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‘We wants it;
we needs it’,
we bleed it,
we are blessed for it,
we can’t flee it,
we need to feed our fleets,
feet cracked while searching
for that precious meal,
chasing millions, minions
digging their graves
in search for the golden Calvary,
time is folded to fit our mortalities,
our education system is modern chivalry,
capitalism builds up unquenchable rivalries,
those with many zeros are
Sweating bodies alarmed by
the sunrise to awaken and
chase prosperity,
echoing sermons, spilled semen
at brothels, the dime demands
the slimes to smell,
here it is; the precious fruit,
the unquenchable thirst,
humanity’s weakness that they
could not pluck,
that which they worshipped as Gawd,
that which is worthy enough
to go overboard for,
that which friends and foes slay for,
toe to toe, dance with death
on those arenas that claim
to be battlefields for truth,
behind every war there’s
a greedy being sipping red
wine through the straws of veins
and emptying the heart’s contents.
It’s everywhere,
it’s the fruit of immortality
that Adam plucked,
the fruit that other beings
failed to sow, so now we humans
reap pain, poverty and wars,
R.I.P, we’re burying our keens,
we’ve Pharaohs protected
by the name of capital,
monetized morals, the hypocrisy
is merely global…

It’s evolution,
it’s the seedling leading to fruition,
our egos are merely rainbows
sprouting after poverty has stricken,
narcissism and capitalism
go hand in hand,
it’s brands and labels that
you merely seek, slitting
the necks of those who never
approach with gold,
silver and gold; thats true love
uncovered, that’s true intentions
your common sense seems to
be too dense to bear,
barter trade never left
one tearful,
maybe it’s a generational
gear that’s changed,
we’re enraged and caged behind
the bars of constitutional acts,
it’s the freedom of ranting,
but nothing is really changing,
we’re merged with ideas
that we think will keep helping,
motivate you to keep hustling,
it’s all a hassle and we’re
wrestling for ‘bread’,
but fail to bank all those
golden kidney stones when we dead,
it’s head first in the
fountain of wishes and luck,
why are our sights buried in
the dark,
mark of beast is the currency
that you chasing everytime,
monetized things should
be illegal to tussle for in my time,
but I guess this strange is meant
for us to survive…

New slaves;
the brave are rewarded
with paper trails,
dollars, pounds; cheques
and currencies designed
in braille to impress the blind civilization,
so mindful about our so-called
emancipation, the elites
are paying us to perform
demonstrations, our types
of revolutions are televised
and commercialized,
they create a divide for
their financial criterias to
remain untainted…
It’s complex and still it
remains as our precious construct,
a temporary illusion of purpose,
get your gold, get your wealth,
“get your finances in order,
get your bread, pay your
mortgage, that’s what leaves
you in the balance,
so gauge your net-worth
with your with what you do
during your timeframe…
‘Finance is a gun.
Politics is knowing when to pull the trigger’
~Mario Puzo~
and we’re infront of the gun
and also behind it!!!

By Eugene ‘Philosophisticater’

Artwork by Andy Serkis

Philosophistication Poetry © All Rights Reserved ©

My Precious

‘Finance is a gun. Politics is knowing when to pull the trigger’
~Mario Puzo~

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