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Philosophistication Poetry (Logo)


Riddle me nothing,
let me stay afloat within
my own silence, allow me
calm from calamity, allow me to
breathe under impossible circumstances,
allow me to carry a palm of a sage,
page by page; eternity prescribed,
drive me to the margins, dive with
me in the emptiness of an untainted scroll,
where reality bends and bonds,
the beginning defined by a beginning ending,
let us be the riptide of this curving
canvas, in this world there aren’t bogus
monasteries, moan or scream; the
pleasure leaves speechless lips,
find curiosity and a city of wonders
behind the unknown slumber,
find lost fathers and unknown
mothers behind these illusive arts,
where the heart breaks and is mended
again and again; where you’re slain
and birthed again and again, gain
your immortality, it’s your time to
rule this wild, grow up slow child,
drink your tears from a redemption cup,
Now rise from the void, enter the
pod, let insanity abduct you from reason,
let normality be treason, in these pages
we breathe in eternity in a second,
bodies will crumble; but in these pages
age doesn’t define norms; in these pages
photographs fade but words shall stay.

These pages are railways where deception
lives to tell the tale of the serpent,
where logic is derailed and surreal
beauty is birthed, follow the bloodstains
of the poet’s hand; find seeds of words
in the lands unknown; let the farmer’s
thought rip for you what you sought.
This is where you float, where air
clots, where the sun’s rays crack
reality, where you admire insanity
and envy anarchy; where normalcy
is mere sorcery, where infants sip
alchemy from a witch’s tit, this is
the fringe, where boarders collide,
where some align, where the design
is from a depressed deity, do not reach
for the misery, flee, start running; this
is the mockery of bittersweetness brought
by addictive melancholy, shut all your eyes,
no need for consciousness, don’t let
the darkness baptize thee, learn to
flee from what shackles the strong spirits,
fiends have learnt to puppet the minds
that write and also read, learn to feed
from the bowl that carries words
that free, find your path amongst the
thicket trees, do not react to the
grip of the branches, run through
the ranches, the cages, the pages,
the sadists, the raging winds, the
seductive fiends, find your light,
shed off the cries, shed off the false
delights, there isn’t light in enlightenment,
truth is in silence, this is where silence
remains silent, pirate of anarchy; your
journey reaches its departure, where
it began is where you find your arrival.

Birthed in a sty, eye for an eye;
peak for sight from the stye,
find your path away from this Kumbaya,
before it heats up in Fahrenheit, this
was once your Sinai where words
ordered you far from battlefields,
now wear your kilt and follow the
melodies, the anarchy that sounds orderly;
where gravity and pornography are norms
in this saddening reality, a mere rigid
style of forgery; reality imitates artistry,
reality a fallacy; page genres are a new
faculty where there isn’t any form of polarity,
close your eyes and find your way
back… A beautifully grotesque thing
to sightsee, sightsee it for a couple
of years then join others in their fairytales
and folktales after you’ve been tailed along
by foxes and rabbits, swallowing cabbages
and carrot slicings in search for elongated
Go back to the page my new child,
my zygote lost in the womb,
this reality carries various tombs
under the scorching sun.

By Eugene ‘Philosophisticater’

Artwork by Tomasz Alen Kopera

Philosophistication Poetry © All Rights Reserved ©

Where Silence Is Silent

A poem that challenges a reader’s psyche. Can a story be told in a specific way and yet have different voices to various listeners.

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