Tuesday, September 26, 2017

God Lifeless In Museum Hall

God Lifeless In Museum Hall
© Surazeus
2017 09 25

With palpitating heart of raven wings
I walk the black road past homes with no souls
that lurch like half-buried coffins in mud
where white snow flakes flutter past glowing doors.

While staring at the silent trees that leer
on ancient hills beyond the glowing road
I heard the voice of God whisper to me
that he chose me to play his prophet clown.

Holding the black Bible in sweating hands,
I stand before the congregation, tall
as the telephone pole in purple rain,
and preach how Bacchus saves us from our sins.

I see ten thousand people in large church
open masks of their faces to reveal
writhing snakes in branches of apple trees
so in the Garden of Eden I wake.

The walls of paradise are cracked by rain,
its quaint groves are tangled thick with rank weeds,
its ponds fester with muck slick with green slime,
and its dead Tree is veiled by spider webs.

I rip away thorns where black roses rot
to expose the worm-feastering corpse of God
whose staring eyes, where tarantulas crawl,
collapse into bottomless void of death.

I claw muck from the foul pool of Narcissus
and cover skeleton of God with flesh,
then breathe spirit of laughter in his nose
to animate the Golem with my soul.

Lurching to his feet, my Adam howls loud
wordless spell of horror chained by blind hope,
and waits for my command to motivate
his grasping hands that claw at rotten tree.

Hidden in shadow on the city street,
late at night after vampires leave their homes,
I strum guitar and chant deceptive words
that conjure illusion of peaceful faith.

The mumbling dotard I crowned as world king,
whose hands manipulate puppets of power,
operates his carceral state through lust
to enforce his claimed divine right to rule.

After plucking sacred fruit of the vine
I descend into Hell on twisted stairs
to store my treasures with the grinning skulls
of dead kings in bodega of my faith.

I clutch my heart to feel its beating wings
flapping against the cage of my ambition
which urges me to fly like Icarus
escaping dark tower where my mother reigns.

Sharks devoured Icarus after he fell,
but I twang the cithara of my heart
and ride the huge dragon like Arion
gliding over waves of chaos to Heaven.

Though Perseus severed my serpentine head
Frankenstein reassembled my lost soul
so after Gabriel stuffs scroll in my mouth
I eat mushrooms from rotting Irminsul.

I stand in the stone tower on ocean shore
and listen to voices of angels ring
in cliff-battering waves that soak my brain
in sparkling whiskey, blood of Lucifer.

We sit together in the public square,
watching water sparkle from fountain spout,
and talk about the drama of the hour
while Jesus grins and eats the scarlet flower.

Fear sears my wild heart with ambitious will
so I run with foxes through Schwarzwald groves
till I reach the peak of Feldberg at dawn
and carve Apollo from the ancient stone.

I wrench white stone from the heart of the Earth
where it shimmered cold for ten billion years
and carve the form of my first father clear
so he stands lifeless in Museum hall.

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