Disassembled World View
© Surazeus
2025 11 02

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

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

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

Vast Emptiness Of Mictlan
© Surazeus
2025 11 02

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

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

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

Psychic Theory Of Radiance
© Surazeus
2025 11 01

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

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

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

Temple Of The Hurt
© Surazeus
2025 11 01

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

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

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

Journey Around The World
© Surazeus
2025 11 01

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

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

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

Escaping Bankrupt Nation
© Surazeus
2025 10 31

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

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

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

Umbrella In Sweet Rain
© Surazeus
2025 10 31

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

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

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

Ghost Of My Lost Lover
© Surazeus
2025 10 31

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

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

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

Vital Force Of Manitou
© Surazeus
2025 10 30

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

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

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

Grace Of The Word Witch
© Surazeus
2025 10 30

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

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

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

Reason Why Death Cries
© Surazeus
2025 10 30

We think we know the reason why Death cries
despite wretched attitude of false hope
because we refuse to accept with grace
finality of nothingness that blows
dark wind of sorrow through shadowy woods
where moon girl kneels beside mirror-black lake.

Reluctant huntsman of the monstrous heart
lurks shyly cautious under willow tree
that rustles fearfully in sudden breeze
excited by breath of the mushroom toad
whose eyes scream lightning storms of honesty
till shimmering rain reveals portal of fate.

Through swirling fog of rancid ecstasy
sly moon girl glides bravely toward flashing star
while plucking honeysuckle blooms with care
to analyze state of world politics
with vivid insight into primal cause
that sparks world revolution of the rich.

Clutching grief that writhes in back of her mind,
moon girl bears loaf of bread with solemn fear
across muddy meadow of skeletons,
that rise from dripping constancy of faith,
to host grand ritual of exploding eggs
from which new generation of gods crawls.

Throwing snowballs at each other in play,
moon girl and huntsman with the monstrous heart
laugh gayly till their grief dissolves in tears,
then lounge together in the book cafe
and drink ginger mochas with loving smiles
while Death plays romantic tunes on guitar.

Folding our entire universe of worlds
in dainty book of illustrated poems,
moon girl hums melody of falling leaves
to ponder why death always seems to cry
with sorrow when organic creatures die,
then fills out application for the job.

With open-hearted joy of studious dance,
moon girl beams her immortal soul of genes
through bright rose window of deliberate faith
in rays that slant across cathedral space
more vast than ocean vistas of respect
as she types laughter through the radio.

Concealed in million books of faceless ghosts,
cute honeybees avenge untimely death
of pregnant moon girl on the highway bridge
where bitter huntsman with the monstrous heart
cradles naive bride in helpless despair
at sudden randomness of weeping death.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus films scene where huntsman cradles mortally wounded moon girl in protective arms, then cries cut as they all cheer and pack equipment in trucks.

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

Fierce Thunderer Of Time
© Surazeus
2025 10 29

Against fierce Thunderer of Time I stand
obstinate with ambitious mind affirmed
to defend freedom of achieved free choice
each individual asserts to advance
advantage of hope for prosperity
through sceptered performance of calm respect.

My sentence is for honest civil work
of expert ascension based on desire
to bond community of eager hearts
absolute for equality through law
which reckons track of fugitive progress
in turning terror to courageous faith.

Though way of honesty seems difficult
and steep to scale with upright wings of faith,
we still pursue corrective formulas
through ardent method driven by penance
to exercise essential potencies
perpetual for laborious recompence.

Presenting proof we feel sufficient power
to access dangerous paradise of wealth
through alarming inroads from fatality,
we expand industrious states of play
to bind substantial zest with vibrant speech
more vital than disenergized intent.

Ominous conjecture described by clouds
armed fierce with courage of random success
must urge my breathless study of stark light
before ethereal mold sourcing my soul
exasperates fortune repulsed by fear
though I perish from unconsorted night.

Devoid of senseless motion actualized
by impotence of fear-inflicting curse,
my heart pursues time-kindled opulence
by grim fires scattered on consulting hills
to seek unearned shelter in starless caves
where hideous horrors frustrate fake decrees.

Unpitied ocean organized by waves
almighty to resist vile plots of greed
ordains just laws of doubtful provenance
which we endure with omnipotent words
sustaining painful vision we conceal
with never-ending flight beyond offence.

When we succeed in project of respect
to disenthrone all monarchs still in power
we gamble fickle chance to unjudge strife
by publishing dream code to manage chaos
pursuant to elective liberty
conspicuous through grand democracy.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus joins Milton when he visits Galileo who shows them how to use the telescope of geospatial analysis that helps them perceive the big picture of human history.

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

Moon Princess Wol
© Surazeus
2025 10 29

If I can capture dream-elusive thoughts
with words entangled by dynamic hope,
encasing slippery concepts with ideas
to bind their intense energy with truth,
then I will chant zestful spells of respect
in verses that refract psychic abstractions.

