When God Wakes From Dream
© Surazeus
2026 01 25

Aware of wind and water in bright air,
Mike holds brass astrolabe in his left hand
made by Jamal al-Din ibin Muquin
three hundred sixty years ago from light
of stars that weave our bodies into souls
so he can see where he exists on Earth.

If absence of quantity represents
null value symbolized by great round eye
enclosing all that exists in one mind,
Mike feels diameter of nothingness
beam out from zero as circle of light
through first flash from which all atoms form shapes.

Placing warm hand on his shoulder with care,
Aryabhata explains in simple terms
relativity of motion to note
how we perceive while in the moving boat
still objects on shore move backward from us,
like stationary stars appear to move.

Bright sun who seems to watch us humans live
with silent glow of indifferent respect,
radiates from center of eight swirling globes
as we rotate through empty void of time
with undulating hum of psychic love
which generates our bodies from raindrops.

Heating metal of meteor that fell
in streak of fire from high Realm of Ideas,
Mike forges sword of honest self-defense,
then patrols river shore by fishing town
to fight sharp-toothed monster with golden eyes,
then hangs slain crocodile on rugged cross.

Bending steamed wood in circle propped with spokes,
Mike builds sun-round wheel for wagon of fate
which Helios invented to support
platform pulled by horses to transport goods
from farm fields to market stalls on wide roads,
which forms foundation of great empires.

Aware of his body composed with light
from atoms flashing bright since dawn of time,
Mike invents symbols encoded in words
to signify perceptions of his mind
which designs grand ontology of truth
defining cosmology of dream worlds.

Expressed by character of conscious sight,
our new global world view of what is real
blooms from brain of the genius seer who sings
riddles that explain how things operate
as atoms swerving willfully to weave
neural nets of love when God wakes from dream.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus meets Mike on the river shore where he roasts crocodile steaks on the small flat-topped pyramid which people purchase to eat while he sings heroic tales.

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

Treasure Chest Of Dreams
© Surazeus
2026 01 25

After I ransack treasure chest of dreams,
hidden by Pandora beneath her bed,
I might find ghosts of noble characters,
long worshiped as gods by long-vanished states,
struggling to express their stale points of view,
so I set their skulls on book shelves to sing.

Yet after I let all those ghosts escape
to haunt snow-frosted homes with Christmas trees,
I find Pandora by the kitchen sink
peeling potatoes, and hard-boiling eggs,
to cook delicious meal that warms my heart,
grateful I freed her from bitter regret.

After eating chicken and gravy dish,
that warms my heart with dreams of noble deeds,
I wander woods along the sparkling stream
where daisies bloom, and lithe goldfinches tweet,
as I follow haunting song of desire
which Pandora sings with uncanny joy.

Wearing long white gown with thick leather belt,
and coronet of flowers in her hair,
Pandora kneels in sunlit meadow grove
with hands caressing cheeks of spotted fawn
that gazes up at her with moon-black eyes
while she whispers and kisses his forehead.

Climbing ancient apple tree on high hill
where sharp-eyed hawk watches me with calm grace,
I reach my hand to pluck ripe fruit of love
but Nirah, serpent with star-flashing eyes,
hisses at me with aggressive umbrage,
so I breathe ethereal hope of respect.

"Before you take sacred apple of truth,"
lithe Nirah hisses with celestial voice,
"you must answer this riddle with brave poise
by telling me secret name of the house
where you enter blind, but exit with sight
that lets you see inner essence of being."

Entranced by reverie of my childhood,
when I sat all day at the classroom desk
learning to write letters that signify
sounds depicting objects, actions, and states,
I reply, "the house where I learned dream-sight
is called the school where humans see the truth."

Sitting with Pandora by the oak tree
among daisies along the river shore,
I give her basket of apples with love,
so princess of the city-haunting ghost
kisses my lips with passionate respect,
then laughs as we eat and share tales of life.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus photographs Pandora and Jesus as they pose in dress and suit for their engagement photos which they share on social media for all their friends to see their beautiful romance.

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

Time Of Startled Dreamers
© Surazeus
2026 01 24

Assembled in vast city of dark ice,
we demonstrate against cruel tyranny
and call for equal rights for every soul
who works with faith in our community
to create instead of destroy with hope
in our time of startled dreamers from Heaven.

Masked agents of cruel tyrant in the tower
assault our neighbors with aggressive hate
and drag them trembling in the bitter cold
so we bring bread from hearth of liberty
and bandages to heal their broken hearts
in our time of startled dreamers from Heaven.

Resurrected from television tombs
with bodies composed of engines and glass,
we challenge bullies of the fascist king
with recording cameras instead of guns
to chronicle abuse of human rights
in our time of startled dreamers from Heaven.

Untethered from ideal concept of freedom
where every person lives based on free will,
our bodies buzz with anguish of contempt,
shrouded by brilliant glare of tyranny
that blinds our eyes to paradise we lost
in our time of startled dreamers from Heaven.

Scattered in the waste land of lost ideals
when our noble world view of social progress
collapses into civil war from greed,
we find each other in the ring of stones
where we conspire to restore liberty
in our time of startled dreamers from Heaven.

Demonic laughter of dark winter storm,
congealed from spirit smoke of bitter rage,
looms over frosted land in purple surge
that breaks the silver heart of noble warriors
who struggle through thorny bushes of ghosts
in our time of startled dreamers from Heaven.

Suffocated by eyeless shade of faith
that howls at bleeding gate of paradise,
brave people of America assert
civil rights to assemble and speak truth
with trumpet voices that break down walls
in our time of startled dreamers from Heaven.

Black metal skies full of hunger-crazed crows
mourn over city streets of demonstrators
in thick polluted clouds of mocking angst
till one voice of our many hearts radiates
with luminescent beauty of bold faith
in our time of startled dreamers from Heaven.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus leads squad of justice warriors to defend innocent citizens against gangs of thugs committing terrorism against political opponents.

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

Pregnant With Forgotten Dreams
© Surazeus
2026 01 24

Cloaked in white sheet of ghostly attitude,
Ardith pretends to be the summer cloud
that floats benignly over rolling hills,
pregnant with forgotten dreams of lost souls
who would inhabit idols of dead gods,
then gives everyone slice of honeyed bread.

Deemed unfit for proud royal company,
Ardith wears mask of the black albatross
at parties in the London Underground,
pregnant with forgotten dreams of sad clowns
who wear gray suits of strict accountancy
as pirates of the global empire game.

Amazed by strangeness of the multiverse,
Ardith rides white horse on the carousel
to leap timelines through variants of our world,
pregnant with forgotten dreams of mad seers
who navigate political constraints
to ensure victory of democracy.

Amused by images of her false face
reflected on mirror masks people wear,
Ardith hosts party in the stately hall,
pregnant with forgotten dreams of gardeners
who transform wilderness of shadowed woods
to Garden of Eden where Josh plays god.

Startled by his shy confession of love,
Ardith stares at Josh with skeptical eyes
to understand true nature of his being,
pregnant with forgotten dreams of mechanics
who fix piston engines of cars and planes
which are time machines that only move forward.

