Wednesday, January 10, 2018

Worship Dead Gods

Worship Dead Gods
© Surazeus
2018 01 10

The empire of the mind, where I search lost
in maze of mirrors, knows the name I dreamed
before I knew what liberty would cost,
except the way we hope to be redeemed.

Based on strange legends, written in old books,
we build new ideologies of power
to keep the people obedient with looks
of strict compliance to the law of flowers.

I turn on television to review
weird dramas that play out on public stage,
but crooks caught stealing declare all fake news
and try to kill the truth with spluttering rage.

No grand narrative of history presides
to guide our ship of state through storms of fear,
so warriors for truth swim against weird tides
while gods fight over who will rule the sphere.

Dismantling doctrines of the human god,
who would recreate Earth as paradise,
I discard religion as greedy fraud
that offers salvation at a steep price.

Each ideology that fights to rule
presents Utopian vision of the future,
but prophet they worship is clever fool,
then we wake up to another mass shooter.

The Abramists from the holy waste land,
who follow Judah, Jesus, and Mohammed,
offer their messiah, whose guiding hand
came from the Star Queen on the first pyramid.

The sons of Jesus for two thousand years
rule lands of Europe and America,
pushing ever west into wild frontiers
to found circles of esoterica.

We colonize the world with rule of law
so kings rule in castles through monarchy,
then sail from Christendom to Onatah
where we elect kings through democracy.

We stand in ring of stones on rain-wet plain,
wearing long white robes of angelic faith,
and sing our journey in the wagon train
on quest to escape tyrannical wraith.

Each group of people struggling to survive
will choose one person to reign as their god
whose wisdom guides their work so they may thrive
but rules with loyal courtiers as his squad.

The clash of civilizations rings loud
in boom of guns and talk in council halls
when eloquent deceivers steer the crowd
to surround their land with paranoid walls.

We employ capital to produce food
so everyone in our commune may eat,
distributed with honest attitude,
till rich men control all land through deceit.

After I wander labyrinth of history
through maze of mirrors, that present the tales
of saviors and tyrants, weird mystery
of human nature I weigh on new scales.

I contemplate strange tale of human life
where groups of people fight to control lands,
and weep at the blood spilled by endless strife
while hungry men build empires with their hands.

I stand on pyramid of spinning time
and watch humans mutate from tribes to empires
then calculate progress with puzzling rhyme
where people worship dead gods under church spires.

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