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

Must Reckon With Fire
© Surazeus
2026 01 14

If I must reckon with fire of the word
that burns the mind with extravagant faith,
I may elevate with riddles of truth
vulnerable passion of protective pride
because I crave closeness between our hearts
that binds our self-reliance into love.

Each word I carve on trunk of the Time Tree
presents blueprint so the wild voice may draw
inner beauty with emotional strike
of blatant precision that tips my heart
into self-indulgence of selfless love
by which I model how great men behave.

Rooted in performance through empathy
my way of life belabors honesty
by working in the orchard of the lost
who steal their faces from forgotten myths
then sleep in chicken sheds with angel wings,
caged by economic necessity.

Yet while I trudge across the frozen lake
on lucid mirror of infinity,
I stop and gaze at vast array of stars
that do not calculate what fate I live
when I feel the complete universe shift
sideways at glimmer of the wordless book.

Winter stars pierce my tender breast of faith
with surprising laughter twirled by swan wings
so I grasp morning light with blurred respect
when I zoom out perspective to full scope
that collects stories in anthology
devised as scripture for the refugee.

Illiterate sky of naked alphabets
expands so far beyond my conscious shell
that I consider how my body floats,
mythologized by billowed gravity
since I am young and thus expect to know
how far across the country I must go.

I will be nothing after I am dead
as head of brave Goliath on the plate,
amused by reverence for heroic deeds
that save the tribe from monstrous tyranny
before the hour of change has run its course
since I must reckon with fire of the word.

I see true essence of all things that are
because they vibrate with word energy
through brave attentive flight of honey bees
that show me how to fight the tyrant king
and free our people from his grasping greed
that dissipates in age of frantic peace.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus skates across the frozen lake of dream-time to discover how first mother of mankind invented words of fire to warm our hearts.

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

Numinous Phantom Of Love
© Surazeus
2026 01 14

Through fragile keeping of the holy mind,
brain woven from neurons of flashing dust,
I try to preserve in dreams I design
memories of people who created me,
but we all swirl away as dust in wind,
though echoes of our voices ring in song.

I cannot perfect game of solitude
by dancing in slow vortex of all time,
yet I will attempt to suspend its flow
through record of deeds we humans perform
till we are swallowed into nothingness
after atoms organize as our brains.

I wonder as I trudge to work each dawn
if I am David with slingshot of truth
or Goliath defending apple trees,
for they are reborn every eighty years,
doomed to battle in endless game of thrones
since Zeus and Oedipus will always win.

The Rebel will always become the King,
Cronus replaced by Zeus to reign with strength,
who replaced Uranus in game of power,
and Phoebus buried Zeus in hidden tomb,
the father overthrown by his brave son,
till we elect our kings with voice of choice.

We look with longing to the Shadow Wood
for Samson with long hair and blazing eyes
to emerge with spear that Longinus lost,
but Jupiter chains his hands to the wheel
to grind wheat for bread on which empires stand
as young girls weep for Tammuz without end.

With Lucifer and Icarus I fall
blazing with flame of Gabriel from wild clouds,
then fly with Earendel on wings of truth
above our world-wide maze of tribal myths
where idols of dead gods scream in the void,
three angels with no message for mankind.

Reborn as Horwendilus for this age,
I sit in quiet contemplation here
on still point of the turning metaverse
with Crown of Thorns, Lamp of Diogenes,
Sword of Justice Arthur threw in the lake,
and Lyre of Mercury inside my heart.

I wish to avoid getting crucified
since I wear mask of your messiah sleuth
with mission assigned by the cosmic herald
to reveal strange beauty of the White Whole
that you can find climbing three steps to Heaven
and dwell with numinous phantom of love.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus arranges Crown of Thorns, Lamp of Diogenes, Sword of Justice, and Lyre of Mercury in Zarathian Museum of Fantastic Art for people to admire relics of the lost age of myth.

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

Stuck In Maze Of Regrets
© Surazeus
2026 01 13

When I think too much about past events
I find myself stuck in maze of regrets,
so I turn around and walk nowhere else,
wandering listlessly without fateful goal
past broad welcoming gates of Wonderland
till I stand with broken heart by the sea.

Mired deep in soul-sucking muck of despair,
I stare beyond scope of infinity
to where imaginary goddess shines
enskied in mantle of fortunate stars
since my heart wants to stellify her soul
so she descends on wings of honesty.

Enrobed in flashing cape of calm compassion,
she sings enchanting melody of hope
that wraps my fragile soul in arms of love
to draw my writhing ghost from dark abyss
which blooms my mind with broad angelic wings
and sparks my heart with passion to live well.

Emerging from cocoon of anxious fear,
I stretch attentive scope of my soul wide
with conscious wisdom to comprehend why
quick atoms aggregate in dreaming brains
which sparks our souls awake with urgent faith
to fight oppressors for true liberty.

Awake with brave attention of concern,
through intense focus on disparate facts,
I analyze through measurement of deeds
dire consequence spurred by uncertain loops
to trace effects back to their primal cause
enclosing cycle of recurrent scenes.

Thus I perceive with flash of clear insight
psychological operations planned
and executed by clandestine means
through shadow-veiled conspiracy of greed
to trap and bind my fierce angelic soul
with mind-controlling concepts of false truth.

Conceptual system of our social scheme
asserts as uncontested facts of nature
rights that favor with privilege of gain
men who assert aggressive force of will
in strict contract that empowers their hands
to control how we perceive what is real.

After I deconstruct their system of power
to disperse fake authority they claim,
I construct new world view of social rights
which ensures equal opportunity
for every person living on this Earth
so we together walk maze of respect.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus reconstructs fair global system of social equality based on liberty and justice for all as operational guidance for the new world order.

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

God In Temporary Form
© Surazeus
2026 01 13

Untethered from strange taste of ancient fruit
when I hang from my tail in Tree of Life,
I descend to Earth on angelic wings
to fly upright in surging waves of change
where I learn to walk on feet of firm faith
because I see my face glow in bright clouds.

Faint twang of words I speak with holy breath
vibrates through frame of flesh that binds my soul
with writhing beams of moonlight on dark lake,
still weightless on soft undulating waves
ten thousand years after I wake from dream
through evolution as I become god.

I wonder what pain of my body means
that pulses bold with fierce intent to grasp
elusive ghost of flashing energy
that fills my mind with sudden state of being
through clear insight at what my brain perceives
so I speak word that creates why I am.

Gold cloud of bees hum soft with anxious hope
from potent passion of hungry desire
at shock of insight that strikes at my heart
as perfect omen that frames puzzling thoughts
encased in vision of my crafting act
which I perform with gesture of good faith.

