy,
forever filling out official forms
which grim-faced clerks declare are incorrect,
we wander homeless in dark city streets
to gather under bridges where trolls lurk
intending to sell illusions of love.

Smoking cigarettes in seedy cafe
beside abandoned radio factory,
Mercury ponders the meaning of life,
then tries to call the pretty castle spy
who never answers office telephone
with secret information about fate
wizards need to construct engines of love.

Though I rarely hope for justice to reign
while trudging toward final home of my grave,
I surf the tidal wave of social change
that sweeps nationalists and racists away
and cleanses fertile meadows of the world
for the rest of us to tend gardens of love.

Because it is the journey that counts more
than our arrival at the Promised Land
I keep on walking past the pearly gates
to map graceful curves of bright river streams
where villagers gather in ring of stones
to celebrate marriages of true love.

Small cat who sleeps on shelf of well-read books
beneath clear window of the shining world
transforms into Griffin with ruby eyes
who soars above the endless maze of myths
to photograph every city on Earth
as holy satellite of divine love.

When demons Zepar and Naberius
lead Christian soldiers into holy war
to fight crusade against wise Lucifer,
I walk ten thousand miles to sea of eyes
where maple leaves fall in the morning fog
from which emerges brave princess of love.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus leads worship service in Zarathium Cathedral where he reveals huge mural that depicts how Lucifer defeated Zepar and Naberius in battle for the soul of America.

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

Wizard Of Fiscology
© Surazeus
2025 10 11

At the hour of global financial collapse
butterflies and bees attend needs of flowers
to transform dirt and rain into fine pollen
that bloom into nutritious fruit of souls
so Kathy at the import business office
records transactions in the book of ghosts.

Riding crowded bus across the glass bridge
with faceless people to bright offices,
Kathy ponders how alligators live
alone in dreary swamps of Florida
while robots and wizards play games of chess
that manage how stock markets rise and fall.

Analyzing purchase data in spreadsheets
that order transactions of sales receipts,
Kathy calculates balance of income
in fraught relation to expenditures
concerning profits from foreign imports
that cycle products from factories to stores.

Caressing petals of the scarlet rose
with admiration of the pious nun,
Kathy considers checks and balances
designed to mitigate excessive risk
with careful observation based on flow
of snow-fed rivers tumbling to the sea.

Our world commercial enterprise is built
on focused people who manipulate
material structures with creative hands,
transforming dirt composed of minerals
into food, clothes, vehicles, and machines
that form infrastructure of our stage.

Running in rainstorm to the hospital
past hundreds of cars stalled in traffic jams,
Kathy finds wizard of fiscology
dying in bed from sudden heart attack,
so she holds his hand and vows to maintain
secure process of financial transactions.

Head swollen with importance of his role,
the stock broker in pinstripe business suit
declares prophets of the pyramid scheme
dispense fake profits to all who invest,
but Kathy ignores trickery of his scam
and maintains focus on financing work.

Shocked she got sucked in soap opera of greed
enforced by thief wearing businessman mask,
Kathy throws fraudulent financial reports
out office window to pave rain-wet streets
with miscalculations of human greed,
then repairs damage of fiscologists.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus chases King Midas down into caves where Pluto enslaves millions of people who mine wealth of hope from the heart of darkness.

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

Muddy Field Of Fate
© Surazeus
2025 10 11

She walks across the muddy field of fate
to ask the wingless god if she can fly
but he crawls slowly on assertive legs
with turtle eyes of nuanced haughtiness
to prove that time is measured by our thoughts
that fall as raindrops from the empty sky.

She huddles under willow tree of fate
to ask the eyeless god if she can see
pure essence of the soul in bodied shells
that vibrate with eccentric buzz of wind
too lonely for the jagged stone of fear
to understand why nothingness is real.

She digs potatoes from sun-hardened clay
to ask the handless god if she can take
bright treasure of the emerald from the Earth
and sell it to the mad king in the tower
who asks if she will marry him again
as she runs away to the river plain.

She watches silver moon of innocence
to ask the faceless god if she can play
important role of accessible queen
who listens to complains her people share
before she renders judgment based on truth
about finality of spirit death.

She drives her piston-engine car of fate
to ask the legless god if she can run
ten thousand miles from sea to shining sea
in ancient quest to find the Promised Land
described by prophets in the Holy Book
her father burns to warm cold winter nights.

She draws new navigation map of fate
to ask the heartless god if she can love
every person ever born on this globe
who fight over scarce resources of faith
in constant conflict between old world views
over who will control the narrative.

She wields the gem-tipped scepter of desire
to ask the mindless god if she can know
weird secret of rebirth designed by hope
to generate new child before we die
which replicates immortal soul of genes
as we evolve four hundred million years.

She tears frail pages from the Book of Fate
to ask the wordless god if she can write
new global myth of progress humans make
from warring factions of nationalist pride
to prosperous United Nations of Earth
where every soul is equal in one law.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus helps Minerva unite nationalist-blinded empires into global union of democratic states where every person is equal in one law so we do what we will, if we harm none.

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

Golden Cage Of Truth
© Surazeus
2025 10 10

If she hears angels singing in the clouds
she stops sewing cambric shirt with six arms
and tells the door to stop sprouting tree limbs,
but he walks away across misty moors
and leaves strange gap of silence in her heart
till she stores her tears in the pickle jar.

If she sees horses grazing on the bridge
she places vinyl record on the bed
which transforms into silver butterfly
who tells her how quick invisible waves
send ghostly voices to the radio
to sing inspiring hymns of faceless gods.

If see feels words crack foundation of truth
she gathers fragments of our old world view
with desperate plan to puzzle history
by reassembling timeline of world wars
to prove that tyrants always trick themselves
because they expend too much energy.

If she tastes buzzing sorrow of respect
she wears mask of the humble puppeteer
with mission to teach children how to read
so they dream history of the human race
since we tamed horses among apple trees
then rode from Scythia to Scotland west.

