EGGS: ‘PERSONAL ARCHETYPE’

VIEW POEM ON NASHVILLE CREAM BLOG HERE

God isn’t dead, He has just stopped aging, and got really into mime. He does the kooky kabuki, holding incredibly taut poses, where you can see Him shiver, trying to control his breathing in order to appear statuesque, static, and/or dead. He’s been doing the same play forwards and then backwards since D-Day called, “Ubermensch, Spidermensch, Batmensch,” but His silent scream is usually drowned out by sports-talk techno music, while shaman re-kill the suspicious dead with evanescent Silver Bullet by video game, humping the air like dogs, shredding their vocal cords, blood capsules exploding into sweat, veins ripping from their skull, to paint aloud their tombstone in frantic red, ”God isn’t dead, he’s just a flying robot that can see my heat but not my face.”