Enclosed by limited bounds of my being,
my spirit shivers at sharp gust of breath
that fills my frame with vast industrial cold,
assumed when arrogant ghost in my breast
asserts aggressive need to progress forth
against harsh wind that beats against my face.

Ten million years I spiral into being
by speaking words my brain invents to mean
conceptual objects I perceive as real
when I point to fear-tangled limbs of hope
and say "Tree" as I hold three fingers up,
true shelter of trust where we hold our tryst.

With each word I invent my brain creates
complex landscape of plants and animals
who roam among trees by rivers in vales
between mountains where clouds drench us in rain
that fills our bodies with intense desire
to hold each other with passionate love.

I crawl from womb of mother in the cave
ten thousand generations to transcend
each mortal body as immortal genes
transforming to wingless angel from ape
by singing hymns to idol of the man
who first plays god in temporary form.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus remembers when his mother taught him how to sing as they gathered eggs on the ocean beach.

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

Godless Sun Of Light
© Surazeus
2026 01 12

When I stare out the window of my heart
at vast godless night of eternity,
I wonder how my serpent-powered soul
got trapped in maze of standardized concepts
disguised as idols of eccentric gods
worshipped by humans in multiple forms.

Carving bones of my body into blocks,
I construct city hall with copper dome
where Goddess of Liberty stands on top,
holding Book of Stories and Lamp of Truth,
who shines so brightly with alphabet eyes
that we are blinded by God, Truth, and Right.

When I was the Mother Fish of mankind,
swimming in silent shimmer of the sea,
I remember great God Eye of pure light
that lured me to crawl diamond river bed
to pulsing lake of psychic energy
where I emerged from darkness of desire.

First Mother rises from the lake of dreams
at dawn of time to reach for star-sweet fruit,
swift-running mouse who transforms into cat,
high-leaping cat who transforms into monkey,
tree-swinging monkey who transforms into man,
spell-singing man who transforms into god.

I learn to walk upright in surging tide
while treading water near the sandy shore,
so I rise from lake of dreams at dawn of time
to stretch my arms up to the gleaming sky
where the godless sun of light watches me
explore the world she weaves from molecules.

Because the Many-Faced God of mankind
has no face that my dull eyes can perceive,
I see eternal spirit of the sun
clear in face of every human on Earth
because many variant faces we wear
bloom from perfect face our first mother wore.

While sitting on the beach at dawn of time,
I gaze at face of my mother with love
who smiles at me as bright cloud of the sky
for she watches over me though she dies
as divine soul in godless sun of light
who lives in each new soul we generate.

After I watch body of my dead mother
disintegrate from beauty of her face
to sand that swirls around her smiling skull,
I walk around the Earth ten thousand times
one hundred million years on holy quest
to find her face in godless sun of light.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus leads millions of refugees from civil wars to dance on the beach where first mother taught us how to sing words that express the vision of love in our hearts.

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

Wisdom Of The Quantum Soul
© Surazeus
2026 01 12

Though Death will think I have escaped his eye
because I write my dreams on moon-lit page,
I know he waits with patience of the sea
to swallow my frail light of consciousness,
so I will not blind my heart with needless rage,
instead express my love for life with song.

When Captain Scott arrived at the South Pole,
eager to claim glory of being the first,
yet found Amundsen beat him at the game,
he screamed into the void with bitter angst,
then froze to death while wandering in despair,
and lies forever inside tomb of ice.

Since Antarctic ice flows out to the sea,
Captain Scott, preserved in eternal rest
with same flawless repose as Sleeping Beauty,
will eventually fall into the sea
three hundred and sixty years from his death
where he will float inside his tomb of ice.

Five hundred years from now his tomb of ice
will land on lush shore of the Promised Land
where he will wake at kiss of Artemis
and walk with her among tall apple trees
where she speaks language of the Crystal Snake
who teaches wisdom of the Quantum Soul.

Across bleak landscape of my frozen heart
I ski toward South Pole of our pulsing Earth
to stand on still point of the multiverse
and savor beauty of bright rainbow beams
that weave atomic energy of light
through sinews of my body with dream words.

I am no Moses in the wilderness,
bearing crystal plates with principles
defining how to manage force of life,
yet I climb mountain of the Laughing Skull
to transcribe riddles of its writhing tongue
which prophesy how all great empires fall.

I am no Joshua leading refugees
who flee bomb-hurling planes with angel wings
to colonize tribe-crowded land of lakes,
yet I plow fields of weeds to plant gold wheat
with Golden Calf of Aaron as my guide
so Ceres bakes bread to weep for Tammuz.

I am no Orpheus with broken lyre,
but soul of Mercury wakes in my heart
when I become high mountains and deep seas,
and wake from dream as godless sun of light,
so drink apple cider with me today
as we play hide and seek with Father Death.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus finds wood ship stuck in the ice so he sings elegies for the men whose faceless ghosts dance on the deck to cheerful music for eternity.

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

New Jorvik Magazine
© Surazeus
2026 01 11

After the morning scrolls itself awake
in ponderous words of rain on blue glass,
eyeless sparrow on windowsill of fate
rehearses arrogant remorse by noon
encoded in engine rumble of cars
that float in circles of white butterflies.

If I drink coffee that tastes of elsewhere,
in cup chipped by worry of ignored facts,
I might hear cheerful whistle of the neighbor
who waters delicate plants in clean pots
that have already decided to glow
with unread stories of the morning news.

Developing news on the flashing screen
reveal secret desires of human hearts
which means the faceless ghosts of anywhere
have not yet heard their names hidden in drops
of rain that glitter on the window pane
so tables understand how to stand straight.

I scroll past strange argument about God
that I once designed from logical terms
still typing itself in mouth of the horse
who always brings the tree nymph to my house
so we drink tea brewed from angelic tears
and read poems in New Jorvik Magazine.

Sad siren on stone of Odysseus
braids air with urgency of hungry gods,
but drops unfinished book of fairy tales
unread into the swirling tides of change
that we must deal with in the city streets
where emergencies reach for the last peach.

My phone forgets whom I need to call now,
so I eat lunch alone in crowded church
with private anguish of the humble sign
that flashes when my camera clears its throat,
alert to ad that promises respect
stuck in three payments of simplicity.

Clouds rehearse impersonations of gods
which dwell in mountains, animals, and trees,
except apology no one accepts
for mistake I made on the roadless sign
when the dead king briefly consults my firm
for how to understand words of the rain.

My eyeless sparrow on the windowsill
develops theory about broken brains
that should explain how mirrors steal our souls
each time we write emails to companies
for refunds from the American Dream
which linger unsent in the unsaved night.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus relaxes on balcony of his apartment that overlooks Central Park and reads his latest poem published in the New Yorker Magazine while eating a chocolate croissant and sipping a ginger mocha.

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

Animals With God Souls
© Surazeus
2026 01 11

Within animal body of my name
celestial soul of stellar energy
animates my passion to savor life
when we embrace as voices in the dark
on bed of fabrications we design
to bind our hearts with dawn light of respect.

Because we are the newest animals
to walk the Earth as if we own its dreams,
bright sunlight smiles through tangled limbs of trees
with understanding love that parents give
to watch us play in flowers of childhood
before we build empires of thought control.

We trace insignia through naive hearts
with blades of grass that highlight bitter truth
that someone always tries to confiscate
more food than they need to eat every day,
then traps our spirits with fake legacy
in traditions they ploy to bind our souls.

Trapped in tradition of the way things are,
we struggle to contain fierce energy
to play free on the fenceless plain of wind
till many freeze to death in winter snow
so we combine our efforts to produce
enough food for our children to survive.

I hear strange voices in the godless woods
call my name with eerie whispered tone,
so I log in to my new bank account
with plan to pay the pied piper his due
because Orpheus leads our souls from Hell
in great escape from prison of the church.

Church bells ring weirdly in the misty vale
so we assemble by the drought-dry well
to shake peonies from iron chains of fear
where white lambs graze on sorrows of our hearts
till honeybees brew wisdom from despair
so we engage in dialogue of souls.

If we decide to follow streams of change
by hiding anger at electric clouds,
we may find where the sea of dreams has hid
behind devotion to the lonely girl
who always seems to know what will occur
because she catches lightning with her eyes.

Now that our stars throb in reachable depths,
we sell fruit of grief to strangers with coins
who glare as they draw borders that enclose
our freedom to explore bountiful hills
where rain strips dire urgency from our hearts
because we are animals with god souls.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus leads children from the city of clanging bells to play free in lush hills of apple trees till Midas enslaves them all to dig jewels from mines.

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

Unmined Hills Of Kalitia
© Surazeus
2026 01 11

Regret never suppresses the wild beat
my heart asserts with mission to expand
conscious scope of attention to contain
complex system of knowledge which describes
progress of history through human events
defined by conflict of opposing groups.

My productive gain honestly obtained
sifts sand-loosely through hourglass of desire
though I hoard possessions of petty pearls
in fractured chest of nervous vigilance
sparked by apprehensive analysis
to shield my treasure from covetous thieves.

Strict summary of special benefits
provides venal motive for hungry souls,
susceptible to bribery through greed,
who dare appropriate my unearned loot
through abstract calculation to purloin
embezzled fortune of idolized wealth.

Precious metals of hope-cherished esteem
gleam seductively with alluring faith
of misplaced trust in mercenary art
inspired by predatory plan to gain
material vital to industrial progress
that shines in unmined hills of Kalaallit.

Rapacious gangs of corporate pirates eye
mineral-rich mountains gleaming with ice
which sparks international war to claim
long-ignored paradise of silver light
contrived by Midas in tower of greed
to snatch sovereignty from generous hands.

New Heaven with crystal towers of faith
I will construct on lush plains of Greenland
to found grand Empire of Kalitia
from which I rule with laws of liberty
Zarathia and Gothinia and Russia,
united by Runes of my Odin Eye.

High on unmined hills of Kalitia,
the gleam on Greenland under my God Star,
I raise with bold Odyssean bravery
world flag for United Nations of Earth
as just sovereign over Telluria,
this globe we share that spins in void of faith.

Expanding Roman Empire with broad scope
that unites Europe and America
in peaceful nation based on liberty,
I daydream world peace in my little home,
safe in fairy land of Oconia,
to build new world view from dreams of the old.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus maps the water and sewer pipe systems of his town in Oconia while David rises to fight Goliath over who will rule the new world empire from Greenland.

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

My Empire Of Cash
© Surazeus
2026 01 11

Catching fish of sorrows from lake of dreams,
I roast painful memories on brooding flames
to analyze frame of my mental state
that defines ontology of world fate
in which I arrange puzzle pieces well
as map that directs how I play my role.

Secure in ownership of fertile land,
which my ancestors acquired by blood bond,
I plot complex program to construct frame
of honest principles that lead my team
of corporate pirates to expand cash scope
that we employ to spring financial trap.

Ensconced in steel-glass tower of blind wealth
from which I exploit labor to cleanse filth,
my seat of global power provides base
to manage civil conflicts fired by race
which I devise to conquer and divide
fragile nations fractured by social creed.

My twisted sense of liberty provides
chance to exploit uneducated hordes
with bait that sparks their weakness into rage
when I hire them as goon with gun and badge
since I am free to use men as I will
as fools on which I build Empire of Hell.

Invested in program of thought control,
launched by religious clang of the church bell,
I long conspire with faceless oligarchs
to legislate your tax as secret perks
that channel state funds to my bank accounts
while defunding schools by diverting grants.

Locking once open doors to public schools,
with cleverly encoded mental tools,
I block your access to knowledge of truth
to redirect your professional path
that restricts opportunities to work
in factory I own by homeless park.

Play by rules I establish with state law
and you will earn just enough cash to play
in bright amusement park I also own
in oppressive social system I plan
so you depend on jobs I deign to ploy
that suppress your ambition safely low.

Working hard to build my Empire of Cash,
through company that extracts mental trash,
I scrabble hard to rise from poverty
through principle of social liberty
till I control resource of fertile land
that keeps you all bowed low under my hand.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus plays lyre of Mercury on the street and sings satires that expose criminal enterprise of King Midas and his gang of goons.

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

Broken Lyre Of Mercury
© Surazeus
2026 01 10

His soul lies wounded on the treeless plain
beneath silver shimmer of boundless sky
where one lone airplane on thin angel wings
glides silently beyond eternity,
so he reaches out his pain-twisted arm
to touch soft nothingness with gentle thought.

Clutching broken lyre to his bleeding heart,
fractured turtle shell with splintered deer horns,
Mercury laughs at strange absurdity
that constitutes frantic drama of life
when men assert their vain authority
by beating people on the head with sticks.

Crawling on hands and knees, bruised by false hope,
Mercury slouches on shore of Star Lake
and casts line with hook on the fishing rod
to snag the wriggling demon of the deep,
then roasts it on crackling flames of desire
and eats sizzling white meat with hungry hope.

Ragged rain clouds blown across purple sky
writhe bright orange in flames of anxiety
to cast weird glow on jagged mountain peaks
in tune with eerie howl of ghostly wolves
that seep into hollowness of his heart
at peaceful solitude of nevermore.

