Orphean Spirit Reborn

Orphean Spirit Reborn
© Surazeus 
2012 01 24

I saw the best actors of our generation 
imitating Allen Ginsberg, James Franco 
and Daniel Radcliffe, bearded and wild, 
prancing Satyrian before cameras 
of our watching eyes, angel-headed hipsters 
channeling his ancient Orphean spirit 
on heavenly stage of Dionysian worship 
of manly warriors against ignorance and fear 
who plunged howling into eyeless abyss 
to swim in swirling visions of holy breath, 
to proclaim magnificent prophecies 
of self-actualization outside borders 
of the huge silver screen on crowded streets 
dodging cars of power and glory, fame and greed, 
where aching towers of Money Moloch burn 
over shimmering asphalt cathedrals of glass 
though ten thousand living nameless poets 
crucified on world web of telephone poles 
sea to polluted sea on every mountain top 
babble meaningless spells of confessional despair 
to high priests of advertising and mass media 
and pharmaceuticals and global policies, 
then gather with saints at the river that flows 
by the steel superbowl dome of Hercules 
where blue-jean angels in mascara-red tears 
sing star-tangled honor, and Buddha floats 
laughing over broken television tubes, 
chanting spells, so why do you think I am 
the most recent incarnation of Orpheus.