Sad Fate Of Jesus
2019 09 30
Rapid replication of rancid reason
reveals futility through ripening fruit
that falls in my burned hand from rotting tree
however wise the blind philosopher
was before the bee stung his bleeding eye
though every soul I loved is now a ghost.
So deep inside our labyrinth of lost myths
I continue quest for the Holy Grail
so I can drink nourishing Blood of Christ
mixed with psychedelic mushroom of faith
that causes me to hallucinate truth
that Jesus was the father of my mother.
She molds my new body from Mask of God
so I can incarnate Spirit of Odin
who hangs nine centuries in the Tree of Life
but when I spread wide Wings of Icarus
I fly above your city of computers
to map true way through waste land back to Eden.
So when I walk toward the sun-bright horizon,
reborn from haughty Spirit of Urizen,
following Orion from cave of Shadows,
I face fierce Horus on dry plain of shells
to fight over who wears the Crown of Christ,
declaring victory though I kill them all.
The mirror on the wall reveals my face
so I play new role of Messiah Sleuth,
hoping to avoid the Sad Fate of Jesus,
unknown poet writing fake prophecies
that calculate weird history of the world
where my daughter reigns as Queen of Lost Souls.
Wretched revelation of Reborn God,
as Spirit of Tribal Leader that flows
father to son in dynastic succession,
flashes with lightning from midnight storm clouds
which loom over cities of steel and glass
where angels drive cars through Maze of Desire.
Each time you ask me why we go this way
through ancient Cathedral of Broken Dreams,
I give you another piece of the puzzle
which will reveal face of the new world queen,
but I leave the sacred task to your hands
to assemble memories in new world view.
Bees buzz around blooms on the Tree of Life
to sing in harmony with ocean waves
so when we walk roads sea to shining sea,
holding hands in silence of mutual trust,
the last dead God who thinks he rules our Earth
can meditate alone in hidden cave.
Yet after walking clear around the Earth
over ten million years on quest for truth,
I sit alone in my company lab
and map the history of our universe,
so, if you read these puzzling prophecies,
recalculate your progress to the grave.
When animating spirit of my brain
dissipates as chemical functions cease
these verses that bleed from dreams of my eyes
alone will remain for millions of years
as traces of my forgotten existence
so plant apple trees in grave of my heart.
#Poem #Poetry #Religion #Politics #Monarchy #Democracy #Christ #Messiah #MessiahSleuth #TreeOfLife #WasteLand #Prophecy #EndTimes #Christ #Christianity #HolyGrail