Sunlit Shadow Ghost
© Surazeus
2025 12 02

I drink river water of aching hope
struck by sweet lightning of aspiring gods
which resurrects my body from mute pain
so I pretend my spirit is still strong
as I assert my sunlit shadow ghost
with wine of Heaven bleeding from my eyes.

Dear sea of secret troubles fills my heart
with questions about noble history
designed to strengthen courage of my fear
so I will never hesitate to fight
grim demons of the waste land who devour
rotten pomegranates of faithful love.

I cast demonic shadow of my heart
down into valley of the singing skull
where children give each other secret names
to praise their mothers who reveal the sky
with strict voluptuous sadness of respect
based on diversity of twisted gods.

Though every house we build with bleeding hands
is burned by mocking laughter of your god,
we separate our bodies from the Earth
by breathing deep ethereal words of truth
to undergo catharsis based on debts
we never pay to Death who lingers near.

Red raven of my heart spreads wings of flame
to challenge twilight with electric gloom
through existential passion for star flight
though we keep tumbling to the broken Earth
to wear wet soil as skin of arrogance
in vain attempt to hide my angry faith.

Translucent coolness swirled by ardent peace
contrives with faceless gods of walking trees
to preach through incantation endless time
we share this fertile vale with grim respect
by hiding wounds achieved with locked concern
so we investigate each cause of death.

Weakened by shocking afterglow of rain
that smears our souls across soft bloody hills,
we tear false sentences from raspy throats
as we creep boldly over jagged thoughts
with plan to dispel loneliness of joy
so we can bury light in mangled hearts.

By imitating spheres of dreamless eyes
I draw the perfect circle without help
connecting curls of canceled certitude
with ringing jewels of defective words
trapped deep in helix which identifies
decadence of my sunlit shadow ghost.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/12/…

Orpheus teaches faceless people how to identify their private sunlit shadow ghost that always seems to slip free from their theological hands.

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

Eden In The Wilderness
© Surazeus
2025 12 02

She asks me if I know how stars are born,
but when I show her diamond of my heart
she laughs and gives me apple from the sun,
then she explains to me the arcane plot
by which stars spiral out from the God Eye
to generate virtual Earth in our brains.

We hold hands with responsible respect
and walk along the river of our hearts
to measure grace of flower-petal curves
expressed by straight equation sliding tight
through undulating matrix of concern
that spools eccentric chaos with twirled threads.

We lounge beneath bough of the apple tree
to share insights with nature metaphors
on primal spark that causes things to grow
from blueprint seeds that preserve secret goals
for which we humans must invent strange roles
no gods have ever played on stage of fate.

She tells me grasping hands of hungry roots
transform dirt of the Earth to juicy fruit
that fills our bodies with light of the sun
as pure immortal soul of energy
which animates our bodies with intent
so we respect all life with gentle words.

We dig holes in the Earth to plant fruit seeds,
then nourish sprouts with water from the lake
cupped in careful attention of our hands
to organize chaos of aggressive plants
in strict cohesion of assertive rows
as we build Eden in the wilderness.

Strange memories for ancient ways of life
project bright visions on library wall
while I read chronicles of human lore
to comprehend our endless quest to live
by assembling food-production machines
through more efficient means of molding light.

I remember six thousand years ago
when we first see with awed surprise of love
herds of horses galloping along rivers,
their manes and long tails fluttering in the wind,
and how we offer apples of our hearts
as we caress their necks with calming hum.

Together on horseback we conquered Earth,
uniting far-flung farms and merchant towns
in vast empires from sea to shining sea,
but now we drive fast piston-engine cars
and leave our old friends grazing in small fields,
no more lush Eden in the wilderness.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/12/…

Orpheus charges admission at the gates of Eden for tourists who take photographs in paradise where Adam and Eve once dwelled in connubial bliss.

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

Dream Clock Of Nevertime
© Surazeus
2025 12 01

No ghost remembers their name before birth
yet they feel every ray of cosmic light
that spirals from dream clock of Nevertime
because our psychic multiverse of dreams
creates ten zillion planets from God Eye
who generates our brains from memories.

Awake in lonely beauty of this world,
I sense eternal God of cosmic truth
vibrate in every atom of my soul
so I mold tears of love in spinning worlds
where death unravels each organic being
who sings as part of our infinite whole.

I slip key of irretrievable hope
in vast atomic clock of Nevertime
to open gates of psychic paradise
where children gather apples from tall trees
and run together on lush river shores
till they all vanish in mute dust of time.

Though we remember events of our lives
as winding swirl of streams down mountain vales
we cannot return to the long-lost past
for atoms keep on swerving in the void
to readjust vast vacancy of being
till heat draws water back to empty skies.

Descending stairway from Heaven to Hell,
young Icarus with tattered wings of faith
leads Oedipus to garden of dead gods
to sit by gleaming pool of Nevertime
where skull of Narcissus sings prophecies
about how we rise from ruins of rage.

Beyond coincidence of clanging bells
two lovers meet at nexus frosted clear
with sudden beauty of attentiveness
to share strange stories of wild-dancing trees
in which our faceless ghosts hide from grim death
while Icarus photographs everything.

Through furtive moon of confident regret,
that rises from unfathomed memories,
we shape oblivion from absent fear
to measure twirling clock of Nevertime
that opens portal through library book
where I appear as angel born from words.

Adorable in radiant dress of pride,
my loving spouse in wreath of flashing wings
decides to offer glass of sun-flared wine
that binds our alien souls with thread of genes
as she names every ghost we meet in life
who fill our home with fertile merriment.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/12/…

Orpheus repairs the dream clock of Nevertime so we can wake on time from dreamless sleep to live this brief span of our one wild and precious life till time erases us from Earth.

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

Girl With Seven Hearts
© Surazeus
2025 12 01

Maybe I should tell them about the time
I got lost in hills of Antarctica
while looking for the girl with seven hearts
who used to sing on the opera stage,
performing roles of tragic heroines
who always lament beauty as they die.

My heart still gets enchanted by the chime
that rings across hills of America
decrypting secret code of curious charts
which unspool atoms from the cosmic page
through music fairies play on violins
because children always want to know why.

If I should find the seven-hearted girl
alone in forest of certified trees,
I might discover secret of rebirth
that she conceals in diamond of her brain
which shines bright as the egocentric sun
attracting people from all walks of life.

I sense her soul gleaming pure as the pearl
that maps our evolution from dark seas
which I place in Mind Lamp of xenial worth
to guide my people through soul-binding rain
as matrix where our dream spirits are spun
when we build Eden to overcome strife.

She waits for me in house of mirrored walls,
the girl with seven hearts of angel wings,
so I run joyfully on river shore
beyond the ruined walls of paradise
till I fall laughing in the doorless maze
where idols of dead gods stare down at me.

I rise from mind-grave when her spirit calls,
and float to river valley where she sings
weird spells that link my heart to global core
with nonchalant respect for psychic price
I pay to transcend each sequential phase
on sacred quest to realize Liberty.

