Way Too Far Away
© Surazeus
2026 01 27

Even though you seem way too far away,
remote as cold stars of unmeasured time,
my heart returns from void of snowy fields
so I can reach across abyss of fear
and give you treasure I found in the woods,
which must not be the shadow of my name.

Therefore I shall outline multiple paths
to gain majority of voiceless thoughts
across rugged terrain of secret hopes
where forsythia spills over river banks
in disabled meadow of broken doors
where curious children invent new myths.

Durable books contain our enterprise
to climb inflated hills of heritage,
impressive with knowledge of integers
introduced by jewels in faceless ponds
where mutual friends ponder new mystery
concerning novel ownership of faith.

Petulant lovers exchange moral jokes
based on productive game of give and take
fueled by fierce opposition to loss
despite arrogant state of curious doubt
that strengthens our fraught relationship well
enough to notice our hard-earned success.

Avoiding pitfalls every teacher maps
through pledge to investigate observed facts
with measured analysis based on fear,
we consolidate unspoken concerns
in clever proverbs old people recite
when they remember lessons learned from pain.

Through strife to become more consciously real
as organic being of chemical lust
I transcend bitter angst of suffering
which liberates my soul from prison camp
where my mind stays trapped after eighty years
though my body lounges in paradise.

Paradox of still shapes that never move
through shards of time devised by ticking clocks
reveals illusion of motion I rule
as spiral swirl computing finite curve
that arcs conceptual change of constant war
toward perfect impersonation of God.

Beyond the utmost bound of divine words
I follow knowledge on the Golden Path
through dream-tangled woods of pulsing masks
to catch electric star of blood-hot faith
that leaves me stranded in yard of your heart
so we can be together for all time.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus considers how distance between hearts of lovers provides energy for groundwork on which we base successful relationships with love.

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

Black Milk Of Daybreak
© Surazeus
2026 01 27

Once again we drink black milk of daybreak
while digging graves for our teachers and nurses
who tend festering wounds in doorless rooms
where the blind man writes with tooth of the snake
riddles on walls of museums and churches
that bleed words of truth in eyes of the ground.

Each morning we drink black milk of daybreak
to make room for more graves in empty clouds
where faceless ghosts of people with lost names
hide stories of harsh suffering they endure
deep in blinking hearts of red traffic lights
that signal our duty to oppose hate.

Each lunchtime we drink black milk of daybreak
while flames of world war consume garden trees
where Sulamith plays with serpent of truth
who recites riddles from book of fake lies
that prophesy fall of America
and rise of Zarathia to rule Earth.

Each evening we drink black milk of daybreak
while Albert plays electric violin
to raise soul of Odysseus from the dead
who catches capital bullets of rage
with psychic aperture of his blue eye
since he lives in the house with countless graves.

Each midnight we drink black milk of daybreak
since Margarete with the long golden hair
wanders in the house of the rising sun
to transform nuclear missiles of despair
into blackberry vines of innocence
so she can bake pies from our wounded hearts.

We decide to drink black milk of daybreak
because the bridge of happiness we built
collapses in swift River Styx of change
through urgent pride of honest arrogance
to assert principles of thought control
hidden by polished mask of Jupiter.

No one wants to drink black milk of daybreak
during the century of global wars
when angels in airplanes bomb paradise
as spies infiltrate foreign governments
till time assimilates nations of gangs
in peaceful United Nations of Earth.

I refuse to drink black milk of daybreak
after digging graves for millions of souls
who haunt me on long restless afternoons
so I record their names and tragic lives
in sacred chronicle of the blind crow
while I float in house of eight billion doors.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus welcomes Sulamith and Margarete into the house of endlessly opening doors so they can rest and eat a healthy meal.

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

Most Lonely Telephone
© Surazeus
2026 01 26

If I ever forget why children cry
I will become the most lonely telephone
that never rings across the countryside
where I hang out on trunk of the old elm,
ignoring angels falling from the sky
in terrible war against silver planes.

When she finds the gold-spotted serpent egg,
Tellus slips it in straw basket of grass,
then runs graceful as lithe deer in the woods
to small cave by the gleaming pool of gems
where she fries it in the skillet to eat,
then leans against old elm to count the crows.

Young slender man in brown suit and red tie
steps from the motorcar in polished shoes,
and asks the girl with flowers in her hair
where he can find the waterfall of wrens,
so she leads him through shadows of old elms
while chattering about how angels cry.

Three grim men in black suits with machine guns
burst into the grove by the waterfall
where Belenus stares in shock of surprise,
but Tellus twirls around and kicks the guns,
and fights all three goons in martial combat,
whacking them on their heads with willow wand.

After they run away into the woods,
Tellus sits on the grass and spreads her skirt,
then offers him sandwich of beef and cheese,
so he devours her lunch with eager joy,
then recites poetry while they drink wine,
and she dances gleefully at sunset.

