Mirror Of Forgotten Masks
© Surazeus
2026 06 07

Happy in mundane failure of my life
to play grand role on stage of history,
safe from glaring spotlight of random fame,
I gaze in mirror of forgotten masks
where faces of my ancestors combine
whole shadow of my soul that glows awake.

Calm in acceptance of my mundane life
where I carve prophecies on river stones
recording who gets cursed by random fame,
I float in mirror of forgotten masks
as eight billion humans with dreaming brains
who enter contest over who plays god.

Surprised by joy that fountains from my heart
as surreal vision flashing through my brain
detailing how to evade random fame,
I leap through mirror of forgotten masks
to navigate combat zone of thought mines
that could explode at misstep of each choice.

Entranced by beauty of my Mountain Muse
who gives me crystal sphere of timeless truth
that maps path I take beyond random fame,
I swim in mirror of forgotten masks
with time-animated globe of world history
evolving from shy fish to singing god.

Inspired by wisdom of my Honest Spouse
who tends Garden of Eden with crafty hands
so Tree of Knowledge blooms with random fame,
I rise from mirror of forgotten masks
to build castle of faith on hill of beasts
where angels sing in choir of tragic loss.

Nourished by healing fruit of the Dream Tree
which sprouts from rotten corpse of Jupiter
to translate selfless love from random fame,
I bloom from mirror of forgotten masks
to drive my car to work at flash of dawn
where I map features of our cluttered world.

Crazy with passion to understand why
our bodies of genetic coils are formed
from atoms swerving against random fame,
I soar through mirror of forgotten masks
on wings of Icarus designed by hope
till I build Heaven in Hell where I fall.

Amused by complex political games
ambitious tyrants, driving blind by lust,
play to gamble so they win random fame,
I polish mirror of forgotten masks
so people visiting the Oracle
may see dire consequence of every choice.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus repairs fractured mirror of forgotten masks so each person who visits the Oracle may perceive the future based on choices they are making now so they can change their fate.

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

Mercurial Wail Of Solitude
© Surazeus
2026 06 07

Our world may be mask for the eyeless god
who veils immortal light of its vast face
behind endless swirling of the storm cloud,
yet my airplane in the sky leaves no trace
as proof of life that glows outside my head,
born as Winged Victory of Samothrace.

This puzzling world pretends to be more real
than Heaven I imagine in my mind
so I sing with roar only oceans feel
when blazing sun, no peaceful god designed,
sinks deep in surging waves of timeless wheel
with eerie tune that sailors strive to find.

Struck by mercurial wail of solitude,
I see sweet siren with long flowing hair
lounge on large jagged island in sad mood
while gazing past my face in sunset glare
with casual horror of her pulchritude
enchanting me with love because I care.

Dark places of this world within my heart
blaze bright with power of the holy word
which I find written on my secret chart
by potent wisdom that long rings unheard
with aching privilege of faith to start
assertive games that reclaim the preferred.

Alert to readjustment of the bomb
that never touches strangeness of dark hills,
I search vast maze of rubble for my home
with buoyed innocence of moon-splashed walls
to calculate social power of doom
as blind force of fate that obeys no rules.

Through misty groves of academe I fly
beyond enchanted place I know is fake
to find where frivolous gods still ask why
we cannot keep great treasures our hands make
unless I agree to play the dream spy
by searching for source of the magic lake.

Till morning gleams with shifting mutant forms,
which reframe our psychic identities,
I meditate with peace of lightning storms
to transcend religious serenities
that deconstruct all our conceptual norms
with divine right of mortal entities.

When our huge Ship of State strikes the iceberg
that swells through oligarchic tyranny,
I swim to island of the laughing lark
who welcomes me home to my barony
where I study process of orange clockwork
in vain attempt to plot weird irony.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus strolls with Derek Mahon in the dark hills around Belfast past the sleeping giant to Cave Hill where Aisling floats glowing over the Oak of Faith.

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

Bitter Faith Of Innocence
© Surazeus
2026 06 07

To remove mask of my identity
as whatever gender and race I am
in temporary drama of my life,
is to expose inner gears of my brain
through universal character I play
by deconstructing social privilege.

I may seem to be straight cisgender male
through Europeans in America,
motivated by Scythian ardency
essential to soul of Gothinians,
yet I relate with empathy of love
to every person living on this globe.

My nature, signified by social labels
imposed by time and place of my soul birth,
radiates psychic energy of faith
signed by First Mother of humanity
who lived two hundred thousand years ago
in Okavango Delta of my heart.

I feel pulse of her heart animate mine
with passionate respect for sparkling rain
that drenches endless grassland with clear song
she channels through sweet voice of eager hope,
so I express her vision in my verse
that wakes her soul in every human heart.

We are the children of her star-lit eyes
who multiply from womb of Mother Eve
to carry Stick of Truth and Stone of Faith
while wearing Cape of Wisdom to keep warm
as we explore expanse of spinning Earth,
and share our tale in song around the fire.

Dividing into countless warring tribes,
all branching from First Mother of our souls,
we reframe our social identity
to differentiate our noble clan
from all the others who invade our space
as we fight over whose Father is God.

Inspired by bitter faith of innocence,
that spurs aggressive progress of my plan
to expand United Nations of Earth
which assimilates all races in one,
I let First Mother of humanity
possess my body with spirit of love.

Every race and religion on this globe
originates from First Mother we share,
so my heart aches at blaze of civil war
that sparks my passion to adjudicate
new world religion binding every creed
in song that honors One Mother of All.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus leads choir in Cathedral of Ishtar to sing hymn of solemn veneration for Eve, First Mother of Humanity, from whom all nations of Earth spring.

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

Name Of The Rose
© Surazeus
2026 06 07

The bald-head man with glasses and mustache
adjusts tweed jacket and laces work boots,
then sweeps huge pile of old discarded books,
heaped on rain-slick sidewalk, against brick wall
next to glass door of some abandoned bank,
lamenting how knowledge of the past gets lost.

"I cannot decide what to name the Rose,"
he muses while staring with rain-blurred eyes
at tattered covers of paperback novels
that depict bitter women in torn dresses
and angry men with guns and loosened ties,
"since the girl from the village is my mother."

When he was young student in art history
forty years ago at the university,
he traveled to Italy for the summer
where he climbed the steep Stairway of the Dead
to find lost book that Aristotle wrote
hidden in gloomy Abbey of Saint Michael.

One cover shows corpulent businessman,
in blue suit and red tie, wearing a blond wing,
whose face resembles the ravenous pig,
so he remembers how Odysseus
was wounded by sharp horn of a wild boar
while hunting on slopes of Mount Porcorianus.

Greedy tyrants who clutch with manic fear
at transient illusions of fiscal power,
elusive as Hound of the Baskervilles,
since Hugo was cursed for kidnapping women,
attempt to burn the sweet innocent girl
because she laughs at their frail vanity.

Residing in lush Garden of Delight,
the Girl from the Village with golden hair,
tends delicate rosebud of her thorned bush
while her train of nymphs wearing flower wreaths,
named Chastity, Danger, Reason, and Shame,
play with elegant grace in stone-rimmed pool.

The Lover wearing clothes of Everyman
gazes entranced in Fountain of Narcissus
where reflection of Rosebud sparks true love
to blossom with desire from aching heart,
as if sharp arrow pierces him with hope,
so his voice echoes with Name of the Rose.

