@
Pharaohs Army
Glutton, here's a slice of the pumpkin
I'm not judging,
I myself was covered in pride to my stomach, nauseous
Putting a finger in my mouth trying to vomit substance
No resolution made me yelp "why was it I that was punished?"
Then one night I was cunning, by suggesting to the divine a promise
An exchange, the light in my eyes for the peace of mind that I wanted.
The shadows left me, but I became as blind as a bat is
Even though their blindness is a myth,
Yet, unlike the fib that questions if leviathan exists
This is more of a metaphor for the things inside of my mist;
The cloud of consciousness resides in abyss.
We define ourselves through the grime that we're in
I prize not my body, Jungian-like, my shrine for my wit
Mostly because I find the earthly plane a surface pain
Containing only amoebas and viruses of the dormant strain
And let's not forget the protozoa that absorb your brain
Until, we grow so feeble, we can't control our waste
It makes sense because terrestrially we're in the zone of Cain
A cannibalistic paradise, where's Abel's bones, is craved.
That's why I take the holiest blade,
And march into the biggest black hole of space
Where souls collect, FYI my soul is a floral shade.
Brother, I thrived on assumptions
Till' I realized they were contrived without function.
Life is a dungeon with no vine as your plunging
This day has been pungent, it made me cry like an onion
I've sunken low before, but not without a sign of abundance
But this time, I was left to die in the rummage
Destruction is rubbish, I just want to wallow in the sunset
Its fading rays hitting me,
Until what was deemed a hopeless tomorrow is unbecoming
Consider every poet that lived throughout the ages,
And you'll see the poet's love for sorrow is stunning
One has to wonder why our sonnets are even published
We as a people must not be sound creators.
We drown in phrases that expound salvation
But have not found its basic elemental traces
The periodic table of life sometimes professes chemical fables.
Philosopher stone, mother resurrected into a phosphorus clone
Anthropomorphic chimeric form that walks with a monstrous moan
Calling your name in a constant groan
Telling you koans, whose answers are within the Homunculi scroll
Ever since then, we became the best of strangers
Our consciousness clouded in a dance of hellish angels
Perhaps, because we thought we could go after what changes
Yet, we couldn't even capture sensation of one atom creation
The closest we came was a quickly passing indication of a passive animation
I miss the ancient Pangea, where we had one pantheon
Mimicking the one continent, too bad that planet gone.