After I map Antarctica with tales
of brave explorers following dream signs,
I present palace of eccentric faith
where the seven-hearted girl reigns as queen,
so people of our world may understand
why she always hosts global feast of friends.

We stroll together on high mountain trails,
observing god-masks of demonic pines
that mirror beauty of the cosmic wraith
who shines through seven hearts of Melusine
as sacred mother of our fertile land
who reveals how our ancient empire ends.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/12/…

Orpheus presents model of new palace he plans to build to Queen Melusine who rules over Zarathia, great nation built from the ruins of America.

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

Mindless Energy Of Hope
© Surazeus
2025 12 01

Divested shares of time-fractalized minds
compute portentous profits of pure light,
designed by mindless energy of hope
to radiate divine consciousness which shapes
ascendant progress through creative love
so we empathize with strangers we meet.

Outside purview of human characters,
fraught with stark containment of desire,
stray thoughts explore abstract concepts of truth
that frame frugal figmentations of fact,
so our brains better perceive unseen schemes
providing structure for chaos to form.

Professor Adam Bradstreet contemplates
how novelists explore strange inner life
of fictional people in daedal tales
while lounging in leather chair of respect,
then sips ice wine and watches gold leaves fall
in changing seasons from Homeric song.

His wife, the graceful flautist Sophie Wei,
glides in the room with panther elegance,
then sits at easel by the glowing hearth
to paint quaint village scenes in Fujian
where her grandparents lived on fishing boats,
eyes gleaming with memories of that lost world.

My ancestors too lived on fishing boats
on the Weser River in Germany,
old bearded Adam relates to himself,
so maybe that explains why our tall son
hosts his own fishing television show,
and dresses as Neptune for Halloween.

Through spiral platitudes of falling rain
we humans cleanse our souls of spirit pain
when we assemble in old ring of stones
to play eerie music on dragon bones,
then we return to this strange modern age
where few remember our celestial sage.

By bay window that frames their lush front lawn,
Adam plays piano and Sophie plays flute
in heart-enchanting duet of true love,
which causes light of energy to shine
so forgotten ghosts without memories
haunt their home with uncanny spirit glow.

Invested shares of wisdom-puzzled minds
compile prophetic creeds of long-dead gods,
programmed by natural chemicals of lust
to generate new conscious souls from brains
who give each other names in game of life
so we can surf rough tides of global change.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/12/…

Orpheus builds a giant sprawling psychic powerplant to distribute mindless energy of hope to all the freedom-loving people of the Earth.

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

Angelic Wings Of Thought
© Surazeus
2025 11 30

Since I found eternity in white stone
that radiates visions of human desire
I keep on walking endless road of life
to mimic how wind sings in fruitful trees
till I become horizon of your heart
that blooms with eerie lightness of the self.

Since I woke in cold barren hall of stone
ten million years after my soul was born
I draw my body from soil of the land
which replicates conceptual forms of life
so I translate weird song of ocean waves
to math formulas that calculate love.

Since I concealed my soul in hall of masks
to weave vibrating threads of psychic spells
with pregnant atoms sparkling in my blood
I dream creation of the multiverse
that blooms from every conscious dreaming brain
to aggregate our worlds in one whole globe.

Since I arranged books on library shelves
to imitate angelic wings of thought
I weave mask of every ghost in the world
so I experience life of every brain
that ever dreams in all the universe
till I expand scope of perceptive creed.

Since I sensed strangeness of familiar light
luminate faces of saints in the church
I sing new hymns of our fantasy land
that exists only in minds of the lost
who stand on street corners and sing sad psalms
though angels in suits never give them cash.

Since was born from womb of the oak witch
who sells vegetables at the grocery store
I see my mother with eyes of the god
who teaches our bodies how to evolve
so we know only the world we can touch
that has no meaning but what we create.

Since I constructed cathedral of light
from wings of angels fallen from the clouds
I transform into horse with human face
to catch bombs devils drop on castle towers
then play guitar outside the city gate
where farmers sell illusions of the heart.

Since I designed this virtual world of forms
based on Ideas in Heaven I forged,
I fly with breathless laughter over Hell
with reverence for spirit of nature in God
who gazes at my face from mirror moon
so I find only myself in the sky.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus quickly scribbles verses and notes of the song that vibrates in his head with electric storm of anxiety till he converts fear into the most beautiful hymn in all human history.

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

Strategy Of Crucial Hope
© Surazeus
2025 11 30

To employ strategy of crucial hope,
asserting right to breath polluted air,
we twist our bodies with aggressive faith,
quick to conform our spirits to sky laws
designed by fear to confiscate our souls
when gods eliminate mankind from time.

Alert at black piano of his heart,
Ludwig, with graceful arrogance of faith,
plays his cello sonata number three
in alpha major to enchant the trees
who weep to feel sweet music of the stars
that wild Orpheus played centuries before.

While driving endless highway of blind faith,
Narcissus thinks about vast fields of corn
that shimmer golden on the fenceless plains
because his tribe in waste land far away
dwell amid ruins of their bombed-out homes
where they plant apple trees with injured hands.

Awake with sudden surprise of weird truth
in old fishing boat on the mountain lake,
Belenus gazes at bright Pleiades
where face of his lost wife Parvati gleams
as constellation of his aching heart,
and smiles at ghost of her absence with love.

Young owlish woman with star-golden eyes
glides wickedly across the college lawn
to transform ancient books of poetry
into moon-winged ravens of dire urgency
that bring her solemn scrolls of prophecy
to warn politicians of the end times.

After Tabiti, goddess of the hearth,
invents the kitchen table from the wheel,
that Helius designed to mimic the sun,
she invites refugees from civil wars
to sit and feast on bread, honey, and wine,
while Ludwig plays songs on the violin.

When forgetful snow covers rugged hills
and buries our feast halls up to the roof,
Saint Wenceslaus in long sun-scarlet cloak
guides reindeer-driven sleigh across snowed fields
and slides down chimneys with bags of fresh food,
so we gather around the hearth to sing.

Worshipping luminous phantom of truth,
who smiles beneficently at souls on Earth,
we cultivate vital glow of our brains
in quest for true enlightenment of faith
as we grow from wingless angels to gods
who preserve our souls in songs till we die.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus devises sales strategy to sell kitchen tables that Tabiti builds in her factory at the foot of Mount Damavand.

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

Communal Laws Of Conduct
© Surazeus
2025 11 30

Through absolute simplicity of faith
most people focus on their daily work
to fund courageous strife against harsh cold
so their hearts shine bright in gloom of despair
as nations muddle through another year,
transforming sorrow to commercial gold.

Extracting minerals from heart of the Earth
with desperate hands of earnest agony,
we build enormous factories from steel
to manufacture television gods
who replay roles of Jupiter and Eve
in psychosocial drama of our state.

