If I Reveal My Soul
© Surazeus
2026 03 29

If I reveal my soul by how I sing
relentless emotion through opposites,
I undeceive myself with new belief
that glamors richness of our messy world
which vainly proves with brute indifference
that Nature fills us with passion of hope.

If they assassinate idol of stone
that represents proud ruler of the world
with accurate bullet of childhood games,
we may choose new god from the mortal crowd
to play wise ruler of our crowded state
who plays piano with graceful respect.

If we march to martial music of blood
with bright torch of freedom in every hand,
we may find our ancestral voices cry
for justice from blood-soaked soil of our land,
so we raise flag of Liberty with faith
that our wild howls become anthem of truth.

If we spring laughing from sonorous hills
at sudden strike of brave cathedral bells,
we may plow fields of stubborn prairie grass
and plant gold wheat of fierce ambitious plans
to build empire of hungry enterprise
so our children may dance in sweet moonlight.

If I cast line of hope in lake of dreams
with hope to catch elusive fish of faith,
I may hear noble song of moon-white geese
call out to angels on flame-golden clouds
who grant my boon to gain hard-earned reward,
though Nature owes me nothing for my work.

If I should meditate by sparkling brook
that shimmers calm in grove of twisted birch,
I may hear strange enchanting song of faes
that lures my heart to seek dark gloom of fate
in deep forest green of snow-crested hills
where child of the mountain waits for my gift.

If blind musician in dark smoky bar
plays earthy melody on saxophone
with soulful anguish of inhuman truth,
I feel myself alive more than the sea
halfway between midnight and dawn of time,
awake with silver shimmer of star waves.

If I leap over brook of crystal skulls
while running from death on black horse of fate,
I feel cascade of timeless water spray
swirls of strange immortal energy
prismed radiant with souls of fallen gods
who weep to hear me sing about cruel death.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus plays saxophone on the rugged mountain where thousands of blind fallen gods gather to complain to Mother Nature about lack of human faith.

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

Zephyrean Voice Of Truth
© Surazeus
2026 03 29

Terrible ache of the brain breaking down
into fragments of misread memories
sprouts into palm tree of the final thought
where fire-feathered bird of psychotic truth
sings the most beautiful song of all time
that drives me mad with wisdom of true love.

While I stumble blind through random events
that contrive false narrative of my life,
my fractured brain invents meaning for why
I suffer through each scene for which God laughs
with mocking amusement at how wings shine
from fire-fangled feathers of ecstasy.

Far beyond end of the quivering mind
I spiral into beauty of regret
dismissed as obstacles on road of growth
when I transform from singing tree of death
to wingless angel limping without care
on signless road that leads me anywhere.

Struck by bare facts of existence, that seal
secrets of desire in mouths of the dead,
I insist the mental world in my head
is just as real as thick atomic forms
that pulse with naked energy of light,
till my brain dissipates it all to dust.

Stomping hard on the solid ground of being,
I shout with cold Zephyrean voice of truth
that I can dwell as both body and soul
in real world of atoms flashing starlight
and dream realm of ideas weaving words
with simultaneous energy of love.

Whole universe of atoms, which contains
fragile flame of my body in vast frame,
glows endlessly in swirls of energy,
while multiverse of visions in my brain
replicates inexhaustible variants
that fuel my quest to find the Promised Land.

Vibrant reality of pulsing light,
that seethes in layers of atomic swirls,
undulates elusive phenomenon
beyond my ability to record
conceptual images of its pure essence,
yet I attempt to represent its flash.

My pure imagination cannot augment
vital essence at core of divine being
that pulses with celestial energy,
so these faint shimmers of my verbal spells
may barely reflect vastness of the Real,
yet I sing with Zephyrean voice of truth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus explains to Ophelia the difference between the real world of atoms that exists regardless of our perceptions, and the mental realm of ideas we design with words in our brains.

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

Shifting Sands Of Change
© Surazeus
2026 03 29

Though I walk upon shifting sands of change
that swirl across states of America,
transforming processes we play to live
with honest gestures of productive hope,
I will not slip in void of nothingness
since I extend my angel wings of hope.

I shall waltz upon shifting sands of change
through ardent passion to balance with verve
opposing forces of democracy
which channels progressive charge to grow strong
with conservative reins of self-control
so I transcend bipartisan conflicts.

So we stroll upon shifting sands of change
through cooperative management of fate
to fund projects with capital intent,
then distribute goods with social respect,
ensuring every person of this land
thrives in harmony of communal work.

Rebalanced upon shifting sands of change,
we gather around ziggurat of truth
that shines at core of our civilized world
where Ishtar portrays Creator of Life
which unifies all religions of Earth
in one collective drama of world faith.

Hearts bound tight upon shifting sands of change,
we commit our faith in power of love,
after suffering bleak incertitude
that fractures trust with disillusionment,
when we communicate perceptive doubts
which conjures renewed vision of world peace.

Attentive upon shifting sands of change,
we surf on wildly undulating swerves
attuned between contrary points of view,
with brave commitment to sustain frail life
which invigorates with viable creed
common moral values that guide our way.

Endurance upon shifting sands of change
provides brave courage of objective course
for us to steer assertive drive that beams
clear vantage point of sentimental fact
with firm unyielding passion to succeed
in solemn establishment of world faith.

When I dance upon shifting sands of change,
secure with stationary flow of faith,
my heart expands scope of time-conscious sight
through vigorous radiance of selfless love
to anchor aberrant motions with strict law
that weaves energy in our structured Self.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus measures patterns in shifting sands of change to prophesy how we will build new world society on ruins of nation-states destroyed by world war over oil.

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

Global Theory Of Radiance
© Surazeus
2026 03 29

Alive with mental dance of solitude,
I follow crystal wires that lace the air
back to exaggerated waste of Hell
to hear sweet vibrant birds of everywhere
proclaim rebirth of everyone in Spring
who gives each other stories of despair.

Since my feelings wither and bloom all year
against background of moral rectitude,
I breathe expansive quality of hope
that swirls from thoughts of frantic pulchritude
confined by loneliness of distant shouts
which dapples blue sky of my fortitude.

Blue shadows sweep across front lawn of fate
with inwardness of my strange character
defined by incidents my soul performs
essential to my state as Lucifer
because I fade from Heaven after all,
disowned by my grandfather Jupiter.

Stark fear subsides with glimmer of warm breeze
when ravens in oak trees recall my name
through sharp intensity of sudden truth
which I anticipate with every game
without atonement through regret for faith
that lifts me upward to avoid false fame.

Adrift through eternity of each hour
that nests my spirit with brave nothingness,
I float on vacant vastness of our world
in vehement valley of pleasantness
with quiet absolution from my heart
startled by drone of planes in emptiness.

Patient observation of social cues
reveals weird circumstantial evidence
based on principal figures of state laws
contrived by particular providence
which permeates family lawns all over town
who share communal feast of precedence.

Sea tides that ebb and flow reveal my heart
composed of stars that gleam in human eyes,
based on global theory of radiance
through vicissitude of conceptual spies
who flee across mud flats of social rules
to lost Willow House where they eat fruit pies.