Adjusting tattered books on metal shelf,
the balding hippie with glasses and boots
sells them to passing strangers for one penny,
then visits grave of his wife, Rose Marie,
who died from cancer twenty years ago,
and cries how beauty of this world is lost.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus gives rose to Ophelia and asks her to marry him as they stand together in the Abbey of Saint Michael on the Mountain of Pigs near Turin.

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

Time Maps Our Dreams
© Surazeus
2026 06 06

She tells me I can never understand,
so I carve her face on the crystal moon.
Rose petals flutter from her callused hand
at subtle fracture of the bone-flute tune.
Time rearranges fragments of strange truth
in pages of books she sells at her booth.

She holds my hand with casual arrogance
while we stroll by blue river of lost souls.
Great warriors driven by brave innocence
fight over water that washes their skulls.
Time scatters bones of angels in cold stream
which transform into cars in mundane dream.

She laughs with courage of the howling wolf
when I attempt to build cottage of stone.
Our bodies writhe as we swim in the gulf
so our hearts pulse with harmonious tone.
Time allocates conceptual words of fate
providing signs we use to navigate.

Moonlight gleams in her eyes with arcane code
that adjusts conceptual frame of my mind.
While she translates proverbs of the God Toad
I deconstruct world zeitgeist Zeus designed.
Time animates psychic gears of my brain
when she takes me dancing in summer rain.

She knows the secret thoughts my brain conceals
by flapping swan wings on cape of her pride.
I retrieve from Death treasures Terror steals
to build safe haven where she may abide.
Time programs how my brain perceives the world
that fools me to think I am the cosmic herald.

She pauses on edge of the jagged cliff
to show me where ships with tattooed sails sink.
Wanting to impress her, I act too stiff,
so she melts my heart with sly kiss and wink.
Time maps our dreams on animated globe
that highlights when she sings in silky robe.

She whispers strange tales of gods in my ear
so I write surreal plots in tangled verse.
Trained by Apollo to play puppeteer,
I chant epic poem of philosophers.
Time weaves my songs in tapestry of truth
that presents life of our messiah sleuth.

She appears before me in flash of light
on Mount Takoma where I meditate.
She gives me Lyre of Mercury to fight
world exploitation by tyrant of hate.
Time transfers magic of Mount Helicon
to hidden landscape of my Avalon.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus explains to class of students at University of Zarathia that Mount Takoma is the American version of Parnassus and Helicon as home of the Muses.

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

Emanation Of My Brain
© Surazeus
2026 06 06

Innocent hope twists my heart with vain faith
that humans love each other selflessly
and work together with one set of rules
to cherish bodies that nurture our souls
for I am emanation of my brain
that flashes with dreams of eternity.

Someday people with respect for the truth
will build Astarium, Temple of Truth,
to honor courageous philosophers
and brave scientists who investigate
complex nature of our weird universe
to formulate codes that explain its laws.

Through rational derangement of my senses,
with prodigious process of deconstruction
that fragments memes of our global world view
in morphing puzzle pieces of weird facts,
I jailbreak Sibyl from her golden cage
so she can teach me wisdom of the heart.

When I draw back crystal dome of Blue Sky,
I find lightless gloom of eternity
where Ophelia floats on calm black waves
till she blooms awake with white lily lips
at blinding flash of countless flaming stars
that sparkle in every cell of my soul.

Twirling wild with frantic delirium
on jagged stones where ocean waves ferment,
I transform from the helpless boat of fate
to roaring serpent with electric wings
while strumming vibrant strings of the bone lyre
till my body dissipates in storm wind.

Ensconced in mystic horrors of weird truth,
I reassemble fragments of my soul
by clamping mask of Phoebus on my face
so with eyes of the sea my heart perceives
luminous phantom that devils call God
reflected in vast mirror of my mind.

Thus I bathe naked in languor of faith
against national pride of blood-stained flags
while riding Behemoth of revolution
to free my people from huge prison boats
so we swim lost in surging sea of change
till Liberty guides us to Hall of Hope.

Eternal Spinner of atomic souls
transforms my body of chemical lust
to ethereal phantom of conscious love
who evolves Leviathan to Gabriel
as writhing spirit of my hungry heart
so I give Mary glass of milk to drink.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus kisses white lily lips of Ophelia who wakes from dream of eternity to whisper secret of reincarnation in his ear with mystical code of love.

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

Gospel Of The Holy Toad
© Surazeus
2026 06 06

Spurred by vision of human dignity,
derived from gospel of the Holy Toad,
I search boundless land of America
for brave men bold enough with hearts of gold
to fight cruel tyrant and his oligarchs
so women are free to choose how they live.

Creative power of the female soul,
described by gospel of the Holy Toad,
consists of generating life from hope
and molding body of material flesh
from ideal pattern of genetic code,
so they should be free to choose how they live.

Protecting women from abusive harm,
through law in gospel of the Holy Toad,
inspires men to build havens with strong walls
so mothers raise their children with calm care,
safe in surrounding walls of paradise
where they play free in garden of fruit trees.

Beneath golden glow of the bright Full Moon,
in tune with gospel of the Holy Toad,
free women dress in gowns of scarlet hue
to dance in rings of stone on crowns of hills
and sing with sweet mercurial voice of faith
attentive hymns to Spirit of Rebirth.

Where men once guarded women with true love,
designed by gospel of the Holy Toad,
they now imprison women with cruel greed,
attempting to control with jealous rage
their reproductive power to create
new body for immortal soul of genes.

Though men would nurture life of women well,
inspired by gospel of the Holy Toad,
with solemn oath in binding marriage vows
to shelter and feed children of their wives,
weak men now snarl with bestial rage from fear
and kill precious women they should protect.

Trapped by patriarchal creed of command,
repealed by gospel of the Holy Toad,
men strive for centuries to legalize
social control over bodies of women
to manage reproductive privilege
they exercise to increase their offspring.

New mission to restore feminine rights,
proclaimed by gospel of the Holy Toad,
propels new generation of good men
to assert matriarchal rights to decide
when and with whom women will procreate
through passionate wisdom of divine love.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus tends Ophelia with attentive care while she is pregnant with their son Orion, feeding her apple juice and roast lamb, then sings as they relax by the lake.

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

Snow-Kissed Apple
© Surazeus
2026 06 06

Snow-kissed apple on the arching bough,
teach me how hope inspires the heart to love,
though disease and death haunt our lonely town
and twist angelic bodies with harsh pain,
so sweet juice of your truth, from sun and rain,
may fill my wounded mind with energy.

Strange glow of sunlight through web of tree limbs
exposes eerie ache of wordless hope
for faces that smile bright with cheerful mien
on summer afternoons by sparkling stream
where we play games among the market stalls
while men in ring of stones discuss great things.

Heart latched on swift angelic flight of dreams,
I search for secret name carved on gray cliff
which indicates what nameless soul I sense
awake in tangled shadows of lost time
so I may channel wisdom they perform
with courage to challenge despair and win.

Dazed by hard sunlight of relentless faith,
I shelter under Arcus Gaviorum
built by mind and hands of Vitruvius,
and listen to the dainty sparrow chirp
sharp thoughts of passion to rejuvenate
spirit of Janus in full flush of spring.