While Adam and Hera manage the store,
selling graceful lifestyles of magazines
through furnishings for the upper class home,
Phoebus and Kwan Yin deliver the news
about events on television shows
that display noble spirit of our state.

Fixing piston engines of cars and trucks,
Thor keeps commercial machine running well
while his wife Lakshmi works as clinic nurse
providing care for souls with urgent needs
to keep their bodies functioning with love,
so we can live our lives with honest goals.

Because I wear the mask of Lucifer,
which I stole from the ancient gallery,
I enforce communal laws of conduct
to manage interactions of our tribe
that ensure people can do what they will
if actions of their hands may cause no harm.

After Oedipus wins popular vote
he works as Senator in Washington
composing programs for the social state
that provide financial assistance credits
for fathers to earn a fair living wage
and mothers to raise children with brave love.

After Jupiter Alfred Prufrock reigns
one hundred years of solitude in Hell
to transform the waste land to Wonderland,
he lectures at the university
about great art of Michelangelo,
then swims with mermaids in the silver sea.

Descending from Heaven on wings of fire,
Icarus and Michael lead world crusade
to cast King Midas from the Throne of Power,
then Ishtar and Mary, Mothers of Faith,
design new world view of honest respect
as guide for United Nations of Earth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus and Ophelia perform grunge folk songs on stage during the International Folk Festival held every year at the University of Zarathia.

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

Orchid Of Enchanting Truth
© Surazeus
2025 11 30

I wear soil of wet earth as skin of hope
so I can wonder how small angels fly
and tweet in fruit trees of their fierce desire
to generate new bodies for gene-souls
so they can dance forever on wild wind
that thrusts cold blade of fear into my bones.

Tall tree that stands forever on high hill
suddenly cracks and topples on its side
when angry demon roaring in rain clouds
hurls strike of lightning with aggressive grasp,
so I howl happily at death of god
who vanishes in swirl of hungry flames.

I cannot find clear pool inside my heart
that shimmers bright with weird angelic face
who seems to know dark secrets I conceal
till I stretch arms and legs to touch the sky
but I feel nothing of its gleaming blue,
then curl into my body with strange hope.

When angry words of shadows in gold trees
slice my skin with bitterness of hope
I feel sap of hot blood ooze from my eyes
so I chew fear in honeysuckle stems
till honey drips from carol of my tongue
to measure gracious curves of energy.

Because the tall pear tree by singing stream
remembers my caress at gleam of dawn,
I pull aside thick veil of tangled vines
to enter cavern deep into my heart
where ghost of every person I once knew
appears as glimmer in large diamond eyes.

Long before my brave descendants of faith
invent the door as frame of random dreams,
I organize disconcerting events
with judicious narrative that presents
ceaseless flow of passion within framework
assembling puzzle of my comic life.

Startled by orchid of enchanting truth
that blooms from corpse of my star-fallen god,
I bear witness to beauty of this world
in silly spells I teach children to sing
as they skip laughing on the river shore
while I imagine shadow of the door.

I cannot wait another million years
for god to evolve from the singing fish,
so I weave feathers of crows in long cape
then dance around the fire in ring of stones
to sing of Hero who wears mask of god
in battle against demons of despair.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus assembles four poles in sturdy rectangle in vain attempt to invent the door a million years before humans start to build houses from mud and fear.

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

Pennies Of Cloned Hearts
© Surazeus
2025 11 29

Though she sleeps now in shadows of my heart
the brilliant light of her eyes luminates
silent emptiness of our secret home
with complex beauty of shared memories
framed by our love as portraits on vast walls
that animate events of our romance.

While reading novel in soft-cushioned chair,
she chews sweet white raisins with slender fingers
in slow contemplation of eager hope
which motivates the heart of every human
to trust the stranger with attractive smile
for secret treasure of their trusting heart.

When she finds the last penny in the world
gleaming brightly on the cement sidewalk,
she pinches purity of its stored worth
with practical respect for usefulness
based on assurance of prized benefits
we gain by saving profit through esteem.

When she assesses estimated cost
of vain deficiency appraised as fake,
opposed to strict advantage by exchange
from standard principles for purchasers,
she treasures merit earned by crafting hands
that found grand empires on capital gains.

Emergent artists trapped in maze of wealth
decry obsessive passion to create
excessive beauty from randomized objects
collected from heaps of discarded hopes
that old men sell for pennies of cloned hearts
to wives of farmers who befriend pond toads.

At eerie howl of monsters in dark woods
she feeds ripe apple to the wingless horse
whose milk funds castle project to design
ascendant phase of educating growth
for children to learn mysteries of the Earth
when they inherit globe of pulsing ghosts.

Connected through throbbing node of prime words,
our radiant brains adapt new global themes
to maintain noble purpose broadcast well
when we accommodate pure friends we love
through quick adjustment our typewriters reel
if we would comprehend how souls are born.

When she wakes from bright shadows of my heart
on opposite side of our spinning globe,
she guides hawk of my soul with gentle grace
to visit tomb of her mother at dawn,
and weeps at loss of treasured revenant
whose absence gleams as ghost of sacred love.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus hugs Ophelia as she weeps at tomb of her mother Eurydice in Elysian Fields by the River Styx.

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

Code Of Fake Books
© Surazeus
2025 11 29

Frantic solitude of angelic hearts
traps sorrows of ghosts in code of fake books,
yet nameless people all over the world
share stories of their lives in tangled threads
all woven in vast tapestry of faith
so we understand how each other feels.

Though I crawl across jagged stones of fear
on wind-lashed beach below the towering cliff,
I feel strange beauty of mercurial waves
exert magnetic radiance of fraught truth
that excites my heart with drive to assert
new narrative my brain designs from shock.

Despite prevalence of orthodox faith
in strict prediction that stocks oversight
with optimum progress of the oracle,
I peer in eyes of strangers with concern
so I perceive this world of fractured forms
through premonition of our hungry hearts.

Severe statistics through dream registry
provide salvation based on revenue
acquired through beaming satellites of jokes
that service semantics devised by fools
trained with tactical strategies of fear
against seasonal resonance of trees.

Strange woman wearing broken mask of joy,
which she carved from trunk of the honey tree,
encourages me to sign her warranty
as talented volunteer of the church
through tradition devised by therapist
who translates tradition of psychic rites.

With each new prototype my hands create
from prominent radius of rapid plots,
I perform role of reserved realtor
primed to sell time shares to the afterlife
where eager visitors ask demons why
people reject clues to the renaissance.

Each riddle I preach in my ministry
diverts attention of your compact mind
through trite evasion from current display
that forecasts secret emotions we share
based on disfocused attention to scale
so no one understands how we should feel.

Recycled decor in cathedral hall
exports equipment of extreme respect
divorced from chronic drama of tense love
except for coupons still uncredited
because I sell fake books of history
that chronicle our frantic solitude.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus teaches principles of psychology to refugees from war at the University of Zarathia, then hangs out at the Wingless Pegasus, eating a burger as poets read at the open mic.