Ignored by haughty elite of fine art,
Ardith poses nude in art gallery
to hide weird genius of analysis,
pregnant with forgotten dreams of blind painters
who recreate ontology of truth
vital to zeitgeist of our new world order.

Astonished by wiles of Odysseus,
Ardith weaves tapestry of world events
that chronicle our second civil war,
pregnant with forgotten dreams of scared soldiers
who weep when her brother Bob sings grim hymns
about the second coming of Perun.

Crowned our new World Goddess of Liberty,
Ardith rides chariot of fire with four angels,
pulled by six white horses of innocence,
pregnant with forgotten dreams of brave mothers
who teach children how to fight tyranny
as comrades in State of Zarathia.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus composes soul-stirring anthem of liberty and justice for all for the new State of Zarathia where every soul is equal in one global law.

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

Know How Apples Grow
© Surazeus
2026 01 24

These woods are mine because I am here now,
declares the wingless angel to the oak,
then looks for devil dancing in the dark
whose gold hair glows bright as the morning sun
because her green eyes know how apples grow
from stones to serpents with long rainbow wings.

Concealed in honeysuckle bush of fear,
the wingless angel watches bullets soar
beyond the destined point of history
where singing devil with three thousand eyes
gives melons to lost strangers on the road
because she knows the irony of loss.

Each wood boat floating on the river waves,
that flows from snow-white mountains to the sea,
requires our bodies understand how time
adjusts conceptual progress beyond death
since all organic creatures dissipate
to flashing atoms of attentive stars.

If time is thinner than pages in books
where stories of romantic partnerships
record the tragic comedies of love,
the singing devil might remember how
her body glows from first kiss of her fate
when she meets wingless angel by the lake.

In chasm breaking hearts that lovers bridge
words congeal frantic feelings into thoughts
with ardent heaviness of lonely hearts
so they bend undulating arc of time
with kiss that folds enormous galaxies
in tender vows exchanged to bind clear eyes.

No anger billows at imminent death,
retrieved through blunt refusal to concede,
when weeping devil with long curly hair
decides she will be strong in spite of pain
by breathing deep celestial energy
that fuels courage to endure suffering.

Perfume of fresh-turned Earth intoxicates
souls of wild children born from seeds of corn
who bring baskets of vegetables at dawn
to wingless angel and his devil bride
who sweetly kiss by the blackberry patch
while cows discuss philosophy of love.

When spirit of the sky comes down to Earth
and fills our bodies with fierce urgency
to dance and sing beyond the end of time,
the wingless angel and his devil bride
call refugees of war to gather safe
in walls of haven no tyrant can crack.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus searches the world to find his lost wings, but brings basket of apples instead to his devil bride who cooks supper in the temple of singing skulls.

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

One Sun-Sourced Tear
© Surazeus
2026 01 24

Eyes swirling far beyond eternity,
Sofia stands alone in crowded hall
in world museum of the weeping mother
before painting of mountains by the sea
and feels Aurora Northern Lights transform
her mortal body into divine wraith.

One sun-sourced tear, infused with ancient light,
sparked by first flash at beginning of time,
slides down her cheek with sparkle of insight,
reflecting countless spirits of pure chime,
that gleams with journey thirteen billion years
as egg preserving dreams of endless years.

One drop of water gleaming in her brain
preserves the dreams of progress fueled by hope
from every organic creature of flesh
through whom it flows as binding thread of light
as we evolve four hundred million years
to weave our bodies in serpentine web.

Our bodies merge with bodies of our lovers
when parents generate children through love,
embraced with passion by the river shore,
so we transform through endless soul rebirth,
programmed by immortal soul of our genes
to search for fruit tree of the holy land.

Heart pulsing with assertion of desire,
expressed by globe of atoms flashing bright
as we spin slowly in void of strange stars,
Sofia turns from painting of her world
to see me standing in scope of her faith
so light of joy bursts from her clouded eyes.

Approaching me across vast plain of fear,
with slow attention of cautious desire,
Sofia smiles and reaches out her hand,
palm open to receive gift of my heart,
so I accept brave spirit of her trust
to shelter in warm haven of my love.

Hands clasped with calm companionship of trust,
we stroll together winding road of life
across bare waste land of eager respect
to build Garden of Eden from our love
that flourishes in lush Elysium
where children of our love sprout into souls.

Expanding conscious scope of our two minds,
we circumscribe all possible outcomes
by narrowing path of productive fate
we choose to create from star energy
so water of our souls nourish the world
that preserve our dreams in tears you will shed.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus and Ophelia hold hands as they walk the road of life with their children, Orion and Ostara, amazed at beauty of the Northern Lights.

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

Bridge Of Social Happiness
© Surazeus
2026 01 23

My heart escapes cage of my fleshly frame
to soar above vast maze of ancient myths
about brave warriors and honest kings
so I can play wood lyre of Mercury
and praise their noble deeds in epic tales
when I cross Bridge of Social Happiness.

To highlight quest for truth as role to play
through tales of people who achieve great things,
I travel far across waste land of hope
in journey on the signless road of faith,
yet stumble into innocent success
when I cross Bridge of Social Happiness.

Each mask I wear from ancient gallery
of tragic characters inscribed in myth
exposes me to new experiences
that broaden scope of mental consciousness
so I become aware of human fate
when I cross Bridge of Social Happiness.

Consigned to live one tale of bumbling ploy
by quick temporal state of chemical being,
I blindly follow instinct of my heart
to do whatever seems the best each hour
I grope through global maze of frantic hope
when I cross Bridge of Social Happiness.

Now paused in old age on far side of fate
beneath the shining moon in misty woods
where old Narcissus stares back up at me,
I narrate random events of my life
through structured frame of the holy grail quest
when I cross Bridge of Social Happiness.

Each choice I made from gut instinct of faith
at crucial moments at crossroads of change
led me to secret haven of my heart
where I dwell with precious children and wife
on stage of fate I design with my will
when I cross Bridge of Social Happiness.

Still safe from price-demanding curse of fame
as prophet commissioned by World Ungod
with Code of Cassandra to program change,
I compose riddle satires that expose
how Midas will destroy America
when I cross Bridge of Social Happiness.

Awake from swirl of historical change
when cruel Satan appears again on Earth
to destroy social system based on greed,
I join justice squad that Minerva leads
to build world nation of Zarathia
when I cross Bridge of Social Happiness.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus preserves secret Code of Cassandra in tattered leather book of spells so no one sees how he manipulates powerful people as puppets of his will.

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

Speak With Brave Voice
© Surazeus
2026 01 23

Honest arrogance of the special fool
fools everyone to think they are more wise
than brave horse that leaps barbed-wire fence at dawn
to race swift train of new technology
where artificial intelligence dreams
electric cows that give conceptual milk.

I would rather consume chocolate bars
after I encounter ghouls of despair
that suck all happiness from my sponge brain
soaked with divine oil of transcendent truths
that children buy at the penny arcade
where King Chuckles wears plastic crown of power.

Turning away from modernist despair
to avoid snark of juvenile satire,
I seek strange beauty of the mountain lake
that shimmers bright as Mirror of God Mind
which reflects how humans perceive themselves
as wingless angels on heavenly Earth.