When I am exhausted from fight for life
through struggle to evade blankness of death,
I lie still by deep lake in grove of trees
so the moon transforms into gentle girl
with star-black eyes who descends on cloud wings
and absorbs my sorrow with glowing eyes.

While I float paralyzed in painful grief
on slowly undulating waves of sorrow,
Wol whispers secret riddles of weird truth
which soothes my aching heart with prudent vibes
that channel rays of divine energy
to fill my frail form with celestial light.

Wandering forlorn in misty woods of hope,
Endymion gazes through tangled tree limbs
at bright glowing face of Moon Princess Wol
who admires pure white lily in her hand,
so he lifts jade flute to his parted lips
and blows warm breath of love in eerie tune.

Stepping from boat gliding on purple lake,
Selene beams with joyful smile of hope
when she sees Endymion by apple tree,
and glides toward him with graceful elegance,
enchanted by sweet music of his heart,
but stops in shock to see he plays for Wol.

Snarling with rage that pretty boy she loves
plays sweet melody for Moon Princess Wol,
Selene orders body guard Jumong
to destroy her rival for his affection,
so he fires arrow of hate at her heart,
slender shaft that soars with indifferent pride.

When arrow pierces heart of moon girl Wol,
causing blood to spread across her white breast,
Endymion gasps in heart-numbing surprise,
then leaps forward to catch her as she falls,
grasping her body in protective arms,
then cradles her as she gasps in sharp pain.

Extracting arrow of hate from her heart,
Endymion applies potion to her wound
made of mushrooms, berries, and star-eye flower,
which infuses dragon blood in her soul
to regenerate her body with light,
healing moon princess Wol with sincere love.

While Selene fumes, and Jumong despairs
that she will ever note his love for her,
Moon Princess Wol and shy Endymion
walk together among tall apple trees,
holding hands with affectionate respect,
then giggle and blush as they kiss with love.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus gently explains to Selene that true love can often be found by our side though we overlook their devotion, so she looks at Jumong with surprise, then smiles as she accepts his love.

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

Mythic God Of Fate
© Surazeus
2025 10 29

If I could time-travel to meet with God
before He creates everything I dream,
I would lounge and play lyre of Mercury
in lush apple groves of Elysium
instead of asking why things are messed up,
then resume work mapping world history.

Somewhere out on endless prairie of wind
someone is walking on the signless road
without clear purpose to build paradise
where only horses find water to drink
while I watch history repeat itself
when rich men cause empires to fall from greed.

After corrupt institutions collapse
and scatter refugees across the land,
messiah sleuth will rise from mud of fear
with glorious vision of our brave new world
that shines as lamp in hand of Liberty
as guide that leads us to the Promised Land.

For now he slouches in roadside cafe,
eating scrambled eggs, hashbrowns, sausages,
and toast with strawberry jam that tastes sweet
as breeze which blows along the seaside cliff
where his great-grandmother in long white dress
plucks strawberries from hope-entangled vines.

Each year that relentless changes of time
adjust perceptions of social events,
we find that deeds aggressive thieves perform
divide world view that everybody shares
in starkly opposing visions of truth
that sparks civil conflict between their gods.

Each group designs their own concept of God
as stereotype that presents ideal leader
who, they believe, will best manage our state,
fierce nationalist warrior with strict rules
versus compassionate globalist doctor
who nurtures our individual skills.

Who will you vote for, everyone cries out
as mortal men with complex characters
campaign to reign as mythic God of Fate
who designs programs of legal providence
to best employ each person skilled with hope,
so we all choose between Jesus and Satan.

Wise Architect of our utopian state
as Heaven on Earth we want to create
will soon possess mind of some mortal soul
whose vision they express in honest words
inspires our hearts with love to join our hands
and support United Nations of Earth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus campaigns to reign as Secretary General of the United Nations so he can adjudicate universal laws of liberty and justice for all that constrains aggressive nationalist impulses of arrogant tyrants.

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

Cobalt Clouds Of Canniness
© Surazeus
2025 10 28

She sings alone beside indifferent sea
about how people she loves disappear
in swirling mist of silent nothingness,
till with strange new faces they reappear,
so she gives them seashells with food to eat
and smiles as they drink juice from pears of light.

What happens next, she wonders as her eyes
gaze straight at cobalt clouds of canniness,
and ponders with cautious analysis
how to adjust thrifty ability
to make sensible decisions through fear
that death is lurking in shadow of joy.

While strangers she welcomed into her cave
kneel down before her face and pray for wealth,
two guards grab her arms with aggressive hope
and force her to lie down flat on her back
while the king who wears fish skull on his head
attempts to impregnate her with his soul.

Twisting her lithe body free from their grasp
at taut exertion through coiled elegance,
she leaps to her feet with serpentine grace
and twirls around on ardent springing bound
to kick face of the growling skull-fish king
that breaks his neck with shocking snap of death.