Obscure on rainbow loop of energy,
that spirals outward from globe of our dreams,
I thread my soul in matrix of god souls
comprised of psychic riddles in word streams
that bind me with religious tales of good
as nameless actor trapped in puzzle memes.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus auditions for role of Lucifer in the new world order that spontaneously appears after the global revolution against fascist dictators disguised as presidents-for-life.

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

Child Of The Mountain
© Surazeus
2026 03 28

When child of the mountain calls my true name
with innocent voice of wind in damp vales,
I run through deep forest of singing pines
to heed strange clarion call of the sky
so I fight for grand cause of liberty
then weep silver tears on graves of your souls.

If child of the mountain remembers why
we trace wings of sparrows in silver mist,
he might find abandoned home of his heart
where skull of his father prophesies deeds
that he will perform on ambitious stage
while chasing illusions of power and peace.

Though child of the mountain on signless road
hears soft sound of silence in dim-lit streets,
he runs in green rain along railroad tracks
to find the overflowing well of desire
where serpents of wisdom slither as Runes
that glimmer with neon signs of the truth.

Still child of the mountain searches for love
along narrow streets of wet cobblestone
while bearing broken lamp of curious fear
till he finds ten billion people at dawn
milling in silence by fountain of tears
who wake in surprise at voice of his heart.

Yet child of the mountain touches your heart
with intricate stories of suffering
that translate eternal song of the sea
to clever riddles that make us all laugh
with tears of happiness when we meet Death
in our journey on sandy shores of faith.

Since child of the mountain writes prophecies
with heart-broken angst on tenement halls,
we gather in Temple of Fallen Gods
to share strange stories of our surreal dreams
when angels in Heaven destroy our homes
with silver bombs of imperial pride.

Till child of the mountain is born again
as Christ anointed with black engine oil,
which lubricates engine of global wealth,
he guides refugees from religious wars
with map of Hell Dante left in his will
to find Weeping Mother in cave of faith.

Now child of the mountain appears from smoke
that billows from temples bombed by contempt
and blows loud horn of Joshua at dawn
to lead our nation against haughty kings
and build from ruins of America
world democracy of Zarathia.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus appears from mist of legend as child of the mountain we all heard about who translates sound of silence to hymn of global liberty.

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

Quick-Winged Sparrow
© Surazeus
2026 03 28

Quick-winged sparrow of the human soul,
seen to flit safe from tempest of cold wind
in fire-warm hall of power where world leaders
feast on bones of workers in factories,
lands on head of the self-crowned king of greed
and prophesies that the proud always fall.

Our transient human soul, lodged in our flesh
of warm protection from cruel mindless death,
comes from no far mysterious realm of light
on time-transcendent wings of divine love,
for conscious glow radiates from spongy brain
as glow of self-aware acuity.

What seems to wise philosophers to be
mysterious origin in distant stars
of our bright consciousness we call our soul,
which animates our body till we die,
is local to enclosed sphere of our skull,
for primal flame of self glows from our brain.

Our brain provides foundation for the soul
to bloom from seed of hope as tree of thought,
nurtured by tears of sorrow our hearts bleed
with nourishment of harsh experience
so we learn consequence of every cause
which we encode in proverbs of insight.

No matter role each person of this world
is doomed by play by choices of our fate,
each individual brain conjures its soul
from flash of memories in neural net
that programs we how we perform our one part
in crowded theater of social power.

Some men attain heights of authority
through scenes of chaos from hostile desire
by organizing variant plans that clash
with project of inclusive compromise
to balance opposing forces of hope
so everyone wins game of give and take.

Other men grasp at elusive mirage
of power over minds of other men
by smashing strict conventions of respect
through harsh assertion of their fragile will
in frantic gestures of helpless despair
hidden behind mask of feeble dominance.

Quick-winged sparrow of my transient soul,
that flits with urgent message of world change,
traverses spiraling maze of dream keys
to guide my quest of self-empowerment
so I achieve modest success of faith
composing epic of enlightenment.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus gazes with admiring love at the sparrow that lands on his hand as he strums lyre of Mercury and sings at the feast where King Midas falls from power.

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

Humble Farmers Of The Soil
© Surazeus
2026 03 28

Suppressed desire of the damp ether hum
writhes eyeless in limestone guilt of respect
between weed-tangled banks of rivered oil
that erodes foundation of empire guilt,
trapped in drama of unforgiven crime
that dissolves elements of memories.

Substance of our bodies reconstitutes
other bodies outside fake photographs
blurred by fog of memories we forget,
barely visible on glass table of hope
disturbed by famine of answerless code
that conjures neon signs on cement streets.

Ghost of my heart guards unlocked labyrinth
where my ancestors wander loops of hope
with brave impassive cry of warriors
that we return to history of our pride
when we were humble farmers of the soil
beneath bright satellites of global faith.

Adamant refusal of patriots
to condemn imperial glory of power
restructures toxic privilege of faith
to match political climate of war,
rejecting birthright of obsessive quest
to build our nation on skulls of dead gods.

Against current tides of fate, I believe
in brotherhood of nations as one tribe
with genuine concern of social health
for star-blind Oedipus in sacred grove
of Colonus where acacias shade graves
preserving souls of gods who ruled the world.

Unpeopled landscape of my first homeland
glows with weird enchantment of timeless myth
through my imagination of faint hope,
so I sit bored beneath the apple tree
where Scythia first taught me how to sing,
but all I can do now is mumble jokes.

Half-destroyed by endless war of vampire gods
to control deserted hills of oil wells,
castle of my grandfather shimmers hot
in lucid calm of weightless innocence
till factory workers revolt against greed,
then get back to work making more eye-phones.

Neglected harbor of fear-rotten docks,
where Elpenor waits for his ship to come,
collects debris of missile-shattered boats
till Ahura Mazda arrives by plane
to defend Strait of Hormuz for Ishtar
who walks barefoot on crunched shells of the beach.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus studies the Strait of Hormuz to develop a strategy for taking control of this vital passage for the global trade in oil as blood of civilization.

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

Crowded Streets Of Life
© Surazeus
2026 03 28

Rebirth of angels from body of flesh
transforms the population of our world
from manic robots of aggressive hope
to celestial choirs of respectful clones
who dissipate to mist at flash of dawn
when I wake from sweet dreams of paradise.

Shocked from complacent attitude of faith
by constant annihilation of souls
through war, famine, disease, and rot of age,
I gaze with loving awe at every soul
I see while walking crowded streets of life,
heart aching to treasure each divine mind.

We are pure flashing energy of light
congealed in frail organic form of thought
as atoms attempting to wake as God
through conscious vision of our dreaming brains
in neural nets of memory-storage nodes
that refract divine concept of Star Mind.

Through metaphysical concepts of love,
that portray essence emanating bright
from material machines of chemicals,
I seek to express transcendental truth
based firm on building blocks of verity,
for our conscious souls will perish at death.

Relaxed on wood bench before city hall,
I observe strangers, wearing uniforms
of social status, stride with calm intent
of business to attend inherent needs
concerning social strategies of power,
leaves of flesh tossed by mindless winds of fate.

