Read Poem: Madness of a Mad God by Mishka Zakharin

So sits the Mad God

In Divine contemplation,

Thinking on the plight of the world

And His place, if any, within it…

The other Gods stand idly by—

On aloof and lonely mountains,

Beneath cold, uncaring seas,

Within the stark cruelty of barren deserts—

The darkening glow of Judgment

Burning in Their eyes:

“We do not taunt You—

Though it would be justified if We did—

For You mock Yourself

By Your own existence…”

The frailties of the mortal world,

The weaknesses inherent in the human condition,

Wrap Me in their clinging bonds,

And it is as being enfolded by Death

With the tenderness of a lover’s embrace…

Kali nuzzles close

With Her promises of sin and seduction,

Of Infinite Being through consumption by Her love—

But I unwrap Her from around Me and roll free,

Telling Her I have a headache…

Forever guided toward complacency—

Tread softly… behave Yourself…

Well, perhaps I do,

And the world just has the wrong rules…

Poseidon is all wet;

Thor is left thunderstruck;

Hades wanders in darkness;

Osiris tries to pull Himself together;

Odin is half blinded by His own wisdom;

Hephaestus gets all weak in the knees;

Loki cheats at cards…

So I really don’t understand

Why I should constantly be blamed

For everything I do…

In all things, I surpass even Myself—

Yet I am too far behind,

Left too deeply in shadow, to see it;

Powerless to wield the Omnipotence

That is My birthright,

I look to Zeus—

A comrade in arms,

A kindred spirit,

The brother I never had,

As though My second self…

Where, then, is My Aegis,

To protect Me and keep the world at bay?

For those who would be Gods—

Or the living incarnation of Godly power—

For the Pharaohs and Caesars and starry-eyed prophets,

Lost in their delusions of grandeur

And feats of magnanimous self-aggrandizement,

You would do well to note,

It isn’t that the world has fallen—

The lofty ideals of man have always far outshone

The realization of those ideals…

But man looks to the Gods

To find who he thinks he should be,

And there was always more of war than of wisdom

In the heart of glorious Athena…

Against the harsh rantings of the world around Me,

Forever opposing what I do and who I am,

Through the feeble, incoherent ravings

Of My own chaotic thoughts,

The only thing Omniscience ever did for Me

Was to allow but a glimpse of the Truth—

I don’t know anything about anything…

So I fall on My knees

And stare into the blinding light of Eternity—

But it only hurts My eyes;

The sought-after and elusive answers,

Offering Oblivion through Shiva’s destruction

Or the Redemption of Ahura Mazda’s enlightenment,

Remain damnably unknown…

Ensconced by the heady awareness

Invoked by the rich lifeblood of heavenly Nectar—

Or a cheap Chianti, which is easier to come by—

The meditations of the Mad God

Draw finally to a conclusion:

Sanity is but an illusion—

The lie created to convince

That the world should make sense…

And, so, what matter could it possibly make

In denying the world entirely

And surrendering to the Madness……