Grasping pine spear with sharp obsidian blade,
which she fashioned like her father designed,
Thalassa stabs both guards with driving thrust,
then smiles at people trembling on their knees
who cry with joy at end of tyranny
to express gratitude for saving them.

After teaching children how to make spears
by chipping obsidian into sharp blades,
sea goddess leads them into sloshing waves
and shows them how to strike quick wriggling fish,
then helps them roast meat on hot crackling flames
as they gather on top small ziggurat.

Sitting in ring around bright flames of truth,
they listen as she sings uncanny tale
of how Gaia sewed skin of huge sea snakes
into gown that glittered when she would dance
and thus seduced Uranus with green eyes
to generate sea gods from seed of hope.

After everyone else drifts into sleep,
Thalassa wears mermaid gown of her mother
and dances slowly with seductive smiles
before Oceanus with wavy hair,
so they embrace and make passionate love
beneath huge cobalt clouds of canniness.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus plays lyre of Mercury while Thalassa and Oceanus sit on top the ziggurat to host grand feast for hundreds of tribes who have gathered to celebrate their wedding.

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

Blithely Down The Street
© Surazeus
2025 10 28

I want to wander blithely down the street
past people whose names I will never know,
for I will never see when they were born,
nor will I see them die and turn to dust,
so every person I meet in the maze
is the beautiful ghost glowing in mist.

Awake in conclave of maples at dawn,
I tend the crackling fire in ring of stones
while horses trace with humble tails of hope
love-guilty roads invested with dark vibes
from words etched jaggedly on sublime trunks
too expensive for the poor to buy peace.

Acquainted with mad passion of the mind,
smeared sweet with honey rainbow lies of fate,
I paint errant visions on window glass
to map strict education in cracked moons
out of proportion to pictures of gods
depicting nothing we keep for ourselves.

Normal perversions twisting chocolate cakes
expose Medusa eating sausages
beneath wind-fluttered willow leaves of faith
to prove that wishful thinking deceives hearts
with wordless feelings if displaced respect
soon rises from deep ocean of dead gods.

No peaceful period of butterflies bears
subtraction of faith from thunderous thoughts
better than hour our glorious empire falls
from plain incompetence of selfish greed,
so we attend picnics in the state park
regardless of who steals more from our hearts.

Collective presence of registered gods
feels different from that time of broken clocks
when mothers mold their children from fake words
by teaching them to transform wretched stones
to screws Hephaestus forges from god bones
till light translates lake of dreams to eyes.

Suspicious nature of our naive hearts
concords alliance with dismissive kings
through misunderstanding of native songs
ratified with tenuous concepts of faith
reflecting self we choose to confiscate
when nourishing togetherness in death.

Askance perception of variant facts,
superimposed by divine relevance,
ensures generic threads of ardent time
contrived from chaos of orderly hope
that multiplies our bodies from dry dirt
which leaves me stumbling blindly down the street.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus wanders blithely down the street of every city in the world, taking photographs of every person still alive, and writes their stories in the book of fate.

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

Anguish Of False Guilt
© Surazeus
2025 10 28

Quaint heart tortured by anguish of false guilt,
I watch as billions of people contest
over who can eat spirit of the land
that blooms in crops transforming light and rain,
and seek to disconnect my hungry soul
so I savor beauty before I die.

Ignoring oneiralgia in my heart
to dwell in sweet utopian fantasy
that billions of god-believers long for
as socialist Heaven in paradise,
I edit geospatial data files
that depict true features of our real world.

This Heaven, that philosophers have preached
as ideal version of cities on Earth,
presents farm estate as communal space
where every person breathing soul of life
is equal in their social-justice rights
where we do what we will, if we harm none.

Yet real cities of nations on this Earth
are power pyramids based firm on wealth,
arranged in hierarchies of social roles
where farmers and crafters, who make with hands,
support group managers and warriors
who work under one ruler-judge of all.

Humans arrange governments of their states
around one leader who manages all
by setting rules that control how we act
as we create food and goods from the ground
through construction and destruction of things
which runs our world food-production machine.

When I am shocked by anguish of false guilt,
I pause to analyze how I perform
acts of my hands to create or destroy,
then I swerve from destructive deeds of fear
in fierce defense from attacks of blind greed
so my actions create more than destroy.

When I see how my actions destroy things
guilt flashes vision to arrest advance
so I can readjust progress of change
to minimize loss of potential stock
with bold solution to produce new wares
designed to maximize our fruitful growth.

We design persona of the Good Leader,
whom we idealize as concept of God,
based on tales of leaders, prophets and kings,
who have ruled empires the past ten thousand years
by using guilt to rehabilitate
people who choose to create good with love.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus guides visitors through History Museum of Zarathia to present all the great leaders of human history, depicting their failures and successes, as manifestations of God.

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

Aggressive Spire Of Dread
© Surazeus
2025 10 27

Unsuited for strange beauty of this world,
I bear crippling wounds of indifferent fate
as I dance wildly in the ring of stones
to translate ache of sorrow into songs
that echo in vast maze of lonely souls
who call me to rebirth in hall of death.