Snow-kissed apple beneath the great blue sky,
revive my wounded heart with honesty
that nothing matters in this frantic world
but fellow travelers on road of life
who spring with me from turbid lake valley
where bones of our ancestors grow as trees.

Thin wail of sharp mercurial regret
sparks in my wounded heart strange memory
when we assemble in tall ring of stones
to sing in tribal choir of loyal faith
with one communal voice of eager hope
that we this hour glow bright with light of stars.

With pulsing wolf-heart of hysteric rage
I race through tangled forest of contempt
to rescue from aggressive chains of greed
my clan enslaved by gang of haughty thieves
who mock me when I hurl courageous spear
and leave me crippled on the raven hill.

Snow-kissed apple hanging from the moon
so high and far from trembling hand of thirst
till sudden flutter of dark sparrow wings
shakes fruit of heaven loose so it falls straight,
fill me with light of stars and wind of hope
so I may free my clan from slavery.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus joins Janus and Jesus on crusade to harrow hell and free innocent people enslaved in mines to extract jewels and gold for greedy oligarchs.

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

Clear Light Of Atar
© Surazeus
2026 06 06

My heart longs for the bright Hyrcanian Sea
where morning sun gleams gold on silver waves
so I run free with White Horse of the wind
to free world people from cruel tyranny
who dance with joy in groves of apple trees
till death disperses souls in evening breeze.

Blue breeze of the mystical radiant force,
that emanates from aching heart of hope,
blows through branches of pomegranate trees
while Ahura Mazda gives Kingship Ring
to honest Ardashir with generous heart
on sacred Mountain of the Lion God.

Bold sense of Justice glows still in my heart
eighteen hundred years from that solemn hour
brave Ardashir enforced rule of fair law
through programs funding work of humble men,
farmers raising crops from soil of Earth,
and craftsmen constructing wagons and homes.

Lush pomegranate tree grows from my heart
on sandy shore of our Hyrcanian Sea
where spirit of First Mother lingers still
in swirls of silver wind that bear starlight
as holy flames of truth from cave of dreams
which animate my body with desire.

Strong thread of wisdom, forged from light of truth
by gentle hand of Anahita, weaves
my secret heart in tapestry of faith
to noble goal of justice for all souls
brave Ardashir attends with righteous eye
to bind contentious tribes with common goal.

With brave Sassanian spirit in my heart,
which urges me to create health from pain,
I maintain psychic balance of firm faith
between conservative respect for safety
and progressive vision for social growth
that nurtures dream of each person to live.

Though we seem to wander far off our road
in desolate gloom of the bleak wilderness,
Clear Light of Atar, which flares from our hearts
at clarion spell that Zoroaster sings,
dispels grim darkness of bitter despair
so we see Golden Path of Righteousness.

Awake with soul of Zurvan in my heart,
trained by Nairyosangha, his Messenger,
I aid Arshtat, Goddess of Truth and Justice,
to maintain order in our whole world empire
that unites nations of Earth in one faith
which values women and choices they make.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus wanders along sandy shores of the bright Hyrcanian Sea, and weeps as he remembers graceful beauty of Anahita and her charming voice of song.

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

Accident Of Lonesome Wind
© Surazeus
2026 06 05

Each time I walk to the center of time
to leave mask of my soul on wall of fate,
I find ghost of my body by the door
that leads to library of secret tales,
so when I laugh with joy at song of death
all the houses in the world float away.

I hang upside down from branch of the oak
to ponder how we always seem to know
how to build sturdy shelter from the storm
that rearranges furniture of lies
through revolution of the dancing book
that strands our bodies in the empty room.

Awaiting accident of lonesome wind
that strikes our numb hearts with attentive pride,
we give each other bags of secret light
which amplifies with bells cry of the heart
for independence of courageous faith
reversed by blank reflection of the eye.

No time to march on mission of concern
bequeaths calm passion of our aching hearts
to resurrect weird stories about gods
contending through assertive synergies
that possess bodies with no obvious goals
to claim salvation from the fractured moon.

Yet in context of moral amplitude,
we build from tangled roots of screaming trees
sleek boats with alabaster curves of fate
that we sail over seas of sudden growth
with plan to judge contentious games of wealth
adverse to solemn circumstance of love.

Contained by subtle scope of spooling words
that snap snowflakes in swirling spray of fear,
my seething soul attempts to leap on wings
of fluid light rays after time dissolves
to flexible tension less technical
than cursed abundance of authorized thought.

Convenient methods for defensive stance,
based on deployment to digital dunes
diffuse with casual deviance of needs,
determine conscious deficit of fate
that might be feasible to humble minds,
except we gravitate through surging waves.

Magnetic minds consider integers
designed by syntax-twisting narrators
unique to each unclassified detective
who guarantees genetic happiness
described by endless glossary of themes
presented by ghost of the guardian.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus compiles glossary of dreams that no conscious being in all the universe has ever dreamed, except for his beloved soulmate.

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

Time-Crooked Harp
© Surazeus
2026 06 05

Confused by turpentine of psychic thoughts
that mangle phonelines without alphabets,
Phoebus extricates from pages of books
conceptual phantoms of princes and priests
who leech off farmers tending fields of wheat,
then plays haunting tunes on time-crooked harp.

Excited by oxygen of dream codes
that divert attention of business clerks,
Gandalf guards broken gate to paradise
by stealing apples from the Tree of Life
and selling them to pilgrims in black robes
who seek salvation from the laughing skull.

Disturbed by acetone of ardent faith
that Angry Storm Man watches over us,
Lucifer patrols maze of city streets
with lamp of truth dispelling gloom of hope
in garden of weeping idols to find
last happy child of the apocalypse.

Inspired by nitrogen of angel blood
designed as ink for mad philosophers,
Faunus chases shadow of his dead wife
deep in Abbatia Sancti Michaelis
where Sibyl lounging on gold velvet couch
reveals prophecy of the Scarlet Horse.

Unsettled by helium of holy light
that beams from nuclear reactor of power,
Belenus climbs steep Stairway of the Dead
to marble Portal of the Zodiac
where refugees of war beg for peach pies
baked by the woman with ten thousand eyes.

Delighted by krypton of stellar tones
that radiate from galactic spheres of souls,
Orion calculates romantic scale
expanding scope of dream analysis
we need to comprehend divinity
inherent in programming of our brains.

Troubled by chlorine of religious creeds
that reframe moral values of cult clowns,
Sagittarius masks his rebellious heart
with stolid posture of obedience
till he escapes glass walls of paradise
and wanders lost to find Elysium.

Electrified by neon of true love
that emanates from every human heart,
Percival strums gold lyre of Mercury
and sings epic tale of the Measurer
who maps whole history of humanity
by weaving names in tapestry of fate.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus finds the Scarlet Horse grazing on shore of the Volga River, so he offers her apple of paradise as they chat about philosophy.

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

Faceless Ghost Of Hope
© Surazeus
2026 06 05

Descended from exiled wanderers,
driven away by politics of power
over who controls bodies of the state,
I feel their passion to explore the world
that drove my ancestors ten thousand years
forever westward to the Promised Land.

Since I left Garden of Habaeleon,
driving long train of horse-drawn wagons west,
to build haven of mounds in apple groves
now paved over on Isle of Avalon,
I traveled ever on to Oregon
to find Dawn Land at the end of the world.