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

Cat Distribution System
© Surazeus
2025 11 29

The cat distribution system provides
adorable companions for the lost,
whose gentle purrs always heal broken hearts
because their eyes refract rays of the sun
to light our souls with beauty of this life
embodied in lithe cuddly balls of fur.

Alicia drives on the highway in rain,
angry because the plumber wrecked the pipes,
then sees gray ghost in flash of gold headlights
appear as small kitten huddled in muck
between black road and concrete barrier,
so she turns on red emergency blinkers.

Opening the door after trucks zoom by,
Alicia crouches to approach the wall
where tiny kitten with weed-mangled hair
peers at her through one small blurry eye
and hisses as she scoops him in her hands
then shivers as she hugs him to her breast.

Wrapping mangy kitten in her pink sweater,
that her mother sewed with three unicorns,
Alicia drives in gloom of pouring rain,
headlights gleaming golden on monstrous trees,
then bounces car up narrow gravel road
to park beside the porch of rotten wood.

Bathing small kitten in bowl of warm water,
Alicia scrubs trembling body with soap
while gently tugging weeds from curly hair,
then rubs him dry with towel of concern
which causes tiny creature to purr softly
as he curls in crook of her arm to sleep.

Holding bottle of warm milk to pink mouth,
Alicia feels his small heart pulsing fast
as he gulps liquid with aggressive thirst,
and grins as his sly paws grasp at her hand,
then gently wipes goopy mucus away
so he opens both eyes with confidence.

Holding thin flexible pole with long string,
Alicia teases kitten with fun play
so he crouches low and whips his little tail,
then leaps to pounce upon the feather clump,
bold mighty jungle beast with gleaming eyes
chasing feathered dinosaur by the river.

Lounging on the couch under a thick blanket,
Alicia watches Wednesday Addams drama
while cranky gray-haired kitten she names Lurch
curls on her chest and purrs with satisfaction
though black rain beats against her Gothic home
that gleams from lightning in the old oak woods.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus brings box of toys to Alicia for her kitten to play with, then they chuckle when Lurch hides inside the box instead and peers at them with eyes just over the edge.

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

Laughter Of Young Trees
© Surazeus
2025 11 29

After working thirty-five years in sales
at the largest telecom company
on the west coast where horses still have wings
I decide to build new vacation home
in land of Mordor where the darkness glows
from flaming volcanoes of happiness.

The last apple on the tree of blind ghosts
shines brighter than the moon in black rain clouds,
which fills my heart with questions about why
we work so hard to gain success with pride
when time erases everything we build
so all we have are thoughts of hungry hope.

Though few remember laughter of young trees
framed as oil painting on living room wall,
I listen for strange voices in the hall
that whisper softly about melting wealth
of snow that feeds the valley river flow
where souls of children still play hide and seek.

So we lounge on lush grass in meadow grove
and weave bright flowers in our flowing hair
while pregnant sheep graze in afternoon light
where shadows of clouds ripple in our hearts
till ancient angel on the sudden hill
signals danger with ominous flute tunes.

Beyond protective shield of sparkling air
the universe is black with starless thoughts
in curving mirror that reflects our minds
as ocean swirls of words we share in song
that shifts emergent flash of endless time
so we feel beams of light inside our hearts.

Our bodies disappear by increments
of vibrant chemicals transforming brains
with each day we dream search for treasure chest
buried under foundation stone of wealth
that still records the heart-contorting sound
of fruit trees uprooted from global law.

Yet dreams from minds of dreamers who have died
invade delicate neural net of tropes
which program how my brain perceives the world
so I become other people at night
who teach me moral lessons of despair
so I know how to avoid their mistakes.

Translucent truths of private agonies
deny true freedom to my aching heart
so I return to office cubicle
where I write riddles from atomic code
to analyze social frequencies
that radiate spirit of the fallen god.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus relaxes on the front porch of his vacation home in the land of Mordor and ignores calls from his boss desperate for him to return to work in the corporate castle of wealth.

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

Heap Of Broken Images
© Surazeus
2025 11 29

November may be the happiest month,
crushing lilacs back into the dead land,
confusing memory of beautiful times
with desire to live beyond nothingness,
and rotting roots with endless freezing rain,
so I sip coffee on wet porch of faith.

This good Earth covered by forgetful snow
feeds passion for life with harvested fruit
that wrinkles in old rumbling fridge of fate,
so I think back to summer days of yore
when I hitchhiked across the evening land
to play guitar near locked churches and banks.

So I return to rugged mountain range,
where snow-frosted Chicoma Mountain glows
scarlet rose at the timeless sunset hour,
to walk with nameless woman of the woods
who shows me heap of broken images
that once idolized mortal men as gods.

My shadow strides behind me in bright woods
where I sit high on red rock of respect,
and contemplate in mountain-stillness air
obsessive greed of humans to control
mineral resources of treasureful Earth
that bloom as hyacinths in the waste land.

While striding red hills of New Mexico
where ravens flock in ponderosa pines,
I never find that famous clairvoyante,
Madam Sosostris, with her star-black eyes,
who deals her wicked pack of cards to show me
the Lady of the Rocks of Mont Sainte-Baume.

I find I am the Hanged Man with one eye
based on the horoscope she reads for me
to prove my father once ruled Avalon
with four-wheeled wagon of the jeweled crown,
so I sail west across the storm-wracked sea
to find Atlantis green in swirling mist.

When I sprout from lush garden of dead gods
to walk with office workers and bank clerks
across the stone Bridge of Forgetfulness,
I pause at dead stroke of the corporate clock
to dream when I built sturdy river boats
and sailed to build world empire on my map.

Alert on beach below enormous cliffs,
I play endless chess game of life with Death
whose beautiful demonic face gleams gold
in flicker of the pale fluorescent light
that luminates the vanished sylvan scene
where I hold skull of Hamlet in my hand.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus and Thomas trudge across the waste land and talk about the third person who walks with them though they never see their face except for shadow of their absence.

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

Psychic Wand Of Power
© Surazeus
2025 11 29

When the time to pontificate has come
with blast of winter wind from mountain caves
I welcome Boreas to our wheat farm
where we assemble in long wooden hall
to feast on meat grilled on bright crackling flames
and sing while drinking wheat beer as snow falls.

When Boreas shoves old wizard from the chair
on which he stands with psychic wand of power
to proclaim he is ruler of our land,
I try to explain traditional ways
where we respect wise elders of our tribe
but his harsh laughter chills us to the bone.

Asserting right to live free on our land
in homes we build with crafting hands of hope,
I challenge Boreas to fight for freedom,
so we stand face to face on windy hill
and twirl to fight with psychic wand of power
in contest over whose law will prevail.

Struck down by swifter blows of lithe ballet,
I kneel defeated on hill of insight,
then labor as slave, grinding wheat to flour,
while Boreas presides from the hearth chair
as tyrant who dictates our way of life
while everyone bows their head low in prayer.

