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As the world dances around
thoughts of truth, and being
ruthless against each other’s
views; you sit within the
flames eating the fires, on
that hospital bed crying, tired
of breathing with hardships, as
the world argues over the darkness;
you lie there in your silence,
alone with no lover to hold your
cold palm, crying when the pain
becomes too much to hold in,
fold those letters from lovers in
a distance, chest deflated, blood
on those beautiful lips, coughing
out your lifespan, no ending in
sight, let me cry when you’re no
longer believing, hope lost, believe
that you’ll soon be leaving, no
good morning or goodnight kisses,
miss me in your fading existence,
hellish experience, write in diary
about the words to be on the gravestone,
who’ll atone for the ignorance of
these people, rippled thoughts, the
tide is in your head, mentally dead,
crippled by the only possible truth,
with death you have a truce while
the world fears her substance,
I’ll hold a cold hand from a
wide distance, wild sickness,
pandemic circus, short circuitting to
the next life, does everything
suddenly make you smile; as
the poets paints portraits of
God on the margins of your mind,
blind me, don’t mind me, like
everyone I prefer smiling and
being arrogant in the dark,
I won’t be your ark, Noah
hasn’t built one for us, oceans
in multitudes as they bark, drowning
deep and deep; you’re the only
one holding our sky, the end is nigh,
smile when you sigh, you’re free
never deny.

I’ll fly with you as you escape from
dread, this life is a man-made facade,
guns and bullets, knives and slaveships,
sex and disgusting rapists, depressed
therapists, we’re all in the pits and
you’re being set apart from us,
hold my heart, not like everyone
else; don’t marvel at my crying
art, we’re all rusting utensils
even from the blank start, in
a day drown sevenfold in the
Nile, smile when you reach your shore,
no longer a spore on someone else’s
heart or mind, this is soon to
be you gliding down rainbows, no
more pains to feel within your elbow,
no more need for wars, polish your halo,
drop that spear and bow, the road disappears
at this part, anarchy and beauty
beyond this ending path, it was
depressing from the bitter start,
pain to most is art, justifying it
as kosher, our culture condones
the thought of romanticizing a rapture,
maybe capture me and I’ll continue
to be your poem, but the pathway
ends here my love, this is where
you let go of the edge, where you
leave behind everything, your lover
and your savings, your body and
your memories, the cosmic river
keeps flowing, dive in and start
floating, feel everything as you’re
metamorphing, it’s all a metaphor,
a glorious poem, a beautiful moment,
a longer sonnet, be an ant and also
a mammoth, you’re already gone;
that’s very important to be noting,
then how are reading this; because
you’re now a part of everything even
this poetry thing, no more fling;
this a long beautiful eternity,
no more need for mimicking, you’re
already your authentic self now.

Rest in my slow heartbeats,
I’m not one of your fiends,
not one of your reasons to
continue wailing, you’re free
now, fly my little birdie,
mingle with your new tribesmen,
there’s no more need for me
to be pampering…
“There are 15 dead people for
every person living on this planet,
let them rest in your heartbeats.”

By Eugene ‘Philosophisticater’

Artwork by Tomasz Alen Kopera

Philosophistication Poetry © All Rights Reserved ©

Rest In My Heartbeats

When a little birdie flies away. What is death to the living? And what if death is birth?

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