When cursing agents of the government,
who break open doors of our private homes
without warrant that proves committed crimes,
I overhear myself speak with brave voice
of Jesus when he drove from temple hall
money-changers who cheat people with scams.

Now I would rather sing Horatian odes
praising athletes at the Olympic Games
where humans test endurance with lithe skill
in harmony with slippery ice of change
as we evolve beyond our present state
to overcome our weaknesses with verve.

How gracefully she swirls on gleaming ice
with calm elegance of the broad-winged swan
while her brother, who wears black suit of fear
and mask that covers his face, grips huge gun
to arrest people on their way to work
and locks them in vast prison camp of greed.

Transforming from republic to empire,
like Rome during civil wars for control
between gangs of thieves who claim heritage
of Hercules the Mighty Conqueror,
America strives to fulfill oracle
which Onatah proclaimed in field of corn.

When brutal ice storm freezes Dixieland
under black boots of Jack Frost and his gang,
Minerva will rise from woods of the south
to wave our blood-stained flag of Liberty
while Apollo plays electric guitar
in holy war to save democracy.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus leads people of America in demonstrations opposed to fascist tyranny of King Midas who declares himself Emperor of Everywhere.

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

Choices Calculate Our Fate
© Surazeus
2026 01 22

I hear wild angel in old apple tree
holler about how she likes to live free,
but walks to town with the alphabet gun
and shoots proud man who thinks he owns the sun,
then twirls around with bliss on twinkle toes
even after the nuclear winter snows.

She switches personalities each day
to match weird purpose of her social play
leading revolution of honest folk
in national program to become more woke
through global consciousness of liberty
which eradicates hate and poverty.

When Queen Victoria ruled her world empire
her prophets wrote epics that would inspire
her people to expand enlightened rule
through social progress of empiric tool
advancing science through heroic deeds
performed by honest clerks fulfilling needs.

We work for ascendance of Onatah
who will return to rule America
through social system like Utopia
that we rebuild and name Zarathia
as free republic, not cruel police state,
because our choices calculate our fate.

I see her God Star shining in the East
when she leads us to fight demonic beast
who reigns as tyrant in tower of greed
till we defeat him with the apple seed
that sprouts as orchards in vast parking lots
and blooms from aggressive empire that rots.

Wise mortal woman with attentive heart,
whose fate she navigates with world dream chart,
will die into narrative of her myth
when she rules from ziggurat monolith
as goddess who unites the world with truth
through world view designed by messiah sleuth.

When I am sad and lonely on the street
after busking all day on faith-sore feet,
Minerva arrives in gown of black silk
and gives me bowl of chocolate cake and milk,
so I know, though the old world order falls,
Nature sings forever through waterfalls.

Wild angel singing in new apple tree
teaches humanity how to live free
so we do what we will, if we harm none,
because every soul glows in the same sun
when we form United Nations of Earth
where every person may express their worth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus plays lyre of Mercury and sings for Ishtar, Minerva, and Kwan Yin, three aspects of the same global goddess of liberty and wisdom.

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

Corpse Of Your Dead God
© Surazeus
2026 01 22

When I am finished eating all the stars
after running through valley of the dead,
I will carry huge corpse of your dead god
on my back to open love-broken doors,
then suavely stroll across the writhing bridge
till I arrive at the ultimate edge.

Sufficient compensation as reward
for cleaning rotten garbage from the church
will never resupply my bank account
while butchered cow of god hangs from the cord
on which depends joke of the destitute
with aggressive faith for the absolute.

When I grow youthful with the turning globe
that spirals over pyramid of fruit
I play cowled role of the scythe-swinging ghost
who beckons you to join judgmental probe,
qualified by blind devil of the lake
to advocate for the fruit-stealing snake.

Though jauntily unbowed by social crash
our old world order suffers this strange hour,
I seek the star-eyed Sibyl in Dream Tower
to learn calculus of puzzling potash
which fertilizes fields of theology
through prophecies based on psychology.

With constellated powers of the brain
I trick aggressive tyrants of empires
to fund operations of psychic choirs
through preposterous scam of cloistered coins
exchanged by proud ghosts of the stock exchange
who read auguries of the crumbling range.

We sell our failures to the sports goods store
with brave ambition of scared puppeteers
who hang enemy skulls on chandeliers
despite bad dreams that shake our mental core
before we take tea on long afternoons
to avoid explosions of graveyard moons.

We plant trees we never sit under now
to construct kites from insecurities
because no one gives up their liberties
till Jesus returns on the holy cow
which never happens, even to this day,
since none escape catatonic decay.

Through attentive parlay of energy
we present our bodies as tragic art
by understanding how we got our start
evolving fish to god with panurgy
so we can build new order of the world
based on dream design of the cosmic herald.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus drags the corpse of Cronus across the waste land where the ghost of Apollo walks by his side till he arrives at the South Pole where he hangs the dead god as a flag on a pole.

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

Troubled Guest Of Time
© Surazeus
2026 01 21

The silent candle burning in the night
illuminates strange feelings in my heart
about how moonlight glimmers in the pool
where happy demons of my ancient heart
lurk in cruel darkness of obsessive love
which gives me wings to fly toward ancient stars.

Insane for perfect light of jagged cliffs
which beams my soul into the butterfly,
I keep imagining how I may die
so I can grow beyond my clumsy fear
for I am but the troubled guest of time
who wanders nowhere on the roadless Earth.

Though I want to tell each person I meet
about the holy longing of my heart
to understand strange burning of my flesh,
I keep my words of frantic eagerness
concealed in silent book of puzzling code
that floats unread on surface of the pool.

Caught in obsession with electric gloom
that wraps my naked soul of aching hope
in bitter glamor of eternal faith,
I try to be the carefree butterfly
that flutters fragile wings of honesty,
but I remain as sturdy as the stone.

Untroubled by excessive agony
that every conscious creature wrestles with
through endless suffering of our tender flesh,
I strip off all social identities
and float in silver pool of calm regret
to cleanse reckless rage from my wounded heart.

Though I give love I need no love returned
through transformation of my flashing brain
when flames of passion burn to angsty ash,
yet I remember magic word of love
that always resurrects my wounded heart
so I become the faceless ghost you call.

Though I remain the troubled guest of time
as nameless stranger in this crazy world,
I dance with wild abandon of the fool
around the walnut tree in paradise
when evening light glows red as divine blood
that forms the word I speak with confidence.

Stuck in this weird realm of necessity
as contradiction of inherent means
for giving love without expecting love,
I overcome illusion of desire
through brave expression of my star-wound will
to translate misery into joyful psalm.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus floats in pool of sacred energy while Narcissus and Echo flirt beneath the wind-fluttered willow tree and tease him about Ophelia.

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

Vanishing Mist Of Avalon
© Surazeus
2026 01 21

She says she cannot catch the falling snow
with soft voice hiding how she must not feel,
and stares around at people in the park
who walk together in close family groups,
then peers at the green sun behind gold clouds
which seems to understand without fake words.

She strolls with awkward nonchalance of hope
that something miraculous may occur
while kicking piles of autumn leaves that swirl
in sudden gust of wind from kingdom come
that makes her cackle with unexplained love,
but hides her mouth and hopes that no one saw.

