Museum Of Dead Gods

Museum Of Dead Gods
© Surazeus
2024 06 26

I must reserve the right to be forgotten 
because my public personality 
will live as idol of my secret soul 
long after my flesh rots into the ground 
so I will hang my false persona mask 
on blank wall in Museum of Dead Gods. 

Each work of art is its own explanation 
because the robot who looks just like me 
will walk around this spinning globe of dirt 
for seven billion years of lonely wind 
to recreate the signless road of truth 
that leads me to Museum of Dead Gods. 

Come meet me in weird world of autofiction 
where I will play chess with Death on the beach 
to prove we humans have the right to live 
on this planet of teeming chemicals 
which is neither hostile nor favorable 
to humans in Museum of Dead Gods. 

While I live well in the Garden of Eden, 
nestled in the lush Appalachian Hills, 
millions of people in the stark waste land 
live in misery of dire poverty, 
crawling from bomb-blasted temple of faith 
on display in Museum of Dead Gods. 

Engaged in process of cultural production, 
I build complete fictional universe 
where I play fabulously wealthy child star 
who stands on flat-top pyramid of fame 
to sing vision I channel through God-Eye 
that dreams you in Museum of Dead Gods. 

Constructing franchise of global religion, 
I monetize public fame of my soul 
across multiple platforms of desire 
to shine in social-media mirror mind 
as god incarnate in messiah sleuth 
who loves you in Museum of Dead Gods. 

Reigning as Zeus in cyberspatial Heaven, 
I care about people in my cultural sphere 
who perform under pressure of hope for fame 
to mine drama of your life for content 
as influencer brand by being yourself, 
bright idols in Museum of Dead Gods. 

Invisible in name of my persona, 
I lounge on porch of my suburban home 
on Nameless Road in stateless Nowhere Land 
to code every truth in dream spectacle 
through the corporate sensorium machine 
that plays God in Museum of Dead Gods.