While pushing pole to roll large grinding stone
around in circles many times each day,
I feel strange energy of inner strength
surge up from pulsing center of the Earth
in vibrant waves of deifying light
till I attain new power in my heart.

Breaking rope that bound me to grinding wheel,
I hide in woods where ravens sing in oaks
to craft from rage that seethes inside my heart
long sturdy staff as psychic wand of power
which I twirl as I leap and bound to train
for solemn hour I face Boreas again.

Standing tall on windy hill of insight,
I challenge Boreas to another fight
so he arrives with haughty strut of pride,
grown weak from sitting in the chair of law,
then wails in anguish when my blow of truth
cracks his skull and knocks him to the ground.

After I execute his police gang
of fierce young men who enforced his cruel greed,
I sit in chair of law by the town hearth
and proclaim new age of justice and truth,
then raise up high my psychic wand of power
as people of our land sing joyful hymns.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus travels across the land and sings in feasting halls the tale of how Godin defeated Boreas to free his people from tyranny.

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

Face Of The Singing Clock
© Surazeus
2025 11 28

Since faith in beauty of the everyday
disturbs my tranquil evening by the lake,
I fold my hands with pride and start to pray,
but thoughts for better times necrose to fake
from realization that nothing will change,
so I eat apples in the placid strange.

Though time untwists concern for sudden death
that creeps behind me on the vanished trail,
I pause on mountain slope to catch my breath,
and plot change of evolution through scale
unmeasured by face of the singing clock
that tings eternity inside the rock.

Yet brave immortal spirit of my genes
reveals each form my ancestors design
through geared success as soul-breeding machines
who codify creed in moral guidelines
predicting how each person may succeed
to reincarnate from egg unfurled by seed.

So when my heart aches to embrace your heart
at flash of spirit gleaming in your eyes
I plan seduction through romantic chart
that sparks effect of birth from charming cause
based on attention of amorous faith
that notes best features of the well-loved soul.

How happiness heaves hearty innocence
through ardent concern of fantastic trust
inspires my mission to repeat with class
successful progress of conceptual tryst
that sparks strict germination of new souls
from fertile soil of close companionship.

Each clash of naked hearts with hungry hope
spurs maturation from concealed physique
based on perfected framework for success
that guides performance of robotic faith
till angled strike of selfish avarice
diverts our progress through vile twist of fate.

Therefore I glide with cautious scrutiny
through swirling chaos of the market crowd
with focus on amusing dividends
absorbing profits burgeoning from faith
that I may captivate hard-earned rewards
with entertaining play outside my role.

Because I wear face of the singing clock
while singing psalms in vast cathedral hall,
I see weird beauty in the uncarved block
from which I mold our global spirit ball
since we embody bright atomic god
in comic drama of our social squad.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus composes and directs plays about complexity of human characters who clash in political conflict over religious vision of the real.

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

Ghost In Every Photograph
© Surazeus
2025 11 28

I sense your absence all over our home
so I feel comfortable in empty rooms,
and gaze out glassless window of my heart
to watch your shadow flicker on bright grass
as you tend garden of flowers and herbs
and sing through tunes of sparrows in pear trees.

You are sweet ghost in every photograph
which I have taken all over the world
whom no one else can see with mortal eyes
though you are present in every lush scene,
soul shining bright as secret morning star,
framed by the wordless memories of my heart.

When I wander blind in vast wilderness
after thieves invade safe haven I built
I shiver frail in anxious misery,
groping through spiritless gloom of regret,
till bright light of your heart illuminates
empuzzled landscape of my aching heart.

I hope lamp of my heart shines bright for you
as you for me with guiding prudency
so we, united with vigorous goals,
combine assertive efforts of our hearts
to build safe haven we share as one mind,
constructing paradise from cautious hope.

Soft whiteness from brave words of love I speak
wraps cape of passion to veil fragile heart
that shields your systematic chemistry
from hostile strikes of order-fractured skies
stretched audaciously from uprooted base
by overzealous hope for honesty.

At flash of sunlight creeping over hills
we start insurgency of tragic faith
through breathing exercise of glimpsed respect
for supple vastness bounding Earth with gloom
till emptiness of holy rooms reveals
brave earnestness which motivates our fight.

Thus always we transcend lame tendency
to transform architecture of our brains
with complex rhythms solving vacancies
through graduated formulas for flight
based on promotion our intentions earn
since death dissolving leaves our souls alive.

Equipped with mental clock of measured force,
significant for missionaried clans,
we build new empire on commercial games
to balance use value with labor cost
through fair exchange of clever services
that conjure your ghost from my memories.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus and Ophelia settle down in fertile valley of the hooting owl to raise three children with calm discipline by teaching compassion for all living beings.

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

Instinct Of My Radar Brain
© Surazeus
2025 11 28

Perceptive instinct of my radar brain
inspires me to emerge from fractured stone
and search for mad gods in the Upside-Down
where angels in wolfskin spread demon wings
and howl with hunger of the human heart
to beam as light that ghosts seek in the dark.

So I switch on fraught flux capacitor
when I confront dire cost of secrecy
that leads me to break free from fear,
embark on rescue mission down in Hell,
and free my people from Hypnotic Toad
who traps their souls in Maze of Holy Creeds.

Beneath the hope-stripped Tree of Life I stand
to open clear doors of perception wide,
extending high antenna of my soul
so I can sense with radar of my brain
bright presence of demonic energy
masked by the pious face of haughty priests.

When snarling pack of wolves with razor teeth
converge on sacred grove of apple trees
where I hide safe in haven of stone walls,
I climb tall Tree of Life with frantic hands
and transform into owl of silent moons
to shoot sharp arrows from bow of desire.

Alert to stranger things in human hearts,
that open jaws of anger to devour
our fertile bodies beaming holy light,
I race alone in trackless woods of fear,
evading fierce demonic wolves of faith,
till I stand firm on bold salvation rock.

Two million years of frantic fantasy
I battle demons of the Upside-Down
with loyal courage for my humble tribe
till our vorpal blades of honesty
slay every monster roaming mirky woods
so we forge Heaven from jungle-wild Hell.

Though I dwell safe in quaint suburban home,
constructed from huge dragon bones of death,
I sense still lurking beyond haven walls
demonic energy of lawless lust
that surges now in hungry hearts of men
possessed by toxic masculinity.

Conceptual instinct of my radar brain
alerts divine attention of my soul
so I wake spirit of grim Jupiter
to fuel dream-engine of my sapient brain
which energizes battery of my heart
to fight for lawful force of global peace.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus races through mirky woods of the Upside-Down to help Athena track down and defeat the hungry monster of toxic masculinity which haunts America.

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

Mirror Mask Of Mirth
© Surazeus
2025 11 28

Rancid with beautiful thoughts of despair
that spew from heart of darkness in wild flames,
my brain expands conceptual web of truth
through pulsing undulations of new dreams
that trap my soul in weird character tropes
who perform behind mirror mask of mirth.