She steps sideways just off the cement path
when seven boys race past her on sleek bikes
then finds buds on bare twigs most interesting
when the bright couple with tightly linked arms
stroll by while laughing flirtatiously calm,
then she watches them clandestinely sad.

She thinks about the time her father cried
when her mother was in the hospital
sick with some strange fancy-named disease,
but he ignored her when she came back home,
drinking beer as he watched basketball games
while she painted landscapes that no one bought.

She spots tall man with glasses in tweed suit
and hair tousled wistfully on his face
as he reads some thick leather book that seems
to contain secret knowledge about life
that might explain how people grow in love
to sweetly populate the universe.

She wanders toward him under the ash tree
with hope to gain knowledge about star runes,
and tactfully bumps into his right arm,
then catches the book as it falls with wings
before his heart can fly into the sky,
then blushes as she gives it back to him.

She smiles at faceless ghost of everywhere
as he mumbles thanks and continues on
so she sighs sad as Lady of Shallot
who pines in glass tower for Lancelot,
though all knights in shining armor have gone
into vanishing mist of Avalon.

She stares at mirror-demon of her soul,
her alter ago who appears from gloom
to mock her fantasy with grim insults,
so she returns home and lies in warm bed
while singing heart-aching tunes of lost love
which causes lightning flash to crack the world.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus searches everywhere in the world for Eurydice, but sits at last beside mountain lake where he sees her attempt to flirt with Apollo.

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

Museum of Faceless Gods
© Surazeus
2026 01 20

Linking America to Angloland
through Arthurity of my startled heart,
I cartograph through noble characters
narrative charter of our mythless state,
rebuilding both Eden and Avalon
as amusement parks where children can play.

Constructing nation of Zarathia
from crumbling ruins of America,
I constitute new order of the world
based on liberty and justice for all
that aggregates all nations of the Earth
with equal opportunity to live.

To be means to belong to the tale
of all world nations united through law
that treats each individual with fair code,
instead of the enclosed genetic tribe,
for all humans on this resourceful globe
spring from One Mother who taught us to sing.

Though Justice sometimes seems to take too long
to bend arc of the universe toward right,
we stake fate on Utopian asymptote
to secure thin curve from rational function
of historical progress toward democracy
against existential void of despair.

Great heroes die into world narrative
when selfless deeds of courage they perform
inspire our hearts with vision of their role
as now essential to our social health
so we idolize them as divine gods
to preserve ideal spirit of their trope.

To achieve immortality through fame
as stereotype based on your character,
you must sacrifice your life to your myth
through curse of fortune engineered by stars
which molds your spirit to mask of your mind
portrayed in Museum of Faceless Gods.

After empire of America falls,
corrupted by greed of the narcissist
who tries to make himself hero of fate
till his fantasy collapses from lies,
we rewrite tale of our democracy
signified with new name Zarathia.

Zarathia means courage of the truth,
which motivates our quest for liberty,
inspires brave heart of every human being
who shares this globe from sea to shining sea
with generous attention of respect
to each soul whose tale weaves our world myth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus hangs mask of every human who has ever lived in the Museum of Faceless Gods to include everyone in the epic tale of humanity.

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

Find My Empty Grave
© Surazeus
2026 01 20

Faster than excited laughter of rain
that drenches my brain with thunderous good cheer,
thoughts about how to survive rage of death
swirl wildly in waves over sharp river rocks,
yet I forget why I am still alive
as I crouch on smooth stone of bitter faith.

Tall idol that emanates from my brain
projects grand myth of the hero with pride
whose jagged mind of arrogant respect
scrapes the night sky with hunger from despair
based on myopic archive of lost fears
which I initiate through monuments.

Based firmly on conceptual stone of truth
deep in vortex of psychic energy,
I carve names of great heroes on stone cliff
who contribute noble deeds without fear
to sustain momentum of discrete growth
through progress of polite chastity.

Ensconced with courage on top the cracked slab,
inherent in mind-spiraled modesty
with selfless performance to defy death,
I balance scales between epic concern
and intimate sorrow which maintains trust
through different keys of the same global play.

Shocked by peaceful arrival of blind fear,
I watch the blue butterfly of despair
teach existential quandary of the word
that melts contractual elements of truth
with each explosion of soft water waves
that shake foundation of my self-esteem.

I sing molecular music of life
vibrating from cells composing my soul
with colorful ghosts of attentive faith
through legendary laugh of eagerness
to share this time and space of lavender
with strangers trapped by random innocence.

Because I am the learned Astronomer
who calculates fate from choices we make,
I feel stars wink at me with sparking shots
as bright demonic eyes of solitude
who know where I am in the maze of myth
but laugh at me when I ask where I am.

Wind chimes of dizzy hope wake me from death
though I fold leaves in wings of alphabets
that shine as lantern of my naked heart
so I convince fine shadow of the boat
to bear my withered spirit far from time
so laughter cannot find my empty grave.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus stops digging his grave and runs from one hundred screaming girl fans who tear off his head and throw it in the sea where Sappho retrieves it and sets it on the library shelf so he may sing forever tales of epic heroes.

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

Remember Paradise I Lost
© Surazeus
2026 01 19

Though eight billion people inhabit Earth,
each one speaking their own language of hope,
I sit in voiceless silence of my home
where I hear voices of the countless dead
relate traumatic events of their lives
while I record their names in book of myths.

One more step on the bridge of silent song
takes me beyond the bounds of paradise
where people crowd vast maze of open doors
that open to worlds of the multiverse
where every human lives on their own globe
which all swirl together in our One Earth.

Iced pond smooth as silver eye of the witch
reflects face of the angel without wings
who falls to Earth from cloud of Jupiter
and springs to life in body of my soul
so I remember paradise I lost
which I recreate in Heaven on Earth.

Bright city of marble temples and halls
that shines on summit of Acropolis,
from which Athena reigns with sword of truth,
projects world view of brave democracy
based on justice and liberty for all
which always triumphs over tyranny.

With map Gerardus Mercator designed
I sail bold ship across the seven seas
by navigating straight line shore to shore
to explore and colonize fertile lands
assimilated in one world empire
founded on Platonic Realm of Ideas.

Somewhere on Earth with face no one can see
one mortal human through humble respect
embodies spirit of the Architect,
divine Craftsman who programs our world view,
managing world food-production machine
with clear analysis of human needs.

Tiresias explains in simple terms
recurring world cycle of social change
where we keep running faster every day
in fierce competition to control land
producing food for everyone to eat
so I open my door to welcome Death.

When I remember paradise I lost
by molding metal of bright meteors
into piston engine of time machines
which I drive through maze of forgotten myths,
I chronicle history of human life
while sitting in ghostless church of the past.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus preaches sermons on philosophy in the ghostless church of the pass in the largest town on Greenland.

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

Holy Apples Of The Sun
© Surazeus
2026 01 19

If I wake up from slumber of the sea,
hair muddy with invective of desire,
I slice tomatoes with sharp knife of fear
to walk in woodlands of the singing bear
who offers refuge to the crippled finch,
then asks if I can ever love again.

No strike of lightning startles me awake
yet I feel flash of whiteness in my eyes
so I touch cloud of fire with trembling hand
that spawns new angel in my aching heart
each time I draw weird meaning on the sand
in tangled words that might console the land.

