Egg Of The Serpent God
© Surazeus
2026 10 10

Spirit born from egg of the serpent god
with ten thousand eyes of galactic minds,
I walk city streets of America
with ambitious hope of the fallen angel
to comprehend gears of the human brain
through dizzy laughter of the black moon ghost.

Strange ennui of existential sorrow
grips my heart with anguish of desire
when I walk past glass doors of shopping stores
filled with cute trinkets of human concern
about disease, famine, and holy war
that obliterate countless souls each year.

Expanding scope of conscious insight swells
my self-awareness huge as dinosaurs
that wandered Earth as gods with tiny brains
one hundred eighty million years of faith,
evolving into gray ghosts in spaceships
who haunt dire memories of our midnight skies.

When our dark shadows detach from our bodies
and form glowing spheres of glass that float lightly
over sea of ink which gods use to write
emotional contracts between blind lovers,
I explain why clocks are ticking backwards
to the old witch wearing red face of Geryon.

Till the baseball player demands with voice
of bus engines rumbling on the highway
that I explain arcane code of weird proverbs
that bleed from my eyes when I play guitar,
I wait for Artemis in the train station
to prove I am brave assassin of faith.

I keep attempting to assemble right
immense puzzle of human history,
but all the pieces depicting great heroes
and evil tyrants fighting over truth
scatter from gusts of indifferent wind
when Boreas chases Phoebe all night.

After carefully planning twenty years
plot to assassinate the greedy king,
Selene finds the most beautiful boy
standing in her way in the hotel door,
so she calls Hyperion on the cell phone
which causes glass cathedral to explode.

While Apollo in the Museum of Masks
designs the chemistry textbook with herbs
and seashells instead of math formulas,
I gather skulls of children killed by bombs
and place them on shelves in the grocery store,
packaged for sale as cookies the rich buy.

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Orpheus grins when King Netaniah and King Pluto arrive with shipping carts heaped with boxes of cookies, but explains that their credit cards have been declined.

#Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism