#Philosophistication
The Audacity
The Ghetto, the living Quran,
the povertious and facades,
the Biblical puns, the guns, the
purity of some, the dying minds,
the girls and thighs, the enslaved,
the uneducated tribe, the slime
and the abortions that murder my
kind, the robberies and bribes,
the sermons when semen still
leaks from Moses’ staff, the
silenced deacons and staff,
the beacons, the scorching heat
of the sun, call upon father, son,
and holy advocating sigh, we
fathered the sun, the death
of the lies, slavery and colonial
confusion, look for retribution,
retro is the exclusion, immune
to these institutioned delusions,
corrupted officials preaching
colusions, in parliament it’s cousins
coughing family feuds for national
views, it’s statistical, my satire is truth,
my pregnant earth carries poverty in
her arteries, it’s a never-ending series,
diapers and martyrs of untreated
anxieties, this is Babylon where
babies are found stranded alone,
with rape condoms on that Roman
Catholic lawn, we’re pawns infused
with concepts that lack a laymen’s
explanatory poem, it’s the way
we live the norm, it’s us chunking
on brown bread and a taste of cause,
always a need to mourn.
It’s the continuous tone, it’s conned; we’re
torn and still shelving and cleaning
more Surbuban homes, it’s houses
with pearly gates, we’re feeding
on inequality wages, illiterate
pages, smoke the pain from
burning shacks with a screaming mother,
screenshot the drama, it’s trending
more deaths and less changes, so
it’s death and flowers placed on
ashes that carry stench of scorched teeth,
toes detached on smelling feet,
it’s a different diet when you’re
feeding on yourself, the pain grows
into something stiff, a tangible
face with sharpened teeth,
the political science behind the
corruption is too thick, it’s trick
or treat, and the manifesto is the
playbook with different phrases to
tickle the cynicist, it’s sadists clenching
on black fists with bribes within.
Black toddlers hodling on cryptics;
absent fathers and absence is nuisance,
single mothers called African Queens
while their living standards are excused,
cure the element of corruption, this
disrupts the path to changing the times,
is this where ancestral bones rise
steadily, increasing shock as the
rising show restraint against the elite.
The Proletariat feeds on the Bad and Bourge.
The slave still drags the chains,
make a way in the maze, still
brokenhearted; segregated majority,
allow me to shuffle books, find a working
philosophy, savour sanity, revolution
proudly brought to you by Nestle,
revolution institutionalised, maybe
things are changing, or they’re pricing
the freedom and the dignity, where’s
the integrity, the internet is purging,
slaughter the menaces on timelines,
bloodlines still bleeding, the holy
oil still leaks through shirts and sheets,
ask for forgiveness, while the sinner
prospers and gains more winnings,
find truth in incarceration,
considering our population as
pollution, say the towns looked cleaner
without the dirty man, so they die
of a heartburn while we wilt of heartbreak,
we’re descendants of those stuck
behind dead ends, so here allow
me to live my beginnings before they
shall snatch my fate.
By Eugene ‘Philosophisticater’
Artwork by Bruno Pontirolli
â„— Philosophistication Poetry â„—
2021 All Rights Reserved ©
The Audacity
The truth is plain to see!
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