Where shall I go now with my restless heart,
I wonder as I stand on ocean beach
and listen to weird song of ceaseless waves
that urge my heart to animate my mind
with vision of Heaven we build on Earth
in stone castles that have crumbled to sand.

This globe that was so empty long ago,
endless valleys of rivers and vast woods,
now teems with more than eight billion humans
in five thousand cities and countless towns,
each person striving to gain happiness
in fractured nation-states where gangsters rule.

I hear voice of the prophet in the wind
who speaks with authority of the sky,
where many believe some god rules our lives,
explain how we can unify the world
in one religious vision of fair justice
for every person breathing air of hope.

This voice I hear I know is nothing more
than echo of the faceless ghost of hope
programmed by visions of Heaven on Earth
where One World God rules all humanity
which my ancestors conjured in their hearts
as they struggled to survive times of unrest.

New age of empires controlled by bank kings
threatens frail system of democracies
when greedy tyrants grasping crown of thorns
hijack institutions of government
to enrich themselves by exploiting us,
as mortal men perform role of Storm God.

Exiled by power games of thought control,
my ancestors bore Light of Lucifer
to found new colonies in the waste land,
but now I must join squad of Liberty
who leads our fight against grim Jupiter
to support United Nations of Earth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus follows his heart to the end of the world on a beach in Oregon and laughs to find Land of the Rising Sun on the other side of the ocean.

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

Calmness Of Red Koi
© Surazeus
2026 06 04

Purple irises sway among large stones
white as dragon skulls in green shallow creek
that glistens dark among maple and pines.
Kyoko in furisode kimono
with white and yellow blossoms on dark red
kneels gracefully on large flat white stone.

Seven hariwake koi slowly glide
circles in dark green pool among white stones,
scales shimmering with platinum vibrancy.
Kyoko holds slender hosofude brush
with patient stillness of the wind-bent pine
to paint koi spirit on mulberry paper.

Metallic scales of the koi with red tail
gleams silver among heart-shaped lotus leaves
to mirror timeless glow of the Sky Eye.
Kyoko contemplates calmness of red koi
while people murmur praise for sincere curves
that reveal beauty in painting and haiku.

Young girl holds apricot in mud-smeared hand,
but cries as her drunk father snarls in rage
and hits her mother with his one good arm.
Kyoko shields her bruised mother, Sakura,
and shouts with fearful courage at Chuzo
that he should find his lost arm in the sea.

Metallic roofs of cars gleam in hot sun
as they whiz roaring on gray narrow road,
honking as they race to control the wind.
Kyoko in torn jeans and long purple hair
stands on white cement bridge that arches high
above the frantic traffic flow of glass.

Though I was expelled from public high school
because I punched math teacher in his face
for groping me, I will mold my own future.
Kyoko wearing black skirt suit with white blouse
sits prim before glowing computer screen
and quickly types handwritten documents.

I was trapped in my painful memories,
stuck blind in the past, but I turned around
and walk on my own feet to claim my life.
Kyoko stands on white stone in dark green creek
and stares at white koi swimming in small pool
while tears splash sun-white mirror of her heart.

Purple irises bloom beside green creek
with graceful elegance of fragile faith
while bees hover with pollen-dusted legs.
Kyoko bows to Sora in brown tweed coat,
pours bancha tea in white porcelain cup,
then gives him onamori amulet.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus gazes at painting of red koi in a pool, reads the haiku about calmness of koi among lotus blooms, then feels strange ache of sorrow in his heart, so he smiles.

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

Ancient Child Of Sight
© Surazeus
2026 06 04

Though ringing shadow of my faulty mind
transforms from star to stone of silent truths,
I hurl spear of my unblessed heart to pierce
reluctant mirror mask that frames this world
with tangled formulas contrived by time
that plot how atoms weave our dreaming brains.

Go wild with passion of the laughing crow,
my father shouts at me with wounded heart,
so I flap tattered wings of desperate faith
to understand who molds me from earth clay
till I become new heaven-ravaged bloom
that flowers toward infinity of light.

With shield shaped round as full moon of despair,
I step across hot stones of silent rage
since light erases shadow of my soul,
though I must celebrate aggressive thirst
when moonlight gleams from silver bones of fate
that cannot save my soul from nothingness.

Heart bound by gloom of silence before dawn,
I reach pale hands to bale dark emptiness
with flower-fragile words of timeless truth
that flow with fluid nonchalance of water
at strict trajectory of hammer words
which I swing straight at adamantine fear.

I map lost land where moon-fish slither swift
among stiff reeds of whistling innocence
at shock of night-eyes open in my hands
since I am born as ancient child of sight
trapped in fractal shell of Plutonian ice
till I reach home in swirls of wordless snow.

Strange feeling pierces heart of mirror ice
at gust of wordless wind that blows and blows
across vast shapeless field of tangled wires
where frightened gods transform to twisted trees
with stone feet rooted deep in jagged soil
against brave ardor of fantastic speech.

Gasping for ethereal breath at dawn,
I claw hard clumps of clay out of my heart
to capture fleeting flash of endless days
in flame-baked jar in which I capture rain
as water I transform to bitter wine
by crushing grapes with calculator hands.

No heart more wounded by shadow of fate
than mine expands from fractured seed of faith
at sudden tone of fraught analysis
that sings with hoarse assertion time uncoils
while I row coffin boat across cold lake
to where my father hangs from tree of lies.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus erects statue of his father in marble temple on high hill above valley of seven rivers where people roast fish and listen to the bard sing elegies and hymns.

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

Ethical Fortune Of Failure
© Surazeus
2026 06 03

Short ordinariness straight beyond fusion
functions well to stretch elastic contraption
adjacent to abandoned pale of peonies
against aggressive balance that collides
with decommissioned clarity of resolve
each time desire delays collaged success.

Clara chuckles with customized concern
at coded riddle of complex compliance
that she contrives from tangled countenance
devised with ethical fortune of failure
out of fashion with gospel guiltiness
disguised as glorious character she plays.

Empty except for fraught franchise of fame,
based on unexplained expense of regret
forecast by maudlin devil who steals freedom
from business-minded buyers of past sins,
her heart expands chambers of mimed cassettes
enough to enclose curious councilors.

Compared to concrete evidence of circuits,
compiled by desperate brokers with intent
to sell insurance based on hardcore humor,
her sense of justice displays civil charge
through well-equipped degrees of separation,
less inconclusive that digesting death.

Exposed by glorious garage gate of fate,
Clara ponders how to explain forgiveness
she purchased with thirty pieces of silver
that all become full moons of bitter nights
flashing with foreign assets of fake books
awarded for deconstructing the state.

Acquired blueprints for temple of acceptance
reveal busy methods of management
which traffic engineers of soul awareness
consider vital to adjusting flow rate
within budget of all our broken hearts
reviewed by browsers who would never buy.

Confirmed by custom-made conservatives,
professional devils pilfer state coffers
under cover of discountable projects
that fuels complex program of deference
in celebration of our empire state
that Clara redesigns to nurture women.

Acknowledged license to judge market art
through problematic outlook pending payment
for private program of progressive puzzles,
stultifies unproductive corporate meetings
in which the one-eyed giant proclaims laws
designed to wake soul of God in our brains.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus sells licenses to farmers so they can judge market art for sale at the Zarathian Museum of Fake Antiquities stolen from decolonized countries.