Embraced in twinkle of eternal stars,
Belenus and Tellus make love with relish
of passionate bliss with blooming of flowers
that tremble when bees drink nectar of faith
to pollinate their pistils from their stamens
till sunburst scatters dew to soak lush hills.

When their son Lugus reaches eighteen years
he joins the royal rifle regiment
sent overseas to hills of Hindustan
where he climbs rugged trail to mountain cave
and falls in love with graceful Parvati
who plays haunting melodies on the flute.

While Lugus is building new four-wheeled wagon
and Parvati is frying Paratha bread,
grand silver airplane of imperial power
drops righteous bomb that blasts their mountain hut
and rips their bodies so they lie on grass
trembling in pain as they embrace and kiss.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus visits graves of Lugus and Parvati with letter that Tellus wrote with trembling hand just after her eightieth birthday in the garden of her loss.

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

Evasive Algebra Of Faith
© Surazeus
2026 01 26

I have never wondered when I will die
because Death will unalive my hot soul
so suddenly my conscious sense of self
will puff out into lightless nothingness
as I fall endlessly in sea of gloom
and dissipate into light of the moon.

While still aware of pulsing pulchritude
that gushes hotly through my quivering flesh,
I grasp at beauty of clear nothingness
by letting go deep breath of agony
so I release grip on meaning of life
which I designed to balance me afloat.

My heart beats wild with time-ascending wings
to gallop swiftly along river shores
beyond horizon of the flaming dawn
with eager passion to fly among clouds,
but stumble into evening glow of fear
and lie unbodied by the singing tree.

Calm stillness cloaking me with cricket chirps
enshrouds my naked soul in twilight gloom
of blue dispersal fading into thoughts
concerning how roots curl into my flesh
and suck my body dry of bitter tears
so I spring laughing into flash of day.

Implied assertion of extreme regret
explains foundation formed from graphic seeds
yet neutral to contrived accomplishments
which caravans of blind angels broadcast
through bulletins of wedding catalogs
that strikes with valid voltage of respect.

Alone surviving on wisdom of truths,
claimed as welfare by winners of rigged games,
I sample unique response of grim gods
restricted by signals of scheduled tricks
encoding sensors of routine upgrades
contrary to testament of the seer.

Segments of nature model innocence
by which we network merchant companies
retrieving options of unlicensed games
through hybrid justice still unjustified
in context of agreements no one signs
with boolean bankruptcy of avatars.

Because I know exactly when I die,
based on evasive algebra of faith,
I play appellant in court of brave lies
enforced by discipline of holy jokes
encrypted as dependence on vain trust
since I cannot duplicate my dream brain.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus considers joining the army after high school, but decides instead to play the guitar and sing country songs in smoky bars in farm towns along the Mississippi River.

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

Weird Music Of The Stars
© Surazeus
2026 01 26

Acerbic laughter through fury of art
inspires unwavering vision of the cool
with meticulous craft of ardent truth
based on generous dedication to love
which serves our bodily autonomy
for dancing to weird music of the stars.

Refusal to perform heart-broken clown
for blood-thirsty crowd of fierce warriors,
who battle tyranny of legal words,
remains the primal goal of my project
to be intimate with mask of my soul
that conceals my secret identify.

Unafraid to speak the obvious truth
about class we inherit from dead gods,
because we thrive with ruthless honesty,
I inhabit random gender of fate
through fertile generation of new ghosts
who animate robotic shell of hope.

Laser-focused on trouble spots in spells
my brain unspools from anguish of respect
through chance survival of exploding words,
I explore uncanny valley of lies
to trace journey of my strange life from Hell
in process of finding my place on Earth.

Born in bright valley of nine singing skulls,
I know mute sadness in the wings of crows
that guide my path across the trackless waste
where I can change into wolf of my heart
to protect my family from greedy thieves
because we have always lived by the sea.

Long prayers to ocean tides and mountain peaks
conjure ghosts of my ancestors from stones
smoothed by millions of years of gentle waves
so I can ask them what experiences
that they endured program how I see life
as manifestation of my desires.

Numinous phantom of the holy pearl
glows before my eyes on wind-swept beach,
who gazes deep in hollow of my heart
with countless eyes of stars in her moon face,
so I offer apple of naked trust
which she transforms into my pulsing heart.

Ferocity through humorous restraint
braids each random day I experience
in spooling film of pretty memories
to frame bitterness of abandoned grief
as menace I embody when I sing
empathic clarity of selfless love.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus finds Jennifer drinking gin by the juniper tree in the uncanny valley of ghosts who wear faces of famous tragic heroines.

