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Surazeus Simon Seamount
1,946 followers -
Epic Poet and Cartographer
Epic Poet and Cartographer

1,946 followers
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"Reading the Hermead is like wandering endlessly through a vast labyrinth in an enormous cathedral of ancient legend, filled with awe as I discover countless treasures of ideas hidden in secret alcoves about the origin of philosophy as the foundation of western civilization."

People say the nicest things about my epic of philosophers.

List of Hermead Editions for sale:
http://tinyurl.com/HermeadEditions

#Epic #EpicPoem #Poem #Poetry #HistoricalFiction #AmericanEpic #WorldEpic #Philosophy #OriginMyth #WesterCiv

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Questions Of Heaven
© Surazeus
2017 06 21

Thunderstorm crackles over mountain peak
as sun beams glitter gold in sheets of rain.
Hard gust of wind blusters through swaying pines
and blows the roof off the four-pillared house.

Nuwa gathers children around her feet
and leads them safe to the sheltering cave.
Huddled together from the wind and rain,
Nuwa and her children watch lightning strikes.

Tall dragon Gonggong rises from the river
and roars at the man twirling wand of flames.
Leaping forward swift on dust-kicking steps,
Zhurong thrusts sharp spear at chest of the dragon.

Terrified of flames writhing at his eyes,
Gonggong thrashes long tail from blinding rage.
Lumbering to escape the god of fire,
Gonggong smashes head into Buzhou Mountain.

The mountain peak crumbles to shattered stones
that clatter tumbling into gushing river.
Mountain erupts in flames that melt cold snow
and gushing rivers flood the fruited plain.

Finding giant shell of a long-dead tortoise,
Nuwa pushes oval shell on its back.
Climbing in the giant shell like a boat,
they hold tight as it twirls on gushing stream.

Sun beams glitter gold from roiling storm clouds,
which illuminate the face of Mother Nuwa.
Sitting in the turtle shell like a boat,
Nuwa sings to calm her frightened young children.

About the first beginning of the world,
who spoke the tale before the dawn of time?
When the sky and the world were not yet formed,
who was alive with eyes to question why?

When dark night and bright day were both obscured,
who could distinguish between them with eyes?
When matter swirled together in wild chaos,
how was it perceived with our watching eyes?

Clearest bright and dimmest dark of wide space,
what forms were made in limits of their bounds?
Shade and Light, Cold and Hot, both blend and mix.
What is the root, and what is the transformed?

The circular globe and nine-tiers of air,
who enclosed them and surveyed all their space?
Who explored and named the mountains and seas,
and who made the world with their crafting hands?

The trees that sprout from rich rain-watered soil,
who first planted their seeds from twinkling stars?
The fruits that blossom from the limbs of trees,
who molded them from the sun and the rain?

Nuwa grabs the hanging branch of a tree
and pulls their turtle shell boat to hard shore.
Nuwa leads her children to the fruit grove
where their house was blown down by the hard wind.

Cutting four pines, Nuwa fashions new pillars,
and erects them on the platform of stone.
Sitting in a circle around warm fire,
they drink fruit juice and sing Questions of Heaven.

#Poem #Poetry #China #Nuwa #FirstMother #Creation #CreationMyth #TianWen #Scripture #Genesis #QuYuan #ChuCi

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In Her Blue Eyes
© Surazeus
2017 06 20

When I arrive back at my cottage home
after five years fighting wars for our king
and see gold light glowing warm from my hearth,
I rush through the door I built with my hands
to embrace my wife in my loving arms
but find her in bed with another man.

I stare shocked in surprise to see my wife,
whose brown eyes often gazed at me with love
when we gathered honey from the oak tree,
gasping as the strange man thrust in her heart,
but when she sees my shocked face she shouts wild
and covers her face to hide from my eyes.

I shout loud, "Release now my faithful wife,
and leave this cottage I built with my hands,"
but he grips my throat and snarls in my face,
"This house and woman are mine now, so leave,
or I will crush your head with river stone
and bury you deep in my field of wheat."

He throws me out of my own cottage home
and locks tight the door I made with my hands,
so I rise from mud and walk in dark rain,
remembering when I first saw her brown eyes
and when we kissed under the willow tree
and when she held me tight in the moonlight.

Heart aching with sorrow from bitter loss
to lose my faithful wife and home I built,
I wander lost in wilderness of hope,
plotting to beat him, then reclaim my wife
and drive that cruel stranger from my warm hearth,
but weep in despair on silent lake shore.

Through swirling mist that floats on silver lake,
piercing my heart with ache of longing hope,
I hear sweet voice of some woman ring clear
when she sings on moonlight of my despair,
so I walk through shadows of gold moonlight
and push aside the ivy veil to see.

