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Poetic Pyramids

Hieroglyphs on my ancient soul
foretell the end of me,
they say I'll die by my own hand
when I’ve reached god status
and every knee has knelt
before me
and I have nothing left
to achieve.
This prophecy has been written
on me for many lives
each ended by a pill,
bullet, or brilliance —
I can feel it.
My fingers are my slaves
who type a pyramid of words
that'll hide my body
in a maze of booby-trapped metaphors
that no thief
would ever dare explore.
So shut me away
with my mummified poetry
so the gods in the next life
will worship me.
Let me hold the empty orange bottle
like a rosary in chalky hands
folded stiff
into forced prayer.
Let me rot away
and be forgotten
while my poetic pyramids
stand for thousands of years
in the sun.
Let tourists stand under their shadows
in awe
while my bones turn slowly
to dust
somewhere deep in the chambers
of their brilliance.

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I have heard often how the Ancient Egyptians so loved life they manifested an entire culture based on the afterlife. I do not think, even with the famous case of Cleopatra, that taking of ones life was a cultural icon like in Rome or Japan. So in the dark night of this poem, I trust there is a glimmer of life force to be the master of your fate. There may be many ways to interpret the hieroglyphs that you sense are written on your soul.
I once met an Egyptologist, who really understood the culture from the everyday papyrus' found of disputes, contracts, everyday stuff. etc. They had an amazing sense of humor. Laugh at life, my friend. Let us enjoy your poetry while you can enjoy us enjoying it!

I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance
ee cummings

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