Unhinged assertion of my right to live
through elegant clumsiness of firm faith
compels judgmental exile of my heart
far separate from garden of false peace
so all my body hums in tune with death
that drones with wordless voices of the world.

Though loss plays equal in each human soul,
extracted from alarm of silent bells,
we work together in alluvial fields
against encumbrance of vile attitude
that nature owes us bountiful rewards
for swift completion of redundant codes.

No abstract Heaven gleams in swirling clouds
yet I climb rugged mountain trail of faith
in search of secret treasures birds conceal
with altered wisdom from surprising springs
where wingless angels build glass monuments
to honor social heroes lost in mist.

We build our homes along the winding stream
to claim ancestral rights to live in peace
beneath safe shelter of broad canopies
supported by aggressive spire of dread
designed by Well Witch from our mumbled prayers
protecting children through despair of death.

Impulsive laughter, fragile in green rain,
will nurture bodies born from river stones
when we share memories of bitter hope
that ring with querulous intensity
beyond domestic appetite for truth
while gathered in the kitchen of warm tales.

Discursive haze of urgent platitudes
disguises narrow track of arrogance
down which we promenade with midnight moon
to measure distance to the frontier plain
where saplings welcome foals from martyred games
at shocking triumph of the noble fool.

Languorous under sprawling tree of power,
Minerva dreams of sudden-passioned cranes
that soar above the swamp of hungry ghosts
who wear clean suits in cubicles of hope
to calculate profits earned from chaining death
for return of investment in true love.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus finds Minerva lounging on the porch of her home by the river as she lazily photographs cranes in flight above ruins of the world empire.

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

Volts Of Turning Thought
© Surazeus
2025 10 27

Despite untwisting volts of turning thought
through which I deconstruct moments of light,
I flow across torn spectrum of respect
that still reflects description of the scene
sparked by excessive trigger melting time
to meditate on our profound surprise.

Trapped in interior drama of the mind,
deliberately invoked by selfish prayers,
I grasp conceptual moment of desire
to race against conclusion, authorized
by troubling tenor, torn from bitter books,
as metaphor for nothing reconciled.

From moment of illumination, charged
with whole sensorium of naked laughs,
I seek no obvious answer for the why
concerned with memories buried by fear
through temporary disruption of love
consistent with awakened happiness.

Based on damaged mindset of happy ghosts
who seek supportive structure from our words,
our strange epiphanies of spirit flight
express erosion as process of change
we challenge with faith-agitated dreams
fueled by nervous passion to succeed well.

With blood-eyed dance of gentle ecstasy
our trip careens around the spinning globe
to find that ghosts of mothers in doorways
mistake this world for pretty fantasies
till we find pleasant fields of fruitful trees
where we can safely land in paradise.

My learned ability, contrived by clouds,
to raise awareness of disastrous games
we play extracting minerals from the Earth,
presents new opportunity from fate
to turn my head and look behind my mask
so I can see how I transform to me.

Embedded inclination to expect
good behavior of moral aptitude
from every person mangled with desire
of unfilled expectations, programs
how I respond with abundant respect
when my heart manipulates my free will.

Through ludicrous cognition of my brain,
composed of unacknowledged honesty,
I meditate on longing of my heart
to transform messy politics of greed
to well-organized creation of trust
till we turn our minds toward eternity.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus teaches class on psychological poetics of conceptual turnings that lead us wandering the endless maze of myths we mistake for Heaven.

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

Mirror Of Perfect Masks
© Surazeus
2025 10 27

When I gaze in mirror of perfect masks
to perceive true nature of my Brain Being,
I see faces of my ancestors glow
with psychic energy of urgent hope
to transcend limits each body presents
in my quest to evolve from fish to god.

Halfway along timeline of special change
through progress of spirit development,
I find myself in temporary state
as wingless angel with obsessive faith
that I can survive constant global wars
to generate new life before I die.

Wearing mask of my public character
to disguise true persona of my soul,
I apply cosmetic glamor of faith
that shields my spirit from mocking attack
by people also wearing masks of fear
so we preserve our wounds with pious care.

I will not gamble through reverent risk
in social games of competitive stance
with fierce obsessive strife for starless fame
as national Dream Star who represents
persona people need to see perform
dramatic role of hero who fights death.

Evading eyes of death in camera lens
that lures me to perform on stage of fame,
I slip through cracks in walls of paradise
to hide in cavern of Persephone
who smiles and gives me pungent fruit to eat
as I strum lyre of Mercury and weep.

Though hidden deep in underworld of faith
where I sing heart-enchanting spells of hope,
I dance secure my soul is safe in Hell
far from the lightning-judgment eyes of God
who punishes vain mortals for false pride,
till I grow wings from weird wounds of my heart.