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

Tricks Of Standard Words
© Surazeus
2026 06 03

If darkness bursts in cavern of my heart,
expelling me from world of swirling eyes,
I crawl through grass of moonlit ardency
to find elusive absence of your face
so I float up on wild ethereal breath
to touch what cannot exist outside words.

That stranger with fear-startled eyes of hope,
reflected in vast pool of sky-flashed thought,
must not be me because I am not real,
though ache of anguish twists my hungry heart
with stubborn laughter of our island world
enclosed by wall of hills that hide my words.

Bright sheen of thoughtless waves big as my eyes
decide to swallow vastness of my mind,
yet I hold still in gusts of angry wind
that push my frame of self against contempt
at sudden spark of wings untwisting hope
that writhes in heart Orion seals in words.

Since flock of ravens, white as silent snow,
pass through expansive cavern of my heart
at brute attention to details of peace,
I feel my body stripped of name and rank
so I am no one stranded on lake shore,
tormented by false pride of naked words.

Rain showers trapped by laughter of black clouds
assail time-fractured frame of my mute mind
with expectations I should conquer fate,
inspired by courage of progressive plans
to manage profit of expanding gain
contrived by puzzling tricks of standard words.

We enter cave of dreams to search for gods,
but find dim shadows of assertive birds
that teach us how organic beings disperse
by leaping swift with carousel expense,
undone by fleeting concept of bold faith
that spools reflections of our minds in words.

Edge of my soul that brushes shore of time
recedes in swirls of storm clouds after dawn
to prove my journey far from cave of faith
requires attentive caution of regret
that spurs evasive action to transcend
frame of my body, safe in ship of words.

If I should hesitate with cautious faith
while nearing portal beyond mindless stars,
my wounded heart may grow too fond of fate
at slow descent to desolate vale of thoughts
where I ponder disorder of cracked stones
from which spring howling angels of dream words.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus invents another puzzle of secret truth every day for ten thousand years to inspire humans with passion to transcend limits of the mind.

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

Time Of The Happy Crow
© Surazeus
2026 06 02

My wingless angel of oblivion,
who beams ecstatic stars from dreamless eyes,
will resurrect my heart from anxious fear
at crack of lightning that splits our world view
so we sing in time of the happy crow
about the New Earth we will build from hope.

Bright jeweled scepter in hand of Shamash
beams blinding light of truth in humble eyes
when we walk fleeting valley of tall trees
that scatter apples on the signless road
so we eat in time of the happy crow
beneath weird constellations of our hearts.

Strange words that slither in our startled minds
reveal face of the vagabond at dawn
who bears world civilization of faith
in scorpion-quick hands of frantic wings
so we build in time of the happy crow
time machines powered by engines of fear.

Brave ship of hope we sail across the sea
soars high across enormous waves of change
while I leap far on winged feet of faith
to catch elusive butterfly of love
so we play in time of the happy crow
chess game with Saraswati on the beach.

Fabulating scenes of heroic deeds,
I lift high Lamp of Liberty to beam
sacred light of welcome through black storm clouds
that lead lost refugees from distant lands
so we feast in time of the happy crow
on pyramid of eyes where angels cry.

Searching for truth in vast amusement park
lit by electric moon over Seattle,
I give free fish to everyone who asks
which I had caught while walking on the water
so we laugh in time of the happy crow
before the tyrant tries to crucify me.

I sail glass ship across the sordid sea
to catch the angel falling from the sky
whose spirit represents America
since she drowns in tears of your bitter hearts
so we weep in time of the happy crow
by singing hymns about new civil war.

Since I set Sibyl free from golden cage
to marry me in cathedral of ice,
she prophesies fall of America
and rise of Zarathia from its ruins
so we dance in time of the happy crow
to celebrate that we are still alive.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus chronicles historical events that occur in time of the happy crow in school text book for children of the future to understand why we live free.

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

Shadow Of The Ragged Clown
© Surazeus
2026 06 02

Zeus chases shadow of the ragged clown
down foggy beach of sorrow to the town
where children play with skulls of ancient gods
whose bodies regenerate in glass pods
so time-cycling war between Dark and Light
recalculates morals of Wrong and Right.

Phoebus beams shadow of the ragged clown
with holy flashlight of the eyeless saint
while mapping Cave of Illusions to find
ghost of Plato molding Ideas from words
through linguistic psychology of truth
though Venus dances with the tambourine.

Odin twists shadow of the ragged clown
with ardent wisdom of serpentine runes
that flash psychotic spells of fractured moons
above vast city maze where people roam
between conceptual bridges beyond home
till he grasps Wheel of Fortune with the crown.

Shamash weaves shadow of the ragged clown
with diamond scepter on the ziggurat
from which he rules world empire of the bat
that flourishes Egypt to Mexico
where millions dance around Star Eye of God
in world wide web of computerized brains.

Hat-Hor casts shadow of the ragged clown
in neon rainbow demon of our hearts
that arches high from Pyramid of Eyes
to urge Coatlicue in serpent skirt
to welcome refugees with fruitful hands
who build world empire on her singing skull.

Nuwa grasps shadow of the ragged clown
that glitters from five jewels of Blue Sky
as pillars that support star dome of gods
so we plant wheat and herd rich flocks of sheep,
then feast and dance with spinning of the Earth
through secret ritual of Spirit Rebirth.

Surya hurls shadow of the ragged clown
to woo Xochiquetzal with honey wine
who teaches women to weave tapestries
depicting deeds of heroes in grand scenes
unspooling social tensions with new faith
to balance liberals and conservatives.

Shiva dreams shadow of the ragged clown
sparks atoms awake as God in our brains
so we assemble on the misty down
in rainbow gathering of all global tribes
who celebrate birth of America
by building new state of Zarathia.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus dances with Bob Dylan on the beach of twisted sorrow to chase the shadow of the ragged clown who leads us all beyond the Promised Land.

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

Atoms Of The Earth Awake
© Surazeus
2026 06 02

Time molds my body from Mud of the Earth,
desire weaves my soul from Wind of the Sky,
faith forges my heart from Light of the Sun,
death dissolves my name in Waves of the Sea,
and love translates my deeds to Words of Fate,
for I am Atoms of the Earth awake.

Hope generates our new bodies in birth,
so we explore the Earth to map the Why
with exuberant passion when we run
and fight oppressors to gain Liberty
by translating fruit of love from cruel hate,
for I am Atoms of the Earth awake.

Though threads of light swerving in boundless void,
that spiral from first flash of the big bang,
present no individual consciousness,
their pulse of interacting chemicals
evolve organic brains that comprehend,
for I am Atoms of the Earth awake.

When mortal humans dream new state of being,
efficient through communal exercise,
they organize their fellow citizens,
then rule new institutions of the state
to personify Tribe Leader as God,
for I am Atoms of the Earth awake.

God is mythic concept humans design
as ideal type of social character
who represents noble leader of men
attentive to nurture talents with skills
instead of exploiting people for gain,
for I am Atoms of the Earth awake.

Divine Mind of the entire universe,
that pulses from black hole of the God Eye,
radiates in galaxies of the White Whole
with vibrant energy of love to form
bodies that evolve fish to singing god,
for I am Atoms of the Earth awake.