Expressing fierce concern of bitter angst
through wistful melody of wavering notes,
star-wounded Mercury wails worldless hymn
that gleams in subtle synchronicity
with wildly flickering beams on restless waves
which pierce his heart with wisdom of respect.

Startled at sudden flash of angry light
on sharp blade of the sword aimed at his breast,
Mercury shields his heart with turtle shell
that he had fashioned into tuneful lyre
so sharp blade of hate cracks lyre shell in half,
causing Ares to stumble on his face.

Crushing skull of the war god with sharp rock,
Mercury defends his life from attack
to preserve frail flesh of his soul with faith,
then clutches broken lyre close to his heart
and sings lamentation of honest pain
at loss of his soul-healing instrument.

While climbing narrow trail in pine-rugged hills
where Mount Takoma gleams with holy light,
I find lost broken lyre of Mercury,
so I tune strings of dream anxiety
and journey far from sea to shining sea
to sing world epic of philosophers.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus plays lyre of Mercury as he hitchhikes across America, singing on the street tales of heroes who oppose tyranny of greedy oligarchs.

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

Dance Forever In The Rain
© Surazeus
2026 01 10

After we run laughing into the small cave
from sudden downpour that drenches the field,
Tellus beams brightly and declares with joy,
"Life is not about waiting for the storm
to pass, but learning to dance in the rain,"
so we hold hands and twirl wildly around.

Faces soaked with gold sparkles of starlight,
we gaze at each other with sudden ache
of passion that strikes our hearts with desire
when lightning flash illuminates the world
of mountains which glows with demonic light,
flushing our bodies with electric hope.

Writhing with pleasure of anguished delight,
we merge our souls in tangle of weird dreams
that feature fish swimming up gushing streams,
lizards swarming on meadows of tall flowers,
cats leaping along vines of large juicy grapes,
and monkeys swinging in trees of moonlight.

Receding back to beginning of time
as we soar deep into eyes of pure love,
we feel inside vast abyss of our souls
first flash that flares forth from big bang of light
that spirals out in galaxies of stars
which nurture worlds teeming with conscious souls.

Gasping with surprise at pleasure of time,
we lie together among rain-wet trees
and listen to waves of the ocean sing,
then we hold hands and wade into cool tide
to bob with undulating waves of joy,
amazed at beauty of stars in the sky.

This dream of creation at dawn of time
shimmers in every human brain on Earth
for we all descend from that primal couple
whose vision codes how we perceive the world,
embracing to generate shells of flesh
that preserve immortal soul of our genes.

So when we run together in the rain
to shelter before glass library door,
we remember what she said with bright eyes,
"Life is not about waiting for the storm
to pass, but learning to dance in the rain,"
so we hold hands and twirl wildly around.

I name this planet that nurtures our souls
Telluria to honor our First Mother,
Tellus, who dreams inside each human brain,
and guides our quest in landscape of her dreams
to generate new life before we die
so we can dance forever in the rain.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus strums lyre of Mercury and sings epic tale about Tellus, First Mother who generates souls of humanity from her dance in the rain.

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

Dream Spell Of America
© Surazeus
2026 01 10

Half my life ago, around thirty years,
I hitchhiked across the United States
of America, sea to shining sea,
from Seattle to Denver to Miami,
improvising grunge folk songs on the street
as I strummed guitar Phoebus gave to me.

I crossed east of the Mississippi River
for the first time at thirty-one years old
in January of Nineteen Ninety-Six,
when I rode in her car with Artemis
from Rocky Mountains to Miami Beach
where I sang Dream Spell of America.

Now thirty years later in my brick home,
where my wife sews scenes of felt folk art,
my kids make movies, and draw graphic novels,
I feel exhausted after thirty minutes
collecting branches fallen in wind storms,
then write dream spells of American Life.

While Whitman sang the great song of the self
to celebrate the many in the one,
and Berryman jumped off the bridge of lies
to escape the many voices of fear,
I translate them all, both sorrow and joy,
in tangled Dream Spell of America.

I sit with Isaiah on White House lawn,
chanting spirit spells in thought-rhymes of truth
to balance parallel concepts of faith
that provide to souls of the Promised Land,
through both criticism and consolation,
vision for Dream Spell of America.

When state institutions of brave respect
provide solemn structure for living well,
we build legal empire on principles
that ensure freedom and justice for all,
till we wake to fight oppression of greed
when our state unravels in civil war.

When fascists seize control of government
to dismantle our education system
so oligarchs enslave us all with debt,
we follow messiah sleuth to design
new ways through equal opportunity
for everyone to work and own their home.

Now United States of America
transforms into empire of thought control
so we gather in maze of fractured myths
to sing new Dream Spell of Zarathia
where every human enjoys civil rights
as core for United Nations of Earth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus plays lyre of Mercury for billions of people gathered to protest tyranny of fascist governments controlled by wealthy oligarchs in fight for liberty of the people to thrive.

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

Brave Voice Of Diotima
© Surazeus
2026 01 10

In our search for beauty to generate
new bodies of flesh from spirit of hope,
we hear voice of Diotima explain
progress of passion to honest respect
when we fuel flame of love as lamp of truth
that guides our quest beyond darkness of faith.

Fear leaves us stranded on the signless road
that we blaze with our feet in woods of fate,
yet resource we acquire from stores of hope
provides material for our crafting hands
to transform wisdom to practical deeds
so we create treasure from poverty.

If I happen to follow the wrong god
home to misty Wonderland by the sea,
I will retreat along the path I blazed
to find the star that calculates my fate
because enormous spheres of burning gas
far away know I need light to give love.

Each pattern of behavior that provides
guidance for how I perform my own life
was designed by people who lived and died
long before I appear in dream of time,
so I feel ghostly threads of their performance
shimmer through fragile web of energy.

When parade of our mutual life gets lost
in looming darkness of social conflict,
I hold high lamp of liberty with hope
to find my own way in the blasting storm
by sending signals in riddles of truth
to indicate our location in doom.

Though darkness of eternity is deep,
which looms in storm clouds over our vast land
to shroud criminal deeds of angry men
with sanctioned veil of official contempt,
we shine with loving respect for all life
as light in lamp that Diogenes made.

Brave voice of Diotima echoes clear
through maze of shattered idols where we wait
for Justice to assert bold principles
which activates our strong collective force
to oppose tyranny of greedy men
in fight against their exploitative crimes.

