#Philosophistication & #AlchemistPoetry

When the sun commences its intimacy
with pale silhouettes, I’m awakened into
a long journey that stretches beyond
the legends of sages and myths that
sound too dreamy to carry any truth,
a place where the minds of the
wise submerge into the unknown,
I see the cosmological mysteries
through the holes of teared pages,
and rotten scrolls with indecipherable
ancient tongues,
maybe I’m eternity compressed,
entangled in the trinity of the evaporating
past, wondering in the curious present
and diving into the unknown future.
I hear wolves echoing behind the dark
side of the moon, imitating my first cry
with an amplified tone, I trail down into
the faded path of the magi as I feel
connected to flora and fauna’s ways
The journey is not for the soft hearted
so I mute my doubts with cluttered
poems that reek of my fears and desires
I construct poetic windows and search
for my lost self in the mirrorhalls,
My tongue loosens it’s ways as I encounter
a being too small to fill the void of
the universe, I blind my third
eye and follow through the path of the
sun’s rays; until I plunge into its heart to
syphon energy with my eyebrows,
and brew a fire for the reverse alchemy of
my rusted heart and moulded mind;
I pluck the sombre verses of the
the birds that sing from the heart of the
universe when my silence echoes back to my
inner ears to experience hallucogenic
hypnosis when I converse with myself;
as if to lure myself closer to the
soul of the world I fall into a deep sleep as
the reverberation of my thoughts sing
lullabies to my inner child.

God in cognito,
spewing rainbows when the blood
runs grey, frail scarecrow trying
to describe nightmares hiding in
the horizon, it’s honor and horrors
hidden within this soul, it all boils
down to insanity and confusion,
where sovereignty is an illusion,
where the wrist is a winding orbit,
the intention is merely morbid,
god of war with self, where stars
crack with every uttered word,
veld of thoughts, melting pot where
a derailed metal path is scotched
to ash and processed with tears into ink,
it’s a process of a living being finding
bliss in moments of torment with reason
and slick verbal gymnastics, in silence
the mind spews out sweet and bitter
nothings, its torture for a fragile
mentality, it’s rapture for those not
prepared for the conjuring, where
the poet is the fugitive, the judge and
the jury, in these words mental nudity
is embraced, reality cracks when thoughts
are baked into structures and pyramids
in the reader’s mental oven, it’s all
a spiralling complex, minds become
ovum, where ink is the semen, the
infant is the realisation of the truth
and the lifelike recreation of worlds
and planets, I’m the subject and the
object that interjects the Jester,
the falling star ripping through
your silent times, it’s a cosmic crime
where I determine what it is that
I render as mine or what I render needs
destroying with a mine, now find
my gist amongst diamonds and ores
within a crumbling mine filled with
mimes minding their own ending demise.

By Happious Sai ‘Alchemist Poet’ & Eugene ‘Philosophisticater’

Artwork by James Jean

Philosophistication Poetry & Sai Diaries Poetification
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