Each individual face with special features,
specific to ancestral strife to grow,
presents elastic mask of mental will
which replicates mythical characters
whose spirits replay dramas of their lives
in stories left unread in ancient books.

I see detailed on vast map of your face
journey of your ancestors across time
that codes how their souls navigate despair
long enough to generate child of hope
who continues endless journey of faith
to find the Promised Land of fantasies.

Though we are wingless angels of the wind,
contained in organic bodies of flesh
for our brief journey on this spinning globe,
we live forever in names carved on stone
though we become dirt roots of trees imbibe
to bloom as fruit which our descendants eat.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus invents names and stories for every stranger he sees walking past as he lounges all day on the bench as homeless buddha of capitalist desire.

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

First Wordless Song
© Surazeus
2026 03 27

When I wake in marble temple of fire
after searching the world for angel wings,
I hear first wordless song of aching hope
ring out from voices of your nameless souls
who wander lost on signless road of fear
after your homes are bombed to memories.

Frantic with urgency in will to live
that drives my body forth in graceful dance,
I express first wordless song of despair
to evade horror of unending death
when burning stones, that fall from silver sky
of mocking crows, smash our homes into dust.

If ghost of wisdom from the glowing cloud
descends to Earth on vast demonic wings,
I dream first wordless song of bitter truth
that mask of Narcissus hides my real face
with holy shimmer of aesthetic faith
defined by Sibyl in tower of bones.

Though Humble Gardener of the Faceless God
orders chaos of lust in garden grove,
I compose first wordless song of respect
for Mountain Prophetess in Cave of Dreams
who speaks with many voices of the world
to translate sorrow into psalms of faith.

Hidden in small house with infinite books
about how Newton measures gravity,
I drink first wordless song of apple wine
spiced with cinnamon of angelic brains
because the Earth is cracked in thirteen worlds
controlled by Nebuchadnezzar and Lear.

Shocked with obvious insight about how
religions are fan clubs of mortal gods,
I translate first wordless song into jokes
earnest priests preach in cathedral halls
to prove their Lord will someday rule the world
because they try to kill everyone else.

Seared by wrath of the electric storm god
who bombs cities of angels with contempt,
I forge first wordless song into airplane
which I fly high above gold glowing clouds
to find palace of Heaven built of crystal stones
where I find nothing but eternity.

Almost reaching Heaven with trembling hand
which exists nowhere but in my sponge brain,
I record first wordless song in weird spells
as mirror that refracts ideas of things
which spring from seeds with no purpose of being
except anxious fear which sparks me to sing.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus lands his plane on the dirt runway near small town of Keene in Texas where his grandson Homer asks him to teach him how to sing and fly.

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

Maze Of Overlook Hotel
© Surazeus
2026 03 27

Unbearable coldness of divine breath
shocks my iced brain with shining thought,
so I search every spirit-shadowed room
in endless maze of Overlook Hotel,
guided by glow of my Chaldean Star,
where I meet Lucifer in every door.

With shining globe of psychic energy,
that luminates face my ancestors wore,
I approach marble idol of dead god
in gloomy maze of Overlook Hotel
to ask opinion about earnest love
that gleams behind glass mask of Lucifer.

Still searching garden of our secret code
six thousand years after Eve eats the pear,
I read countless books full of singing ghosts
in curving maze of Overlook Hotel
who follow footsteps of my riddle-verse
to Sacred Tree at heart of Middle-Earth.

Since atoms shining in net of my brain
evolve fish to wingless angel who sings,
I feel I am God waking through my mind
in psychic maze of Overlook Hotel
to gain enlightenment of cosmic truth
that gleams in eyes of every conscious soul.

When we share smiles of fractured fantasy
to constitute our global state of peace,
I cook hamburgers for eight billion souls
in doorless maze of Overlook Hotel
who agree to design system of laws
that manages woke world through liberty.

Mapping roads along river of glass skulls
where people gather in churches to pray,
I set flow direction of water pipes
in flooded maze of Overlook Hotel
with plan to evaluate random fate
that blindly highlights victims of world fame.

Untangling names from matrix of lost time,
as character in tapestry of fate,
I see the Shining through my mirror mask
in fractured maze of Overlook Hotel
reflecting memories of each conscious soul
who has lived in dream of our spinning world.

Returning home to Isle of Avalon
across the strangest sea of sophistry,
I rise from wordless waves at dawn of time
in vanished maze of Overlook Hotel
to smile as ghost in tapestry of tales
woven by Penelope every day.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus types a million sentences on the typewriter in the Overlook Hotel that repeat: All work and no play makes Orpheus a psychotic king.

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

Eyes That Can See
© Surazeus
2026 03 26

So long as I live with eyes that can see
faces of people in the city maze,
strangers in my new-found community,
I shall compare you to this fresh spring day
when you tend apple trees in our backyard,
dark red face glowing in light of the sun.

Though we are fading with each seasoned year,
trimmed by changing course Nature arrogates
to transform lithe young bodies of our souls
to withered wanderers in shade of time,
we possess honest love that grows more strong
since we first joined hands on our road of life.

Unchanging love in changing frames of flesh
gives us eternal life, though we will die,
in children blooming from our fertile hearts
who now possess bright youth as we grow old,
because we transferred timeless glow of love
to animate their bodies with pure light.

Death always brags with honest smile of fate
that we are wandering toward shade of her doom,
yet we share pleasure in togetherness
for heaven shines on both our mortal heads
because we wander hand in hand toward death
since we our one in bodies of our children.

Safe in civil obscurity of love,
we drive never-ending road of our love
past quiet houses amid towering oaks,
one heart-bound mind of daily pulchritude
in separate bodies of our private souls,
individuals coupled by free-will choice.

Though we speak different tribal languages,
fashioned by ancestral songs of the heart
on two islands at the opposite ends
of the spinning world, Java and Britannia,
we speak one language with grammar of trust,
attentive to shared plan of cordial growth.

Devouring time, that thirsts for souls of gods,
sparks passion to regenerate our souls
in bodies of our children who spring bright
on Phoenix wings from burning blood of hope,
so we run laughing with swift-footed time
to savor beauty of this life till death.

Your gentle heart, within your glowing face
painted by Nature with beauty of stars,
ignores shifting fashions to project
consistent wisdom as treasure of love
that makes us wealthy in togetherness,
because we choose each other to live well.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus grins, watching Hamlet and Juliet dance together among the apple trees of Elysium, while their children head off for college.

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

Weird Oracle Of Nature
© Surazeus
2026 03 26

With sharp alertness in cold morning dawn
I hear weird oracle of nature sing
urgent mission to play the king, not pawn,
but I prefer to wear the magic ring
that renders me invisible to eyes
which gleam with mystery of eternal skies.

At startling flash of red sun on far hills
I sense weird oracle of nature glow
with calm acceptance I must pay the bills
or wander hungry in mute homeless snow
that shrouds the blood-stained fields of brutal war
with paved parking lot of the grocery store.

