Morass Of The Self © Surazeus 2024 02 03 Since Jacob still climbs the stairway to Heaven and Orpheus drives the highway to Hell, I will haunt America as King Raven who personifies morass of the self, so I go on quest to find the Dark Jewel that qualifies me as Lord of Misrule. Descending to the Underworld of Thought with dream map to navigate maze of myths, I wear cracked masks of both King Lear and Lot to dance with Ishtar among monoliths, yet Michelangelo carves my true soul so I can play my most important role. Rising from cavern of the mountain lake where my father Grendel plays chess with Death, I enter contest to bake chocolate cake while floating with Buddha on serpent breath, though I should watch my mother dance ballet till temple bells call me to Mandalay. Because I am no more than character stuck with tragic fate in some fairy tale, I remake myself as Good Lucifer who bears Liberty Torch to light your trail, war refugees searching for paradise beyond barbed-wire coils of self-sacrifice. While luck instead of justice drives the plot Fate uses to determine how we die, I present fantastic art I have wrought in bid to buy salvation from Blue Sky, but Noah sails the ark before I board so I find in my heart the divine chord. If my new-born infant cries in my arms to howl anxiety of being alive, I sing calming psalms that heals with word charms through code that teaches her how to survive, so she matures into wise Melusine who drives global baby-making machine. Safe inside haven walls of paradise to fight war against demons of despair, I teach my angels how to exercise justice through analysis that is fair, till we spread outward to conquer the world in holy crusade of the cosmic herald. After we survive the apocalypse that forges United Nations of Earth, I write new narrative in movie scripts that defines how romance leads to childbirth, so Jacob and Orpheus meet for beer after crowning of the Dream Engineer.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Saturday, February 3, 2024
Morass Of The Self
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