Masks people wear appear at first opaque
so I suspend judgment when we first meet,
but actions they perform and words they speak
render their faces transparent to view
which lets me see clear who they really are,
and what fear motivates how they behave.

While I float in mirror of perfect masks,
I feel my special spirit navigate
ever-shifting maze of conceptual myths
as I glow brighter with maturity,
peaceful with happiness at my progress
since I know I will at last dissipate.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus teaches me how to guide spirits of the dead to the afterworld of nothingness where all consciousness of self-awareness dissipates to blank eternity of the unself.

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

Trite Tomb Of Truth
© Surazeus
2025 10 26

Strange happiness of the time-neutered mind
encourages me to photograph the ghost
whose black eyes sparkle with eccentric fruit
designed to charge our bodies with delight
so we embrace with delicate respect
and dance together by the moonlit pool.

She digs up the chocolate bar of desire
from where it was buried in the front yard,
and eats despair of darkness in the heart
so we might suffer alligator hope
when sad leaf falls in loneliness of faith
in case we decide we want to know why.

No motive trapped inside the geode shows
why rage erupts from engine egg of lust
contrived by ramblers without gold guitars
to prove in court how often rain might fall
till dams are shattered by unfaithful cheats
who sell our treasures to the hungry king.

Lost in dark labyrinth of fashioned dreams,
I see my face reflected in the mask
the bitter devil wears when he attempts
to tempt me with sweet glamor of world fame,
so I must execute sharp turn from grace
to save my soul from damnation of pride.

Yet when I open window at midnight
I see white face of the robotic owl
who watches me with fractured crystal eyes
while I type holy code of fortitude
to program how my brain perceives your face
because I love to float in outer space.

Every romance in history of the world
ends in tragic death of both characters
whether they succeed in their plan or not
to generate new life before they die
since clans establish empire of control
based on the lie of sacred royalty.

Divine regret of blatant attitudes,
pasted in the margins of holy books,
releases me from tension of concern
that I may not earn entry through the gate
where Peter judges deeds my heart performs
based on intention to create the good.

Real nothingness inside my hollow heart
increases vibrate flush of putrid air
so I float aimlessly on plastic wings
above the endless global maze of myths
where I see every person on the Earth
walk confidently toward trite tomb of truth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus designs the trite tomb of truth where he wants his son Orion to bury him after he dies since he is already eight thousand years old.

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

Holy Code Of Doom
© Surazeus
2025 10 26

Each time we talk about the nothingness
that time contrives from holy code of doom,
nine angels scream from white thornapple blooms
when I brew wine from petals of their dreams
and dance with sweet delirium of faith
through alabaster swirl of frantic wings.

If we find ancient souls in mirror rocks
that waves compose from holy code of doom,
nine horses leap across abyss of fate
with fractured letters I can use to type
reports about commercial platitudes
concerning shipment of electric wings.

Though children throw sad stories in the sea
that transforms ghosts from holy code of doom,
nine gods conspire to fool the human race
by warping woof of time disangled weird
back wracking undead rainbow ordinance
defining how we want to eat fried wings.

Stoked to skate swift across stark lake of ice
with swirling grace from holy code of doom,
nine swans erupt from old computer screens
on helicopter flight through temple walls
beyond reluctant garden where she smiles
and freezes in the cube of flashing wings.

Besides our bleeding hearts in bowl of glass
as butterflies from holy code of doom,
nine nurses welcome us to maze of myths
where dinosaurs play piano and flute
in concert staged to raise funds for the farm
since cows fly to the moon on paper wings.

Before we talk about the genocide
reconfigured by holy code of doom,
nine tyrants attend global conference
to strategize how they control our minds
through system of corporate slavery
where we work in factories sewing wings.

After I fall nine days and nights to Hell
where I stock shelves at the grocery store,
nine librarians rearrange strange books
to misconstrue progress of history
so greedy losers seem to win the game
and decorate the White House with glass wings.

Each hour weird visions calculate my fate
to change my gender back and forth again,
nine prophets resurrect Tiresias
from field of rubber tires that burn with hate
till brave Minerva escapes from my head
and restores democracy with her blood.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus leads Tiresias from cave of Hell and takes him to the abandoned church outside of town where they wear priest robes and conduct mass for zombies.

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

Heaven Of His Dreams
© Surazeus
2025 10 26

As sunlight glimmers on large grapevine leaves
and honeybees murmur around Dianthus,
buzzing among frilly petals of hope,
old gray-haired Vedius lounges in small bower,
snoozing half-asleep in drowsy contentment
as he cradles wand with goat by his feet.

Reliving passionate days of his youth,
frail Vedius, with wrinkled skin on his arms,
chases cute Furina around the spring
till they embrace and feed each other grapes,
sweet pleasure that makes him quiver in sleep
as he moans at sweetness at warm sunlight.

Sweet songs of nymphs in silver moonlight shriek
loud at startled loathing of stuttered fright
that shocks muddle-headed Vedius awake
who leaps to his feet and clutches his wand
at swirling dizzy angst of frantic dread
when he stares at thick smoke in mute dismay.