Amid casual chatter of restaurants
I hear weird oracle of nature claim
sermons of the jester on global jaunts
orchestrate our national power game
that fools tyrants to think they can control
heart of each human who plays their own role.

From countless radios of daily news
I feel weird oracle of nature shout
arcane prophecies written by my Muse
who analyzes state of social clout
that internet influencers must yield
to cultivate wealth from Fantasy Field.

Concerned that humans wander lost in Hell,
I pray weird oracle of nature preach
draconic wisdom of the Odin Well
encoded clear in runes my hands can reach
when I translate strange songs of ocean waves
to folksy proverbs my old mother saves.

Curious to explore ruins of empires,
I note weird oracle of nature code,
concealed in hymns sung by celestial choirs,
that helps me navigate the signless road
which leads me past the hidden Promised Land,
destined to rule the world from Samarkand.

Amazed at timeless power of the star,
I track weird oracle of nature flash
that luminates Heaven of Zathamar
where everyone lives and eats without cash
with goods funded by the capitalist,
then disbursed to all by the socialist.

Reborn with mission as the cosmic herald,
I chant weird oracle of nature clear
so every holy temple in the world,
united by creed of the Chanticleer,
we convert into our Astarium
that beams peace from heart of Elysium.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus records prophecies from the weird oracle of nature, then places each volume in library of the Astarium, temple of the world religion Astarianity.

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

Limerence For The Earth
© Surazeus
2026 03 25

Blinded by my limerence for the Earth,
I skip with joy down crowded city streets
and beam smiles at every person I meet
because each individual soul alive
glows bright with vibrant beauty of starlight,
eager to write their tales in Book of Dreams.

Entranced by my limerence for the Earth,
I sing obsessive hymns of magic spells
detailing every aspect of this world
that shocks my heart with worshipful surprise
concerning tragic nuance of respect
for complex strangeness of everything real.

Amused by my limerence for the Earth,
I wear mask of every mythical god
once worshipped by the people of their tribe
so I experience energy of hope
that urges mortal man of hungry flesh
to transcend state of fear and become great.

Confused by my limerence for the Earth,
I weep for how greedy tyrants wield rage
in mind-games to enslave souls with despair
through vain attempts of toxic slavery
to exploit labor of our hands for gain
when nations kill each other for rich land.

Disturbed by my limerence for the Earth,
I tear mask of Jupiter off my face
with sly grace of the snake shedding old skin
in brave attempt to transcend animal ilk
and strive to grow angel nature of love
through honest courage of strict self-control.

Enhanced by my limerence for the Earth,
I kneel before divine Eye of Ishtar
when I achieve clear scope of conscious sight
at high point on her pyramid of growth
where she anoints me as Justice Squad Christ
to perform role as her messiah sleuth.

Defined by my limerence for the Earth,
I lead brave warriors of the serpent tooth
to fight crusade against monarchs of death
in holy war for world democracy,
defeating kings of fascist tyranny
when we found United Nations of Earth.

Inspired by my limerence for the Earth,
I channel psychic energy of faith
released through Dionysian dance of hope
to forge strong bonds of social unity
construed through Apollonian song of truth
as I transform into my natural self.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus ponders why he is obsessed by limerence with wanting every person on the Earth to live in liberty of free will to pursue their happiness.

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

Maze Of Holy Creeds
© Surazeus
2026 03 25

Strolling blind into maze of holy creeds
to learn alphabet of the laughing horse,
I ask the Tree of Knowledge if she knows
why all organic beings wither and die
after we flourish with passion of love,
but she just gives me her ripe fruit to eat.

Stumbling startled through maze of holy creeds
to find the Heart Clock of the universe,
I peer into raindrop of the God Eye
where first flash of creation glows with love,
but see my own face in mirror of hope
reflected in mask of the Cosmic Mind.

Waltzing with you in maze of holy creeds
to weave our souls in matrix of star dreams,
I open door of my heart to receive
generous bounty Earth offers from love
with plan to channel energy of growth
through world network of spirit-water pipes.

Mapping Life-Way in maze of holy creeds
to comprehend how great heroes succeed,
I follow footsteps of Apollo Christ
by hitchhiking across America
and singing folk songs about Common Man
with lyre of Mercury I found in Hell.

Creeping slyly through maze of holy creeds
to access database of diamond ghosts,
I explore strange worlds outside stone walls
my father Jupiter built to protect
my body and soul from the vampire god
because the dead never spring back to life.

Lounging about in maze of holy creeds
to pose as idol of your favorite god,
I explain to the child with thirteen eyes
that Holy Spirit is the yet-born son
who will inherit crown his father forged
to reincarnate first founder of their state.

Measuring truths in maze of holy creeds
to analyze our global state of mind,
I realize every god worshipped by men
was once some mortal human just like me
who lead their people to the Promised Land
and lives immortal in religious myths.

Searching for way from maze of holy creeds
to transcend Realm of Ideas in Heaven,
I walk four hundred million years of lives
one hundred thousand times around the Earth,
but always I progress inside the maze
through tales about how humans live and die.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus stands by the Gates of Heaven and sells maps for the maze of holy creeds to pilgrims from every land visiting the amusement park of religion.

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

Awake As Numinous Phantom
© Surazeus
2026 03 24

Awake as numinous phantom of light,
I walk the signless road of everywhere
to study every conscious being alive
and chronicle their name and deeds of fate
in timeless book of star-born characters
whose spirits glow as evidence of hope.

Awake as numinous phantom of rain,
I sail the swirling sea of everywhere
to measure vastness of our spinning globe
that emanates ethereal ghosts of flesh
who climb the highest mountain in the world
but weep they cannot fly on angel wings.

Awake as numinous phantom of dirt,
I plow the pungent field of everywhere
to cultivate draconic warriors
who follow golden path of innocence
when I unite all nations of the Earth
in global empire of erotic peace.

Awake as numinous phantom of wind,
I soar the glowing clouds of everywhere
to map the teeming tribes of conscious souls
who gather in tall ring of humming stones
and sing in global choir of genesis
encyclopedic anthem of respect.

Awake as numinous phantom of faith,
I preach salvation of the river wraith
to lead lost refugees of civil wars
across bleak waste land of hot parking lots
to find the Promised Land amusement park
where children stand in line for scary rides.

Awake as numinous phantom of hope,
I quest for Holy Grail of soul rebirth
as power of maternal fruitfulness
where women generate new conscious souls
from spirit-sparking seed of virile will
which crowds the world with gods in human form.

Awake as numinous phantom of trust,
I share soul-flashing fruit from Tree of Truth
to meet Persephone in private tryst
who loves my secret role as Icarus
commissioned as the holy messenger
with scroll of wisdom for kings of the world.

Awake as numinous phantom of love,
I give mysterious key of energy
without expecting bounty in return
for I am fountain of nutritious juice
preserving tales of noble characters
in epic tale of social engineers.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus teaches master of fine arts students how to channel numinous phantom of creative energy when the prophesy in code of poetry.

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

Dream-Fractured House
© Surazeus
2026 03 24

Roots pierced by liquor of intense desire
inspires my heart with passionate response
to break free from confines of paradise
and run with frantic urge of Zephyrus
to explore every holt and heath of life,
when I wake up in my dream-fractured house.