Though fate seems random in how we all end,
our choices in moments of intense hope
design framework of fortune we contest,
so we attend with generous gifts of faith
strict requirements of blind chemical laws
to shine in darkness with light of our love.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus holds high lamp of liberty that Diogenes made to guide millions of lost souls through darkness of social conflict to garden of global peace.

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

Weird Sense Of Foreboding
© Surazeus
2026 01 09

Mired in weird sense of foreboding, my heart
beats bruised wings against cage of social hopes,
twisted into fears by contentious games
people play to overcome shock that death
stalks us all with beautiful eyes of pain
smooth as stones polished by billion-year waves.

Aggressive respect for untwisted wings
motivates my passion to comprehend
language of trees that scream into the void
because I cannot predict with foresight
how people will act when they leap with faith
in constant battle to maintain control.

Yet she will always bring plates of good food
when I order meal in temple of doom
to shelter from thunderstorm of despair
while the one-eyed man with long tangled hair
strums turtle-shell lyre and sings with sad voice
about noble warriors who die in wars.

Frightened by sudden explosion of words
that bleed fake legends on pulsating walls,
I climb to top of the electric spruce
and squawk with eloquent riddles to prove
I can fly high with wings of butterflies
to scratch my true name on mask of the moon.

When Venus gives me apple of her heart,
I turn it into raven with three eyes
because I would marry Tellus instead,
though Nerthus distracts my heart with her eyes,
so they all agree to share me with trust
when I ride the white horse with pompous pride.

Whatever these memories of my past
have to do with the situation now
that causes chaos in our Promised Land,
I prefer to relax on my back porch
and listen to sparrows sing about love
while people rage against his tyranny.

No weird prophetic verse of riddling truth,
which I write on wave-swirling sands of time,
will change the way global events unfold,
so I chronicle what my eyes perceive,
then leave book of their crimes in dusty hall
where no one will read it ten thousand years.

Though story of America we share,
which narrates noble deeds of honest souls,
falls apart when violent gangs attack
innocent people to control their minds,
great heroes will emerge from teeming crowds
to prove better angels lead us from Hell.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus wakes from paralyzing sense of fear to preach salvation of communal respect to sustain justice and liberty for all, so we join his fight against tyranny of fear.

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

Weird Sense Of Foreboding
© Surazeus
2026 01 09

Mired in weird sense of foreboding, my heart
beats bruised wings against cage of social hopes,
twisted into fears by contentious games
people play to overcome shock that death
stalks us all with beautiful eyes of pain
smooth as stones polished by billion-year waves.

Aggressive respect for untwisted wings
motivates my passion to comprehend
language of trees that scream into the void
because I cannot predict with foresight
how people will act when they leap with faith
in constant battle to maintain control.

Yet she will always bring plates of good food
when I order meal in temple of doom
to shelter from thunderstorm of despair
while the one-eyed man with long tangled hair
strums turtle-shell lyre and sings with sad voice
about noble warriors who die in wars.

Frightened by sudden explosion of words
that bleed fake legends on pulsating walls,
I climb to top of the electric spruce
and squawk with eloquent riddles to prove
I can fly high with wings of butterflies
to scratch my true name on mask of the moon.

When Venus gives me apple of her heart,
I turn it into raven with three eyes
because I would marry Tellus instead,
though Nerthus distracts my heart with her eyes,
so they all agree to share me with trust
when I ride the white horse with pompous pride.

Whatever these memories of my past
have to do with the situation now
that causes chaos in our Promised Land,
I prefer to relax on my back porch
and listen to sparrows sing about love
while people rage against his tyranny.

No weird prophetic verse of riddling truth,
which I write on wave-swirling sands of time,
will change the way global events unfold,
so I chronicle what my eyes perceive,
then leave book of their crimes in dusty hall
where no one will read it ten thousand years.

Though story of America we share,
which narrates noble deeds of honest souls,
falls apart when violent gangs attack
innocent people to control their minds,
great heroes will emerge from teeming crowds
to prove better angels lead us from Hell.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus wakes from paralyzing sense of fear to preach salvation of communal respect to sustain justice and liberty for all, so we join his fight against tyranny of fear.

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

Dragon Teeth Of Faith
© Surazeus
2026 01 09

Because they kill our angels before dawn,
the last song in the world fades in the dark,
so we are left with silence in our hands
with nothing to touch but water and wind,
yet we will invent new words to express
cruel crimes we witness with our bleeding eyes.

Though they destroy the things we treasure most
with harsh intention to depress our hearts
and break our minds with sorrow of our loss,
we create new treasures from bleak despair
because we are rich with truth in our hearts
which always flows beyond their grasping hands.

Each time they attempt to erase our names,
and clear our bodies from space of the world,
we bloom again from nothingness of time
and flourish with pleasure from pain of fear,
for we sprout from abundance of the Earth,
too copious for them to ever control.

If they scatter our stories in the wind,
attempting to deny our right to live,
we become fertile seeds in distant lands
where we proliferate from barren faith
so we return to valleys of our dreams
when we invade old homelands of our hearts.

Because angels resurrect before dawn,
the first song in the world glows in the dark,
so we translate grim silence in spry words
that bloom as apples from abandoned trees
through restoration of forgotten truths
as witness to cruel crimes they try to hide.

We hold the fallen angels in our arms,
cradling classified treasures of our hearts,
to chronicle their stories in our books
so we remember every broken soul
in names that vanished centuries ago,
preserved in coded tales of ancient myths.

The more they try to stomp us in the dirt
the more we rise from dragon teeth of faith,
sewn by the hand of Cadmus with respect,
to form brave army of the trodden-down
who cast the tyrant in pit of the past
and build new nation on ruins of fear.

Though they destroy the system we design
with purpose to control our dreaming minds,
we build better system from learned mistakes
based on liberty and justice for all,
for we are angels rising from the Earth
to sing with wisdom that will never die.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus leads army of angels who fight the gestapo goon squads of the tyrant to prevent them from attacking human beings who go about their lives with faith in the system of liberty and justice for all.

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

You Shall Not Shoot Me
© Surazeus
2026 01 08

You shall not shoot me in the head with hate
while I am driving to the lake of gods
where I walk in dark woods of faceless ghosts
to fish for demons in depths of despair
so I can teach my handless child to count
how many stars still glitter in the sky.

You shall not shoot me in the head with fear
while I am running up that hill of skulls
to save the savior from the cross of pain
who gives me bitter wings from fallen gods
so I can fly above the maze of myths
to find the idol of my laughing clown.

You shall not shoot me in the head with lies
while I am walking to the grocery store
where gangs of thugs in masks of fragile pride
chase honest immigrants to kingdom come
since angels play with guns in paradise
lost in the swirling smoke of burning homes.