Trembling in consternation of distress,
decrepit vintner Vedius staggers shocked
at sight of shadow men on thundering horses
who race between buildings of his estate
while they swing swords that slash bodies in rage
and throw brands of red flames on timber roofs.

Paralyzed in shock at hot swirling flames,
enervated Vedius huddles in tholos,
where he manages his vineyard estate,
and watches helpless to protect his world
as flames destroy everything he has built,
reducing all his work to heaps of ash.

Dawn sun glitters blood red in swirls of smoke
as fragile Vedius lurks on trembling legs
among fire-blistered wineries and tanks,
kneeling to caress skull of each burned soul
and whisper their name with shamed affection,
then weeps at sight of vine hills charred to ash.

Starting with nothing but one sprouted vine,
resolute Vedius worked for fifty years
transforming bare hills to rows of grape vines
that surround wineries, crush pads, and tanks,
where hundreds of people once bottled wine
and delivered them all over the land.

Sitting in marble tholos that remains
alone among charred ruins of his world,
stalwart Vedius stares at the empty sky
that glimmers silently above black hills,
and smiles with bitter-sweet sadness of pride
that he created Heaven of his dreams.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus finds aged Vedius stunned from shock amid ruins of his vineyard,
and, after embracing his friend, he vows to avenge his loss by driving King Midas from Temple of Power.

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

Wings Of Earnest Hope
© Surazeus
2025 10 26

Because time flies on wings of earnest hope
Minerva stands still on the windless rock
and gazes over fields of skeletons
that wander circles among fruitless trees
and wail with sorrow at vanishing clouds
for beauty to bless life with joyful play.

Ignoring soft alarm on broken clock,
Melody leans on dusty window sill
and watches pine trees flutter in cold wind
that shift enough to reveal tall glass towers
where seagulls flock at harbor of Seattle
framed by sleeping volcano of Takoma.

Four thousand years of endless spinning time
links golden thread of genes between their hearts
as two young woman born in one bloodline
consider nature of our conscious brains
expressed through faces of our yearning minds
to savor pleasure of feeling alive.

This world teems with existing beings of light
who seek to progress past entanglement
while trudging through dark pathless woods of fear
till we discover grove of apple trees
that gleam in sunlight on the river shore
where we construct safe haven of stone walls.

Erecting wall of stones with blistered hands,
Minerva breathes ethereal soul of hope
as she envisions soul-protecting hall
where children learn tales of humanity
that moralize our failure and success
through tragedy and comedy of deeds.

Alone at the quiet library desk,
Melody types essay on her laptop
to define good economic programs
based on analysis of data points
that prove hypothesis of deep research
presenting ways to increase wealth for all.

Leading army of tooth-born warriors,
Minerva charges up ziggurat steps
to fight dictatorship of elite greed
in battle to drive King Midas from power
and free the people of the world to live
through equal justice of communal faith.

Stepping off the bus in downtown Seattle,
Melody adjusts wings of earnest hope
she made from blueprints Icarus designed,
and joins protesters marching maze of streets
in brave defiance against tyranny
to protect and nurture democracy.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus speaks to the crowd of No Kings protesters to declare that we will never allow any tyrant to impose dictatorship of authoritarian monarchy over our democracy based on liberty and justice for all.

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

Radiant Jewel Ghost
© Surazeus
2025 10 25

If I perceive the radiant jewel ghost,
who emanates from writhing words in books,
my heart will sprout electric wings of faith
so I find courage through communal strength
to fight against oppressors in gray suits
who program tricks that exploit honest hands.

Enchanted forest in the city park
lures lonely people stuck in offices
to wander nowhere on the signless road
where they assemble shadows of lost truths
in ever-shifting puzzle that illudes
innocent souls with dreams of paradise.

Regret for losing key to gates of Hell
inspire my journey through the Underworld
where Pluto teaches me to forge gold coins
with blood of dragons dripping from dead trees
so I can purchase loyalty of fools
who are willing to be employed as tools.

Entranced by haunting tune of the bone flute,
that causes me to float in ecstasy,
I wander busy streets on Sabbath night
to hear weird spells that happy witches chant
while hungry men build castle walls from fear
that worms devour our brains before we die.

I always love the radiant jewel ghost
because she understands my secret heart
while writing prophecies on palace walls
that warn the wealthy of apocalypse
before the world stock market crashes again
so millions wander lost from burning homes.

Her spirit lives forever in my heart
though she disappears on dark Samhain night,
so I wear clever disguise to evade
hungry vampires searching for my tense soul
that radiates music from conceptual waves
each time I stand and sing the haunting tune.

I must return to work before red dawn
drenches city towers in menstrual blood
from which spring angel-robots with ten eyes
who teach us how to vote for one we trust
to manage operations each four years
till jet planes transform into graceful swans.