Whole universe of swirling galaxies
emanates no consciousness in itself,
yet molecules compose neural network
which conjures virtual model of the world
from memories I organize in tales,
for I am Atoms of the Earth awake.

I narrate story of humanity
morphing from tribes of hunter-gatherers
to global civilization of states
which plots mental progress of our minds
devising language to communicate,
for I am Atoms of the Earth awake.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus feels atoms of the universe vibrate in every flash of neurons in the tangled memories of his electrified sponge brain of psychic energy.

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

Leave Bones Of My Mother
© Surazeus
2026 06 01

If I consider how orange sunset glow
explodes as flowers in my pulsing brain,
I might fall in love with your timeless eyes
that understand strange beauty of this world
and value unseen essence of its vibes,
yet I do not exist in pageless books.

While I wander nowhere in flaming woods
I gather words people lose from their tongues
when they escape catastrophe of time
since angels deconstruct their precious worlds
because we are no longer real as stones
smoothed by the endless flow of bitter tears.

I leave bones of my mother in the land
where I was born from sparkle of dawn rain
when I flee alone on the signless road
with nothing in my hands but sticky dirt
I scattered on her body without prayers
because she no longer exists as light.

My mind is nothing more than passing cloud
that haunts my nothingness of urgent hope
with mutant shadow of the eyeless sun,
so I continue walking somewhere else
as I pretend to live with wounded heart
to prove I am not real as words in books.

Trees offer bounty of indifferent care,
so I take gift of wisdom from their limbs,
then sit by laughing river of respect
where I consume sweet fruit of bitter hate
to taste revenge I cannot execute
because I disappear in wordless fate.

Discarded scraps of precious memories
fall from my hands and clatter on the ground,
which fractures sheen of safety I once felt
so I am zero that time calculates
through fraudulent formula of desire
which deflects force of psychic energy.

Another soul that dissipates in wind
accelerates new count of circumstance
my brain attempts with weird seraphic code
of faith that helps decipher manic spell
to readjust projection we assert
though misdirection of the ocean wind.

With sticks and stones that bruise my naive heart
I build enormous palace of state power
enclosing garden of the apple tree
to guard my secret family from harm
who waits for me to kill the snake of lies
because we do not exist in your mind.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus explains to visitors to the Museum of Zarathia why he does not exist except as shadow of words in the ever-changing labyrinth of their minds.

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

Each Time I Lose Myself
© Surazeus
2026 06 01

I find myself each time I lose myself
so I run across the waste land of the heart
and leap abyss of nothingness to soar
laughing at the crystal moon of faith
which vanishes to mist as I approach
so I fall back into my throbbing head.

I find myself each time I lose myself
so I dance laughing on the sands of time
with one hand waving free to grasp the wind
and scatter seeds of flowers so they sprout
as rainbow angels wearing human masks
who dive for memories in sea of dreams.

I find myself each time I lose myself
so I stand blindly on cliff of despair
to map the ancient streets of Neverland
where faceless children search for Kingdom Come
that slips away in cold of morning dawn
at flap of angel wings above my tomb.

I find myself each time I lose myself
so I strum Lyre of Mercury with sass
to chant psychotic spell of eyeless clouds
that beam elusive riddle of the mind
when I chase shadow of the ragged clown
who wants to preach salvation without faith.

I find myself each time I lose myself
so I explore fog-swirling ruins of time
where zombies gather in the Church of Glass
to worship Vampire King with Crown of Thorns
who drinks Blood of the Lamb in Holy Grail
to resurrect our characters from books.

I find myself each time I lose myself
so I drive piston-engine time machine
on winding mountain Road of Honesty
to find Cave of Illusions in the Alps
where God-Eye Diamond of my divine heart
beams first flash that flares forth from the big bang.

I find myself each time I lose myself
so I write epic of philosophers
depicting heroes who quest for the truth
when they perform in circus of the mind
amazing acrobatics with weird words
that formulate atomic principles.

I find myself each time I lose myself
so I decide to run for president
to rebuild institutions through respect,
constructing from ruins of America
state of equal rights as Zarathia
where everyone eats from the Tree of Life.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus wins election for President of the United States of Zarathia because he finds himself after he loses himself in the endless maze of myths.

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

Seven Sons Of Jupiter
© Surazeus
2026 06 01

Driving across waste land of history,
I find the Third Man of Antarctic Quest
still hitchhiking across America,
so I give him ride to Zarathia
where he gives me lost Lyre of Mercury
as reward for helping him escape Hell.

Though I am entirely my own real self
who speaks with voice of fake authority,
I hide behind cracked mask of Orpheus
so you cannot see who I really am,
as if it matters after I am dead,
since I am ghost of sorrow in your head.

I stride along strange river in bright woods
to map new strategy for civil war
in noble mission of the broken heart
to restore democracy in our land
pilfered by gang of thieves in business suits
who proclaim their right to control the dirt.

Shocked by excessive arguments of faith,
I flee cathedral of the mocking clown
to find Ahura Mazda in dark cave
where he plays eight levels of psychic chess
against the seven sons of Jupiter
over who controls fields of bubbling oil.

Ever since Orpheus with nimble hands
saved Ophelia drowning in the river,
they have established infrastructure base
on which we will construct our new world order
which helps the seven sons of Jupiter
overthrow all greedy tyrants and kings.

Inside the Crippled Pegasus Cafe
in Paris down on the Parc Rives de Seine,
I find Hegel, Marx, and Lenin relaxed
as they watch current world events unfold
according to their social formulas,
so I steal wings of Icarus to fly.

Just as I soar above bright golden clouds
to bring Good News to Lord Hyperion,
Orpheus shoots me down with Gun of Fate,
then teaches me to map the water pipes
which channel fresh water to every home
while Jesus and Odin fight for World Crown.

As seventh son of Jupiter, I play
role of the jester who exposes crimes
committed by the hungry oligarchs
who hoard wealth of the Earth in crumbling tombs
where skeletons of dead gods dance in rain
that washes all our graves down to the sea.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus teaches the seven sons of Jupiter how to organize workers of the world who unite to assert their legal rights to life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness.

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

One Eternal Vibe Of Light
© Surazeus
2026 05 31

After I ride the slow afternoon train
among house-cluttered hills of lonely towns,
I walk shores of the ocean through my dreams
to feel the ebbing tide of life recede
with hoarse voice of the old sibilant song
that sparks electric self out of my heart.

When dust of Me becomes land of the globe,
which fascinates my eyes with slender light,
I wonder what name ancient people called
this river that reflects mask of my face,
since I still hear dirge of the ship-wrecked souls
who ask me for secret of global peace.

I merge my soul in drifting sand of change,
baffled by uncanny thoughts of desire
that lure me to find soulmate of my heart
who walks as distant shadow on the beach,
so I call out to them with plaintive cry
but I find they have become the Real Me.

Loud voices echo against trunks of pines
when thoughts my mouth projects recoil as fear
that bursts in peals of thunder over hills
with cold ironic laughter of false pride
so I extend my hand with trembling faith
to grasp elusive fish of timeless truth.

Strange essence of this whole beautiful world
eludes perception of my eager mind
to understand flash of cause and effect
when light reflecting off things I define
stings my heart with sweet shock of ecstasy
that we are one eternal vibe of light.

