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#Philosophistication

World of Minecraft and Warcraft,
beautiful anarchy; gold standards
with checks and balances, currency wars,
monopoly game between mercenaries,
monarchists and masochists with
sadists as their messianic kings,
kiss the golden rings, it’s ping pong,
we play with planets and orbs,
no elites just devils and gods
playing chess with nations on
the black and white board, reality
and society, all has become a hoax,
we’re oxen to be slaughtered in
a near dawn, to be buried underneath
the memories of democracy and
pure aristocracy, we’re damned
beings with routines to blind us
from the burning hurting torch,
cursed to believe that the power
is what we hold, votes and minimalistic
thinking; service deliveries and so forth,
it’s about annexes of states, the auction
of mines between hoards of fat bellied
idealistic rats, they stare you in the
face while they crush your groin with
taxes, debt, loans and advertisements
on those TV shows, it’s about the need
to hold all, the one percent with a
better precept of reality’s true intents,
it’s indepth, it’s the banking system
and the power structures, it’s zero sum,
the zero is on your side, it’s contracts
and affidavits, it’s votes and coup de tats,
it’s ideologies and groups deceived to
have ideals as tats, it’s a division of
labour and Karl Marx becoming
intellectual property, there’s a regulated
revolution, the televised kind, the boarders
and walls, the false image of nationalism,
the beautified fallacy of capitalism,
and the sweet racism we can conquer
as a unit, beautiful misdirection,
concoction of emancipation…

Taste the bittersweet sorrows of your
life’s constructs, it’s the articulate
leaders, the Che Guevaras, the
people’s champions and the historical
chameleons, it’s a beautiful game
of 30 seconds, it’s tick and tock,
time demands a fall, to Canaan
we crawl where our demise is
cushioned with a cloud of cannabis smoke,
follow the mist or maybe find
divinity in your midst, all in all
it’s a sad story to be part of,
it’s dark artistry, it’s homeless
beings hugging streets and priests
preaching end times when their
tithes are not filling up their fists,
it’s mortgages, school loans,
insurances, budget speeches and
cabinet members building up coverage
for media channels, arguments that
burn passion, it’s debates on National
televisions, false building of hills
and statues, the youth is the future,
now let them rant and make sure that
truth is edited most, wait, stop editing
it, let them rant, if truth is supplied
with no demand then society will
choose the matrix over seeing it,
blindness is a sweet thing, it’s a
beautiful day, forget that the real
propellers of society are sitting
behind branded desks overnight; mahogany
with a scent of corruption signatures,
our lives signify the nearing rapture,
where is the class consciousness, we’re
captured by myths and less realistic
things, let’s fall onto our knees, the
demigods are about to feed on
the weak beings.

Burp the frustration, burp the frustration.
Do you feel what futility is yet?
Do you feel the need for nothingness?
The need to forget that we’re never
free, the whole world is their canvas,
we’re just insects, blooming butterflies
when we become too wise for their
likes, so they let those with loud
mouths become their mouthpieces
with a beautiful prize as a cherry
on top, your revolutionaries are mere
puppets being stringed along and
they string you along to their fall,
the bottomless pit from where they
steer the pulpit, the rubric of truth
is regulated, moderated and mostly
academically violated, your leaders
are just avatars, you’re the everyday
dying martyr, the one who thinks
real truth is satire, this is an animal farm,
they are to shave off your antennas,
nonetheless, it’s a beautiful day,
a beautiful night, a beautiful morning,
a beautiful afternoon…
Embrace the illusion or Fight it!
Your CHOICE…

By Eugene ‘Philosophisticater’

Artwork by Anton Semenov

℗ Philosophistication Poetry ℗

2020 All Rights Reserved ©

Waste Curse Scenario

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