You shall not shoot me in the head with rage
while I am writing fairy tales for kids
to prove that people are good in their hearts
according to the holy book of goats
that tells us we should welcome to our homes
lost refugees of war from distant lands.

You shall not shoot me in the head with faith
while I am dancing in tall ring of stones
where Fairy Queen of Avalon proclaims
how fundamental law of honest life
declares, do what you will, if you harm none,
till son of Jesus stabs her in the heart.

You shall not shoot me in the head with truth
while I am filming crimes of fascist goons
who storm the Gates of Heaven with clean guns
to steal the Crown of Jesus from his head
when Odin chops the Tree of Knowledge down
and forces Eve to marry him at noon.

You shall not shoot me in the head with hope
while I am climbing Zion before dawn
to build new Temple of the Holy Ghost
whose specter gleams on television screens
as angel fallen from high castle walls,
then flies away in starship of the mind.

You shall not shoot me in the head with love
while I am singing hymn to faceless God
whose atom-spirit wakes in every brain
that dreams brave United Nations of Earth
against world empire of the vampire king
who howls in rage that we defy his greed.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus plays lyre of Mercury and sings elegy for Renee Nicole Good at memorial vigil in every city of the world where people oppose tyranny.

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

Queen Bertha Of Kent
© Surazeus
2026 01 08

Rebound of my heart against wall of fate
distributes progress across falling weight,
disturbed by sudden aggression of fear,
rebellious in favor of false veneer
that shields my spirit against sly contempt
at shafted spoils of his next coup attempt.

Profound insight of defiant respect
exempts my body of disdained aspect,
sullied by rainbow blood of proud disgrace
preferred by bane that muffles loud airspace,
yet plots with God to erase from this Earth
every person who may trace social worth.

Homebound on signless road from Wonderland,
excited to avoid the witness stand,
my clan stargazes where angels burn homes
on plain cluttered with crumbling cement domes
since we emerge from stones with blazing eyes
conferred by wizard with network of spies.

Spellbound at midnight in ring of Dream Stones,
we weave internet wires through crystal bones
with expectation that Fame shall reward
our humble names with divine psychic chord
so others acknowledge our right to exist
as glorified clowns on fortune-drawn list.

Rewind of my memories to dawn of time
reveals how bright angels evolve from slime,
entwined with chemical tendrils of change
which channel particles through cosmic range
transcending limited reference frame
through ardent regulations of the game.

Defined by articles in holy books,
code of behavior in riddles of cooks
explains process that alchemy contrives
to mold faceless ghosts in organic lives
who believe they are God in human form
rewriting constraints of fate from the norm.

Confined by body of limiting force,
fueled by spirit that fountains from star source,
my soul expands consciousness of world truth
to match quick wisdom of messiah sleuth
who questions concept of meaning we make
based on bold quest to reveal the God Snake.

Star-blind at birth from Queen Bertha of Kent,
as Child of the Mountain I represent,
I incarnate soul of Meroveus
to sing epic poem as Surazeus
which recounts life of each philosopher
who bears scroll and lantern of Lucifer.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus sculpts statue the represents Queen Bertha of Kent to illustrate bloodline of the Holy Grail from Jesus to Meroveus to Clovis to Lion King of Avalon.

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

Vibrant Energy Of Life
© Surazeus
2026 01 07

On the day after the end of the world,
when birds and trees are somehow not the same,
I think about where to find my true love
by sailing ship of love around the Earth
because I am not Perseus nor Paris,
fated to live out our own tragic romance.

Though Chiron taught Achilles how to play
lyre of Mercury with aggressive plan
to shatter walls of Ilium from rage,
I learn love-craft from Ovid, expert bard
who chases Daphne to the laurel tree
while wearing mask of Phoebus he designed.

Astonished at strange vision of my heart,
I watch my true love float down from the sky
with graceful body of Andromeda
and face of Helen that launches warships
which I command with courage of mad Mars
to conquer Greenland and expand my rule.

Attentive to strange song of the dawn breeze,
I dance in wondrous zone of unrestraint
while wandering randomly in global park
to find Aratus on the Gazing Stone
who shows how constellations of dead stars
provide framework for fate to prove my choice.

Alone on long-abandoned ship of state
resembling Argos, though with different wood,
that drifts on swirling tides of social change,
I drink by moonlight on the seven seas
that shimmers with ethereal souls of gods
who make my shadow flicker on dark waves.

When Aphrodite plays the saxophone
as priestess healing trauma with weird tunes,
I lie back under wounded Tree of Knowledge
because I must accept the world is broken
and never will become one global system
where every person lives in paradise.

Mind mirrored by dream-glazed reality
reflecting faceless ghosts of absent souls
who lived and died the past ten million years,
I drink electric cider of the heart
and dance in superstitious wisps of mist
with unperturbed tranquility of faith.

Since my heart feels like hub of the whole world,
I open wide angelic wings of trust
which radiates my love to every soul
so I feel vibrant energy of life
that rhymes in melodies of songs we share
on the day after the end of the world.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus hosts double date but Helen falls in love with Perseus while Andromeda flirts with Paris, everyone hoping to evade their tragic fates.

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

Hyperverse Within My Heart
© Surazeus
2026 01 07

Too simple for my mind to understand,
this world expands through multimodal strands,
weaving many unrelated events
in pulsing tapestry of social tides
on which I sail my fragile ship of state
to design my own complex twist of fate.

Reluctant to admit I cannot see
complete landscape of multiversal swirls,
I set out to explore this little globe
that spins alone in vastness of my heart
so I may categorize objects of sense
in catalog that notes all ideal forms.

Amazed at variant beauty of this world,
composed of special versions from each form,
I aspire to map the whole hyperverse
that spirals from first flash of the big bang
in countless galaxies with countless stars
that nurture countless worlds with countless souls.

Though I feel enormous in my own mind
that glows bright with divine consciousness,
which emanates as function of my brain
through flashing sparks of neural chemicals,
I am one small and temporary soul
that dreams too briefly through eternity.

Mapping the hyperverse within my heart,
I chronicle through animating gods
rise and fall of empires sparked by their minds
which clash in endless global game of thrones
till grand illusions of national greatness
are scattered by relentless winds of change.

Alone I find myself on signless road,
faceless version of my ancestral soul
alive four hundred million years of growth
through countless generations of new forms,
fish to lizard to mouse to cat to monkey
to wingless angel who strives to know God.

I feel relentless drive of energy
fuel my ambitious quest to generate
new children who embody in their brains
immortal soul of genes as conscious mind
who transcends death through song of hope we sing
till wind of time snuffs out my spirit flame.