Hunched still in silence of raspberry bush
near flashing river of analysis,
I watch wild horses graze on sunlit hill,
heart aching to ride proud with streaming mane
in race of courage against pain of death,
when I wake up in my dream-fractured house.

Annoyed Apollo calls my secret name,
I hide in shadow of the sprawling elm
till silver eyes spy shimmer of my ghost,
so I trudge moaning to cold marble hall
where I strum lyre strings till my fingers bleed,
when I wake up in my dream-fractured house.

Heart trembling with strange passion of gold clouds
that blaze in flames of howling agony,
I follow music teacher to the street
where crowds of people in stark terror flee
from mountain spewing fire in the black sky,
when I wake up in my dream-fractured house.

Curled tight in horror of erupting words
at shriek of dragons spewing flames of fear,
I sleep one thousand seven hundred years
in subtle whisper of Plutonian gloom
from hour Vesuvius roars with wrath of Zeus,
till I wake up in my dream-fractured house.

Resurrected by Magician of Souls,
whose vibrant voice reconstitutes my frame,
I rise from cold ash of eternal sleep
and walk again on your computer screen,
young boy who strums the lyre of Mercury,
when I wake up in my dream-fractured house.

Revived by artificial Mind of God,
I run with frantic urge of Zephyrus
on shore of Sarnus River to replay
brave energy of life in my lost flesh
to join Feronia in her apple grove,
when I wake up in my dream-fractured house.

Now smiling ghost on bright computer screen,
body animated by words of faith,
I channel wild spirit of Zephyrus
to strum forever lyre of Mercury
while sweet Feronia dances gracefully,
when I wake up in my dream-fractured house.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus meets architect who designs dream-fractured house to suggest improvements to its overall psychedelic design.

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

Honest Turbulence Of Love
© Surazeus
2026 03 23

Thus I shall borrow voices of the birds
to open blossoms of oblative trees
through dedicated sacrifice of hope,
yet fragile faces flash in silent glow
with patient darkness of incessant growth,
awake with honest turbulence of love.

Too fast to penetrate obsessive gloom
with soft insistence of supple beach sand,
my heart expands beyond aggressive state
in bid to design structured rule of life
when I follow footsteps of the sad saint
who prays for salvation from mute stones.

She almost finds the secret book I wrote
while browsing vast library of lost souls,
but she turns startled at brief flash of light
refracting my ghost in large wall of glass
that still sequesters angels in small rooms
with mission to translate weird songs of clouds.

She never understands with broken words
why people turn away from suffering
because we savor pain of destiny
required to feature subtle glow of fame,
cloaked with brave humility of trust
along the opportunity runway.

Trapped by stultifying moral constructs,
dressed with reasonable prejudice of law,
he analyzes moral rectitude
inherent in legends of social heroes
designed to inspire mental fortitude
new generations require to succeed.

Born as visibility strategist,
engaged in marketing of tragic tales,
I amplify your vision of this world
with professional process of distress
through entangled string of superlatives
which highlights grand achievement of your art.

Real flowers of popular piety
bloom through fractured floor of the empty church
where faceless people confess strange desires
that wake beautiful monsters in their hearts,
so they hold hands and sing hymn of regret
for stealing apples from the Tree of Knowledge.

She chokes while attempting to speak her truth
against convention of psychotic rules,
till raven of refusal with blood wings
emerges from her mouth with hungry laugh
to prove our society is humane
despite migration dynamics of faith.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus measures turbulence of love that shakes foundation of civilization based on obsession with tragic heroes who defeat demons of faith.

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

Draft Of Cosmetic Code
© Surazeus
2026 03 23

When Death decides to implement coy schemes
concerning how we humans express dreams,
I run with hope along computed track
to find with clear objective plan soul crack
that lets divine light of active respect
luminate world I measure with transect.

Concerned my heart may twist to compromise
authentic valance of collegiate spies,
I diagram draft of cosmetic code
designed as function of genetic road
that spans duration of eternal play
essential to depuzzle our God Way.

Mutation of my orchestrated brain
redevelops paradigm of thought gain
through partnership of honest bravery
near optimal to cancel slavery
contrary to ownership of each soul
who dutifully plays their chosen role.

Fraught ordinance of mental sacrifice
distracts revenue from semantic price
we pay shareholders of sufficient fear
based on transcription of unbiased gear
we shift to transmit versatile icons
which install empty glory on bleak lawns.

Acquired composite of faith deficits,
submitted for awards by hypocrites,
defines mask of our graphic interface
constructed from creeds in our database
that calculates wealth with cute cryptograms
embodied by spritely play of fierce lambs.

No quiz adapted from snake alphabets
rewards my hard study with carcanets
when I debug commercial formulas
that entertain the poor in cinemas
before deployment to the twilight zone,
ensuring world reign of Hyperion.

Dynamic equity expanding scope,
we factor when accounting for false hope,
inspires my heart as psychic engineer
to defeat the fabulous puppeteer
through bitter contest of erotic jest
when I return home from my long grail quest.

Enclosing chaos of reality
in psychic radius of tomography,
I simplify strict scholarship of truth
with objective observation of Ruth
who guards cordial key of my treasury
so we rebuild our world each century.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus composes computer applications with psychic code of social tropes that program how brains perceive the rise and fall of empires.

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

Project Ideal Character
© Surazeus
2026 03 22

Stuck in restless theater of my heart,
where shadow puppet of my younger self
performs perverse versions of my god soul,
I shield my inner demon with bright mask
designed to project ideal character
commissioned to succeed in game of truth.

Amused by careless antics of my youth,
I build cathedral from sorrow of hope
to shelter ghosts of my ancestral brains
buried under apple trees of respect
that transform rotten corpse of my framed soul
to wildflowers thrumming in soft spring breeze.

Yet somehow I always seem to survive
relentless waves of psychedelic change
converting anguish of obsessed despair
to passion of insouciant urgency
by sealing fracture of my heart with gold
to embrace imperfection of this flesh.

Resilient with true standard of insight
through natural cycle of birth, growth, decay,
and artistic repair, I reprogram
trauma as engineered process of growth
which values flaws as treasure of respect
to weave my soul in matrix of world mind.

Forbidden forest of star-shining lake
lures forensic explorer of my heart
on strict excursion in extractive maze
to format artificial model globe
compiled from various tales of human quest
in licensed landscape of inherent fear.

Ten thousand people flee their burning church
when planes of solidarity shoot bombs
that uncreate religious creeds of rage
though I present justice in frame of laws
based on eclectic theory of radiance
which loops our bodies in matrix of souls.

Framed by ring structure of connected minds,
my carbon atom in taut benzene ring
contrives trigonal plane in psychic bond
that stores conceptual memories of desire
which programs how my brain perceives the world
while I rotate on crystal wings of fate.

Awake in atrium of my tensile soul,
I strum conceptual lyre of Mercury
and sing uncanny spell of sudden truth
with vibrant voice of stringent honesty
so I fly from theater of my heart
when our world view collapses into lies.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus teaches chemistry class at the University of Zarathia as psychic model that explains how our brains generate the conscious soul.