Too awkward to remember words of faith,
I try to heal all broken things of time
but end up with large box of precious lies
contrived by faceless ghosts of everywhere
who strike my heart with guilt I cannot sell
though I dig fingers in moist soil of fate.

My black bones wriggle among roots of trees
each year I reinvent the alphabet
so we can write sad letters about hope
borne far in boats on restless waves of tears
because we hail from ancient land of skulls
which gleam in shallow lake of silver fish.

Old bearded man from hall of broken doors
places skulls of dead tyrants on the shelf
inside World Temple of the Laughing Skull
so we can hear their riddles about fate
encoded safe in solemn prophecies
about the most evil king in the world.

Cautious alertness of the apple girl,
who senses danger in how sparrows fly,
saves people of her city from attack
when they assemble on the river shore
and plot assassination of the thief
who crowns himself in castle court of greed.

Because we give each other secret names
our bodies thrive safe from insults of thieves
who spend their energy in frantic fear
while we tend fields of wheat and cabbages
since carrots sharpen vision of our eyes
according to blind woman by the well.

If I find holy apples of the sun
on sacred tree of demons with snake eyes,
I shall retrieve from cave of sparkling gems
sweet fruit that nurtures us with energy,
and leave them in rooms of people I love
so they can taste eternity of love.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus protects tree of knowledge that blooms with holy apples of the sun so Persephone can sell them in the town market square.

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

Reborn On Buddha Wheel
© Surazeus
2026 01 19

We are the lonely people of the world
who stare at faceless portraits on the wall
and listen to how sad violins fall
in violent cascade of conceptual twirl,
pretending we will never die of truth
by wandering with the memory of Ruth.

She always seems to know how we should feel
as if our bitter hearts are forged from steel
so we dare cross the street when lights blink red
to scatter shouting demons from our head
before the Lord returns on clouds of fire
because my tone disharmonates the choir.

Therefore we must exchange with laughing zeal
these faces only angels dare to steal
except how far the humming toad can reach
my naked shadow shivering on the beach
too late to be reborn on Buddha Wheel
that twists timeline of my fate beyond real.

Yet when I pause on jagged cliff of rage
at startled turning of the wordless page
I feel strange dizzy twirling of the world
that asks not how swift my soul could be hurled
against aggressive wall of honesty
since I am stuck in play Absurdity.

When Emily rides black carriage with Death
I force my body to inhale deep breath
that swells my heart huge as hot-air balloon
which floats my fractured skull up to the moon
where rabbit on blue car remembers why
every organic creature wants to fly.

Alone on global stage of star-cursed fame,
I sing with hope that old cromulent hymn
composed by Gabriel in the subway car
to translate scream of dragons stuck in tar
with dulcet tones of our blind nightingale,
encoding way to find the Holy Grail.

Since I have know the kind judgmental eyes
that fix me wriggling on the godless skies,
I shall presume to rule the world with love
expressed through wisdom of the howling dove
that gleams in lamplight of Diogenes
whose lovely Mermaid gives me broken keys.

I wear mask of Prince Hamlet to the ball
to start world revolution at the fall
of nine aggressive tyrants when the stone
of Sisyphus rolls with the golden bone
that crushes Nebuchadnezzar to dust,
then dance on skull of Ozymandias.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus places skulls of Ozymandias and Nebuchadnezzar next to the skulls of Hamlet and Orpheus in World Temple of the Laughing Skulls.

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

Monster Of My Fantasy
© Surazeus
2026 01 19

We have to be cautiously cynical
in order to survive this hostile world,
always keeping mental radar alert
with attitude that evil ever lurks
in shadows of hate to attack our souls
and suck our bodies dry of energy.

Easily startled by shadows of rage,
I jump out of my body on wild wings
and flap around in frantic ecstasy
in search for monster of my fantasy
that always haunts my path to somewhere else
as I breathe pure celestial energy.

Fortuna, pulling loaded apple cart,
senses gang of boys lurking behind trees,
so she grabs stick and twirls it just in time
to whack their heads as they rush quick to steal
fruit of her labor, causing them to groan
and flee as she continues on to town.

Selling her wares at the small market stall,
along with farmers, tailors, and craftsmen,
Fortuna stares at distant silent woods
with strange anxiety at something wrong,
so she leaves with baskets half full of fruit,
and hides in copse of oaks near the town gate.

Trembling in terror at shadowy ghost
that causes her to shiver in despair,
Fortuna stares in shock when gang of thieves
on fierce horses attack the market town,
beating people and stealing all their goods,
then racing wagons to their secret fort.

Noting where gang of thieves base operations,
Fortuna hurries back to market town
and joins assembly of angry townsfolk,
who vote to form army of self-defense,
then leads them armed to hidden mountain fort,
where they approach with stealth of cautious hope.

Striding alone to guarded fortress gate,
Fortuna shouts that she punishes crime
and comes to kill them all, but they all laugh
and carelessly leave strong protective walls,
so townsfolk attack and kill every thief,
then take their goods home to victory feast.

Crowned as their noble hero of defense,
Fortuna sits on throne in feasting hall,
remaining cautious as they sing and dance,
fighting back when surviving thieves attack
to kill assassins with sharp justice sword,
then drinks wine as townspeople cheer her rule.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus plays lyre of Mercury and sings tale of Fortuna whose cautious alertness keeps her market town safe from thieves.

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

Beyond The Seventh Wall
© Surazeus
2026 01 18

When I have arrived at the seventh wall,
that shimmers between my Spirit and God
who wears mirror mask of my secret face,
my primal conscious sense of Other-Self
will wake at center of the metaverse
as persona my songs invent from dream.

I am no Orpheus, Hamlet, or Balder,
nor Jesus dancing on the Rainbow Bridge,
because I create my persona mask
from fragments of mythical characters
to assemble puzzle of who I am
so you can see your true self in my face.

Whether I am faceless ghost of I Am
which replicates my self as many selves
seen by people in every town on Earth,
or I am one human being with hot brain
who wears many faces of long-dead gods,
I am always the person you perceive.

Brave human performing my self on stage,
as stereotype I pretend to play,
I am the director, the backstage crew,
the stage, the camera, and the bright screen
of the television and the computer,
as well as the actor who plays all parts.

This role of myself I perform each day
is nothing more than puppet of my brain
completely separate from the outside world,
though tears of rain seep on my cluttered stage
where I assemble fragments of the world
in global puzzle of our new world order.

Because I am the Theater of Hope
on which I play character I design,
I freeze into the idol of my soul
so I still stand in temple of my tale
ten thousand years after my body dies,
for torso of Apollo I remain.

I see you reading words of this dream verse,
feeling your eyes scan thoughts of my sponge brain
with passionate desire to understand
anxious fears that motivate how I write,
for poems that I compose with ardent faith
spark conscious sense of my self in your brain.

Beyond the seventh wall of my dream play
I walk the endless maze of psychic myths
that humans of the past built from their lives
so you see statue of Surazeus
when you read my words bleeding on this page
every year for the next ten thousand years.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus turns to the audience in the Temple of Artemis and asks the people if they know their secret names, then resumes strumming lyre of Mercury to sing epic tale of humanity.