Assertive spirit, throbbing with delight
through twisted corridors of ardent hope,
inhabits my weak flesh of pulchritude
with putrid potency of painful pride
that prompts my frantic quest for quality
etched as features on mirror mask of mirth.

Far oak-wood leagues of latent larceny
lure my lust-loosed legs to travel swift, forth
against embittered odds of ordered moods,
to mount contracting rays of mated prize
sealed by grim gloom of scheming prophecies
as clever clone in mirror mask of mirth.

Encoded canticles of glamorous chrome
buzz brutishly with unannounced regret
as bottled challenge against climate change
in covert conflict with congress of clowns
who strive to prove meaningless attitudes
perfume paintings on mirror mask of mirth.

No option to prevail through pending wars
provides our hearts with sentences of fate,
trapped by subtle syntax of supreme pride
that fractures special principles we try
when warriors survey battlefields of jokes
suggested to ban mirror mask of mirth.

Routine removal of reserved research
erases thoughtful theories of blind kings
who melt across solar spectrum of space
with activist loyalty through fake oaths
adjacent to our lame athletic art
designed to remold mirror mask of mirth.

Yet who would authorize artistic lust
except biblical attorney from Hell
who sees revenge with audio contempt
to broker deals between strict citizens
who commandeer collections of old stamps
compliant with our mirror mask of mirth.

Confusion clears vast airspace for trite flight
of calm civilians seeking Wonderland
where honest communists organize games
of creative competition to improve
relations between clans of butterflies
who sell polish for mirror mask of mirth.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus sells mirror mask of mirth at booth outside the Zarathia Sports Stadium to soccer fans who arrive to watch the world cup game.

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

My Weeping Brother Isaiah
© Surazeus
2025 11 28

When wistful winds unwind the burnished sun,
I stroll with my weeping brother Isaiah
across the loneliest prairie on Earth
to catch nameless ghosts of innocent people
killed by invaders in far distant wars
who fall with bitter grace of autumn leaves.

If I escape bomb in the antique clock
to fly away on weird angelic wings,
I may solve paradox of death in life
I find in beauty of bleak winter days
when contrite gods, embodied in bare trees,
ignite courageous yearning in my heart.

Feet bare on glass-sharp ground of frozen faith,
I stroll with my weeping brother Isaiah
to find gloom-glowing Seraphim of Pride
whose eyes spark pure erotic faith in love
when homeless people gather by blank church
to buy salvation from their vampire god.

Lost people who escape from bombed-out homes
project their grotesque loss on locked church doors
at calm chastisement meted out by clowns,
then give their treasures to bankers who stand
with lofty principles on fractured stones
to hear cruel songs strangle the wilderness.

God-born from wretched poverty of hope,
I stroll with my weeping brother Isaiah
down signless road to find the Promised Land
that ever shimmers on sun-slivered hills
as weird mirage that tricks our trusting hearts
so we rejoice that brutal empires fall.

Too many righteous souls with burning books
surround high ziggurat where Ishtar reigns
to claim inalienable right for fake wealth
concealed in social benefits by seals
stamped for approval by our vampire god
who shows us how streams flow down to the sea.

Now bearing Lamp of Liberty in hand,
I stroll with my weeping brother Isaiah
and tattooed angels wearing leather cloaks
who march to fight for vanished vanity
in protest that all conscious creatures die
through hunger for deceptive fairy tales.

Narcissus stares at mirror mask of mirth
with placid lust to play authentic self
shaped by anxiety of fluid faith
for quick transcendence of our mortal vibe
till he looks up and sees face of the girl
who cradles wingless sparrow of his heart.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus takes Isaiah to Burger King where they eat hamburgers and fries with lemonade on Thanksgiving Day, then watch the parade of dead gods that humans no longer worship.

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

Arbital Thrunt Of Kanthar
© Surazeus
2025 11 28

Each hour the arbital thrunt of Kanthar
extarcates letters of bimuntic fate,
I ponder why markambles intorbate
ancient concepts into modern concerns,
because we humans never pimmelize
whatever tropples we find in our hearts.

So should you ever pertillieve my mask,
that flortles arbantly in sumble wind,
remember hour we umberced in the wabe
where trunkles blython high into the sky
till borogroves disturb our muntle peace
that leaves is gimbling without secret hopes.

Because I have no vorpal sword in hand
to fight the manxome foe of everywhere,
I must rely on uffish bravery
to get me through the brillig hours of fear
in grand crusade against the Puppeteer
who crumps our souls in fiscal slavery.

Possessed by frumious ghost of Phintaral,
who floods my brain with interportal truths,
I race galumphing over dosbart dunes
with momish wings of durl angelic lust
to find last Tumtum tree by brintle lake
that fripples weepingly in turgid joy.

Yet children know how whiffling geebers feel
when they escape corribled cage of faith
to transcend doctricked bounds of holy creeds
with ardent courage to create new truths
extracted from chthonic crusp of time
then build cathedrals of arruvish songs.

Thus when my hands acquite confounded curs,
who wundral blindly with amated hearts,
I shall assemble them on hurtled hills
to lead them on emprize of hollish hope
through mirksome morks of lumpish lartensy
to right our renverst view of history.

Apprised of ruthful semblaunt solemnized
by stark assertion of far-ramping rogues,
I host imbussive tournament of fools
to twyne regressive tyne of timeless angst,
based on unweeting couthness of thrist hearts,
to bardent worship of the Cosmic Wraith.

So when the arbital thrunt of Kanthar
aslakes attainted fury of my heart,
I shall aport beheast of rebel clowns
to overthrow King Midas from garshed throne
and free America from dreariment
so we can ploom from rimbles of our brate.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus analyzes the mental malfunction of his skull encased in glass in the Zarathian Museum of Metaphysical Artifacts to comprehend encoded prophecies.

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

Fractured Twilight Zone
© Surazeus
2025 11 27

I hear sad crickets reciting their poems
in fractured twilight zone of loneliness,
their domestic concerns of broken hearts
echoing softly through pictureless rooms
as they cross iced Bridge of Forgetfulness
on their way to Heaven without Dream Charts.

I hear in wordless lyrics they recite
fragmented feelings about people they knew
whose faces fade from innocence of time,
so I follow clandestine clues to light
that shimmers subtler than sharp rainbow hue
with heart-enchanting vision of the chime.

I want to empathize with their despair
when my brain channels emotional beams
through radio waves of psychic regret
which they express in clever metaphor,
but I would wander too lost in their dreams
to find my own way beyond their vignette.

I pause on signless road of anywhere
to gaze at bright stars scattered in the sky
which my brain constellates in long-dead souls,
so from my heart wells energy to care
for how they suffer when I ponder why
all humans get stuck in their private roles.

I catch each puzzle piece of broken lives
that gleam in raindrop tears of memories,
then study isolated anecdotes
to comprehend how humanity strives
against fixed fate of gear-clocked tragedies,
and thus arrange sweet lies in clever quotes.

