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Flatline, think straight,
see the divine beyond the
horizon and the tides.
Chained to notions of life
and motions of the accelerated
moving cellulite, forgotten
beginnings; mud moulds us,
chained to organs and torn
tissue, when beyond is in us
then beyond is not beyond,
so, be less fond of your
flesh and your rotting
Blind your insight, refresh
your mind, this illusive sight
is from a blinded lense,
it incites fabricated acts,
true demise, now follow words
unwritten by another human palm,
that’s the word from the one
who died to self and reincarnated,
one who got educated from reading
tombstones and decrypted codes
that faded by the beach’s shore,
peel this sole, feed on it and
the path reappears, die soon,
soon to be smeared by biological
sergeants, keep your distance
from the abstract life’s syntax,
this flesh carries moulds, stretch
marks are marks of the soul
trying to escape from the tissue’s
insides. Divide soul from flesh
and clothe self with the essence
of the aura that lacks any pigment.
Less philosophies of Sigmund,
clutch on that which isn’t cursed
to be a fossil, braindead, truth
in plain sight but you’re imprisoned
behind a blindfold, this life punishes,
it’s a deadly platform, a scaffold,
this awareness is an inescapable stronghold,
intentions of being alive are subtle,
life is too colossal to be
what we’ve perceived it as,
in this container we’re the mass,
soon to rot from the depths of
our marrow…

Little mice in a dark maze,
this struggle is not a mere phase,
we carry scars of those who
inflicted pain on self just to
end up being mentally misinformed,
forgot how to grow, spiritually
we’re mourning infants searching
for another being to feed on,
parasitical subjects, migrants that
moved from the lower veld and
thought the higher veld had
enlightenment granted to all
like the sun’s rays.
Side effects of foolishness is
us dying out, or pouting to
black boxes that connects us
to our insanity reflections,
trying to bring solutions to
our ever-multiplying machinations,
these are fascist intentions,
every race finds comfort in the
enslavement of the other,
fatherless and motherless smeagles,
true insight is illegal for us to
grasp and feed to those blinded
by this hostile secular hocus-pocus,
we’re swarming locusts near extinction,
Marshall law, these leaders regulate
the game, they’re the referees,
reference their identities to
ancient dark lords who profited
from the perish of enslaved beings,
queens and kings wearing bones
as crowns, lost and never found,
this freedom is not sound,
Ethiopian immigrants dead in
zinc containers, this rapture is
something we romanticize, demise
is gorgeous, we have forgotten that
we’re lodging on this wrecked land,
the ship wrecks, the rocket ship
burns our breath while Mars becomes
another victim of our sentiments.
Selling you sense, here is a satchet,
feed on this rampage, the carnage
that damages your common sense.

We forgot how we can be solar
panels if we glowed in a certain way,
now enlightenment is converted
into electrical photons, now we’re
left in the dark, bunch of variables
and the experiment keeps to change,
die in different ways, too many
secrets, they just secrete what
blinds the eye’s frame, tamed
goats, brokenness is not seen as foul,
it’s a norm not to stigmatize,
mental health is monetized, while
sanity is demonetized, the sane
are left being attacked by the
systematic schemes, filters and
various image garbages, stuck
to a black box, the dark inception
is starting, false insight, the pseudo wise,
to taste divinity you pay a price,
see the sage and shuffle coins,
listen to appropriations, no
appropriate truths being fed to
these dying old kids, worshiping fiends,
searching for the means to exploit
the desperate through the stunts from
the Nether land, still slaves,
still living and yet dead in
your membranes, braindead,
tenants on this drowning land,
scared of the light, you just
simulate it and start thinking
you’re wise and redefine what is
what…I’ve seen the heresy puppeteering
your scorched lips, flipped minds,
behind the blinds, within the
box you still try to decrypt the
outward superstructure of the one.
False Imams can’t tell you that
true truth is not on the enemy’s canvas,
you won’t see what’s right when the
envelope is tainted to blind your
eye, when you try to view what’s
in plain sight they’ll taint your sight,
recreate the firmament before the
light redefined the dark.
This is less of a truth, it’s too
human to gain merit for you
to appreciate as true.

By Eugene ‘Philosophisticater’

Artwork by Laurie Lipton

Philosophistication Poetry © All Rights Reserved ©

Lucid Deaths

Can you learn to live after you die?

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