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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Riddles  |  House: Philosophistication Poetry

Mental state of mind...


Not playing dead,

but playing living,

metaphors no longer describe

what's inside but what makes

me feel more with the stars,

I find my euphoria in silence,

where conversations are stuck

in loops of wondering if conversing

with self is an act of insanity,

so, I will claim to be capturing the

sun by pulling it down through

it's rays,

moreover, I am condoning

the unnatural as I find the

natural to be too sensual to be ecstatic,

yes, the journey of life

is long enough to fit your lifespan in,

but it will shutter dreams,

so, I await the night and I tend

to paint my expectations in dreams

I seem to forget,

I forge memories from art,

find beauty in the loneliness,

the shoulders become too heavy

to carry,

the readers formulate surveys

about how I write,

and my answers are always

too confusing for them to capture,

and I'm left answering questions that

demand the human part of me...

Euphoria, sometimes paradise 

and freedom is hidden behind a 

closed eyelid,

sometimes it's about learning not

to reply to your mind's mouthpiece.

The world is angry and sad,

peace is not found in purpose, but

in knowing that the world is a circus

and that you're the clown that needs

to be laughed at to stay relevant.

So, what do I do to feel safe,

I sleep and dream my fantasies 

into my dreams,

there's no love for those who

speak to themselves,

purpose marries your attention,

you pass those who want to sacrifice

anything for you and you chase

that which nominates you as a good human

in the history books.

I'm not here to change your minds,

but rather to rebel against mine.


So, what is my euphoria,

my ecstatic place; 

I think I have found it in a place

I fail to remember,

within the deserted space 

in my mind maybe.

Who do I aspire to be?

No one actually, I'm not here for aspirations,

for I saw that aspirations are

fulfilled by connections and


So, what do I stand for?

I stand for what makes me laugh,

and anything that can get me out 

of my own head.

Reality is scary, I say,

it takes better people than me to

be able to change it for something

that is better,

I'm not being pessimistic,

I'm just following the mood of

this poem; the flow.

But for honesty’s sake,

my Euphoria is when I write,

when I feel like I'm floating

and pruning stars from their strings,

when I sit on orbits that are visible in

my mind, when I stop thinking

and let my palms tango with the pen

on an innocent page,

the world becomes my canvas,

I become the alien force

that threatens to overtake governments,

I become a dreamer, a believer,

I become plugged to the cosmos,

I converse with ghosts of dinosaurs,

I resurrect consciousnesses of the unknown,

I learn to know what I never learned

or never had any knowledge of knowing,

poetry becomes an ocean and I'm

merely a sailor following the smooth tide,

freedom begins to exist, and I go far away

where I am nothing,

I am tired of being a someone,

I crave to be that five-year-old

statistic, but I guess me becoming someone

is a blessing revised.

Surely, I am not here to change

your minds,

I'm here to be a blind man

who tells those with sight about the

world only found in his mind,

isn't that a beautiful explanation

of voluntary insanity?..


I think laughter would be the best

reaction for this poem,

free verse is never free when

the mind, heart and soul 

 try to convince you that they are

different beings who wish 

to also express themselves.

So, it's all orderly chaos that is found 

to be beautiful,

isn't that what art is about,

I stopped being someone and

I became everyone that I could be,

weird I know, but isn't beauty found

in the unfathomable,

well, I think I have convinced or tried 

to convince you about what

I think about myself,

and I know it's all intertwined,

but that's where my real euphoria 

is harvested from,

the seeds of my euphoria

are merely thought proof!!!



By Eugene 'Philosophisticater'©


Submitted: December 21, 2018

© Copyright 2022 Philosophistication Poetry. All rights reserved.

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