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

Statues Buried In Mud
© Surazeus
2026 01 18

We build our empire of contending states
on grand revelation that liberty
should be enjoyed by every dreaming soul
born from the fertile womb of Mother Earth
to share fruits of our labor in the fields
while we ensure equal justice for all.

Yet portraits of gods on museum walls
display no delicate features in forms
that mimic bodies humans animate,
nor resemble statutes buried in mud
by avalanche of fate which cracks stone walls
that should pertain to code of paradise.

Convinced the secret treasure, Jesus forged
from meteor that almost cracked the Earth,
is buried lost in wind-lashed field of snow,
young girl travels halfway around the globe
to walk the treeless waste land of deep hope
where she finds nothing more than one shy deer.

At thrilling conclusion of her vain quest
she finds quaint haiku written in the snow
by feet of dark-eyed Junco that describe
how friends gather around warm glowing hearth
and linger late in moonlight to share tales
from their childhoods in Television Land.

Amused that she misunderstood cruel joke
she heard from Tengu in the mountain cave,
young girl sails Argos east across the sea
to ask the bearded men beside the lake
how we can trust intuition of signs
based on clever twist of dire prophecies.

Then just as she stands on the frozen hill
to watch the train glide slowly with the sun,
she feels how cherished daughters of our hearts
are incarnations of the ancient Earth,
so she cries out to beauty of the light
despite how truth is always in our eyes.

Because the ocean bares sharp teeth of ice
we ask if mothers always know the way,
appalled by bitter anguish of soul birth
when seeds break open with demonic faith
that sucks sweet sorrow of the endless rain
each hour we are reborn to thrive and die.

Beneath the oak that blooms on river shore,
her father planted at hour of her birth,
Persephone measures deliberate wind
as breath transformed from ravens into words
which teach us how to taste cerulean fruit
because we know that all great empires fall.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus finds Persephone in Television Land where plays the Manic Pixie Dream Girl in the tale of her quest to find the secret treasure of truth.

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

Knock On The Scary Door
© Surazeus
2026 01 18

Each morning I knock on the Scary Door
to ask the Happy Ghoul for Hour of Death,
the Weeping Woman in White Tattered Dress
answers instead with box Pandora made
from which my secret desires swirl as bees
that lure me to Gate of the Twilight Zone.

Each morning I knock on the Scary Door
to purchase Weird Truth from Fiery Redhead,
the Southern Gator, plucking banjo strings,
tries to sell me Cool Crown of Psychic Power,
but I search for the Blind Girl in the Tower
who keeps the Holy Grail in her heart.

Each morning I knock on the Scary Door
to map the Golden Way to Fairy Land,
the Sad Clown points Rubber Gun at Thor
who flees to Shining City on the Hill
to wear Mask of Secret Identity
as Car Mechanic for the Techno Wizard.

Each morning I knock on the Scary Door
to give my heart to Damsel in Distress,
the Evil Queen sucks spirit of my brain
to float as shimmer in Mirror of Lies
till Quirky Bard with Lyre of Mercury
tries to rescue me from the Underworld.

Each morning I knock on the Scary Door
to trade Ring of Invisibility,
the Jungle Princess, with Bow of Desire,
recruits me to rescue from House of Rubies
Innocent Nuns who weave Basket of Bones,
so we defeat Good King in the Glass Castle.

Each morning I knock on the Scary Door
to answer Call to Adventure in Hades,
the Mystical Waif at the Burning Bush
gives me Sacred Scroll with Riddles of Ruth
so I can program how brains perceive life
to imitate Principle of the Thing.

Each morning I knock on the Scary Door
to deconstruct prudish Victorian Novel,
the Time Wizard, who repairs Tree-Trunk Clocks,
explains how to contrive the Happy Ending
for the Knight Errant and the Femme Fatale
who married in Church of the Vampire God.

Each morning I knock on the Scary Door
to wrestle Lame Bull of Anxiety,
the Wandering Minstrel on the Signless Road
calls the Shrinking Violent prone to tears
who transforms to Uncanny Valley Girl
when we kiss in Cathedral Ruins of Faith.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus presides over the wedding of Romeo and Cinderella after he is released from the International Hospital of Ghosts on Desolation Row.

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

Beyond The Promised Land
© Surazeus
2026 01 18

Below the hill where fortune waits for me
rain puddles shimmer in the morning sun,
so I gaze down in mirror of my mind
to ponder how human history is based
on the Mother and Child beneath the tree
that blooms with holy apples of the sun.

Iridescent sheen of beautiful hope
inspires my heart to construct from strong wood
home of four pillars on firm pyramid
to shelter bodies of my family
from harsh conditions of indifferent weather
so we can thrive in garden of the light.

Ascension up scale of authority
to manage domestic scope of insight
provides elevated view of the world
composed of wheat fields divided by roads
that channel water from the lake of dreams
where farmers cultivate soul sustenance.

To protect the Mother and Child from harm
I build safe house on pyramid of skulls,
then plow fields with solemn strength of cows
to bake bread from wheat that gleams with sunlight
which I store in warehouse as the loaf-ward,
and thus build world food-production machine.

We cannot return to that Eden state
as we connect all cities on the globe
in teeming web of wealth-computing towers
where we drive swift piston-engine machines
in endless chess game of productive strife
ruled over by thieves in gray business suits.

Still alive after sixty centuries,
World Pharaoh stands on pyramid of gold
to rule the Earth as Demon of Desire
whose faceless mask of great authority
controls state presidents as puppeteer
through statue of gold with soft feet of clay.

Blind singer homeless on the White House lawn
strums lyre of Mercury with crippled hands
and sings with crackling voice of radios
psalms of David and hymns of Orpheus
to lead lost refugees of civil wars
on signless road beyond the Promised Land.

Escaping prison camps of feudal farms,
ruled by tyrants in castles with gold crowns,
we sail the wild Atlantic Sea of fear
to colonize Edenic Promised Land
where we crucify our messiah sleuth
on the telephone pole of the waste land.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus writes hymns on gold plates that shimmer deep in collapsed cave of illusions for one hundred thousand years as code that programs how humans compete for resources in game of thrones.

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

Wild Electric Heart
© Surazeus
2026 01 17

Muted tone of my wild electric heart,
loaded with anguish of harrowing loss
from laughing flames that hammer at black sky
despite unfinished business of sad rain,
hums soft with spooky honesty of fear
when blind angels escape in sudden flight.

Awake in pulsing endlessness of pain
sliced into searing hours of gloom and glare,
I measure changeless beauty of the sea
with each assertive step of cautious hope
as I pray to the path my feet design
in stubborn innocence of wordless rage.

Because I am not self-portrait of God
reflected in clear pool of silver gleam,
I eat ripe apple from the Tree of Fate
to understand why flowers bloom from seeds
with anxious burst of supercilious leaves
which dare explain why I must not be real.

Overwhelmed by flashing rays of sunlight,
which beam from enormous eye in the sky
watching me with relentless glare of truth,
I check my privilege with nervous hand
that I reach helplessly to touch the light
which pierces me with frantic energy.

Inspired to collect proof the sun knows why
ache of sorrow converts my bitter rage
to shocked surprise at sparkle of cool rain,
I must accept that God Mind in the sun
sees my body with original love
though I reverse my journey from my birth.