If she recalls the true name of her child
she reigns on pyramid of fractured skulls
with sacred scepter over human minds
who must accept the tale of her success
because she founds new dynasty of queens
who prophesy from golden cage of truth.

If she decides to train heroic guards
with mission to protect their princess brides
she rewrites rules of social interaction
with laws that restrain aggressive attack
to help maintain corporate prosperity
enjoyed by clever sons of Jupiter.

If she hosts international sports games
for war between Jesus and Jupiter
she wears the crown of Mary Magdalene
as Mother Mermaid of the Holy Land
attended by her many-eyed peacocks
when she rides chariot in the world parade.

If she builds institute of global peace
on neon skeletons of faceless gods
she tangoes with Satan in the town square
to misdirect attention of the clown
who tries to scam our nation of its faith
when she lounges in golden cage of truth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus asks Hera to marry him, so she opens school to train Heroes in principles of honor and respect for the right of women to control their own bodies.

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

Based On Verified Fact
© Surazeus
2025 10 10

Despite stark woe of Wednesday afternoon,
that scatters oak leaves on the lonely lawn,
I hide strange sorrow in river-smooth rock
when I record tragic tales in the book
that walks around town acting mean and tough
in his clever way that makes people laugh.

Young girl in black lace dress of formulas
contrives new spells of potent psychic keys
that conjure visions of apocalypse
to trace aggressive crimes on bloody maps
so she can bring true justice to the world
through tactics employed by the cosmic herald.

False attribution of unfalling rain
defines inherent strangeness of our plan
to disentangle meaning from old words
reflecting mental concepts in dream shards
which should unpuzzle how we invent truth
to circumvent authority through myth.

Considered too regressive for wealth games
by devils who chant solemn hymns with drums,
our views of math psychology express
complex techniques of systematic loss
eroding confidence we share at death
which shatters clear illusion of frank faith.

No recipe based on weird principles
could fool purveyor of attentive bells
better than the teenage witch I love
who paints history of mankind in sea cave
where prophet of regret sells glamourous hope
to angels who record it all on tape.

Veiled by cute aphorism mothers quote
with formulaic canon devils write,
my pulsing heart requires time-stable role
for measurement of thoughts that could be real,
yet ghosts of television rise reborn
to redesign doctrines our children learn.

We choose to question what our eyes perceive
so rumors proffering lies would seem to save
bitter-poisoned people abused by greed
since Anubis weighs our hearts to find good
that motivates intention to construct
global world view based on verified fact.

Ghost of the horse my mother gives to me
appears from glow cloud of the godless sky
to bear my sorrow swift across vast steppes
where I rule on pyramid of Cheops
as stoic emperor of Nowhere Land
that exists only in my fractured mind.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus wears plastic gold crown with jewels as he knocks on doors and asks if people have heard the good news of our lord and savior Apollo who saves our souls through music and poetry.

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

Fish Eggs Of Insanity
© Surazeus
2025 10 10

When I eat fish eggs of insanity
to understand soul of eternity,
my heart swells huge as spinning globe of dreams
that angels weave from conscious memories
so I can open wings of honesty
and soar above the endless maze of myths.

When I was no more than seven years old,
my father sold me for three bags of rice
to grim woman of the courtesan house
so now I smile at vile state ministers
while strumming taut strings of my aching heart
and sing love songs to earn my right to live.

When I confront the humble town blacksmith
for not sharpening my dagger enough
to defend myself against drunken counts
because I must pay my debt to live safe,
he frees my heart and soul from servitude
so the whole town attends our wedding feast.

When we sign petition of grievances
against cruel governor who steals our land
and forces us to build large palaces,
he tortures and whips the signers in rage,
so my humble blacksmith husband guides us
to fight against corrupt state ministers.

When we ask for help from the government,
the governor attacks our council hall
and slaughters everyone with swords of greed,
then binds my humble blacksmith husband high
on punishment pole before palace gates
where he bleeds to death in the bitter heat.

When the king slanders his innocent name,
declaring without honest evidence
that he lead rebellion against the state,
I weep before his arrow-riddled corpse
while holding child I bore after his death
and burn his suffering spirit in my heart.

When I kneel before secret cavern pool
to set his skull with reverence on the stone,
hot tears I weep in dark water of fate
transform into immortal fish of truth
that lays scarlet eggs of insanity
which sparkle bright as rubies in my heart.

When I eat fish eggs of insanity
to preserve suffering of my family,
I wander mad in market villages
asking everyone with eyes bleeding tears
if they have seen my humble blacksmith husband
for his soul lives again in our brave child.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus cradles old woman as she dies in his arms, and listens to tragic story of her suffering when her humble blacksmith husband dared to oppose corrupt ministers of the state.

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

Woe-Mood Of Silver Rain
© Surazeus
2025 10 10

Heart stricken by woe-mood of silver rain,
which sparkles bright as eyes on each leaf-face,
Saethryth scatters flowers with yellow petals
to cover face of her mother Aelflaed
whose silver eyes gaze blankly at the sky
where green clouds beckon to the faceless soul.

Attending grave of her mother each day,
Saethryth watches her body of soft flesh
dissolve into writhing mass of insects,
then disperse into dry dust swirled by wind
that prances gracefully with herd of deer
along the curving margin of the stream.

Filling basket on her arm with ripe pears,
that glisten with refracted rainbow beams,
Saethryth recalls sweet childhood memories
when she walked with her mother among trees,
sat in the market selling fruit for coins,
and fried pear cakes over the crackling fire.

Soft whisper of the eerie river breeze
imitates soft dulcet voice of Aelflaed
who calls her name "Saethryth" among thin trees,
so she turns quickly to see her golden face
that glows with laughter of wholehearted joy
for fleeting second of eternity.