Thus I will claim the fallen jeweled crown,
then wander awkwardly in castle halls
where none but ghosts still whisper my name
because I refuse to play the blame game
that Zeus decreed I will obey or die,
so I hold hands with the woman I love.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus paints portrait of the radiant jewel ghost who has long curly hair and star-flashing eyes while she lounges in the hall of mirrors at Versailles.

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

Mayhem Of Untwisted Roads
© Surazeus
2025 10 25

Through constant mayhem of untwisted roads,
split by dark strangulation measured wrong,
she helps manipulate system of clouds
that drenches morbid valleys with false tears,
though children bury masks in river mud
to prove their right to eat fruit from dead trees.

Emergent trauma trips ascending gods
whose bodies bend far temporarily
around inclined assertion fraught with light
which fools extreme heartbeat of tame contempt
to join wild contest at the festival
long hosted by the faceless god of stones.

If freedom could be monetized by faith
through soured neglect of perfidious creeds,
our privileged bodies might exchange respect
for mischarged desire stained by honesty
despite elected key of cankered fear
we share with strangers on the ocean beach.

Close to forever suavity, despised
by bookless prophets without social rights,
we dance with courage of the broken tree
to climb unregistered walls gods destroy
before enchanted demons can escape,
alone in pleasure of abandonment.

I purchase strange way to be beautiful
by tossing unearned prizes in the lake
against mute hesitation precisely placed,
though time unlocks considered entropy,
uneasily though brains deconstruct fame,
before we can process our bitter loss.

Unquiet dissertation solved by risk
records eye of our spirits without rain,
too slick for runners born less self-aware,
so we share hard-earned merit with our friends
who whisper false regrets of bitter joy
while kissing where the blue crane cries in pain.

Trapped by intentions of the reckless spell,
I drive old rusty truck on muddy roads
and shout in gusts of rain-perceptive wind,
the more I leap abyss of nothingness
the closer I approach meaningful jokes
to find my face in mirror of the sky.

Uncertain precious days of life are mine,
I lie prone on eccentric grass of fate
to free my heart from miracles of love
till I float blissful on bright radio waves
to sing weird haunting melody of hope
against bleak darkness of this world we share.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus laughs when he realizes he cannot control mayhem of untwisted roads while attempting to map complete history of human civilization on virtual globe of Earth.

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

Museum Of Mad Souls
© Surazeus
2025 10 25

Entangled stories of religious myths
reveal common elements of one faith
that binds all human minds in firm belief
we carve as symbols on black monoliths
which vibrate with spirit of the god wraith
who offers comfort in our hour of grief.

Composing frame of social reference
to better organize random events
in coherent narrative of my life,
I attend grand celestial conference
to analyze what each trope represents
in how I gain wisdom through psychic strife.

While strolling in Museum of Mad Souls,
I study masks of ancient characters,
that still includes prophets, jesters, and kings,
to understand how they designed their roles
as choir directors or vain choristers
who devise proverbs from heart sufferings.

Each time I learn new facts about the world,
and see how other people choose their fate
through decisions made in the heat of fear,
I expand my story as cosmic herald
who maps history so I can navigate
maze of myths designed by the Puppeteer.

As prophet cursed to watch effects unfold,
from causes sparked by fear-empowered greed,
I project vision of Heaven on Earth
that we create from ideals angels mold
to nurture paradise with fruitful seed
so we ensure success of spirit birth.

As jester urged by quick rebellious mind,
to rewrite system of progressive rules,
I leap outside flow of accepted norms
to broaden perspective of all mankind
with magic results of conceptual tools
we employ to survive destructive storms.

As king commissioned by popular will,
to manage their skills in productive work,
I build global food-production machine
through capital that funds crops on the hill
distributed to all as social perk
that nurtures growth with creative routine.

As game host in Museum of Mad Souls,
trained by Minerva to record the truth,
I carve special personality masks
for growing children to invent their roles
through divine vision of messiah sleuth
who grants vacation from our tedious tasks.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus takes off the mask of Lucifer for a moment as he runs campaign for election as President of the United States of Zarathia, and vows to restore democracy with justice and liberty for all.

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

Invisible Harps Of Light
© Surazeus
2025 10 25

I will steal invisible harps of light
strummed by old lonely watcher of the skies,
then sing of love for everyone alive,
though nations crowded in vast cities fight
over whose leader rules with better lies
based on principles for which people strive.

Since no world messiah has yet appeared
in spaceship flashing high among the clouds,
I hand out religious brochures to sell
national pride that does not seem too weird
for loyal mannequins in cheering crowds
who curse their opponents to burn in Hell.

Lamenting how they drove old Dixie down,
I laugh from ruins of our enterprise,
then fight to trash game of democracy
till we elect as king the greedy clown
who sneers with harsh contempt to demonize
honest people who follow Liberty.