Like tree that expresses passion of life
through every apple blooming from its limbs,
I sing conceptual vision of my truth
that maps the hyperverse within my heart
so I know how to incarnate my soul
in children who forget my name when I die.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus displays his map of the hyperverse within his heart in the Zarathian Museum of Psychometric Art at the annual geospatial conference of mad prophets.

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

Unframed By Bitter Faith
© Surazeus
2026 01 06

Blatant ontology of broken brains
defines organic blasphemy of fate
we gamble to assess progress of life
through fact-confounding maze of travesty,
backward stumbling to transcend bleak despair
that becomes wings for flight instead of weight.

Young woman wearing camera eyes for gain
keeps searching for soul mate to oscillate
opposing states of mind that balance right
gyrating patterns swiftly harmonized
through disparate concessions breaking stride
because she thinks she misheard what he said.

Heat vibrating invisibly from road
of asphalt arrogance, that shields her heart,
strips all illusions from her clacking mind,
so she recalculates conceptual sleight
from skilled dexterity of sharp insight
when she adjusts strike of brave stratagem.

Widened access easement back to her heart
attracts assertive focus of concern,
contrived to mimic romance out of turn,
twice allocating ardent faith in love
by gratefully extending cautious hand
that tests attentive sturdiness of trust.

Born blind from mission unassigned by God
to preach salvation of cliff-breaking waves,
she proves communal worth of clever claims
by misdirecting eyes of innocence
so we are glamored by her vagrant spell
presenting untruth framed by casual hope.

When she delivers plate of nutrients,
we praise her passion for the parasite,
then listen as she dances on bright stage
to sing tale of the hero we admire
whose deeds opposing tyrant of cruel greed
clears space for us to thrive in fertile peace.

Minerva holds hacked head of Midas high
to show the world his tyranny is done,
but thieves of honesty with grasping hands
slither slavishly from his severed brain
as devils that invade our paradise
and strip ripe apples from the Tree of Life.

Designing truth unframed by bitter faith,
she waves high flag of global liberty
to guide our revolution of the heart
so we transcend fierce anger with calm plan
to build new nation of Zarathia
from ruined empire of America.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus plays lyre of Mercury while Minerva sings epic tale of the humble hero Mechanic who defeats the tyrant King Midas by fixing the engine of democracy.

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

Uncertain Waves Of Time
© Surazeus
2026 01 06

She waits beside the dead elm on the hill
for eighty thousand sparrows to emerge
from laughing skull of Hamlet before dawn
till horde of Vikings storm the temple hall
to hang the minister of state affairs
whose eyes are television screens of glass.

She climbs colossus of fear with lame hands
by dreaming doorway of warm days gone by
till Earth of fake dreams disappears in myths
that flutter mad wings fraught from memory
of Death singing on streetcorners at dawn
to chase the monster of depravity.

She seals stark crack of starless night with blood
to prove she loves with ache of bitter seeds
sly ghost of silence with alacrity
despite his deeds of stealing masonry
from walls of paradise built by our hands
before winds scatter pages of weird books.

She wanders with uncertain waves of time
beyond forever veiled by mist of fate
to carry teardrops from pulsating lake
that we acquire by potent loyalty
with flawless anguish through obscurity
because we know about the sudden moon.

She drags her dazzling soul across the world
with heavy sorrow of escaping boats
bound by frail anchor to false sense of time
each hour torrential waters of our mouths
adjust our point of view with slanting rays
against nocturnal passion of glass skulls.

She twirls prodigious globe of fractured souls
through muting maelstrom of excessive maps,
encircled by caressing hands of care
too beautiful to love beyond each death
erasing laughter from the circus tent
as long as we remain on spinning Earth.

She measures silhouette of nameless souls
enhanced by shocking chains of consequence
that unspool luminous threads through respect
for harmony with flames of hopelessness
from masks invisible to curious eyes
because we want to give each other names.

She understands soft chime of honesty
contained by faint resentment children sell
to shield the fragile mind of consciousness
from sweet excruciating pain of faith,
mature with iridescent thoughts we share
till we drown in colossal pool of words.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus sails boat across the sea to island in the mist where he finds the raven girl dancing in the sunlit ring of stones, and they kiss.

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

Perform My Authentic Self
© Surazeus
2026 01 05

The more I perform my authentic self
by expressing strange aspects of my being,
the more I find in shadows of my heart
different versions of Me I want to play,
till I integrate their opposing aspects
in one whole self revealed by many masks.

The mad king withers in the castle tower
while clutching book of stories to his chest,
but stares at young girl dancing with the flower
around blind teacher in the cemetery
where blackbirds talk about philosophy
with wingless angels eating apple pies.

The sad priest lingers in the tangled garden
beneath marble statue of Mother Mary,
who cradles baby Jesus in cold arms,
and listens to the young girl with the flower
sing haunting melody with clarity
designed to resurrect our souls from death.

The humble carpenter beside the river
gathers swords and shields with indifferent hands
from mangled corpses of barons and knights
while ghosts explain the secret of success
revealed by windows in cathedral walls
refracting sunlight through our fragile bodies.

Death gazes through the window of my heart
to count the countless masks of secret selves
that shimmer in the ancient gallery
with gentle madness of the golden truth
preserved in psychic code of fairy tales
providing framework for our brave lifestyle.

The honest shipwright with the broken lyre
copies sea map that Waldseemueller drew
depicting strange land of America
framed by universal cosmography
so I can return home to Avalon
where Mary sings in Glastonbury Tor.

The divine savior with celestial wings
pilots hot air balloon across the sky
above small bands of hunter-gatherers
who gasp when bright angel descends on wings
and teaches them to plant crops and write letters,
then ascends to Heaven in flashing disk.

Every mask in the ancient gallery,
which I purchase from the Many-Faced God,
represents ancestral soul of my genes
who generates new life before they die
because they all wake in my consciousness,
contending till I morph them in One Me.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus explores every world of the multiverse to meet the many different versions of his authentic self till they all merge into his One Me.

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

Reward Success With Shame
© Surazeus
2026 01 05

Cathedral blanked by immaculate light
fades into shadows of murmuring waves
sealed by thoughtless insignias of love
to highlight weird brokenness of this world
which no existing savior would dare heal
by striding against surging tides of change.

Marvelous strangeness, angels paint on masks
worn by humans famous on stage of power,
radiates from laughing clock of random fate
which no arrogant man can force to change,
though fools attempt to calculate its path
by acting boldly against global laws.

Each sparrow that falls where sad flowers bloom
considers features of the fractured face
that smiles behind ice mirror of the sky
where each conscious human alive on Earth
perceives their thoughts reflected in its code
defined by broken rainbows of the sea.