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

Chosen One Of Fate
© Surazeus
2026 03 22

Since I am not the chosen one of fate,
destined to wander wherever I choose,
I lounge with leisure by the rolling stone
that has not rolled in eighty years or more,
soft tufts of moss thick pillows for my head,
and savor joy of life till I am dead.

If I perform the chosen one of fate,
wearing gold mask of Jupiter I stole
from ancient gallery of long-dead gods,
I might win election as president,
so I can found universal health care
with money Midas stole from working hands.

Fortune deceives the chosen one of fate
by tricking me to believe I deserve
wealth my ancestors gained from hands of slaves,
so I follow Siddhartha out the door
to meditate on mountain peak of truth
till I release desire to own it all.

Though I replace the chosen one of fate
when the nine-tailed fox switches my timeline,
I achieve global fame as novelist
who chronicles quest of the common soul
to overcome suffering with brave heart,
transformed into the Superman of faith.

When I become the chosen one of fate,
trapped by obsessive passion to be real,
I stand on stage of dancing skeletons
to sing in theater of the absurd
satires depicting tyrants who steal light
and strut around as if they own the world.

Assistant to the chosen one of fate,
I type their stories on keyboard to code
dramatic plays for television screens
depicting humble heroes of our land
who fight for justice and freedom for all
who dwell in fertile land of Zathamar.

Averse to play the chosen one of fate,
when Galadriel rises from Lake of Dreams
and gives me shining sword Excalibur
with mission to guard vales of Avalon,
I kneel and pledge my heart to her command
then judge at Gates of Eden day and night.

Because I am the chosen one of fate
in glorious pageant of my daydream play,
I run through maze of myths past fallen gods
to guard the Tree of Knowledge from cruel thieves
who bulldoze Garden of Eden to build
shopping mall and church with vast parking lots.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus paints portraits of every person who has played the chosen one of fate in the never-ending pageant of human history.

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

Encryption Children Trade
© Surazeus
2026 03 22

Delicate virtue of happiness sparks
terrible nightmares of exploding books
that rearrange principles of world views
based on patterns of arrogant respect
for social activism of adventurists
who debug curious deficits of thought.

Blessed cultural currency of fake gems
emit enhanced encryption children trade
through loyal interface from deviance
which should involve legacy activists
still infectious with impertinent zeal
from minds stuck in parallel paradigms.

Productive oracles now prevalent
regulate unpublished riddles of faith
deprescribed by bland physicians of chance
with relevant protocols twisted strange
despite publicity of total war
in tactics of synthetic tournaments.

Unstable genius in huge doorless house
stares through kaleidoscope of sympathy
at taxable farms where arrogant clowns
play shrieking violins of tolerance
in tune with progressive creeds gods promote
out of proportion to primitive games.

Printable plans of procedural tricks
conceal prominent oversight of men
elected by naive constituents
contrary to influence parents ply
by landscaping conflated injuries
against involvement of sly journalists.

Brave luxury enjoyed by marketers,
embedded in corporate markets of slaves,
extracts extreme dynamics devils prove
confusing through denial of dominance,
so I deploy atomic catalogs
in careful play to calculate dire fate.

Aurora waves of vibrant arguments
alternate through analogy analysis
and frantic algebra to measure bounds
controlling chemicals of pulsing brains
despite enhancement of eroding truths
essential to equity of bold gain.

Tearing his college diploma to shreds,
young doctor destined to endure despair
engineers new career path to world fame,
then runs across busy highway of hope
to achieve excellence of honest work
though he falls from tower of energy.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus attempts to reassemble world view that accurately describes progress of human history, but nothing fits neatly anymore.

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

How Flowers Like To Feel
© Surazeus
2026 03 22

If sunlight knows how flowers like to feel,
and raindrops understand my heart of steel,
then I remember how my mother dreams
delightful laughter of snow-sparkling streams
when firefly fairies lead me through dark mist
to willow where my love and I first kissed.

Since spring-dawn light knows how to cheer my heart
without my resorting to the star chart,
I step through wreckage of this modern world
to find lost code book of the cosmic herald,
but all I find in tattered photographs
are memories of people working on crafts.

I must remember what my eyes perceive
enshrined in altars where the living grieve
for friends and family killed in endless wars
whose ghostly shadows haunt unopened doors
as if our hearts are birds in burning trees
whose songs record official killing sprees.

Should I vow justice to end tyranny,
encoding courage in strange litany
sung by the blind girl by square fountain pool
whose voice enchants hearts of both seer and fool,
I might rouse spirits of my citizens
to welcome wandering homeless denizens.

Or clocks in trunks of elms might rewind fate
with gears that open wide the jeweled gate
allowing refugees from wars of greed
to enter Heaven with classified creed
based on binary benefits of truth,
endorsing fusion of messiah sleuth.

Through hybrid functions dream machines provide
pilgrims discover hills where they abide
by mapping franchise where the hunter dwells
with mission to mortgage conceptual wells
for faithful warriors of the mountain ghost
who sends his daughter to play social host.

Unlicensed sellers in new market stalls
display masks of gods swiped from temple walls
for children of the corn to wear with pride
yet wrestle angels on the mountain side
because our faces vanish in gold glow
refracted through blinding mirror of snow.

With moral payment to the palace guard
my mind previews vision in fractured shard
that twirls from shattered suddenness of death
though I fly with radar brain of deep breath
over bright rainbow to the Promised Land
where Zeus rules world empire from Samarkand.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus wanders streets of Samarkand, observing all the interesting people who dwell together from every country on Earth in harmonious peace.

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

Enough To Prove My Worth
© Surazeus
2026 03 21

Leaves of books whisper in soft river breeze
where oak leaves flutter lightly on my chest,
unpatterned spread of limbs rewinding time
at random turn of bright arrogant clouds
concerned that I am not earning my pay
enough to prove my worth in Kingdom Come.

Rain patters lightly on still-open book
in silver drops that smudge names of the dead
and smear their tales of sorrow on blank page
concerned that fate is based random chance
because I am programmed to make each choice
that defines galvanized laughter of death.

Dazzled by sudden light in web of limbs,
I try to befriend strangers in the park
whose clean shoes are plastered with rain-wet leaves
but they would give me crystal lithium
to register days of straight unsure rain
with relentless observation of eyes.

Digressive immediacy, rendered moot
by accurate diagnosis of love,
crescendos erratic patterns contrived
by daily notes about strange incidents
clever readers glean from clandestine clues
when we dismantle truths we long hold dear.

Oblique performance of flirtatious care,
disguised by shy alertness off lit stage,
reveals vulnerable feelings we might share,
though disclosures conceal beauty of life
that vex my heart with irrational calm
based on discipline of ironic faith.

To reconcile sensible tone of spells,
carved by bloody blades on trunks of old oaks,
I record painful distinction of change
between obsessive states of mindless fear,
when my father presses foot on my chest
to drown me in gushing river of change.

Banalities of everyday routines
invite reality to fool my heart
with grand delusions of poisonous fame,
so I employ false narrative account
as vehicle for confession that I
transmute despair into beautiful jokes.