So I kneel by small pool in Shadow Wood
to cup sweet water with tingling hands
and drink invisible darkness of faith
till I see face of Narcissus by mine
who kisses me with gentle ardency
as we both levitate above the world.

Immortal spirit of my dreaming mind
swells ripe in secret pocket of my heart,
morphing through each evolutionary form,
fish to lizard to mouse to cat to monkey
to wingless angel suckling at my breast
who echoes every breathy word I speak.

Syncopated hymn of humble respect
blooms pure as lily from mud of my flesh
when playful daughter of my soul matures
to young woman with the same silver eyes
Narcissus opens from mask of the sun
when we bury him by pool of our tears.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus visits grave of Narcissus where Echo and their daughter Electra boil apples into sauce they can in jars which they sell at the market just outside of town where the river sings.

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

Secret Scroll Of Tiresias
© Surazeus
2026 01 17

Driven mad by the sweet laughter of truth,
I walk around the town of faceless ghosts
who might be real people with secret names
if I look close enough in their bright eyes
to see one deity our bodies share
animate them with passion to sing their pain.

Scribbling parables from the new age creed
that programs how people perform their roles
in framework of religious fantasy,
I throw book of lies, forged with valency
from myths of miracles, in lake of tears
where fish devour them with rapacity.

Back from lush garden of insanity,
where children struggle to escape dream stones
to play hide and seek in temple of fate,
I knock on locked doors of suburban pride
to sell salvation of the Buddha Toad
who teaches why creatures are free to choose.

Carefully observing forgotten clues
in fragments of tales scattered on the road,
I seek the crippled angel where she hides
in wrecked car on the crumbling bridge of hate
who keeps in her body oracle bones
on which are written spells of vanity.

Purchase dreams that increase capacity
of your brain to analyze bogus fears
preserved in folk beliefs of fulgency
which fester truth in global fallacy
that more than atoms alchemize our souls,
or else admit that love is all you need.

If I see spark of light in cymophane,
retrieved from Persephone on a dare,
I might fall upward in soul-slippery skies
to land in Heaven where devils play games
with humans in cathedrals without hosts
who wait for coming of messiah sleuth.

Though I retreat in labyrinth of fake words
to find secret scroll of Tiresias
on quest to find most fertile Holy Grail,
I always end up at the faith-locked door
to grand cathedral with slant rays of light
where Emily sings hymns of broken hearts.

Young girls in markets sell apples from carts
while I learn magic art of airplane flight
so I can photograph the cosmic core
where God sorts our intergalactic mail
with psychic map designed by Pytheas
who translates riddles of religious birds.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus operates poetic machinery of the mind to project ontological visions of the world on walls of arrogant cathedrals where people weep for fall of Lucifer.

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

Indifferent Nature Of Life
© Surazeus
2026 01 17

Tangled in relentless progress of change,
I move through maze of life on puppet strings
in search to find the master of my fate,
but sense no super-conscious puppeteer
other than indifferent nature of life
that drags me into the future of hope.

My brain projects the future of the world
I want to see on blank wall of desire,
but everything that happens in the past
erases fancy dream of paradise
so I am blinded by strange light of truth
that leaves me stranded in a strange new world.

I wake in future world of strange events
I never imagined in wildest dreams,
so I outline on mirror of the sky
complicated status of social being
to help me understand where I am now
somewhere in endless maze of nowhere else.

While I look at the mirror of my mind
I get in the way of who I should be
when I remember who I used to be
because I know myself better than me
though I am still alive with flame of faith
that twists my body into what I am.

My body flows with endless stream of time
so I research true nature of my being
and find unmeasured strangeness of my heart
embodied by ancestors of my soul
as numberless characters who make me,
indifferent with compassion of the dead.

My inner demon dictates tale of life
I want to play regardless of the rules
so I invent advanced conceptual tools
that help me build vast paradise of truths
composed of stories that depict in scenes
life of every person who ever lived.

I have no answers for questions you pose
about strange beauty of this world we love,
surprised by glory of the flaming clouds
that illuminate silent mountain peaks
with secret honor of the falling god
who wakes inside my body as me now.

Inseminated with pure cosmic light,
my brain expands beyond bounds of belief
so I know name of everything that is,
programmed by circuits of existent souls
who follow routines of heart-breaking grief
to offer pamphlets on the end of time.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus stands on street corners and preaches the end of the world as we know it, and birth of the new world order where all are equal in justice and liberty.

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

Echoes Trapped In Vows
© Surazeus
2026 01 17

In bitter rain of the cold morning hour
all I know are thick mud and tangled trees,
so I search the world for the last gold flower
that intoxicates me with scented breeze,
till I ask ghost of the horse with gold eyes
how she unveils dizzy sun in the skies.

Enclosing me with ancient eyes of light,
snow horse explains how angels without wings
explore our dream world in fantastic flight
as mushrooms bloom in moon-round fairy rings
because I speak in echoes trapped in vows
while writhing with hope under golden boughs.

If I can play baptism of the brain
to understand strange riddles of the clown,
I might arrive at work unwet from rain
at oldest crowded restaurant in town
where I bring plates of food to hungry souls
who excitedly discuss social roles.

The countless selves that separate their masks
from faceless core at center of my mind
imitate me when they perform weird tasks
that sustain social system men designed
because I hide in home of doorless fear
at second coming of the puppeteer.

My younger self on swing of ardent faith
attempts to leap into bright sky of joy
but disappears in mirror of the wraith
to challenge God with puzzles seers employ
in mental game of chess in tune with Death
who teaches me key of celestial breath.

Sad orphans wait for parents to return
from grand amusement park of bankruptcy
despite noble expressions of concern
church leaders sell to steal dream gadgetry
sealed to hide bloodline of the holy grail
through lost heritage of the great white whale.

Awake at hour of midnight outside Heaven,
I search for mask from ancient gallery
designed to enchant spirit of the Raven
whose secret project of world wizardry
realigns structure of great nation-states
to tangle genes that favor divine traits.

Enwrapped in satin cape of princesshood,
I name each person on the signless road
who wants to live in pleasant neighborhood
where every soul bears the same heavy load
in struggle to transcend our mortal state
since we choose how stars reprogram our fate.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus realizes how amazing Ophelia is as he watches her waitress at the popular crowded restaurant every rainy Saturday morning after Sabbath services.

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

Vibrant Spirit Of My Bride
© Surazeus
2026 01 16

Of all the souls whom Artemis has loved,
mortals who shine with favor of her pride,
my bride outshines them all with character
based on attention to practical needs
grounded in concerns of body and soul
fostered by nurture of respectful trust.

While she is still alive with breath of hope
her brave brightness illuminates my world
with rays from Phosphorus, the dawning star,
and after she joins me in Neverland
her memory will guide children of our hearts
with beams of Hesperus, the evening star.

If Chiron makes blind Phoenix see again
then he could take me back across the Styx
so I may bring fruit from tree of Tantalus
to give ripe apple to bride of my heart
whose warm embrace could resurrect my soul
so I can lead her home with Orphean song.