Before face of her mother vanishes
in sudden swirl of mist among thin trees,
Saethryth sees rainbow eyes of Aelflaed gleam
bright with weird wisdom of the singing sea,
but vision of maternal spirit fades
that leaves her in woe-mood of silver time.

Heart aching with woe-mood of wistful hope,
that urges her intention to sell fruit
to people who adore how Aelflaed sang,
Saethryth wanders signless road into town,
but stops with Tirweald, wielding long oak wand,
demands she attend home hearth as his bride.

"Because your mother Pretty Elf opposed
my wish to bind your body to my hearth,
I struck that stubborn obstacle aside,
so now you will submit to my strong will,"
Tirweald declares with self-satisfied smirk,
but Saethryth thrusts sharp dagger in his heart.

Leaving his body as feast for the wolves,
Saethryth attends her booth in market town
where people purchase cinnamon pear pies
she bakes in oven of bold honesty,
then blushes with Aelfweard, with loving eyes,
offers flowers with ring of gold he forged.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus plays lyre of Mercury and sings epithalamion to celebrate the marriage of Saethryth and Aelfweard who host wedding feast for everyone in the small river town who dance with joy of love.

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

Endless Beach Of Hope
© Surazeus
2025 10 09

She walks the lonely road of nowhere else
with shining laughter of relentless rain
to prove time burbles mud of ardent fields
more tardy than exploding suns of thought
too far for ravens without wings to find
bleak river valley of silver-eyed faes.

Born faceless under canopy of tears,
she hums with time-cracked bell of liberty
despite annoyance of reluctant cows
who wait impatiently in gushing flow
of rivers crashing from high mountain snow
to ask if she remembers why milk sours.

Shocked by how fast the wingless horse forgets
to bring uncertain wind of roaring waves,
she ponders how swans know to scatter gems
with sordid nonchalance of happiness
before the second coming of the cloud
that beams the man in white from starry realm.

Determined to rest on the flowered slope
with frantic calmness of abandoned hearts,
she gazes sadly at the boundless blue
through eagerness to never talk again
regarding concept of property lines
where gates block access to gardens of fruit.

Yet savior who arrives with holy book,
that records how his father reigns as king,
may preach salvation of the glowing cloud
for all who choose to pay for miracles
that cause abundant crops to bloom from skulls
of angels fallen in celestial war.

Arriving at the dock from mountain vale,
where bright-winged fairies all grew old and died,
she asks the man in black with tearful prayer
to buy her ticket to the Promised Land
so he indentures her to servitude
as stoic minister of star-eyed faith.

Huddled against hull of the lurching ship,
tossed by aggressive winds of loyalty,
she prays with fevered faith in fortitude
to storm-winged deity of lighting truth
to bear her soul across seething sea
safe to the garden of the singing cow.

Feet heavy as bright diamonds on the crown
of melancholy king chained to his throne,
she trudges on the endless beach of hope
toward woman holding lamp of liberty
who writes her name in book of history
while she sews clothes and tends garden of herbs.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus returns to river vales of Scotland where his ancestor lived two hundred years ago before she sailed west to the Promised Land.

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

Rainbow Void Of Honesty
© Surazeus
2025 10 09

Since I could never abandon the world
the morning sun recreates my blank soul
from gleams of silence on frail leaves of trees
who whisper beauty through our fantasy
that Cosmic Soul of God creates our minds
from tangled threads of childhood memories.

Because the stringent silence of the world
cradles my body in glowing rock of light,
as if my heart were spinning iron core,
my soul swells huge inside my fragile skull
till I envelop universe of stars
that pulse at loving caress of the wind.

My heart swells huge with emptiness of being
which I mold from soft prayers of bold intent
through Word of Truth unbound by holiness
that helps me calm my vibrant energy
with hallowed breath of throbbing river clay
containing star-soul of my naked brain.

Immortal soul of genes that weaves my brain
from weird ancestral memories of hope
contorts aggressive loop of happiness
to flash with fierce ecstatic state of mind
that writhes with anguish of conceptual love
we share through blind covalent force of truth.

Entwined with strings of stellar energy
combining dust of Earth in strangled wires,
my special genome forms persona mask
I wear when I perform my graceful role
as psychic demon stuck in human form
because my brain generates my weird soul.

Reborn as helix spirit from starlight
as pure relentless waves of molecules,
I explore ancient forest of fruit trees
through endless labyrinth of faceless ghosts
till I find glowing red in geode skull
immortal soul of genes that makes me Me.

Crowned with cultural contrast of respect
based on strange counterfeit of holy words,
I climb high mountain of stoic concern
to sing with Pentecostal flames of truth
commercial hymns composed by hungry brains
that spring from rainbow void of honesty.

Half-shadowed face of God appears on cloud
that masks mortal soul of my dreaming brain,
yet I gaze chuffed at mirror pool of time
to see how I transform from year to year
through stages of the brave iconic ghost
who wakes each morning in my sponge-soft brain.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus explains that souls generated by brains are temporary emanations of consciousness that vanish when the chemical body ceases to function, though no one wants to accept this inconvenient truth.

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

Holy Book Of History
© Surazeus
2025 10 09

I could live ten thousand years from the prize
earned through the sweat and tears of singing spells
that readjust how brains perceive the world,
except that I am cursed with dragon eyes
that see beautiful angels in dark wells
who appoint me to play the cosmic herald.

I could wear mask of prophet you discard
by walking signless road to Wonderland
where starving children worship puppet clowns,
except my face reflected in the shard
resembles leader of the marching band
who sings of Jesus in small country towns.

I could reveal immortal soul of genes
that pulses bright in glass cells of my soul
through television screens of memory,
except our brains now animate machines
as mindless robots who perform their role
programmed by Holy Book of History.

I could continue to evolve soul form
from fish to god by twisting words of faith
in frantic game to achieve global fame,
except I love to dance in lightning storm
that swirls from psyche of the cosmic wraith
whose wisdom realigns the social frame.