Young woman with long gold hair and blue eyes
that flash with timeless sorrow of moonlight
stands alone in grove under apple tree,
arms spread wide and hands reaching to the stars,
and sings harmonious melody of joy,
expressing sweet spirit of faithful love.

Enchanted by the moonlight in her eyes,
I float on wings of mist on star-white grass
and stand ten thousand years in silver mist
to gaze down deep in abyss of her soul
where ocean waves of sweet joy swirl around
and flush all aching sorrow from my heart.

She reaches both arms out to hold my hands
and pulls me closer to her heaving breast
and deep inside her body I can feel
the pulsing heartbeat of her longing love
and then our lips touch soft as feather wings
so we become one nameless gleam of light.

She lies back on the dew-wet grass of night
and pulls me deep inside her trembling heart
so we embrace in moonlight of desire
and all the anguish of my bitter loss
flushes outward from fountain of my heart
in aching pang of passion through vast sky.

Wild surging ocean waves of endless joy
flow gushing through the rivers of our hearts
as we express in wordless songs of love
sweet pleasure that pervades the star-white sky
and in the tune of rivers flashing rays
we sing the aching passion of our eyes.

Then when our soul-searing passion is spent,
we gasp for breath in early morning breeze
that cools our bodies clasping in desire,
and from our open eyes we stare surprised,
then smile and kiss beneath the apple tree
as soft white petals flutter in our hair.

Exchanging names in whispers at gold dawn,
we embrace each other with gentle arms
and caress each other with trembling hands,
and in her clear blue eyes I see the sky
enclosing all the world of my lost hopes,
then slide my fingers through her golden hair.

"I am born again in your loving arms,
so I pledge the loyal love of my heart
that I am yours forever in this world,
the faithful guardian of your hearth and home,
for though I lost everything I held dear
I found you, greatest treasure in this world."

Holding hands, we walk side by side all day,
storing in baskets ripe apples and herbs
we gather from lush meadows of our hearts,
then eat together on the flower hill
where gentle breezes swirl around our souls,
and there we kiss beyond the end of time.

Reliving perfect day for forty years,
we hold hands while we walk among the trees,
sing together in the gold morning light
while gathering apples and herbs from wet fields,
and feast together on the lush lake shore,
then make love in the moonlight of our love,
and I float forever in her blue eyes.

#Poem #Poetry #Romance #Betrayal #LostLove #FirstLove #LoveAtFirstSight #Paradise #LoyalLove

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Hermead: Demokritos
$4.99

Void Of Demokritos - Demokritos grows up in Abdera where he studies with the Khaldaian magician Ostanes. After Ostanes dies in the cave of Orpheus, he studies with the philosopher Leukippos, and learns about his new concept of Atoms, uncuttable particles that constitute everything that exists. Traveling to Athens to study with Anaxagoras, Demokritos studies with Philolaos instead, then travels to Miletos where he studies Monism at the school of Thales. Demokritos travels to Aigyptos where he meets Suryathi who takes him to her homeland India where he studies the atomist philosophy of Kashyapa Kanada. Traveling together, Demokritos and Suryathi visit Ur and Babylon, where they meet Artaxerxes, then must escape a priest angry about his philosophy of atoms. After meeting Sabazios in Kappadokia, they arrive home in Abdera where he continues the school of Leukippos until his death. Void Of Demokritos has 4,352 lines of blank verse.

Cover Image: Democritus, The History of Philosophy, Thomas Stanley, 1656.

http://www.lulu.com/shop/surazeus-astarius/hermead-demokritos/paperback/product-23227034.html

#Epic #Poem #Poetry #HistoricalFiction #AmericanEpic #Science #Philosophy #GreatAmericanNovel #Physics #Cosmology #Demokritos #Novel

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Broken Mirror Of Love
© Surazeus
2017 06 18

Clara peels the orange of her heart and smiles.
"Nothing you say makes any sense to me."
Martin trudges desert a thousand miles.
"All I said is that I want to live free."

Clara puzzles the mirror of her mind.
"We are nothing real before we are born."
Martin finds an apple tree without fruit.
"I am not bitter or forlorn at all."

Clara lights a candle before twilight.
"This candle represents my renewed hope."
Martin reaches out to touch the faint star.
"My mind dreamed visions when you played the flute."

Clara watches him in the bowl of water.
"I see you no matter how far you go."
Martin finds a door frame alone on sand.
"Will this door lead back to your secret heart?"

Clara stands silent in the mountain cottage.
"I always think I see you in the mist."
Martin scoops hot sand in his work-callused hands.
"I am the nameless king of all these lands."

Clara sees her reflection in the glass.
"Why am I me and no one else alive?"
Martin watches Mars twinkle by the moon.
"I am every spirit who ever lived."

