More Details:



Gospel of Governance


Dig mass graves with silver spoons,

oaths made on Europeanized views

looting when policy folklores no

longer become something true

the Promise land is a land of

promised land.

Weakened and dosed with false

sentiment, they preach past tense about

history’s strongest men and use

that to sway philosophies and mentalities;

it’s a Freudian cocktail.

Divisions of socialists and capitalists;

the con artist has left his art to eclipse.

Act like reasoning is

a seasoning for their stale steaks

they serve on these silver plates

Gold plated medals when winning

is the only objective, follow the leader

follow the caveman, the new age

Reverend preaching about independence

to caged birds.


The signatures and symbols of

hand gestures carry your tomorrows

ask for the sun’s glance and they

deliver candles

The mantle breaks when old seeds

are not watered, the strange fruit left

a strange taste on the branch of that

grapefruit. The berry leaks the wrong


The burning malt gives rise to

wild fires, the freedoms are flammable

like sulphur, now regimes are shuffled

like playing cards, the truth is found in

the thesis of the unemployed graduate

The flag is a welcome mat for the

sanctioning states. State the statistics

of crime and unemployment and I’ll

be a feather in your chaotic world

Veld fires have burnt all the hope away

The veld is the corruption they brewed.


Break these sticks with these stones,

Bones of ancestors are decorated in

their Union halls, they built

the terraces where debate lives while

the kids hunger and fathers strike and

mothers are molested by policing canines

Beastiality in those cabinet casinos

where shuffling is a constant outcome,

Black Jacks are to manipulate the

fundamentals of resources and outsourcing

finances to the crowds searching for

prosperity in stolen acres

Exploding colons when surgeries

are funded by colonial structures

It’s a broken culture, this governance

is not from Santas, sing your mantras

and support your chosen vultures

schools and banks built from origami

when the bill of rights is torn apart

Your pain is political art, the political

science just maps out your disdain.


By Eugene ‘Philosophisticater’


Artwork by Stuart Lippincott


Philosophistication Poetry © All Rights Reserved ©

Gospel of Governance

Who is the Governing?

Who are the Governed?

0.00 ORPLE


Be the first to donate


Minimum donation accepted1.00 XLM

0 0
Have an question? Enquire