I could compare philosophy of truth
to cube of concepts that Rubik designed
which simulates aspects of our world view,
except the fool who plays messiah sleuth
will be crucified as the mastermind
who codes theology from what is true.

I could transcend limits of space and time
to surf waves of our dream continuum
through undulating tunes of aching hearts,
except ideal of God evolves from slime
to build fruit garden in Elysium
where faceless ghosts live bound by starless charts.

I could achieve success through tyranny,
exploiting people to increase my wealth
as I declare myself Great King of Earth,
except I wander lost in fantasy
that I will live forever in good health
through magic miracle of second birth.

I could relax in peaceful paradise
and read literary novels of fate
in quiet suburb cottage of success,
except the tyrant, trapped in greedy vice,
contrives to rule the world with bitter hate,
so someone has to clean up this world mess.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus stands in the Zarathian Center of Poetry and reads lyric poems written by millions of poets in anthology of the Holy Book of History.

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

More Perfect Than Truth
© Surazeus
2025 10 08

Though tower of hope crumbles in the sea
when tides of change corrupt integrity,
I redesign illusion of the world
based on material facts of measured words
as project to protect the pulsing brain
that dreams inside the center of the Earth.

While standing on the highest mountain peak
I feel bright spirit of our spinning Earth
radiate from pulsing sphere of energy
as psychic concept of the human soul
which weaves my body in matrix of mind
who wakes and names itself God of the world.

Encased in peach that blossoms from thick branch,
bright spirit of the Earth calls out my name
with eerie voice of cosmic jubilance
which tricks my heart to long for global fame
through wingless flight of impossible fate
miscalculated by turbulent stars.

Through raw aggression of bold artistry
I analyze childhood trauma with jokes
which fetishize the wordless pain of pride
that fuels innovative road to success
before the world explodes with honesty
because I waste my life on prophecy.

Since I am center of the universe
I beam pure emanation of god soul
wide outward shadow-flashed in ecstasy
on waves of passion more perfect than truth
decidedly obscure as elegies
we choose to sing as we sink blind in death.

Not wretched as stark expiration hour
are wealthy thieves who crucify the clown
for daring to suggest they fund healthcare
which proves light bends in rainbow travesties
when piercing water of the ocean heart
despite sweet effervescence of our bones.

Yet if I leap in fields of wind-blown wheat
with eagerness of ghosts trapped in blank books
before the full moon cracks and bleeds our eyes,
the charming singer might perceive my soul
as more than fountain bubbling in the woods
when she decides to hold my trembling hand.

When I see dragons fluffing in the air
and hear the mermaid singing in my home
then I will dance on mountain of despair
to prove the world is one in charity
before pure snow shrouds paradise in fear
as doom which I encode in prophecy.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus bears the mermaid Ophelia in gentle arms from the River Styx and lays her gently among flowers of Elysian Fields to learn from her the secret of eternal life.

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

Scientific Wings Of Gods
© Surazeus
2025 10 08

Hesitant to criticize the star ghost,
who chooses economic certainty
over magic-impulsive state of mind,
the woman who frames stories of true love
gives everything her father owns away
till she has nothing but the signless road.

Still roaming the unfenced meadow of flowers
twenty thousand years after she was born,
the woman who loves to cook apple pies
ignores the man in her vicinity
who tends garden of her lost memories
while binding sunlight in the pageless book.

Imaginary playmate of her faith
tells her about the busy avenue
where people walk into the sunset glow
after their parents die from innocence
at second coming of Odysseus
who washes blood of gods from palace walls.

Our overworked teacher leaps in the sky
and flies on scientific wings of gods
to find the land where angels gamble truth
to understand weird riddle of the clown
who hides his spirit in the telephone
hoping to escape from the Promised Land.

Startled by ancient wisdom of the fool,
the woman who loves to build satellites
stares at the antique spacesuit in glass case
with skeleton of Icarus still inside,
then asks her daughter if she understands
how to read the fake writing on the wall.

The gold bell radiating in the sky
vibrates with cosmic voice of Lucifer
who gives the woman on the prancing horse
new instrument of volatile respect
that reveals how religion programs brains
of humans to believe in fantasies.

While her body absorbs psychic moonlight
with helpless passion through publicity,
the woman with clear luminescent eyes
embraces mountain machine of my heart
so we exchange warm waves of energy
to grow new scientific wings of gods.

Evading observation of the crowd
with mission to ignore social awards
for dutiful accomplishments of trust,
the woman who contains soul multitudes
delivers unheeded message that we
should love everyone, though none loves us back.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus teaches children at the Zarathian Museum of Science how satellites transmit signals of truth which unites all the people of the world in one new world view of liberty and justice for all.

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

Frail Boat Of My Heart
© Surazeus
2025 10 07

Our quiet morning on the silver lake
can never be interrupted by Death
who walks the waste land of the far away
with ghosts of children stuck in gentle breeze
that ripples mirror surface of my mind
as I float mute in frail boat of my heart.

She asks me if I can tell her the tale
about the man who thinks he owns the world,
but I mumble while eating buttered toast
that tyrants always fall in sad disgrace
because they grasp illusion of control
when falling in abyss of nothingness.

When Jupiter knocks on door of my home
I find him on the porch with Mercury
who gives me lyre he carved from dragon bone,
so I hitchhike from sea to shining sea
and sing on the streets of each nowhere town
who elect me to perform the sad clown.

If you can see behind persona mask
I wear when walking in the public square,
then you can read my mind with clarity
because I spend all day in empty house
watching grand history of the world unfold
electric wings for divine right to rule.

While I stand faceless with ten thousand hands
behind velvet curtain of modesty,
great actors strut their hour on stage of faith
to replay how Michael and Icarus
campaign to win as Emperor of Earth
who walks disguised in city maze of lies.