I listen closely to what words they use
describing anxious moments they perform
in awkward scenes of plays they feel trapped in
to solve conundrum of the cynic Muse
who untwists morals of the social norm
to free each spirit from their mannequin.

Ghost of Narcissus whispers in their ears
to trick their souls with anguish of desire
so they write poems in futile quest for fame,
instead of analyzing treasured tears
produced by vanity, to join world choir
that leaves them stranded in the losing game.

I wear soul-twisted mask of Lucifer
to bear high Lamp of Liberty with hope
lost souls can see bright sun of honesty
till they realize I am grim Jupiter
who trains scared refugees with tricks to cope
when poets preserve their tales in tapestry.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus hosts International Conference of Confessional Poets at the University of Zarathia where millions of poets gather to share their personal stories of their search for enlightenment through the scripture of verse.

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

Wispy Ministers Of Fate
© Surazeus
2025 11 26

When I meet wispy ministers of fate
in fear-entangled woods of shadowed hopes,
I project artful valor to dispel
assiduous regret of tempered trust
with mounting assertion of humbleness
despite inflamed amazement bought by prayer.

Together wrapped in warm embrace of fear
on yellow sands of Neptune, warmed by rays
of that wanton-billowed sun we evade,
we imitate mute creatures with sly play
for cautious arrogance through questioning
based on mutual alliance of brave care.

With bold conception of mortality
we veil our secret fairy land with vines
of random sentences that writhe in wind
that no wise man would trifle for reward
by howling whimsically at owl-eyed moon
before mute darkness disappears our thoughts.

By sweeping subtle dust behind each door,
where gentle Hecate with hallowed curse
displays vain presence of offended pride,
we prove our widely gaping graves of faith
more important than books that never cry,
displacing marvels of dissembling creeds.

Though folly still possesses aching hearts
with clear instructions of unquenched desire,
we bring together fortunes to one space
where cordial negligence of redeemed friends
connects shy strangers through shared suffering
which should enrich our lives with common faith.

Preferment constant with collected codes
denies remembrance calcified with hope
for those allowed to wander undeterred,
yet measure fragments of unpuzzled truths,
as if sweet condemnation could provide
honorable chances for redemptive play.

Enhanced with bravery natural to my isle,
supporting park where Neptune counts his wealth,
I stride with casual conquest to embrace
scaled magnitude of mountainous concepts,
too confident that fortune will be mine
as burnished reward for sincere deeds.

True wretchedness of empty gallantry
bids I expand beyond bounds of belief
within contrived arrest of valiant cause,
based on obedient revolt against lies,
so I may trick strict ministers of fate
to crown my broken heart with laureled mask.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus brings basket of figs to Titania who sings haunting melody of desire to minister marriage of Hecate and Neptune.

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

Spiral Tide Of Molecules
© Surazeus
2025 11 26

Sad minds that wobble at soft flash of dawn
consider strategies through fraught concern
to measure way around kind obstacles
which bulge from ardent shadows twisted thrice
by which they analyze how paradise
expands through spiral tide of molecules.

My spirit horse, trapped in slow rolling stone,
designs new application so I learn
why moonlight stripes amazing tears of fate
down quiver-frantic walls of singing books
because Pandora gives me secret box
containing maps I use to navigate.

Since I need energy to sew strong seam
that binds my brain to matrix of lost time,
I open flashing door of innocence
to walk world trail that does not yet exist
and find dream realm where ideas persist
so I save logic through indifference.

Strange woman I have never seen before
stares smiling deep inside infinite star
that gleams bright with immensity of truth
revealing secret thoughts all humans hide
that swirl with endless passion of sea tide
from which I rise to play messiah sleuth.

Together we float happy in love trance,
asserting right to create happenstance
that frames conceptual home our bodies form
to shelter children blooming from our souls
who must invent their own new social roles
designed to help them manage psychic storm.

Reluctant laughter cracks foundation stone
which helps us balance loss with earnest gain
through application of our mental force
exploring contours undulating weird
across expansive landscape of each word
we speak with celestial breath of the source.

You ask me with grand solemn voice of pride
how we exchange material through fair trade
which must provide support for fiscal goals
programmed by analysts in cubicles
who measure wisdom based on chemicals
to nourish better angels of our souls.

We balance strong opposing force of hope
through subtle oscillation angling scope
for jovial projects clever gods present
to help mankind transcend our fear of death
through calming meditation of fire breath
that gives us courage to be confident.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus designs and hosts art at Zarathian Museum of Art show to display the wide variety of boxes that Pandora creates which explore socio-political forces of materialist oppression of the poor by the wealthy.

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

Energy Is Force Of Mass
© Surazeus
2025 11 25

If I assemble puzzle of my brain
before the naked hour my ship comes in
I might discover where the white horse goes
when she escapes on wings of silver snows,
because my face is mirrored by the moon
each time another person dies too soon.

Attending grand reception of the rich
to feast on serpent steak down on the beach,
I network with the corporate kings of fate
who laugh because I always take the bait
since no one answers when I knock on doors
with secret plan to join their global tours.

Erased from dream of time by sudden change
that sends me hiking misty mountain range,
I pause beneath the empty sky of thoughts
to ponder why each organic being rots
while seeking heightened consciousness of truth
when I pick flowers on the golden path.

No arcane object correlates my heart
to flashing stars of fortune on the chart
that Janus left out on his office desk
since I am brave enough to take the risk
by searching for hidden garden of fruit
where thieves disguised as kings hide stolen loot.

Appointed by Jupiter before dawn
to manage government affairs through plan
devised by lady of the lake who dreams,
I set out to map all the winding streams
that flow from mountains of snow to the sea
so I can teach people how to be free.

Answers people hear blowing in the wind
cannot explain strange morals of each trend
that people follow through sly trick of fame
untwisting morals coiled to fret the game
when I strum lyre of Mercury with class
and sing how energy is force of mass.

Opposed to fiscal slavery of faith
that tricks good people to worship Star Wraith,
I play reluctant jester of the bank
confused by social order without rank
where souls ascend hierarchy of state power
presided over by seer in the tower.

I place each piece of information right
in still-expanding puzzle of brain light
to readjust world view I conjure whole
from fragments of old myths composing role
I play as celestial King of the Hill
who insists that all mortals have free will.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus teaches class on physics at the University of Zarathia in attempt to explain unified field theory of psychic sorcery.

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

Celestial Loan Of Light
© Surazeus
2025 11 25

Though cars cannot remember where I drive
within conceptual purview of my brain,
I strive to transcend limits of my soul
so I may gain salvation when I pay
high interest on celestial loan of light
that fuels my journey to the Promised Land.

I weave extensive thread of my brain-soul
through door of every building in the world
I enter on my journey through its maze
that weaves immortal spirit of my name
in shimmering fabric of our matrix mind
till my face glows on tapestry of time.

