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A man who knows not
how to utter any form of
truth should’ve been born mute…
In an age of mental feuds
one should live in futility,
like a feather he will
grasp the meaning of existing
without clutching on decisions,
peace is found in understanding
the true nature of this canal
Understand that life is not
about deciding to be or not to be,
but deciding not to decide at all.
At the end of time we become
means of prosperity to fleas.
Skins might link, minds will
surely think, yet at some
moment we shall blink
in search for an external form
of lonely peace.
We will breathe and kiss,
we will gnash these teeth,
watch blood splashing on
our paths, it’ll all seem
vague, some will chase the
void in search for a lonely
home, pity will swallow some
of your kind,
wars and failed diplomacies,
more deadly omens in
lands like Yemen,
more Amens when mysterious
ways leave some drenched
in logical perceptions.
Falling nations, more explosions
in mid-west trenches,
trade wars, cold wars and
rights spiralling in various
constitutions, tribulations
will leave some numb and
willing to die in an illusion
of being unloved,
the ego will preach sermons
of insecurities and paint
the host with impurities,
pseudonyms will be given
to egocentric souls,
the conscious will grow
sensual to stupidity and
We will define ourselves,
create identities that
will grant us narcissistic stars,
illusive, punitive, primitive…

Time to wash my eyes,
sight blurriness, the fog
blinds much, too many tires
burn in my town,
riots, protests, and political
sonnets, disappointment
drops like a comet,
drought and dry faucets,
fantasies are sold and
believed to manifest in
mere time, deception is not
a crime, just a strategic
plan to attract more peasants
who search and haven’t found.
Who is ever proud,
when a nation weeps
individuals are screaming
in the confines of their hearts.
How many times will
civilizations claim that the
end seems nigh, maybe
the end is truly us,
maybe we’re fully atomic,
just waiting for an explosive
spark to detonate us.
Let’s renovate minds,
open hearts rather than
those third eyes, more
consciousness and less oneness,
every skull claims being conscious
yet their ego keep imprisoning
them behind invisible walls
of attaining the Buddha complex,
syntax error; someone never
understood the zen.
Light up the furnace,
let’s wonder about the grace
of our benevolence,
how probabilities are
everywhere in our existence,
one in a million to make it
in a sperm race, one in
a billion to be born,
one in a million that you
can read, one in a million
that you still find time
to marvel at what’s been written
by a curious African kid,
one in a billion to have
existed in the 21st century and
experience the growth of
a people who believe in equality,
it’s beauty in every probability…

Now let me wash my feet,
let me wash yours too
before you embark on
the journey of yours,
I hope this time you
cherish your own lifeven though
it carried moulds,
everyone faces faults,
everyone has some loose
screws and bolts,
in some way let us hold
hands and pull each other
into the light, the night
has swallowed many into
an eternal dark, spark your
torches, thatch the minds
of those feeling insecure
in this world we were begotten in,
one day everyone becomes rotten,
in some context everyone is fallen,
in some way everyone starves
for their own relative kosher.
More grace, more bread
for the hungry and unfed,
for those shivering in the
middle of the night in the dark,
unknown and unnoticed by
your clotted eyes.
Conjure some part of
you that enjoys the
warmth of the light.
In verbal ablution the
mind is washed…

By Eugene ‘Philosophisticater’

Artwork by Tomasz Alen Kopera

Philosophistication Poetry © All Rights Reserved ©

Verbal & Mental Ablution

“In an age of mental feuds
one should live in futility…”

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