You ask if I love beauty of the Earth,
but I can find no words scattered in soil
adequate to reflect thoughts of my brain
though they sprout into demons of respect
who teach me how to navigate the world
as I search everywhere for tomb of Zeus.

Slouched with nonchalance of fake arrogance
at wood counter in the highway cafe,
I order eggs and toast with sausages,
then eat my sorrows to untwist my tongue
while cars and trucks flash by to somewhere else
till I decide where I should not go next.

As the last men left alive on the Earth
I stand on stage in the vast concert hall
and strum the lyre of Mercury with angst
to sing hymns for ghosts of humanity
who cannot understand point of the tale
I sing with heart-breaking voice of despair.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus records album of grunge folk songs that he composed while working the night shift as janitor in the dilapidated building with the English Department at the University of Zarathia.

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

Sad Bear Of Solitude
© Surazeus
2025 10 07

Not satisfied with how fear eats our hearts,
sad bear of solitude climbs the glass tower
to harvest pears from Tree of Innocence
so all the children in the starving land
may eat sweet happiness of honesty
though bombs disperse their lonely families.

Erasing names from road signs with his blood,
sad bear of solitude captures sunlight
with paint he smears on blank cathedral walls
through call for revolution against hate
till teachers on vacation at the beach
throw weird unwritten novels to the wind.

Regretful for how maps conceal the truth,
sad bear of solitude programs our brains
to navigate our global maze of myths
while riding turtles with ten thousand eyes
so we can contemplate with casual rage
vain emptiness in social games we play.

While parking cars behind the shopping mall,
sad bear of solitude redesigns chess
back to its original social roles
where bishops are princesses in tall towers
and queens are precious heirs of properties
while kings lead knights to build empires on laws.

Honored by award of celestial pride,
sad bear of solitude allocates faith
for crowds of revelers on river walks
who celebrate night of the Harvest Moon
while he plays haunting tunes on white jade flute
to hide the sounds of bombs exploding hope.

Climbing to top of Snake Pagoda hall,
sad bear of solitude investigates
obsessive state of mind that humans hide
while driving cars in circles of success
despite the arrogance of butterflies
who land on razor wires of paradise.

Trapped by fierce wildfire in the wilderness,
sad bear of solitude steals devil wings
but fails to escape political games
fought between localists and globalists
in civil war they play in cyberspace
to prove he is the King of Everywhere.

Awake in palace of the singing ghost,
sad bear of solitude commissions God
to reinvent the wheel of cosmic fate
so people of the world unite their hearts
in pledge to honor liberty for all
till snow erases mankind from the Earth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus frees sad bear of solitude from the city zoo so he can ramble on the golden highway from sea to shining sea because this land is mine.

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

Weaving Nests Of Sorrow
© Surazeus
2025 10 06

Birds always seem to know the reason why
rivers dance with blind spirits of the sky
while weaving nests of sorrow from the wild
in solemn honor of the wandering child
who treasures in his hand the last world orange
that ripens from the ancient tree in Stonehenge.

From round temple hall on the sunlit peak,
that preserves sacred scrolls he longs to seek,
Phoebus gazes at river vale of mist
where he and the sweet water girl once kissed
in subtle passion of soft Autumn breeze
that transforms apple hearts to rigid keys.

Though earthquakes shatter illusion of power
causing towers to fall, but not the flower,
Phoebus designs well-ordered city maze
where everyone who wants to can stargaze
to live well without insecurity
by working together of Liberty.

Assembled with the loyal revenant,
who sing psalms without ersatz sentiment,
we build on ruins of our lost empire
brave democracy of the Testifier
whose riddles reveal wisdom of the stars
preserved in anecdotes of sad memoirs.

After dancing on the tightrope of desire
to sing with Death in the heavenly choir,
Phoebus explores the old castle of stone
with hope to call God on the telephone,
but instead sings hymn of the Divine Self
preserved in books on the library shelf.

Pausing on the highest point of the world,
Phoebus reviews his life as cosmic herald,
achieved while walking winding road of fate
by crossing wild rivers with his soul mate
who reveals they cannot backtrack the past
for all creatures of time will die at last.

Aghast at horrible things cruel men do
in attempt to control the ingenue,
whose spirit represents the holy land
tended by stewards of the guardian hand,
Phoebus legislates inalienable right
of women to control their hearts of light.

Choosing to master mental dominance
to avoid fame-entangled prominence,
Phoebus records chronicle of events
describing war of kings and penitents
till orphaned children find amusement park
while he weeps at song of the meadowlark.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus calls Zeus on the telephone so they chat about their families, then make plans to meet at Lake Nemi for the Autumn Festival.

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

Bomb-Mangled Bodies
© Surazeus
2025 10 06

Against collapsed wall of our old world view
she leans exhausted spirit of desire
with faint hope that new trees of fruit will sprout
from bomb-mangled bodies of faceless children
whose ghosts haunt cyberspace as photographs
that highlight their bright smiles and starry eyes.

Across the desert of unspoken words
she walks toward unimagined nothingness
with secret blueprints for bridges and homes
that she intends to build from broken bones
for people who have lost their history
to crashing thunder of the holy book.

Inside the mountain cave of lonely thoughts
skull of our first mother sings lullabies
two million years while empires rise and fall
for starlight trapped in diamond of her brain
so we dance round bonfire of vanities
to celebrate our victory in world war.

Beside the horse of wind on wings of hope
she runs beyond horizon of blind fear
to find our bodies floating in the pool,
so she constructs new aviation school
to teach us how to fly on angel wings
though we are stuck in elevator cage.

With children dancing on the river shore
she washes blood and sorrow from her face
to protect ancestral language of faith
entangled in false alphabets of truth
which heal our existential wounds with words
that flood vast maze of myths with honest doubts.

Along with phantoms of the broken mind
she walks the lonely road of anywhere
without concern for national politics
fought hard between central authority
and local managers of social games
constrained by fear-wrought laws of liberty.

