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Graffiti On A Uterus Wall

Lovely lies in a lover’s eye,
a sip of wine for every vanishing
When a philosopher
enstranged from life and a
stranger to his own insight,
pocketing ideas in pockets of
leaving hot air learns to
find another bones and flesh
host to sing him into a world
of senseless emotional divorce,
Where baffled by his own
unknowing finds a smile cracking
space time continuum in
his orifices, stuttering and scattering
words like Latin Odysseys,
Is found to have held thought
with a flailing force, he groans
and earth shatters while the core
grows, the zygon dogma is known,
the zygote is to be formed.

Now the knitting thread is
uncoiled from chromosome,
the growing flesh is scooped
from the bouquet of genetic
lore, creation in all its forms
following ancient old written laws,
crackling sounds as shells are
torn, yolks are formed and
a new idea spawns.
The Earth is an old place,
the womb is doorway, it’s a
segue, a process of timeframes
shuffled and slideshown with
no time as context, back aches,
muscles to stretch, bones to be
baked from the starch of brewed
physical nightmares, cells in death,
membranes pressed, designed
and resigned while back arches
and old bones raptured, the flesh
swindles the mind to rejoice in
death of a self, into the birthing
of an idea, an ideal placement of
an enlightened likeness.
The philosopher finds his
Philosopher’s stone!

The Philosopher Sings:
~ Clench your fists and your
bones made of twigs, the
silent song of a warm drumbeat
fades with machinery undertones
Hear the noise of a silence
that you’ll learn to choose
or the stench of human tension
that rots skin and bones
or the stinging shards of
temperature and feel, it’s
Dante’s inferno and the
Titanic in the ocean’s grave floor,
calamity and chaos, I condone
your birth, console you to exist
and feel settled, illusions are
still to feed on your brainstorms,
either the weather is too strong,
or the mind is weathered to crack
like stone, whether you’re depressed
or lost, the mind still remains
better sanctuary than temples.~

Again we shall talk when the zygon
dogma I’ve known.

By Eugene ‘Philosophisticater’

Artwork by Tatjana Lee

℗ Philosophistication Poetry ℗

2021 All Rights Reserved ©

Graffiti On A Uterus Wall

A Man made a Man. A Journey of Love, Intercourse, Procreation and Birth.

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