I pluck my heart from pool of bitter tears
and with ravenous gluttony devour
hearts of the poor who slave in factories
yet hope to buy enough to purchase fears
embodied by blind princess in the tower
who legalizes social policies.

I marvel to remember idle thoughts
cawed by the three-eyed raven of far sight
through which I prophesy with riddling spells
fall of our world empire to wise robots
who master graceful mystery of flight
when serpents slither from dried-up oil wells.

As Flower of the Mountain I adore,
my wife designs ten thousand characters
for children in the meadow where ghosts play
while I work selling costumes at the store
that mask Cinderellas and Jupiters
who ask their fathers if they want to pray.

Along the highway crowded with gray cars
the Charioteer with Bow of burning gold
races swiftly toward the White House at dawn
to readjust dire fortune of the stars
and retrieve sacred treasures that were sold,
but weeps when he finds out he is my pawn.

Calm in safe cradle of world history,
new-born messiah sleuth waits for his time
to ride Gold Dragon of imperial power
when he attempts to solve the mystery
recorded in weird riddles without rhyme
how sunlight becomes fruit inside the flower.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus delivers research paper at World Conference on New Gnosticism at University of Zarathia that Downton Abbey is an elaborate version of King Lear.

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

Dream-Ache Of Oneiralgia
© Surazeus
2025 10 24

Oblivion of faith in blank field of snow,
that erases our corrupted world view,
calls us to stir from beauty of the dream
where we thrive in community of trust,
but wake with ache for what has never been
with oneiralgia for that Never World.

Heart mutable with adjectives of hope,
I walk forever on the signless road
with ache of love still rotting in my hands
to find shadow of Heaven in my heart
where I can hide from demon of desire
whose beauty lures me to valley of death.

Bright in smudged mirror of Forever Now,
my past and future selves unborn play me
behind mask of hunger I have to wear,
which my mother crafted for me from love,
so I can bear it as lamp of her heart
with weird glow that reveals road I must blaze.

Awake in lonely times of Nevermore,
I gaze at pages in the holy book,
with cover crafted from orange melon skin,
to dream how my mother performed her role
with improvised assertion of calm grace
to maintain dignity of honest schemes.

Resolve to aim for target of respect,
which must objectify cruel contempt,
inspires her shameless passion to design
our complex system of communal rites
that maps strict pattern of performance art
which channels how we generate new life.

Unbidden by dream-pain of fractured eyes,
when I design weird oneiralgic spells,
I float in laughter of the stopless clock
to measure change of blossoms from my corpse
when children pluck fruit from my tangled limbs
and sing while feasting on juice of the sun.

Returning as the crow with crystal eyes,
I dance in ring of stones at flash of dawn
to raise wise Cleopatra from the dead
so she can occupy my monstrous head
with revelation that conceptual pride
can nurture how messiahs rule the world.

Though all we build has fallen into ruins,
demolished by the crownless king of greed,
we dance with serpent of the fruitful tree
and plot new revolution to restore
global state where oneiromancers weave
world tapestry that includes every soul.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus performs role of Oneiromancer who teaches humanity how to create art from the dream-ache of oneiralgia.

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

Analysis Of Psychic Spies
© Surazeus
2025 10 24

Because we fall back into dreams of books
and float on undulating words of hope,
we savor magic formulas of cooks
whose potions encourage our hearts to cope
with endless passion of existing real
through psychic dance in sync with fateless wheel.

He honors everything her heart can say
based on assertive wisdom of the sea
that molds our bodies from riddles we say
to trick the devil who gives us the key
which beams bright energy of our free will
that radiates from god eye which vibrates still.

To solve strange riddles in the book of truth
he translates formless thoughts to clever verse
designed by gestures of messiah sleuth
with slick deceptive vision of the curse
that traps our minds in endless loop of lies
based on analysis of psychic spies.

Drop of her gleaming menstruation blood
evolves from fish to angel with star eyes
who steals ripe apples from spiders in mud
to feed his pregnant wife whose turtle flies
beyond perspective framed by creed of fools
to fine-tune engine of love with fake tools.

With anxious spinning of misfortune wheel
she suffers cycle of constant rebirth
four hundred million years of filmless reel
that weaves our memories into one Earth
where maze of cities mushroom from our hands
through blueprints of theological plans.

Returning from the market outside town,
she gives large squash to everyone who laughs
at frantic antics of the savior clown
who hangs from telephone poles of giraffes
at sacred ritual of spiritual war
while she attends the family grocery store.

Reaching out her hand with effortless fear,
she opens rose-window portal to leap
ten thousand worlds beside the puppeteer
in holy war against the greedy creep
who demolished palace of Camelot
while world queen escapes almost getting shot.

No crownless king, lost in the apple grove,
could understand high stakes of liberty
till they lose everything to selfless love
for graceful princess of democracy
who rules the parallel world with respect
for equal justice as mental concept.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus presides over think tank where psychic spies analyze current events with principles of geospatial intelligence so he can manage global empire of the food-production machine.

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