Pegasus Without Wings

Pegasus Without Wings
© Surazeus
2023 09 06

Somewhere hidden in Bible of my dreams 
my demon wrestles Alligator Queen 
to escape despair for power to sing 
dreams humanity conceals in their hearts 
till I steal lyre of Mercury from Death 
whose screams of horror become my pure song. 

Two choices the Devil gives every poet 
when they sign their deal for power to sing, 
perform with charisma to earn fame now 
and die forgotten for the rest of time, 
or write in obscurity till they die 
then be famous for all eternity. 

I keep the Maltese Falcon statue hid 
safe in old fridge in the cluttered garage, 
so when Detective McGuffin appears 
I try to sell him the Spear of Achilles, 
but he wants the telephone that calls God 
which Andy Warhol gave me when he died. 

Every morning when I ride city bus 
from state university to downtown 
to work as word processor at the bank, 
I buy the sausage McMuffin with egg, 
then eat it on the park bench by the river 
beneath statue of Robert Edward Lee. 

Buried in bleak graveyard of nameless gods, 
my demon forges key from crystal fire 
which I can use to open secret door 
to every planet in the multiverse 
since my doppelganger lives on each world 
where Ocean Mother teaches me to sing. 

After hundred thousand churches burn down 
from mocking laughter of the weeping clown, 
I search for the Pegasus without wings 
that roams the sultry Appalachian hills 
where cute ghost of Maybelle Carter sings 
about the pale wildwood flower of love. 

I twine red roses in raven black hair, 
then gaze beyond sorrow and pain of life 
at the cerulean celestial realm 
that only exists in dreams of my mind, 
since I want to climb the stairway to Heaven 
that streams gold in black clouds after rainstorm. 

Under clay idol of romantic love 
I wait for return of messiah sleuth, 
but old black-eyed crone in the temple ruins 
appoints me to play role of cosmic herald 
to teach the world about our Deathless Mother 
who gives me my Pegasus without wings.