Our nation that mushrooms from rotting gods
erects grand monuments to misery
that celebrate struggles of the common folk
who pay their bills with empty promises
expressed by crippled mouth of human dreams
based in sacrificial halls of state pride.

Blind ghosts of cardinals with trembling hands
haunt bank vaults that shimmer with jars of oil
bleeding from sterile mountains of despair
to fuel conceptual engines of our hearts
though we still kneel before idol of Thor
whose hammer splinters shale of bubbling wells.

Thirsty angels gather in church of steel
and sing anthem to beautiful oil wells
that fuel the dream machine of global fame
where mortals play gods on the silver screen
with eloquent corruption of hot air
based on superstitions of stolen wealth.

Communal dream of fake America,
contrived by natural selection of gods,
includes diverse identities of power
who fight for access to the Ivory Tower,
for someone always plays King of the Game,
commissioned to reward success with shame.

Reborn from failure as the global demon
who rules the world from the Garden of Eden,
I wear mask of every human on Earth
because we live by one firm principle,
that we live as we will, if we harm none,
though some fool always tries to seize control.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus seizes control of all government institutions around the world to reward humility with happiness in paradise of apple trees.

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

Reward Success With Shame
© Surazeus
2026 01 05

Cathedral blanked by immaculate light
fades into shadows of murmuring waves
sealed by thoughtless insignias of love
to highlight weird brokenness of this world
which no existing savior would dare heal
by striding against surging tides of change.

Marvelous strangeness, angels paint on masks
worn by humans famous on stage of power,
radiates from laughing clock of random fate
which no arrogant man can force to change,
though fools attempt to calculate its path
by acting boldly against global laws.

Each sparrow that falls where sad flowers bloom
considers features of the fractured face
that smiles behind ice mirror of the sky
where each conscious human alive on Earth
perceives their thoughts reflected in its code
defined by broken rainbows of the sea.

Our nation that mushrooms from rotting gods
erects grand monuments to misery
that celebrate struggles of the common folk
who pay their bills with empty promises
expressed by crippled mouth of human dreams
based in sacrificial halls of state pride.

Blind ghosts of cardinals with trembling hands
haunt bank vaults that shimmer with jars of oil
bleeding from sterile mountains of despair
to fuel conceptual engines of our hearts
though we still kneel before idol of Thor
whose hammer splinters shale of bubbling wells.

Thirsty angels gather in church of steel
and sing anthem to beautiful oil wells
that fuel the dream machine of global fame
where mortals play gods on the silver screen
with eloquent corruption of hot air
based on superstitions of stolen wealth.

Communal dream of fake America,
contrived by natural selection of gods,
includes diverse identities of power
who fight for access to the Ivory Tower,
for someone always plays King of the Game,
commissioned to reward success with shame.

Reborn from failure as the global demon
who rules the world from the Garden of Eden,
I wear mask of every human on Earth
because we live by one firm principle,
that we live as we will, if we harm none,
though some fool always tries to seize control.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus seizes control of all government institutions around the world to reward humility with happiness in paradise of apple trees.

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

Invested In Our Truth
© Surazeus
2026 01 04

When we get too invested in our truth,
contrived from our one-sided memories
which feature us as heroes of our tales
yet victims of oppressors we despise,
that we get trapped in ever-shifting maze
with fun-house mirrors of distorted truths.

While Hannah hides on bridge of sorrowing,
lamenting fall from grace of liberty
by soaring high angelic wings of hope,
she spies young boy with heart weighed down by pain,
so she hides mute in shadow of his fear
to watch him stand on thin edge of despair.

When boy with twisted wings of bitter angst
climbs narrow rail on bridge of sorrowing,
poised to leap into bottomless abyss,
Hannah vaults from shadow of concern
to retrieve his soul from lake of despair,
saving him though she falls into dark gloom.

Sinking deep into nothingness of fear,
Hannah floats in gleam of timeless light
that beams from wordless eye of the sun god
who always watches her with dreamless mind,
so she designs weird mask she wants to wear
when she performs her social role in faith.

Emerging from collective consciousness,
as Venus born from mother sea of light,
Hannah stands on large radiant scallop shell,
veiled by long swirling curls of golden hair,
and dances gracefully in gentle breeze
blown by Zephyrus and Aura with love.

Waking suddenly from frightening dream
where she runs helpless in maze of locked doors
to escape desire of the Minotaur,
Hannah sits up in bed of tangled rage
and glares at her husband drunk on the couch
who sneers that her children despise her face.

Spooked by disgust twisting his face with hate,
Hannah stuffs backpack with photos and hopes,
then joins thirty monks on their walk for peace
to escape his cage after forty years
since he trapped her heart in marriage of fear,
and cries in moonlight for children estranged.

Hysterical with terror at abuse,
Hannah shouts at ghosts that haunt signless road
till she arrives at bridge of sorrowing
where faceless boy who saved her drowning soul
gives her photo album of memories
that transform into wrens on dead tree limbs.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus directs play on Broadway that presents tale of the hopeful college girl trapped in marriage by an abusive husband for forty years till she joins monks on their walk for peace.

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

Good Times Gone
© Surazeus
2026 01 04

When old acquaintance is forgot
in strange dreams never mine,
I give away cheap hopes I bought
to pretend I am fine.
I walk the signless road of hope
to find soul mate I love,
but sliding down the slippery slope
I fall through fate above.

For good times gone, my friend,
we drink apple wine
to warm our hearts in bitter wind
by the road sign.

I search for your face in the moon,
or in swift river flow,
then sing with love heart-aching tune
alone in swirling snow.
Though we explored lush hills of youth
to gather juicy fruit
I play role of messiah sleuth,
untangling psychic root.

For good times gone, my friend,
we drink apple wine
to gaze far down the curving bend
past the road sign.

Because our national world view
fractures into state lies,
I go on quest to find the True
that gleams in human eyes.
I build new Eden of my heart
where all may dwell in peace,
secure in freedom of the chart
that seals our social lease.

For good times gone, my friend,
we drink apple wine
to claim dream wings that angels rend
near the road sign.

Should mad king steal the global crown
to enslave us with fear,
we resurrect the noble clown
to beat the puppeteer.
We wave high flag of Liberty
with brave hearts strong in faith,
then strike down fools of tyranny
to exorcise the wraith.

For good times gone, my friend,
we drink apple wine
to build new state with polished brand
through the road sign.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus plays lyre of Mercury and sings ancient song Good Times Gone to celebrate the new year when we will defeat tyranny and restore Liberty through global democracy.

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