#Poem #Poetry #Surrealism #Metamodernism #Baudelaire #LiPo #Romance #LostLove #Painting #Art

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Money Messiah
Angeliad of Surazeus
2010 11 07

Vision of life spirals like a Rubix Cube
in a thousand television tubes that shift
when singing devil descends glass stairs
and his phony long hair catches on fire
and Darth Raygun chokes spirit out of Jesus
and drops him like a puppet in a starship
that spins illusions over city of robots
until second coming of Money Messiah.

I chase beautiful girl of my secret dreams
through a thousand television studios
when Madonna leaves old stone cathedral
and lives in Hollywood standing in lines
hoping for a big break to be a movie star
auditioning on couches and snorting coke
and rides flashy car down Sunset Boulevard
on a late night date with Money Messiah.

Forty years after we conquered Elf Hitler
we rule this planet with nuclear bombs
Goliath wrestling Ivan over North Pole
where jet planes battle around Santa Claus
and Robin Hood dances high on Berlin Wall
while Voldemort falls asleep in White House
and ninety-nine red balloons over Nuremberg
signal second coming of Money Messiah.

Young boy working in a furniture factory
and walking halls of bible church academy
prays alone at night in green glowing rain
where God appears in a flash of gold light
I will pour out my Spirit into your mind
and you my son will prophesy my truth
and you will dream visions of world history
and warn them all about Money Messiah.

Each day of my life and story that I read
and movie I have seen on television screen
is another vision of our world Rubix Cube
that twirls flashing in crystal flying saucer
soaring across space and time to our world
this small bubble of life floating in space
where billions of people work and eat and die
and worship great invisible Money Messiah.

A billion people gather in church each week
and pray to a god dead two thousand years
crying out for him to return to our world
and solve all problems of hunger and war
and transform chaotic swirl of violent life
into perfect paradise of cooperation and love
so we all rise from death after miserable life
and play harps singing for Money Messiah.

When Luke Skywalker battles tyrant father
and Rocky punches out Russian gladiator
and James Bond rides Pegasus motorcycle
and Rambo defeats Predator in jungle rain
and Spock rises from death on paradise planet
he will come without fanfare from nowhere
bringing you secret key of self-actualization
and you will join new cult of Money Messiah.

For God so loves our crazy chaotic world
of factories and movies and corporate banks
he sends down his only son with three angels
to sing about Lucy in heaven with diamonds
so he rocks our world and makes us all dance
and sings imagine everyone living as one
until a lonely man who wants to be famous
fires gun and shoots down our Money Messiah.

Mount Loowit erupts near Emerald City
and I read holy books of a hundred prophets
and unidentified flying objects disappear
and I gaze at Mount Takoma red at dawn
and iron wall of Russia collapses in rubble
and I walk high in Seattle under green rain
and Cthulhu rises from ice waters at midnight
conquered and tamed by Money Messiah.

Televangelist waves black bible on stage
shouting Jesus died to save you from sins
and gave his blood to redeem your soul
then he drives new Cadillac on highway
and romps with prostitutes in seedy motel
then falls to his knees in television church
weeping and wailing for forgiveness of sins
and old ladies write checks to Money Messiah.

Prophet of God who does not want that job
studies astronomy and literature at college
and walks asphalt streets in black boots
and green wool coat flutters in ice winds
where ancient spirits sing in Paloosa Hills
far away west from empire banks of Babylon
while Lady Liberty weeps in gray acid rain
longing for a sweet kiss from Money Messiah.

Who can reassemble our Rubix Cube world
as prophet of release from religious rules
chants everybody dance wang chun tonight
when Lee Jun-Fan arrives in Golden Mountain
to teach Beaver and Lone Ranger Wu Shu
but dead goddess rises at new crescent moon
and we meditate with Wing Chun in Peach Grove
ignoring get-rich seminars of Money Messiah.

Break free from confines of your fears
and fly with Amadeus over city streets
drenched in rain of a thousand lost souls
who die in car accidents and house fires
and scream murdered by men they love
whose names are written in newspapers
but change channel to another movie special
and laugh with comedian Money Messiah.

Lost prophet of truth wanders lone highways
looking for she who is born under western star
then one day watching a television channel
he sees her singing on a bright-lit stage
shaking long hair and holding a microphone
that glitters like magic wand of ancient witch
who casts a spell of peace and love and faith
on people enchanted by our Money Messiah.

Search through maze of Rubix Cube truth
and watch vision of our world change again
as masks of celebrities and politicians shift
when gods play musical chairs in halls of power
while we work all day in factories and cubicles
weaving straw into gold with blistered hands
then stare entranced at television illusions
beaming from wand of our Money Messiah.