When I discover timeless Tree of Truth
blooming with apples by the River Styx,
I carve face of my whole ancestral soul,
then wear its features as mask of my brain
so strangers know who I pretend to play
in social drama of this global age.

Yet I keep disappearing through each door
where I float lost on angel wings of faith
because no one remembers who I am
as humble offspring of the cosmic wraith,
trapped in ever-twisting maze of my pride
till I fall off the cliff into the sea.

While drowning in deep sea of memories,
I manifest metal shell of my car
so I can journey forth through inner space
till I arrive on the lush new-world shore
where I forge keys from energy of hope
to build new state from ruins of the old.

Erecting system that favors my power
in long fiscal game of capture the flag,
I blaze legal roads of psychic control
to channel traffic of creative force
composing corporate structures of my brain
which preserves lustful passion of my heart.

Homeless and hungry at the pearly gates,
after losing in the stock market crash,
I play guitar and sing ache of the heart
on stage where no one pays me any mind
till my soul dissipates into car exhaust
when my voice vibrates on the radio.

Once I pay back celestial loan of light,
issued by World Jupiterian Bank,
I perform role of Lucifer the Wise
in political play for social power
which is always won by girl in the tower
who rewards me well for my sacrifice.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus drives his car on the endless highway of ambition to find the last museum in the world full of broken memories.

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

Realms Of Endless Change
© Surazeus
2025 11 24

Reluctant aeronaut suited in steel
accepts droll mission from brave Jupiter,
stair-sweeper in lighthouse of immense gloom,
to find lost treasure forged from secret eggs
exposed by tongueless seeker from gray hills,
but sits all day on bench by the town hall.

Extracting elements of the True Self
from twisted sentences of holy books,
one-sandaled Jason steals the last glass door
from bleak castle of Doctor Frankenstein
whose ghost sneaks up behind me at midnight
so I replace the batteries of my brain.

Deprogrammed by wise witch of Zathamar,
who studies at the Lenin Institute,
teenage Narcissus learns to play guitar
then sings The Sounds of Silence by the bank
where Jupiter conspires with Artemis
to fund small companies with generous terms.

Alert confusion woven from white lies
reveals clandestine motive of the owl
to buy old manuscripts for state archives
once stolen from hidden underground tombs
to prove God is illusion of mankind
designed with the best features dead kings.

Struck by strange portrait of the singing horse
that hangs above fireplace mantle of pride,
Narcissus sits beside the sparkling stream
and strums guitar to practice singing spells
in shocking harmony with falling bombs
though he longs to run and hide in the hills.

Because the grand world has no need of me,
I leave prayers in lighthouse far from the sea
suspended between realms of endless change
to prove I am no more important at all
than subtle beauty of wind in the grass,
so I record her wise proverbs on tape.

Though Jason drowns every day in the sea
he clings safely to the secret belief
that every human lost in maze of hope
is more important than our long-dead gods
despite dire warning of electric storms
that flash in tune with television themes.

If I participate in all your schemes
oppressing people of the Earth with debt
then I gain power of political fear
to earn excessive votes of greedy fools
who try to escape realms of endless change
till we all vanish as dust in the wind.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus explains the Realm of Ideas, which Christians call Heaven, devised by Plato to describe linguistic psychology.

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

Catullus With Serpent Eyes
© Surazeus
2025 11 24

While I dwell in garden of insolence
I pretend to be the most unique soul
who ever dares project breath of hot flesh
against refractive prism of the world
which cannot see me with indifferent mind
so I can accept my death with grim grace.

Thus I play guardian for the rights of Man
by mocking tyrants on their fragile thrones
then packing fractured skull of innocence
in suitcase sewn from skin of devil wings
when I ride cruise ship west to Avalon
where no one knows the things that I have done.

I ask God what he will do when I die,
if he will drink light of my shattered soul,
or wear my flesh as garment of his goal,
since I am silent words of sea-smooth stones
that clatter soft in empty house of bones,
but he says naught, so I am not afraid.

Suddenly awake in huge doorless house
veiled by enormous hollyhocks of faith,
I write names of the dead on endless walls
while shopping for fruit in the grocery store,
erased by ocean waves of honest time,
but no one hears me read their names in rain.

If I would learn to sing of noble love
perhaps brave Catullus with serpent eyes
may steal the ancient lyre of Mercury
from grand museum by the River Styx
and train my hands with graceful agony
to feature beauty of my loyal bride.

Since I was born in garden of cracked skulls
one hour before the savior of the world,
I live in safe obscurity from fame
far from the stage where clowns play politics
where I map history of humanity
to prove we are no more than singing fish.

My feathered wings of ardent hope for love
may crystallize from wordless ice of truth,
but I express compassion for all souls
in lofty chronicle of measured verse
recording grand events as they occur
to highlight hero of this stormy age.

Stupendous future molded by our votes
provides framework for discipline of rage
where we communicate our special terms
transforming modes of apprehending love
so we share feelings in circle of masks
that reflect assumptions our eyes project.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus teaches Catullus how to compose elegant verse that could transform society of the empire with innocence of selfless love.

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

My Heart Glows Full
© Surazeus
2025 11 23

My heart glows full with beauty of our world
so I paint only truth I want to see
about sad singers stuck on city streets
who strum guitars and sing ache of the blues
while piston-engine cars of eager hope
drown out their voices with commercial roar.

My heart beats quick in ardent harmony
with hammer blow of smiths on anvil brains
to forge sharp sword of justice from despair
so warriors wield shields of honest law
in war against cruel tyrants on gold thrones
to free humanity from corporate greed.

My heart pumps brave with river-current flow
when I dip oar with strong courageous hope
and stroke intense compassion for mankind
to drive my boat to heartland of the world
where I step forth on shore of distant lands
with clear intention to explore weird Earth.

My heart asserts high undulating waves
when I take arms against deep troubling sea
that laughs at my aggressive vanity
while surging nonchalantly with the moon
that breaks enormous mountains into sand
where I dance laughing on slow-shifting truth.

My heart blooms spindly lilacs of stark faith
for walking wounded warriors without hands
who hold strange beauty of the faceless sun
in open flowers smooth as lacquered eyes
with frantic memories that convey with pride
our mortal message on bright fields of snow.

My heart fires pistons with rapid acclaim
as driving force constructing halls of sense
in vast cathedral space with hoarded words
dispensed by pile-driver wealth of lost time
embodied by scent of madeleine cake
that triggers memories of exploding bombs.

My heart beams riddled with eccentric tones
through clumsy subtlety of formal games
despite grim sloppiness of solemn faith
appropriate for tricks lost children learn
when they throw stones at idols of dead gods
who crumble into bureaucratic forms.

My heart confirms its soul with self-control,
so good we do will ever be our task
through metric relativity of time
that leaves us stranded in ruins of faith
where wingless angels search for photographs
that fall from Tree of Fame in constant change.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus performs surgery to replace bleeding heart of Jesus with assault-rifle heart of Jupiter.

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