Merry Prankster Of America

Merry Prankster Of America
© Surazeus
2018 12 27

Orpheus, playful guide of wandering souls,
pluck twanging strings of your potent guitar
to gather pieces of my puzzling soul,
dismembered by blind monster of my fear,
and guide me to your Underworld of hope
to sew me back together with despair.

Orpheus, wicked chanter of weird spells,
reveal to me vast matrix of our world
so I can see big picture of my fate
and gather scattered pieces of my soul
to reassemble puppet of my mind
so I can dance to music of the spheres.

Orpheus, antic trickster of blind fools,
assign me role to play in cosmic farce
so I can channel nebulous contempt
that spirals vibrant synergy of lust
to weave new body for my ancient soul
when I explore bleak Waste Land of our fears.

Orpheus, frisky jester of damned people,
reanimate my rotten stinking corpse
to resurrect my soul from grave of worms
so I can lead lost souls to Neverland
where we devour the brains of naive zealots
who worship Zombie Messiah from God.

Orpheus, merry prankster of America,
we gather in your tomb each Sunday morn
to drink your blood in wine from pungent grapes
and eat your flesh in bread from rancid wheat,
then follow you through Labyrinth of Hell,
forever searching for the Gate to Heaven.