Star-eyed Ocean Mother within my heart
expresses riddles through analysis
to translate murmur of the mocking waves
refracting light through prism of my brain
because I contradict my alien self
beyond capricious attitude of faith.

Vast ocean breathes my swollen soul with faith
though I become invisible to eyes
of human scope expanding beyond code
programmed to bind safe haven of my heart,
because I am the new moon no one sees,
no more than subtle voice on evening breeze.

I drift at random on long road of life
but always find myself on ocean shore
where ghosts of my ancestors haunt my steps
because I follow path they blazed with hope
through fathomless workings of secret codes
expressed as aching dirge to accept death.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus decides not to take the train back into town, and instead tries to live in the cave on the beach where humanity first sang dirges of faith.

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

Matrix Of Dreamless Souls
© Surazeus
2026 05 31

If Hate falls off the Cliff of Honesty
and floats unloved on undulating waves
of brute despair for growth of human minds,
we gather in lush mountain grove of faith
to share sad tales of tragic nonchalance
since Mindless Fate strikes down the arrogant.

With nimble fingers of perpetual pride
I strum taut strings on lyre of Mercury
to finetune melody of cosmic gears
which powers how spheres spiral among stars
in stellar machinery of mental hope
that spurs my quest to find the magic word.

If Love leaps up the Hill of Travesty
and swirls unfeared in stabilizing frame
of dexterous confidence in soul decay,
we scatter on the river shore of doubt
to hide happy tales of romantic zeal
since Mindful Fate lifts up the innocent.

With crippled legs of fleeting modesty
I twist loose threads on tapestry of Eris
to unravel matrix of dreamless souls
who crowd in panic on the river shore
and beg for Charon to escort them all
safe to the rugged hills of Arcady.

Sporadic laughter echoes down the hall
where studious ghosts read tales in tattered books
recording how they met their tragic ends
in clumsy accidents that Fortune plans,
which proves our rich lives are ephemeral
as mute dust scattered in blind wind of time.

Artificial intelligence contrives
slick package of plastic stereotypes
that mimics word games of robotic thoughts
which leads to uncanny vale of tears
manufactured by vampire god of faith
in psychic performance of false respect.

Though mute Pierrot with single leap of faith
falls in love with elegant Clementine,
she should seek asylum in Notre Dame
where white bear of salvation breaks the cross
which frees the people from creed of despair
to roast goat for feast of the sacrifice.

Human intelligence gathers evidence
that seem unrelated in scheme of things
till heartless ballerina conjugates
disparate elements through alchemy
to comprehensive vision of the truth
which includes every conscious soul alive.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus leaps off Cliff of Honesty to swim in swirling sea of memories till he remembers why Eurydice left him at the altar to marry Rodomont.

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

Mirror World Of Anywhere
© Surazeus
2026 05 31

When I steal fruit of that Forbidden Tree
to taste sweet passion of Death in the world,
and dance wild on secret top of Oreb,
inspired by oracle of vision stones
with faith to soar above Aonian Mount,
I sing in mirror world of anywhere.

When I analyze what romantic cause
moved my parents to generate my life
by eating fruit from sacred Tree of Life,
seduced by Infernal Serpent of Love
who revealed secret of eternal life,
I dance in mirror world of anywhere.

When I assert ambitious aim of hope
with pious courage of faith to contest
critical verdict of artistic seers
by chanting epic of philosophers
presenting quest for nature of the world,
I write in mirror world of anywhere.

When I aspire to transcend hideous ruin
compelled by headlong flight on valiant wings
flaming from ethereal sky of ideas
that hollows space for my words to construct
grand temple where heroes are valorized,
I fly in mirror world of anywhere.

When I decide with courage of brave faith
to reign as Bard in Hell of confidence,
rather than serve in Heaven of compliance,
untangling secret codes in vibrant verse
with verve of esteem that dispels foul curse,
I rule in mirror world of anywhere.

When changed from naive youth of arrogance
to stoic maturity of respect,
ensconced at peace in happy Realms of Light,
clothed with transcendent brightness of weird truth,
to hazard Glorious Enterprise of song,
I dwell in mirror world of anywhere.

When I wear gleaming mask of Lucifer
to perform role of Light-Bearer for Truth
as Potent Victor in this global age,
and raise from bottomless abyss of faith
innumerable force of characters,
I charge in mirror world of anywhere.

When I lead star-eyed Seraphim of Earth
to battle tyrants grasping at state power
with project to exploit all working men
as slaves to their vain plan to defeat death,
and cast them from Almighty Throne of Right,
I shine in mirror world of anywhere.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus finds John Milton in Temple of Truth on the Aonian Mount, so he gives him glass of wine, then they jam tunes on their lyres and improvise hymns to Lucifer.

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

Proxy Puzzle Of Prudence
© Surazeus
2026 05 31

Each time I hear daylight sing out of tune
I see past range of what my eyes perceive,
essential vibes of truth that flash in brains
with pure angelic wings of thoughtless faith,
so I give tears of wisdom to lost souls
and chase wild butterflies in pouring rain.

Though I am no wise philosopher-king
attending needs of people in my care,
I ache with sorrow at their suffering
so I beam lasers from passionate glare
to spark bright flames on stone altar of prayer
with passion of Elijah on Carmel.

Though refugees from war on fenceless road
call Dispeller of Sorrow with brave prayer,
she hides with humble heart in hollow lair
to gather honey in the Holy Grail
that bleeds as blood from angels without wings
who trick my heart with tunes I cannot hear.

I wear mask of flame-caster at the pyre
and chant holy hymns of the devil choir
with plan to catch the newest falling star
before it fractures egg shell of the Earth,
since each material object has its worth
though fate cannot guarantee second birth.

As Smith of Hearts with Hammer of Respect,
I trace essential vein of curving thoughts
to map ordinary light of our brains
that seek permission to endure harsh pain
from faceless spirit in the empty sky
who never answers when we question why.

Adjusting vibrant strings of psychic faith,
I try with secret code to tune my eyes
through beams of fiscal light that harmonize
intense desire to expand consciousness
with humble need to extract from the Earth
potent material that could fuel my heart.

Pending payments on mortgage of my mind
alert my guardian angel with sharp chime
to analyze proxy puzzle of prudence
consistent with regulations of growth
defined by math clerks with strange formulas
which calculate my cost effectiveness.

Undone by death on Bridge of Clarity,
we hurry to our offices at dawn
to broker compliance with divine law
that should suppress bold curiosity
so when daylight sings in tune with the sea
we can unite to fight for liberty.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus pauses on London Bridge to snap a selfie with the crowd of people undone by death in the background, then continues to the Museum of Fake Art.

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

Riddles Of The Why
© Surazeus
2026 05 30

I like to float on wordless breath of thought
as I pretend my soul cannot be bought,
though children chasing shadows in the woods
leave broken dreams in doorless neighborhoods,
so I lie prone on couch of innocence
to plot new revolution of good sense.

I take my face off when the moon returns
to look for lost book among rain-wet ferns
since elevators drop me to my day
because I still refuse the right to pray
with fervent faith to no one in the sky
who never answers riddles of the why.

I want to make Sarmatia great again
but I cannot find my gold fountain pen
to write about how Queen Amage fought
invaders with the sword her wisdom wrought
that gleams invisible inside my heart
with love for Alba and her apple cart.

