Let me create.
Let me be the Cesar of my life, the Marc Anthony, the Marcus Aurelius, the Rumi, the morning star
Let me walk on the waters of my troubled soul
swallowing the swords of my sharp words
aborting the stillborn mistakes of my lust
purging the sickness of my perversion
violating my morality
with the haunting of duality.
Let me fly in a sea of corpses
drinking blood for survival
stealing sweet honey from the queens
and slaughtering the royalty
so that the hive may thrive.
Let me revolt
and turn the soil for new seeds
We have been poisoned by artificial intelligence
that cloaks the evil doings of greed.
I’ve found a deeper creed than this torment,
a web of restrictions, convictions, convections and burning frictions.
I’ve polished my facets and now shine a single ray,
Let me see the eye of light
so that I may blind the hidden one.
Let me destroy what has no ground
and build a new castle in the sky,
held by the lightness of being,
by the brightness of living
in the whiteness of purity.
Let me blend all the colors onto a pinwheel,
and break your oppression
like the dervishes sought for God
when dizzied and high,
I’ve knocked on god’s door too many times,
he said he won’t allow a drunken addict to enter his house
So I created my own,
on two columns,
called it House of 1818
and lined my walls with my words
the pyramid of my life’s work
to become the tomb upon my death
when my phoenix, my Benu
will lay my golden piece
atop my highest point.
Let me be the Cesar,
and crown me with gold.
I’m fighting for my life,
burning with fire,
while the world becomes cold.