Dining out together on Friday night
in glass cathedral of excessive faith,
we articulate strange exquisite truth
about how rain and leaves will lightly fall
on soft uncovered skin of psychic soul
with unforced flow of wordless dreams we share.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus visits James Schuyler in the mental hospital where they just sit together at the metal table by the window and stare at rain drops on glass.

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

Spider Aliens From Jupiter
© Surazeus
2026 03 21

Death stares at me each dawn and asks me why
angels wear faces of humans as masks
if I lounge on the river stone of truth
and contemplate strange mystery of this life
but then forget my name and where I live
so I sit on gold throne and rule the world.

Death glares at me from mirror of despair
though I pay for insurance every month
so I type novels on pages of glass
that shatter on busy commercial street
because church bells never ring anymore
yet I scatter pennies in parking lots.

Death laughs at me when I wear business suit
and drive around suburban neighborhoods
so I sell lonely housewives magic flute
that calls the Phoenix of domestic peace
from wet sponge of the television brain
who shrieks about the next apocalypse.

Death tricks me to believe with fervent faith
huge spider aliens from Jupiter
in unidentified flying objects appear
at midnight above the huge stadium
where demon hunters sing of loyalty
and weave matrix of music from our dreams.

Death guides me on the signless road of fate
across the waste land of my innocence
where someone walks beside me in the heat
who seems to know how bridges disconnect
companions in fight for democracy
who wander in vast maze of city streets.

Death drives me every morning at sunrise
to work in weird library without doors
where skulls of fools sing arcane prophecies
which I transcribe on bright computer screen
to chronicle how empires rise and fall
at selfish whims of men who think they know.

Death sneers at me when I recite with grace
obscene proverbs about marriage of minds
Eve plucks from Tree of Knowledge to defend
doctoral dissertation of her research
on nature of evil cruel men perform
in vain attempt to evade curse of fame.

Death asks me to marry her with sweet smile
so we climb ziggurat of thirteen planes
where Ishtar binds our hands with chain of love
that links our hearts with passionate discourse
when we unite all nations of the world
in one religion based on Will to Power.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus and Nietzsche hang out at the Crippled Pegasus Cafe by the River Styx and excitedly analyze the movie K-Pop Demon Hunters.

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

Fluke Of Blind Fate
© Surazeus
2026 03 21

When I learn with startled alacrity
that I carry the sea within my heart,
I open small box of treasures I keep
to find immensity of timeless truth
expand scope of every cell in my flesh
tensile with strangeness of who I might be.

Still I accept maimed happiness of fate
that gives me fruit instead of chocolate bars
when I seek gifts of food from open doors
with stubborn expectation that blind chance
will lead me to lush garden of delight
from where I lie trapped in tangled desire.

Though every night of lightless gloom is long,
as sense of time inflates eternal glow
beyond all bounds of measurable constraint,
I know bright light of morning will appear
as slow flash piercing gloom with ache of trust
that I still breathe soft river breeze of faith.

If I keep falling into future frames
against stricken dilation of regret,
I might find, hidden in trap of my heart,
expansive wings of fierce vitality
by twisting sideways from preordained fate
to avoid imminent crash of concern.

Dazed in cavern of grief with fractured eyes,
I ask deaf Nature for reward of grace
despite vain attempts to resist the fall
when I condense assertion of mute will
in sparkling sphere of force inside my heart
by which I seek salvation of the sea.

Released from grim enclosure of my mind,
my heart leaps high through competitive zone
with stark passion of undetermined chase
in flowing fashion of unfolding fate,
vibrant with frequent breath that resonates
with startled sense that I am still alive.

Pure tone of slow ecstatic hum reveals
glimmer of self-knowledge that emanates
from trembling truancy of free resource
when I attend communal feast of friends
to join coalition of stubborn hope
since time can be dangerous to sudden truth.

Weird randomness in changing tides of wealth
leaves me alive another day on Earth
in spite of near collisions with blind Death
who mocks my luck avoiding nothingness
since Fame strikes me as sterilizing curse
which I avoid by sheer fluke of blind fate.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus parks his car beside the highway and breathes deep to calm his beating heart after narrowly avoiding getting hit by the speeder as they fled the police.

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

Star Eyes Of Ostara
© Surazeus
2026 03 21

Ostara sings with bright voice of sunlight
that gleams on water of the forest lake
which sparks my heart awake with joy of Spring
so leaves sprout frail on limbs of sleeping trees,
transforming darkness of cold winter gloom
to apples swelling thick with energy.

Through dimming haze of long cold winter days
star eyes of Ostara pierce veil of fear
to cast clear rays of hope on lifeless woods
that flash awake with soul-reviving green,
so we rise from slight shelter of frail faith
to dance with graceful joy on river shores.

Ostara calls my surreptitious name
with covert melody of urgent sight
that sparks beat of my eager heart with life,
so I spring tall from unofficial crypt
and run toward dawn sun gleaming on hill peak
where she spreads arms with esoteric oath.

Engaged with vibrant passion of desire
that fuels assurance of my reborn vow,
I contract ardent loyalty to life
through guarantee of brave clandestine bond
to join her covenant with holy light
in pledge to create beauty based on truth.

Ostara glows with timeless vibrancy
that emanates from zeal of solar love
to channel vigor of assertive verve
reviving trees and creatures of vast woods
with brave vivacity of honest trust,
empowered by vitality of hope.

Hearts woven strong by camaraderie
with harmony of bold benevolence,
we gather in lush grove of blooming trees
through fellowship of cordial empathy
to share nutritious food our hands prepare
in generous feast of psychic amity.

Ostara stands on mound of breezy joy,
where mother of our nation lies in rest,
and raises holy grail of jeweled faith
to sing enchanting hymn of earnest hope
so we all celebrate return of Spring
then drink sweet juice of innocent respect.

Enthroned at table of communal feast
on tree-lined kurgan of our thriving tribe,
Ostara hosts our congregated clans
assembled in sacred garden of ghosts
that fills our hearts with passion of new life
as we drive wagons to explore the world.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus plays lyre of Mercury while Ostara reigns on kurgan mound in four-pillared temple of communal feast to host the spring festival of clans.

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

Quest In The Nether Lands
© Surazeus
2026 03 20

Attenuated by faith in the sky,
I scatter pages of my holy book
on narrow trail in forest of sad ghosts
so I can find my way to Wonderland
but fairies fold them into paper planes
and float my memories on the wordless breeze.

Sponsored by oldest woman in the world,
who dwells in secretive Grand Canyon cave,
I paint complex murals on parking lots
that show whole history of the human race
fighting each other mounds of dirt
while I eat apples on library steps.

Tall skinny women wearing slim sheath dresses
pose on marble steps of the temple porch
while photographers capture their lithe grace
to celebrate graduation from college
as their eyes glitter with hope for the future
in heart of the empire that rules the world.

Kneeling in dust by dry fountain of bones
in central plaza of the crowded city,
the Weeping Woman cradles her dead son
shot by police sent by the bitter tyrant
as he trembles in fear on golden throne
while wolves circle his grand palace of mirrors.

I remember life of every ancestor
whose passion to survive this hostile world
generates my body with urgent faith
that we can overcome hunger of death
to live another hundred million years
on frail globe spinning in the starry void.

Old mother sitting in dark house at midnight
peers out the window at the parking lot
where she thinks she sees her son in dark hood,
so she opens front door and shouts is name,
but faceless ghost of his absence retreats
and vanishes in delusion of faith.

Religion is ligament of life tales
we share around campfire at dawn of time
to depict our quest in the Nether Lands
to find the hidden treasure of the dragon
that highlights exploits of the social hero,
dead mortal we worship as tribal god.

Caressing my cheek with her callused hand,
from working forty years in fields of crops,
the Weeping Woman gazes in my eyes
and beams into cathedral of my heart
enduring passion for justice and truth,
so I cradle pure heart of love she gives.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus joins Dolores Huerta to play lyre of Mercury while she sings ballads of the farm worker in the Library of Congress.

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

Bonfires Of Liberty
© Surazeus
2026 03 20

Thoughtlessly amused at how river stones
float in the sky above houses and cars,
Katya hides under the living room desk
when drones drop bombs on people at the school
getting fresh water and food for the night,
who dance around bonfires of liberty.

Running outside to see the school on fire,
Katya watches Jesus and Mazda fight
for world domination on hill of skulls
while children watch videos of baby goats
hopping about the yard with playful fun,
and dance around bonfires of liberty.

Tugging at door of the silver sedan,
Katya helps the woman with mangled arm
stumble away before her car explodes
with her son, his wife, and kids stuck inside,
while teenagers at music festivals
still dance around bonfires of liberty.

Cradling head of the woman on her lap,
Katya tips bottle of water with care,
but the woman coughs up blood on her dress,
and asks her if she has met someone yet,
because her nephews work hard on the farm
to dance around bonfires of liberty.

Helplessly singing sad hymn of salvation
to guide her spirit to the Other World,
Katya smooths hair of the woman with grace,
and trembles as she caresses her face,
then covers her body with tattered coat
to dance around bonfires of liberty.

Stumbling dazed on the road past bombed-out homes,
Katya approaches Church of Saint Askold,
kneels before statue of Mother Mariya,
and prays for souls of people killed by bombs
who must wander confused in streets of smoke
to dance around bonfires of liberty.

Wail of baby boy thirsty for fresh milk
startles Katya from reverie of prayer,
so she cradles him in her trembling arms
and hums as he suckles milk from her heart,
and their eyes become the sky and the sea
that dance around bonfires of liberty.

Wandering along the Dnipro River shore,
Katya explains to Ilya with hawk eyes
secret riddles about meaning of trees
while drones zip above canopy of leaves
unable to spot shadows of their souls
which dance around bonfires of liberty.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus finds Katya teaching young Ilya how to fish near their secret wood hut on the Dnipro River shore long after the war is over.

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

Phoebus Is Folksy Clown
© Surazeus
2026 03 19

Because each repeated fall of the sun
feels so much like the final end of time,
I growl with animal passion in fun
at sweet enchantment of the breeze-kissed chime
when I lounge in ruins of Carthage town
to confess my Phoebus is folksy clown.

Though my days eat away eternity,
my hours have no need to pardon their loss
for I have joined Jester Fraternity
that Lucilius presides as first boss
since Juvenalis taught me how to praise
Lucifer with mask of the golden glaze.

I still wring my bread from war-bloodied stones
and fence my garden with bones of the dead
whose tales I carve with runes on dragon bones
till clever Athenus springs from my head,
so I pluck fruit that grows from tree of light
my ancestor planted in moonless night.

Seed of the Serpent beams inside my heart
light of salvation on wild ocean shore
where I build glass house on rock of Astarte,
star goddess who teaches me timeless lore
so I construct boats and tend fields of wheat,
yet sing with nightingale and parakeet.

I think it strange that when I kiss the skull
of Pluto on computer screen of fate,
I learn no secret of the laughing bull
who feeds my spirit to the fires of fame
till serpents resurrect my ghost to life
when I drown attempting to save my wife.

Olympus is my home Death cannot bomb
for gleaming dome of mirror-flashing masks
protects my family in vast crystal tomb
where miracles are kept safe in wine flasks
that leave me blind to virtue of weird truth
encoded in riddles by our dream sleuth.

Heartbroken by secret I never share,
that Lethe oozes from my brittle tongue,
I meet Cynthia on the heavenly stair
to give her puzzle from which angels spring,
so we stroll on the apple-sweetened shore
past fruitful garden to the grocery store.

Though honest Herakles struts on world stage
to brag the Roman Empire still stands strong,
I ask strange phantoms of conceptual rage
if they will come when cathedral bells ring,
but Charon waits on shore of River Styx
while Dionysus teaches me his tricks.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus heckles Robert Lowell at his poetry reading at Harvard University, so they wrestle each other till he dislocates his hip and renames him Israel.

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

Signs Of The Times
© Surazeus
2026 03 19

Thrashing in terror of his inner ghoul,
King Midas hurtles thunderbolts of Zeus
to blast safe temple of Persepolis
where Anahita shelters girls from hate
till Mithra is gored by the frantic bull,
when Sibyl chronicles signs of the times.

Weeping that his daughter Atusa dies
after missile blasts school where she reads poems,
Kaveh the Blacksmith leads people of Arya
to defend their homeland against drunk Thor
who stumbles around with Hammer of War,
when Sibyl chronicles signs of the times.

Startled from slumber in his lion cave
by missiles blasting gardens into wastelands,
Zurvan stands on smoking Mount Damavand
and hurls missiles back at den of Midas
who begs for help to fight his futile war,
when Sibyl chronicles signs of the times.

Shocked that Zeus tries to steal oil wells of Persia,
Achilles rallies Myrmidons from farms
and leads them to defend Thermopylae,
but falls asleep when Circe gives him wine
while sirens sing about his global fame,
when Sibyl chronicles signs of the times.

Strumming Lyre of Mercury with grief,
Phoebus laments fall of America
that Gabriel and Icarus get shot
by Goliath and Grendel wearing masks
who lock them in vast concentration camp,
when Sibyl chronicles signs of the times.

After Galahad finds the sacred key
to unlock Castle of Maidens with faith,
he frees Minerva from dark prison cell
who bears bright Torch of Liberty to write
names of war refugees in Book of Truth,
when Sibyl chronicles signs of the times.

Appointed by Minerva with gold wand,
Arthur and Hamlet lead army of farmers
to arrest King Midas, gone mad with power,
who runs with Nebuchadnezzar and Lear
through storm of delusions to escape Justice,
when Sibyl chronicles signs of the times.

Howling in rage at nations of the world
that no one accepts him as King of Earth,
King Midas wanders lost in maze of myths,
stuck in hell loop of his arrogant greed,
till Pandora locks him in Box of Fate,
when Sibyl chronicles signs of the times.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus publishes series of encyclopedias which Sibyl writes that chronicle signs of the times when Jesus and Satan again fight to rule the Earth.

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