Beneath grand arch of triumph people wait
to speak in forum of calm argument
despite demented tirade of contempt
that mad King Midas screams at faceless ghosts,
so they all turn their backs in silent faith
till he falls exhausted from frantic fear.

Outside my heart weird angels cry in rain
so I construct stone walls of paradise
to protect my wife and children from harm,
safe haven for private theology
from which I build empire of honest truth
which requires no energy to maintain.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus works for Minerva at the think tank to devise new strategies that sustain democratic institutions against autocratic oligarchs who would exploit the people for their private gain.

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

Void Of Glowing Stars
© Surazeus
2025 10 05

I love to float in void of glowing stars
with ancient laughter of sweet dinosaurs
to animate my heart with lust for life
so when I rise on wild Icarian wings
I swoop with joy above vast maze of myths
where now-unworshipped gods live mundane lives.

Sad for the people killed in civil wars,
brave Mercury strums lyre on city streets
to sing enduring anthems of state pride
for our great empire of fake liberty
that crumbles into anecdotes of faith
with fraught assassination of each clown.

Though tides of timeless change, roiled by despair,
erase our footsteps from the storm-lashed beach,
we walk on stairway of wind to the stars
to wash dirt of oppression from our souls
when Mercury arrives from somewhere else
to give us fruit he stole from Tree of Life.

Legality of my existing soul
gets challenged by the faceless banker king
who publishes from blood of fishermen
deceptive maps with grand road to success
which strips our shadows from our fragile flesh
so light tears gashes on our plastic skin.

All traces of state borders drawn with blood
vanish from maps of patriotic wars
now crumpled by scarred hands of Mercury
who searches gray streets of poisonous smog
to find the jester crucified at dawn
who wants to float in void of glowing stars.

Trapped by vampire eyes of the public ghost,
I sail my fishing boat on flooded streets
with guttural laughter of the last full moon
since homeland, where my ancestors were born,
is crowded now with foreign immigrants
who live in house of my lost memories.

On periwinkle sea foam of my heart
I draw meridian lines of fortitude
to rescue child of sorrow when she drowns
since she always feels she does not belong
though Mercury gives her citizen card
which she presents at the museum door.

There is no dream world inside our real world
except what Mercury carves with sharp teeth
on crystal ball of fortunate success
based on how invisible our souls feel
when we buy new memories at the church
where we still swim in void of glowing stars.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus sits in the booth and sells tickets to the amusement park where people want to float in the void of glowing stars to see what it feels like to be a planet infested with humans.

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

Second Coming Of Mercury
© Surazeus
2025 10 05

Disabled by strange smile of ocean tides,
I meditate among humming plum trees
to understand the sound of silent wind
which animates our bodies with brave pride
in vain attempt to share forgiveness
before second coming of Mercury.

Though aching heart of sorrow wakes from dream
by strong scent of hibiscus at midnight,
I gaze through telescope of ardent faith
at planet floating over sea of eyes
where children play chase in ruins of truth
before second coming of Mercury.

She lifts anguish-soft petal to her nose
while sitting on grave where her mother sleeps,
then steeps it in hot water to brew tea
she sips while sniffing pungent scent of time
that pulses through her periodic blood
before second coming of Mercury.

Most days her mind of melons in hot fields
dismeasures censured state of wretchedness
through calm discretion of amusing code
forsaken by mask of beauty she steals
because she hopes to connect all our minds
before second coming of Mercury.

With hyper caution of the treasured key
she photographs faceless specters of faith
who dance in dervish spirals of respect
for something more immense than mountain souls
unwinding spool of frantic memories
before second coming of Mercury.

Arrived at indecision warriors trade
for subtle knowing of our hopelessness,
she shares strange vision of reality
more true than dreams our eyes invent from light
since all we need is bread and hot beef stew
before second coming of Mercury.

Unloosened web of spiral surgencies
reveals sly origami puzzle games
we choose to play with haughty urgency
to find the empty diamond of the mind
that fuels the piston engine of progress
before second coming of Mercury.

Cheerfulness disguised as bitter contempt
alerts my sense for high activity
that drives my journey to the Promised Land
with temperate ambition to rule Earth
while hiding alone in cavern of tricks
before second coming of Mercury.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus leads enormous crowd of war refugees across the waste land of America to gather in the ring of humming stones and wait for the second coming of Mercury.

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

More Rich Than Trees
© Surazeus
2025 10 05

More rich than trees that convert soil to fruit,
my body transforms spirit of the stars
to conscious vision of the universe
which shines in psychic lamp of memory
as light that guides my quest to find the gem
which projects how light conjures my brain soul.

Young woman wearing black shoes and lace gown
glides gracefully in garden of fresh herbs,
delighting in soft dance of butterflies
while contemplating mysteries of the world
preserved as hope with feathers of true love
embodied by the bird perched in her soul.

Holding open her hand filled with bread crumbs,
she smiles with joy to watch the happy bird
consume fierce beauty of the universe
that forms the strangest sea inside her heart
as sudden gale erupts across the sky
that scatters feathers and leaves on the road.

Startled by the carriage painted black
that stops for her on signless road of time,
young woman, holding basket of ripe fruit,
rides with Immortality in white suit
who smiles and tips his hat with calm respect
as they ride past cemeteries and towns.

Rapping ardently at my chamber door,
young woman with eyes bright with ancient stars
sips tea on velvet couch of honesty,
then, while I play solemn tune on piano,
she sings sweet hymn about Eternity
as horses graze in field of daffodils.

Though I want to ask question of my heart
about our domestic tranquility
in peaceful domicile of mutual love,
I smile behind mask of civility
while aching to embrace her with respect
till she waves farewell and rides swift away.

I want to express with ache of my heart
that she is modest Muse of timeless truth
whose beaming smile and ancient starry eyes
inspire these endless songs of ardent hope
that swell ripe from ethereal wind of faith
through pulsing cavern of my fertile heart.