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

Nothingness Of The Universe
© Surazeus
2026 01 26

Brilliant nothingness of the universe
fills my heart with swirling rivers of joy
for I have heard soul of the water sing
four hundred million years of turning time
in melodies that vibrate through my mind
so all my cells ring with pure cosmic chime.

Aching nothingness of the frozen hour
traps my dreaming mind in form of my body
so I breathe deep celestial thoughts of light
to sing in harmony with flashing stars
that weave my soul in tapestry of time
which signifies my being with secret name.

Urgent nothingness of my daily task
rewinds my memories into ringing phones
so I call everyone alive on Earth
to ask if they remember timeless hour
when our common First Mother woke from dream
and sang first wordless song of human hope.

Fertile nothingness of wide rain-soaked fields
provides encouragement of sacred code
which cows express in wisdom of fresh grass
so I play flute of soft mercurial wail
that wakes eight billion souls from water dream
with passion to attend World Festival.

Patient nothingness of hand-fashioned crafts
supports productive factories of faith
so we construct new civil infrastructure
from shattered ruins of our old world view
designed by cosmic Architect of Truth
who loves that we express true happiness.

Sterile nothingness of religious faith
deceives my heart with desperate belief
that my body will resurrect from death
if I believe some honest tribal king
who died two thousand years ago loves me,
so I love everyone before I die.

Coded nothingness of cultural myths
provides moral guide for how I perform
special role I compose from social tropes
when I play Tiresias in World War Three
as prophet of the Ungod no one sees
to lead faceless ghosts to the Promised Land.

Psychic nothingness of our empire state
frames national events with shards of truth
which I assemble as puzzle of facts
in global epic tale of noble deeds
when Jesus defeats Satan once again
so everyone lives together in peace.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus ponders the nothingness inherit in the somethingness of everything that exists as mental idea based on its material form.

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

Ride Carousel Of Fate
© Surazeus
2026 01 25

If the sky is doorway to everywhere,
opened wide by joy of my aching heart,
then I will soar into immensity
with awe at breathless beauty of all light
which I perceive with mind-expanding scope
of conscious passion for honest respect.

If owl of my heart, perched on broken branch
of faith in cosmic energy of love,
stirs ancient wings of silent urgency,
then I will find pure egg of soul rebirth
gleaming with crystal eyes inside my brain
as psychic battery charged with solemn words.

If holy cow of spirit-fueling milk
arrives at dawn across the misty field,
pulling wagon of bricks baked in the sun,
then I will build new temple for our god
who holds the spotted dragon egg of faith
with tender care of time-unspooling hope.

If opal gleaming on the signless road,
containing eyes of every long-dead god,
radiates pure wisdom of eccentric books,
then I will dig sacred river canal
so we can irrigate vast fields of wheat
that forms foundation of our empire state.

If angels guard our bodies while we vote
for who will rule our disorganized state
with random laws he thinks of in the bath,
then I will count how many apple seeds
lie scattered on the marble temple floor
where turtles analyze profits through loss.

If blind children ride carousel of fate
with sly plan to paint frescoes on church walls
depicting deaths of saints in accidents,
then I will travel toward the holy land
through flashing portal of argentine light
to find divine doctor who heals all wounds.

If my grandfather flies airplane of faith
low over rippling lake of secret snakes
who sing psalms in heavenly choir of ghosts,
then I will map every telephone pole
that connects our brains as the world wide web
in global marketplace of false ideas.

If I keep walking in circles of truths
in frantic chase for the most scathing joke
that exposes weakness of tyranny,
then I will carve runes on the rock of ages
cleft wide by earnest zeal of loyalists
so we can ride the carousel of fate.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus and Orion arrive with box of tools to fix broken engine that operates the cosmic carousel of fate so we can restore peace on Earth.

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

Tears Of Sad Mermaids
© Surazeus
2026 01 25

To find pure pearls from tears of sad Mermaids
I dive deep in dark sea of swirling fears
with pure celestial breath of cautious faith
where I face hungry demons of despair
in noble fight to safe humanity
from monsters lurking in gloom of our hearts.

I perform these actions in long day dreams
while sitting at desk in small cubicle
as one among many soul programmers
typing magic runes on keyboards of truth
to code whole history of humanity
in tales that chronicle our fight for Life.

Though bitter winds of winter blast bleak streets
with grim indifference Nature shows Mankind,
millions of people demonstrate with signs
proclaiming principle dear to our hearts
that every person breathing air of life
has equal right to liberty and justice.

These bromides, that sustained our hearts for years
through centuries of soul awakenings
and wars for freedom against slavery,
taste bitter now that our once noble state
teeters on shaken foundations of faith
at long-expected rise of tyranny.

Even this grand republic of free will,
which our fathers built with brave sacrifice,
crumbles now from rotten bureaucracy
asserted by aggressive gangs of thieves
disguised as masters of the money game
who seek to enslave us with credit debt.