When Zarathustra steps from silk curtain
and lights sacred flame for creator Zurvan
will Athena return to Zarathi on eagle wings
to wield scepter of Melusine as world queen
and white book of Astarius will be revealed
teaching that god is an illusion we create
and secret of life is reincarnation in children
another religion founded by Money Messiah.

#Poem #Poetry #Satire #Society #Capitalism #Religion #Christianity #USA #America #Babylon #WorldEmpire #NewWorldOrder

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Kiss In Sparkling Rain
© Surazeus
2017 06 14

The vast infinity of outer space
shrinks to a raindrop shining in my hand
when I survey the web of inner space
that sparkles in the neurons of my brain.
I see reflected in my human face
weird mindless contours of our global land
for all the journeys of our human race
are mapped in our skin carved by sun and rain.

I see the journey your ancestors wove
across the landscape of our spinning world
when I gaze in rich fabric of your eye
and read the tapestry of all their lives.
Our mothers are magicians of the stove
who brew love from abyss where death is hurled
so we dance and sing under empty sky
then build garden homes for our clever wives.

I climb tall tangled apple tree at dawn
to fight serpent of lies for sacred fruit,
then scatter seeds in soil of desert waste
to tend New Haven on wild nameless shore.
Though every king was once a childish pawn
we sing hymns while Ishtar plays her bone flute
because blind prophet who returns in haste
is stuck now in the timeless mirror door.

I am no master of the social game,
so I alone in tower with skulls of kings
record ancient history of human gain
how one-eyed soul evolves to World Wide God.
So every year I design my new name
and fly back to Heaven on false owl wings
where I drink mushroom wine to numb the pain
that shows belief in afterlife is odd.

Our eyes perceive atomic beings of light,
then tongue words conjure visions of Ideas,
so brains beam models of one universe
reflecting structure in vast web of quarks.
Construction and destruction define right
though obfuscated by lies from Nicaeas
where man worshipped as God, who suffers curse
of wisdom, plays Jester in public parks.

Since Temple of Truth our ancestors built
crumbles to ruins of devised world view,
and national gods struggle to rule whole globe,
we huddle in shadows of small church walls.
The Fairy Queen who came to cleanse our guilt
stormed power pyramid with victorious crew,
but mad King Midas wearing golden robe
drove her from Heaven with exploding balls.

She wanders in grim wilderness of hope,
lead by the Light-Maker of obvious truth,
and bears the sword of justice under law
who will defeat the tyrant without crown.
Meanwhile we foolish mortals learn to cope
by teaching new ontology to youth
who design strong world view from facts not straw
that build communities in each small town.

When I speak I in song of every soul
I refer not to self in shell of flesh
for we are God in ten billion brains
since we were born from one First Mother Mind.
Though alone I am part of one great whole,
so my dreams shine from universal mesh
that guides our actions with archetype reins
when we play roles that no preacher can find.

All churches of the world may join as one
for all present as heroes of mankind
mortals who comprehend nature of things
then create not destroy in game of love.
Emerging from dark churches to the sun,
we share many stories to weave one Mind,
and gather to feast when First Mother sings
how we make Heaven here and not above.

Though mortal men contend for who plays God
each person who breathes atoms of the air
awakens immortal consciousness bright
within galactic neurons of their brain.
So know that you are God and I am God,
composed of atoms swirling every where,
and we are bodies woven from sunlight
who kiss together in the sparkling rain.

#Poem #Poetry #Song #Satire #AmericanEpic #Music #Religion #Enlightenment #Dharma #Quest #Psychology

The mute singer stands on the broken rock
and mouths meaningless words at the deaf crowd
who follows the blind king to paradise. 

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We Play On Stage
© Surazeus
2017 06 12

Deep in the shade of mountain woods
where birds tweet bright in rustling trees
and sun gleams gold through rolling clouds
I feel world spirit shine in breeze
that formulates the secret code
which calculates through mythic keys
the game of life we play on stage.

On ancient oak I carve my name
revealing essence of my soul
that regulates in picture frame
the seething pulse of woven whole
so everyone can play our game
of carefree dance around May Pole
to join our show we play on stage.

But who can read the glowing Runes
that flash with lightning in the sky
though I have lived past fifty moons
and dream world history in my eye
while beaming waves of wordless tunes
in aching wings that help me fly
beyond the farce we play on stage.

Old temple in the ancient woods
where voices disappear in gloom
still shelters wanderers from roads
where no sign points the way back home
who feast at hearth then play charades
while nameless gods in exile roam
avoiding why we play on stage.

#Poem #Poetry #Song #Lyric #Temple #DeadGod #Hero #Celebrity #Fame #HeroWorship #SoulQuest
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