When I compare true beauty of my bride,
which emanates from her confident heart
through deeds of care for children of our souls,
to glamourous Venus with her graceful stance,
I pray mad Goddess of Beauty accepts
that I prefer blunt woman I adore.

With swift-foot courage of bold Perseus
I would save from aggressive beasts of hate
frail spirit of my bride with humble wiles,
preventing thugs from chaining her with greed
so she remains free in haven of faith
to craft her vision of this world in art.

No haunted Semele, doomed by fierce fate
to burn at flash of knowledge about love,
my bride prepares nutritious meals with care
to nourish us with selfless diligence,
inspired by signs of Zeus Semaleus
that guide our journey home to Wonderland.

Since I can take no wealth my hands acquire
to afterlife in lush Elysian Fields,
which is fraudulent fantasy of fear,
then I bequeath as legacy of love
earthly treasures to coffers of my bride
so she may live well long after I die.

Honored by choice of her pragmatic heart
to guard hearth of her adept sovereignty
with generous endowment of selfless love,
I cherish vibrant spirit of my bride
so we share cups of juice with mutual trust
as Mercury and Artemis in love.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus strums lyre of Mercury and sings song of love to Ophelia who ignores him as she grills fish for their children Orion and Ostara to east for supper.

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

Justice Of The Cosmic Wraith
© Surazeus
2026 01 16

We spring from timeless dream of Mother Earth
at song of wingless angels in vast sky
who celebrate our special spirit birth
with vision of love in our ancient eye,
so we feast in grand temple of our faith,
inspired by beauty of the cosmic wraith.

When thieves attempt to crown themselves grand kings
and strut in shining palaces of gold
we pray for Fate to spread wild angel wings
that cast them howling on the storm-wracked wold,
because we fight with bravery of faith,
inspired by passion of the cosmic wraith.

Awake at fulcrum of unbalanced change,
I wield feather of truth inside my soul
to oscillate through matrix of the strange
that nurtures enterprise as sacred goal
by which we compass progress of our faith,
inspired by wisdom of the cosmic wraith.

Thus we explore the world with curious zeal
to build republic of the common good
since clever Helios invented the wheel,
so we form Eden from ghoul-haunted wood,
encoding social laws in book of faith,
inspired by justice of the cosmic wraith.

We gather in great hall of standing stones
with honest intention to debate laws
designed to mold our electric bones
from demons into angels through first cause
with civil discourse on nature of faith,
inspired by prudence of the cosmic wraith.

Concerned at collapse of democracy,
when greedy tyrant grasps taut reigns of power,
we chant satires against hypocrisy
composed by Jupiter in Ivory Tower
with project to revive national faith,
inspired by courage of the cosmic wraith.

I map new world view by the roadless sign
that guides my quest to find the humming toad
whose riddles emanate the charged divine
which beams slant rays to light the signless road
where I lead refugees to land of faith,
inspired by mercy of the cosmic wraith.

My eye shapes symmetry of water drops
to crystal snowflakes through atomic force
when I float high on pyramid of Cheops
to channel through my brain the spiral source
from which springs all life at first flash of faith,
inspired by knowledge of the cosmic wraith.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus strums lyre of Mercury and sings enchanting spells that conjure from our brains divine spirit of the cosmic wraith who mirrors conscious passion of our souls.

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

Cove Of The Introverse
© Surazeus
2026 01 15

Arbitrary array of random thoughts
embodies ancient spirit of respect
awake in chemical shells with hot brains
that pulse attentively from sparkling words
so we become self-conscious clowns of love
happily awkward at confession time.

Round-about method for stacking concepts
as bricks in thick walls that protect our hearts
betrays naive trust in goodness of fate
that leaves our bodies vulnerable to fear
blasting excessive rates of ardent faith
which blinds my eyes to danger by my side.

Huddled safe in cove of the introverse,
where demon fish with arrogant eyes crawl,
I laugh assertively to dispel rage
swelling from strange darkness inside my heart
that knocks me sideways in sudden surprise
because I understand why creatures die.

Soft sand of the beach soothes my aching mind
with supple sorrow sagaciously caught
by thoughtless debates between faceless ghosts
aghast at dismissive whispers of leaves
which deign to shelter our bodies from rain
that always seems to know feelings we hide.

Startled by sudden beat of flaming wings,
I see demonic sphinx with scarlet feathers
glide gracefully above my secret cove,
so I hold my breath with terrified wonder
at what powerful leader of the world
will die at the coming of Gamayun.

Gasping for breath with curious despair,
I follow flaming wings of Gamayun,
who lands on jagged judgment stone of truth
where Perun sits proud on gold throne of power,
and watch amazed as siren with gold eyes
attacks great thunder god with tearing claws.

Astonished at sudden bloody demise
of that great king who ruled since dawn of time,
I stare down at his mangled corpse of bones
that once aggressively asserted power
with brute strength of spirit-controlling rage,
fierce god diminished to torn lifeless corpse.

Holding scepter of power in my hand,
and wearing cape of feathers Perun wore,
I sit on throne of power where he sat
before vast crowd of ghosts who praise my name,
till dream of glory vanishes in gloom
when the sun-bright Gamayun flies away.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus finds Zorya sitting on the throne of power so he plays lyre of Mercury and sings of her victory against Perun as the people feast in celebration of her new world order.

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

Till We Free Eden
© Surazeus
2026 01 15

Romulus has come to America
to steal sword of Spartacus from his tomb
and lead wild men who spring from dragon teeth
in holy war against tyrant of gold
since Midas has allied with Hannibal
to beat heads of upstarts with Bible clubs.

When Jason and the rowdy Argonauts
invade vast cities of America
to kidnap Alice lost in Wonderland,
brave Romulus stands before the locked gate
to face cruel Goliath in civil war
when he shoots David in back of the head.

If laughing Grendel breaks down jeweled gates
to drag the Weeping Woman from her church,
bloodstained Medea rises from her grave
to hurl head of Odysseus at Apollo
who asks brooding Hamlet for good advice
on how to fight for Liberty and Truth.

Since Jupiter asks Artemis for help
to fight invasion of the Viking horde,
who swarm in rage from sea to shining sea,
she leads protests with the bloody flag
to drive Grendel and Goliath from Heaven
and stop them arresting innocent Elves.

Since Nobody knows who is right or wrong,
or what side anyone else should be on,
we shout at each other in crowded streets
while Grendel and Goliath in black duds
beat Jason and Apollo on the head
for opposing Midas in the Gold House.

Dragging innocent citizens from cars,
and locking them in secret prison camps,
Grendel and Goliath, with guns of faith,
declare they will arrest those who dare
obstruct justice in name of Liberty,
and detain people who are the wrong sort.

Alone in homes across Zarathia,
good people of America conspire
to oppose Midas and his gang of thugs
lead by Grendel and Goliath in crusade
to cleanse undesirables from the land
with hammer of Thor in their bloody hands.

Assembling people of America,
Romulus with Excalibur in hand
welcomes Arthur to Land of the Free
who takes hand of Artemis with new hope
and leads us to oppose cruel tyranny
till we free Eden from the gang of thieves.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus joins Artemis and her justice squad in holy war against the tyrant and his gang of thugs who have occupied the Gold House with bloody hands.

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