Immortal spirit of the cruel dictator,
that possesses greedy men everywhere,
emerges in White House with bloody hands,
emboldened by fear millions of men feel
which Voldemort channels with magic wand
carved from Spear of Longinus into guns.

Yet when dictators of Satan appear
to manipulate minds of angry men
with hate to exploit people to gain wealth,
our brave messiah sleuth, with honest heart
honed by suffering, appears from our minds
to lead freedom fighters with flag of truth.

Minerva stands on pyramid of bones,
bold one-eyed watcher keeping our world safe,
to catch pure pearls as tears of sad Mermaids
that nurture our courage to fight for Life,
preserving state of world democracy
which blossoms as Tree of Life from our hearts.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus prophesies coming of messiah sleuth who will lead people of America in holy crusade to restore democracy through liberty and justice for all who live on this land sea to shining sea.

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

Time To Wake As The Earth
© Surazeus
2026 01 25

Time to round the building corner of fate
and ask the blind man in swan-feather cape
how children are reborn from sticks and stones
based on fake legends in old leather tomes
stolen from libraries by bitter trolls
who cannot find humans without weird souls.

Time to ride the rocket ship beyond fate
in dream trip captured on celluloid tape
long before angels had all left the Earth
to animate concept of the light word
tangled with emotions of gods in rooms
who play tragic lovers to jolly tunes.

Time to escape glass labyrinth of homes
constructed from code of dinosaur bones
despite commitment to holy crusade
contrived by bankers to monetize faith
because mad jester crowns himself world king,
proposing marriage to the skating rink.

Diana drives red Volkswagen at dawn
in splatter of rain from the Bible psalm
on crowded highway in large Texas town
with her son destined to play prophet clown,
who thinks about his bike with demon wings
despite how often the telephone rings.

Time to prove bent-space formula correct
by dream wizards from the Adventist sect
who worship sorcerer of butterflies
to calculate thought-twist of the next phase
we humans must dream-travel to evolve
with romantic tension lovers resolve.

Time to play honest game of chess with Death
in effort to translate what the tree says
about proper etiquette on the wood path
where we wrestle shadow of the pop quiz
before we build our house upon the sand
this shifts word dunes to redesign the land.

Time to grow up and become the adult
who sells secret prophecies of the cult
about Tzatziki-flavored kettle chips
that Jesus and Achilles share on trips
to explore landscape of Greenland with hope
humans will soon find peaceful ways to cope.

Dionysus searches for quiet spot
away from distraction of money games,
and listens to breath of planes among clouds
when obligations bluster past in wind,
knowing we decay as Self vanishes
at death just in time to wake as the Earth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus calculates the time it takes for humans to evolve from fish to wingless angel, and how much longer to evolve into gods.

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

Super Beauty Of Wild Hearts
© Surazeus
2026 01 25

Far beyond super beauty of wild hearts,
faceless ghost in slime-clean gray business suit
withdraws money earned torturing mute books
from the automated teller machine,
and buys hamburger and fries for his lunch
before returning to work in the bank.

Yet laughing turtle in the pink tutu
dances gracefully on the iced mailbox
while clowns in red and yellow uniforms
beat people on the head with rubber bats
which transform into tinsel butterflies
that eat silver handcuffs off hands of kids.

Trapped in voiceless midnight of the glass church,
photocopied letters on wings of swans
arrive from Gobi desert in blue eggs
laid by famished horses in can of words
that wriggle into shape of wet clay dolls
who give each other flaming guns as gifts.

King Lear mistakes the rusty can of words
for slab of roasted beef as credit card
he thrusts in hourglass of unspooling fate
in vain attempt to purchased rugged cross
designed by blind woman with thirty arms
who sketches faces of children on doors.

Pretension to awakeness of the lamp
contrives new secret room of breathing walls
where millions of people without cell phones
bypass memories of traumatic events
by laughing as they swing in the playground
enclosed in glass dome on the misty moon.

Yet Ariadne tugs at broken thread
tangled in maze of quaint alleyway stores
to conduct memory trace with images
encoding characters from ancient myths
which always leads to Sunday morning church
where shadows of gods reverberate masks.

Kwan Yin reveals in jar of honey wine
shadow following shadow of my brain
as echo responding to sound of words
unspoken by shy lovers who grow old
together in house of the rising sun
where angel eyes are hammered in our masks.

At moonrise youngest woman in the world
drops eyes in glass of water to recall
how wings of ravens hide wild ocean tide
since color of milk reveals beating hearts
we drink to celebrate when empires fall
now based on super beauty of wild hearts.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus reads fake letter that flutters on butterfly wings in the Gobi desert that Jesus sent him asking about whatever happened to Clementine.

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

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