Poem: Icon of Revelation

With a vast fortune stolen from long dead railroad tycoons
I caged organized sounds in a lockbox
Vibrations from the mouth of Cthulhu
Propagating the message that the universe has teeth and seeks to devour
But under metaphysical introspection, processed through a Hegelian dialectic
It had a different sound
It was a Volta from Mars, an intense Shakespearean Couplet
Drenched in verbose Elizabethan postmodernism
A Jungian Tool to dig deep to the dismal depths
Of the shadow ever darkening farther down in a forsaken African jungle
Where madmen bring themselves to a wild stupor in order to save their sanity from hipster indifference
An addiction that required a Woven hand to remove myself from
It needed a light from a singing banjo player that came with a sword
What freedom from a sinking slave ship!
What joy in hills of sunflowers twirling in a Van Gogh ecstasy with the sun!
Marching on the top of Dali’s elephants
I needed confession! Absolution! Forgiveness! Redemption!
Black holes and sinking stars play a requiem on broken pan flutes with dead planets singing in the style
Of Mongolian throat singers for my sin
Send it adrift in black caskets on fire down polluted rivers
Let the workers go free! Ring the bells in the church yard!
We wait in the ground till the King returns


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