Floating together in dark forest pool,
young woman and I laugh wild with delight
to celebrate that we are still alive,
though tyrants of the world are mad with power,
for greed that demands too much energy
dissipates into peace more rich than trees.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus presents research paper on the relationship between trees and urban landscapes where humans spend all day inside homes watching endless movies about dryads.

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

Hear Voice Of Iblis
© Surazeus
2025 10 04

I hear voice of Iblis in desert wind,
that sings across the waste land of false hopes,
explain that, though humans are fragile beings
who all grow sick and eventually die,
we shine so bright while we are still alive,
and leave glow of our souls in songs we sing.

Since we are fragile snowflakes of the stars,
that fall in spirals of elegant grace
to sparkle in the holy pond of souls,
we visualize abstraction of the world
in arcane metaphors of fruit-rich trees
through sketch of atoms swerving in the void.

Bright iridescent beetle of my heart
reveals ephemera of tales we share
while gathered round the glowing fire of thought
to analyze how we explore the hills
till we build virtual model of the world
composed of concepts embodied by words.

Incarnate in this body of soft flesh,
my bright immortal soul of tangled genes
unravels stitches of strange memories
to comprehend pure vastness of the world
contained in precious words subject to hope
through endless turning of seasons we grow.

We walk toward mountains of our misty faith
by breathing spirit of the silent sun
to build our homes along the signless road
where children of our dreams may safely play
inside the haven walls of paradise
assaulted by wild gangs of hungry thieves.

If we would understand our urgent prayers,
we deconstruct empire of restless fear
that drives us to build temples for mad gods
who fund construction of the harbor town
from which we sail to map far alien lands
where jesters advise kings to trade, not fight.

Dazzled by delicate mist of the lake
that rises from deep mirror of my mind,
I sing brave anthem of courageous pride
to praise amazing beauty of the heart
because our bodies dissipate to dust
that sparkles as it swirls into the sky.

In love with moon goddess as her ghost seer,
who tends lush garden of our memories,
I drive my body in forest of dreams
where disembodied spirits of the night
translate the voice of Iblis into songs
that teach me to love strangeness of this world.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus tricks Iblis with misdirection of abstract concepts about beauty of the human soul so he can no longer drag humans down into Hell through deception.

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

Star God Of Justice
© Surazeus
2025 10 04

While I float in calm blue of the Dream Sea,
I see bright Star God appear before me
as swirling cluster of luminous eyes
so every soul born in the universe
perceives my temporary flash of self
till I rise refreshed to explore the Earth.

Through periodic assessment of fate
I realign how weird stars calculate
progress of mental growth inside my brain
so with faith I can better navigate
conceptual maze of objects born from rain
to keep my family safe from psychic harm.

Asserting calm respect for social games,
I travel ever westward round the globe
ten thousand miles in hundred thousand years
by paving roads of bold religious faith
which I name after prophet of the light
who walks before us with the lamp of truth.

Despite strict prohibition against lies,
losers sell hope to steal wealth from our hands,
so victims form alliances in gangs
who storm the palace at the midnight hour
to crown themselves the victors without pride
so oppressed become oppressors at last.

Each social revolution of the truth,
that sweeps in waves of violent contempt
across the cityscape of mirrored halls,
lifts some lost loner of the hungry crowd
to rise above the mob with righteous words
who prophesies new vision of the right.

Endowed with glory by Fortune at dawn,
new prophet, speaking visions of the heart,
leads people of the land in brave crusade
to fight against the wealthy oligarchs
and cast their idols broken on the ground
to render equal justice for each soul.

If god-born genie in the ancient lamp
would grant three wishes of justice enforced
to victims suffering from brutal abuse,
then we should ask for world system of laws
ensuring equal justice for each soul
so everyone may thrive creatively.

When I escape that fractured fantasy
that humans would miraculously accept
one global system through equality,
I wake in real world where the greedy rich
exploit the poor of vain unanswered prayers
though the Star God of Justice is my dream.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus wears mask of the Star God of Justice while he performs role of the prophet who saves humanity from tyrants and their gangs of greedy oligarchs.

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

Museum Of The Broken Mask
© Surazeus
2025 10 04

If I feel the sudden impulse to sing,
I will scatter my bones in the wheat field
where no one but the sad scarecrow has walked
more than three hundred years of social change
so elves and nymphs may spring from fertile soil
to dance at the Super Bowl halftime show.

If my spirit animal would appear
to teach me secret of physical space,
I might design the factories and ships
my brothers could use to conquer the world
using the Mercator projection map
to sail straight across the sea to new shores.

I sail the blue boat of my aching heart
across the future shameful sea of faith
to study hunger of the human soul
through psychic resonator of concern
by smuggling treasures of lost empires home
to stock museum of the broken mask.

Reluctant to perform as optimist,
I like awake beneath the starless sky,
and count the humans living on this globe
who leave their faces hanging on home doors
as we design new theories about hope
for children who draw visions at dark schools.

Yet no one listens to the desert god
who howls solemn hymns on the radio
in preparation for the next world war
that we must fight against cruel oligarchs
who charge taxes for water and sunlight
so we eat stew of bones and bitter truths.

Though if feels as if the rocks and the clouds
are also dying through weird social change,
we call each other on the telephone
that translates voices into ocean waves,
so we drive across the country of hope
to listen to our blind god sing the blues.

Lost in rugged hills of integrity
where pine trees discuss old philosophy,
we find wind-erased tomb of the first god,
whom men once worshipped on the ziggurat,
who welcomed homeless migrants to the feast,
except the witch who lingers on the bridge.

Connected by network of singing wires,
that weave old prophecies in movie plots,
we crowd museum of the broken mask
where ravens gather on idols of gods
though every human in America
goes fishing on the river of glass skulls.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus contemplates the mystery of the universe as he scrolls through photos he took in the museum of the broken mask while he fishes on the Mississippi River shore.

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

Flag Of The Bloody Cross
© Surazeus
2025 10 04

If they must ask why we are still alive
we could unwind fake clock of naked hope
to readjust perception of the world
revealing truth about our hungry hearts
that misdirects our progress beyond faith
till we are floating on the sea of tears.

She pauses on the signless road of hope
to glance back at progressive path to see
if she has gone quite far enough to find
the secret treasure of her broken heart
that writhes with anguish in grave of desire
despite her vow to find the Promised Land.

Ten thousand warriors on the dusty plain
stand at attention to await command
she issues through voice of the faceless god
to fight for our manifest destiny
in bid to conquer wilderness of pain
by riding black snake of divine insight.

Each warrior who returns from battlefield
reveals his tale of how he died in vain
at thrust of sword or spear that tears his flesh
and rips his body into shards of glass,
that quiver mutely in the bloody soil,
and hurls his howling soul in cave of rage.

She watches warriors of the empire crawl
on bloody stumps across vast parking lot
in wretched anguish of their twisted bones
as they clutch at cracked credit cards of faith
that pay for luxuries of blinding greed
to float in sparkling hotel pool of lust.

With graceful gestures of her fight-scarred hands
she raises million warriors from the dead
who march on puppet strings of her free will
to conquer every nation of the world
in war to overthrow each greedy king
and free people of Earth from slavery.

Now resurrected from imperial graves,
brave warriors of the Promised Land enforce
aggressive law of brute national pride
as they rush forward with the heat of rage
into obliterating bullet-rain
that splatters souls of gods on prairie grass.

No bearded prophet of the Promised Land
now lounges on the meadow chewing grass
so his elaborate Song of Myself fades
as hollow echo in Grand Canyon vales
where ghosts of warriors trudge on endless march
to bear flag of the bloody cross to Hell.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus follows Minerva as she leads grand army of the republic to overthrow the last few kings who still cling desperately to illusion of their divine right to rule.

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

Pilgrimage Of Bitter Ghosts
© Surazeus
2025 10 03

Because Fortune crowns her the superstar,
endowed with glamorous beauty of the soul,
she rides on the white horse with rainbow wings
in golden twilight over city streets
to scatter pages torn from holy books
as gifts for children of the Promised Land.

Encased in simplicity of the flame,
that glows from cosmic wheel of innocence,
she blooms as flower of Elysian Fields
to masquerade as Queen of Liberty
bestowing meaning on the useless souls
who play in abstraction of paradise.

Alert on pilgrimage of bitter ghosts
through esoteric function of the heart,
she proves our bodies glow with divine souls
that flicker bright on mirror of the mind,
convinced that reverence means nothing more
than mimicking the roles dead gods perform.

Trapped in the silent language of our breath,
that we forget we forge from lightning strikes,
she measures emptiness of hollow hearts
which vibrate loud on lonely mountain slopes
where we explore split echo of despair
that floats mute in transparent thoughts of rain.

To lift her gaze unto the mountain peak,
that shimmers white from timeless snow of faith,
she reassembles darkness of the mind
with crimson sorrow of astonishment
that jolts our bodies from grave of contempt,
corrupted by the certainty of death.

Though weightless in electrified concern,
fragmented by the crack of laughing glass,
she paints weird portrait of my normal face
with putrid beauty from Utopia
on fractured wall of earnest honesty,
disturbed by endless jokes policemen pray.

Concealed in moss-cloaked stone of bitter faith
by white breath of the silver birch at dawn,
she paints grand mural of the human race
evolving into empires ruled by kings
who drink blood of the people with fierce greed
from terror that we understand their fear.

Garuda rises from volcano cave
with heavy slowness of demonic pride,
so she considers why all gods will die
once they are forgotten by followers
who seek another god to venerate
while lost on pilgrimage of bitter ghosts.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus leads ten thousand refugees from global wars in pilgrimage of bitter ghosts to build new homes along the Mississippi River shore.

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

Pilgrimage Of Bitter Ghosts
© Surazeus
2025 10 03

Because Fortune crowns her the superstar,
endowed with glamorous beauty of the soul,
she rides on the white horse with rainbow wings
in golden twilight over city streets
to scatter pages torn from holy books
as gifts for children of the Promised Land.

Encased in simplicity of the flame,
that glows from cosmic wheel of innocence,
she blooms as flower of Elysian Fields
to masquerade as Queen of Liberty
bestowing meaning on the useless souls
who play in abstraction of paradise.

Alert on pilgrimage of bitter ghosts
through esoteric function of the heart,
she proves our bodies glow with divine souls
that flicker bright on mirror of the mind,
convinced that reverence means nothing more
than mimicking the roles dead gods perform.

Trapped in the silent language of our breath,
that we forget we forge from lightning strikes,
she measures emptiness of hollow hearts
which vibrate loud on lonely mountain slopes
where we explore split echo of despair
that floats mute in transparent thoughts of rain.

To lift her gaze unto the mountain peak,
that shimmers white from timeless snow of faith,
she reassembles darkness of the mind
with crimson sorrow of astonishment
that jolts our bodies from grave of contempt,
corrupted by the certainty of death.

Though weightless in electrified concern,
fragmented by the crack of laughing glass,
she paints weird portrait of my normal face
with putrid beauty from Utopia
on fractured wall of earnest honesty,
disturbed by endless jokes policemen pray.

Concealed in moss-cloaked stone of bitter faith
by white breath of the silver birch at dawn,
she paints grand mural of the human race
evolving into empires ruled by kings
who drink blood of the people with fierce greed
from terror that we understand their fear.

Garuda rises from volcano cave
with heavy slowness of demonic pride,
so she considers why all gods will die
once they are forgotten by followers
who seek another god to venerate
while lost on pilgrimage of bitter ghosts.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus leads ten thousand refugees from global wars in pilgrimage of bitter ghosts to build new homes along the Mississippi River shore.

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