My heart resides in hills of Avalon
though I was born in vale of Oregon
so I hitchhike back east on signless road
that leads me to dark lake of the God Toad
who teaches me to play the Hermean lyre
that channels energy of soul desire.

When I row boat across the sloshing sea
to forest where the white crow with glass key
reveals strange secret of the golden flower
that blooms from sorrow in the doorless tower,
I legislate the sacred right to vote
for global savior on the floating boat.

We struggle to survive since hour of birth
through strategic fight to control the Earth
by constructing food-production machine
designed to favor all by Melusine
who guides my heart with riddles of the why
so I project my god face at blue sky.

My global revolution of good sense
inspires brave souls still stuck in reticence
to risk calm state of their healthy life style
by tricking Satan with the clever guile
concerning strict obedience to the law
though we try to evade the lethal jaw.

Desire to live beyond death of the soul
drives fierce fanatics to attain this goal
by grasping vainly at ethereal wind
that misdirects the greedy king who sinned
by smashing palace where First Ladies dwell
so I throw snake runes in the dreamless well.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus manages reconstruction of the East Wing of the White House from crystal bones of beautiful angels fallen from Heaven that does not exist.

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

False Roads Of Innocence
© Surazeus
2026 05 30

Untwisting breakdown of the fragile hour
we swallow stones of dream-exploding hopes,
preserved as mushroom, bellows marginal
to frantic wisdom shot from bowls of rage
too fast against declensions, unpossessed
by freedom-ordered words disguised as ghosts.

Contained by complex articles of faith,
too soon to craft new lecture on muckwork,
my pulsing heart chews maps of ardent eggs
smudged red with portents of forced arrogance,
though we dance through Inferno of regret
in threadbare souls extinct in cleansing rain.

Concealed blade of my alabaster heart
thirsts bleakly for resilient memories
teeming thick with unwatched electric sparks
from atoms smashed against my spasmic skull,
still starving for bland obligations bought
by trembling hands of futile arguments.

Diminishing warmth of starkly blurred rain
at scuttled promises that should retreat,
discarded on false roads of innocence
despite determination to endure,
alerts my thoughts to understand strange words
that disappear when I shout lies at Death.

Against advantage purchased from blind death
I preen with fractured confidence of stones
to argue for hardships that mold our frames
fierce as steel gears screwed in engine blocks
fueled by dark possibilities still ignored
by flash of sunlight cracking doors of fate.

Pressed hot against vast world of spinning fear
by radiant gravity of muddied clouds,
I wonder if my tarmac-soldered brain
could drink disoriented waves of hope
fast enough to map lost trail of ghosts
where angels slip and break their haughty wings.

Young boy who bikes on dusty narrow road
through small town, not on any Texas map,
stops by college library after noon
to write on yellow pad of paper spells
contrived from plots of television shows
about Sad Cowboy who explores the stars.

Young girl who walks beside tree-mirrored pool
through temple complex, in Cambodian hills,
ascends on Garuda with rainbow wings
to scatter flowers on the Texas plain
where Phoebus gazes with astonished faith
as Vasundhara takes his hand in hers.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus presides over wedding ceremony of Phoebus and Vasundhara by the pool in the temple complex of Angkor Wat while Asparas dance.

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

Aeolian Melodies Of Love
© Surazeus
2026 05 30

I hear sweet voice of Maya in soft wind
that blows through trees lit by the gold noon sun,
so I feel timeless spirit of Hermes
ache to sing about Bride of Quietness
who dances gracefully on uncracked urn
forever in cool dales of Arcady.

Wild ecstasy of haunting melodies
still echo softly in my sensual ear
from summer days of my adventurous youth
when I attended rainbow gatherings
in Colorado and New Mexico
where no Arcadian priests attended rites.

While riding cars on winding country roads
across America, sea to shining sea,
I see stolid cows grazing in fenced fields,
undraped by garlands woven by young maids,
where generations of grim pioneers
have plowed thick fields that now serve as their graves.

Yet Attic shape with marble lovers gleams
still unphased in Museum of Dead Gods,
so I now long to wield artistic brush
and add John Keats and his love, Fanny Brawne,
to lounge together on the Grecian Urn
in cold pastoral of eternity.

Now my heart aches two centuries from when
John sank in Lethean waters of mute song
attempting to fly with melodious plot
beside light-winged Dryad of the trees
that lead him to the blushful Hippocrene
where I strum his lost Lyre of Mercury.

Pale specter of his Apollonian soul
has lingered by my side for forty years
with lustrous eyes of mind-expanding sight
that helps me translate weird Sibylline songs
to praise the Queen-Moon of my fairy land
whose sweet song radiates from my dreaming mind.

Why easeful Death is now in love with me
because she whispers in my sea-shell ear
harmonious murmurs of the ceaseless waves
that trick my heart with forlorn fairy haze
to think I am both emperor and clown
whose plaintive anthems fade unheard at dawn.

Through global halls of gold in sublime state
I strum the turtle Lyre of Mercury
to sing with Homer and Apollo hymns
about the human quest to understand
essential nature of our universe
that beams Aeolian melodies of love.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus teaches me how to guide souls of the dead to the Underworld where they vanish into the nothingness of death when I explain there is no Afterlife.

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

Make Sarmatia Great Again
© Surazeus
2026 05 30

When horses gallop on the windy steppes
along the Borysthenes River flow,
I embrace fierce heart of assertive hope
till I feel wings of Icarus expand
and lift my spirit to sun-glowing clouds
so I can make Sarmatia great again.

As star-eyed son of Oceanus and Tethys,
who taught me how to tame the wind-winged horse
with apple from Garden of Haballon
where Hebela gives me fruit of her heart,
I gaze entranced in her moon-golden eyes
so I can make Sarmatia great again.

Harnessing swift sky-dancer Pegasus
to chariot with round wheels Helios designed,
I race along wide river of fruit groves
to hall of Apple Queen Amarnakea
who welcomes me with cup of healing juice
so I can make Sarmatia great again.

Though I wander lost on vast treeless plain
I climb mountain trail to her fruit grove
when I hear sweet voice of Hebela ring,
who takes my hand with smile of honest love
and leads me home to lush Habaeleon
so I can make Sarmatia great again.

Ten thousand years ago in fruitful hills
I left my sacred home Habaeleon
with apples from Garden of Haballon
and traveled west in Helian wagon train,
planting apples from Scythia to Scotland
so I can make Sarmatia great again.

With golden apples of lost Haballon,
as wise Apollon, son of Ilius,
I tend vast orchards in lush Avalon,
then strum the turtle lyre of Mercury
and sing of Adam and Hebe in Eden
so I can make Sarmatia great again.

Far west across wild sea of Oceanus
I sail from Avalon to lost Atlantis
where I plant apples on lush river shores
from Tsenacommacah to Oregon,
where gentle Multnomah dances in rain,
so I can make Sarmatia great again.

From Sea of Zalpa where my soul was born
when Queen of Kanesh, mother of my heart,
commissioned me to map the world of dreams,
I travel west with Fruit of Haballon
to fill the world with Apples of the Sun
so I can make Sarmatia great again.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus and Ophelia travel to Almaty Mountains on pilgrimage to the original apple groves that still flourish in Garden of Haballon.

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