King Of Poets

King Of Poets
© Surazeus
2018 02 22

He may play king of poets from the plat
on the pyramid of Poetry Business,
but I sing wicked poetry from the peak
on the mountain where Muses inspire me.

He prances proud on the stage of attention,
reading his white-noise verse with Poet Voice,
while I dance across the abyss of death,
chanting riddles with Voice of Prophecy.

He wins laurels in acclaim from the priests
who parade in halls of official rules,
while I rouse the crowd to chant mocking verse
who whirl before magic mountain of truth.

He wears the mask of the angst-ridden poet,
imitating the style of long-dead maudits,
while I rip my face off the mask of horror
to expose the angst we try to conceal.

I see the woman on the mountain peak
who embodies the spirit of the world
and breaks me apart in ten million words
so I assemble the puzzle of truth.

He enslaves the Muse and demands great fame
to attain high role of authority
while I free the Muse and sing arcane spells
to avoid fake roles of authority.

He steals the masks of shamans to play poet,
reciting words in clouds of choking smoke,
while I mold shamanic mask from my face,
chanting spells that conjure visions of truth.

He may play king of poets on the stage
bu he falls mute when you pull off his mask,
while I chant ancient spells far from the stage,
writing new scripture on ten thousand masks.

He looks back at me from mirror of eyes,
reflecting arrogant pride we all hide,
while I see myself in his phony face,
wearing the mask of invisible hope.

I am the king of poets which is power
to fertilize all brains with seeds of vision
for I am crucified on the world tree
where I see runes shining in the dream well.