Monday, March 11, 2024

Head Of Ozymandias

Head Of Ozymandias
© Surazeus
2024 03 11

Through screaming silence of the gold god-mask 
every king who ever reigned explicates 
complex program for how to organize 
aggressive warriors and farmers to prove 
divine right to command how people act 
so the whole community may survive. 

Though we attempt to describe what we see 
in sentences that convey concepts clearly 
from mind to mind in waves of honesty, 
absolute truth eludes our bumbling spells 
more slippery than eels in frightened streams, 
so I reprogram how I film the world. 

Though I speak clearly through this mirror mask 
with grand authority of the Cloud Voice, 
I hide my name and features of my face 
so you will never know who I might be, 
except to hint that I am who you see 
when you sense lightning flash across the sky. 

Through sensible expressions stating facts 
I prove I am not yet dead as the rock 
that slips from hands of Sisyphus each dusk 
and smashes gold idols with feet of clay 
that loom as shadows over all we do, 
then stand on head of Ozymandias. 

Should angels fear to tread in hall of mirrors 
where ghosts play pianos with no hands, 
then I will claim the fallen crown of power 
and strut on Pyramid of the One Eye 
as I pretend I created this world 
where people kill each other to live free. 

Since no one sees Ephraim in the church 
preach holy wisdom of the Divine Self, 
we stand in line at the amusement park 
to vote for who will reign as President 
in constant battle between good and evil 
that controls wild revolution of change. 

Since we are born from choice our parents make, 
and find ourselves alive with grim surprise, 
we make the best of things with chocolate cake 
we eat while watching movies about spies 
who search for demon of the placid lake 
where rotting corpse of Lucifer still lies. 

Should Ephraim speak through the Spirit Board 
about salvation in the modern world, 
I will go to Florence with my shy lover 
and paint statue of David in bright colors 
for portrait that hangs in glass church of ghosts 
who sing elegy for Son of the Owl. 


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