Margites

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

A poem about Margites; a character from Homer's lost epic; Margites

 

#Philosophistication
_
Margites
_
Eugene:
What is your philosophy?
_
Margites:
Tsssh...Scum!
Bystander watching the world
crumbling on dry bones,
what do you 'people' stand for,
don't you dance through the night
to forget the fights you failed
to refine,
it is funny, I watch and babble,
you hide your faces behind
shadows of reason,
fear drives the weakest of your kind,
pity builds momentary goodness
in your minds,
who are you fooling,
who do you reveal yourselves to,
enclosed in insecurity closets,
you hunger for attention
and violence,
filled with questions that
tend to leave you lost without
returning,
then you cook up philosophies,
silly excuses for prisons
of useless principles,
allow me to tend to your
perceptual wounds;
the humankind is beautiful:
'beauty is mischief,
mischief is beauty,
you're mischievous characters
carrying philosophical ordours,
order is what you sought out,
yet, chaos is what you brought out,
bushes echo gun-fires,
the powerful die from
poisoned doughnuts...
Then you bury my truths
in lost illiads and old odysseys...'
_
Why so serious...
why so serious,
the world's a stage my friend,
your lives are mere scripts,
allow me to be the joke
in your serious dialogues,
allow me to observe what
you're orchestrating,
silly little beings,
morality stems from opinion,
you worship institutions,
clap when morality is broken
on a basis of justice,
graves are feared...
well no... you're selfish,
you fear the tears 
that shall rain when you
no longer reign in your flesh,
you trigger your mindsets
to believe that you're superior
than anything else,
you're gods in rotting flesh,
you're gods right?
Guess what, I'll be the poltergeist,
the protagonist who 
embarks on a journey that
defies logic itself,
I am not part of your
conceptions or notions,
I am not born from the ribs
of your intuition,
I'm merely a reflection of a
forgotten host,
Homer's ghost,
it's too much beauty in
the world isn't it,
but you are all just swallowed
by the chunks in your
craniums,
lost in artworks that got
painted in dark crayon colours,
perception is the canvas,
fear is the painter,
you're the guest in the exhibition
that takes place in your mind,
it's a beautiful perfectly
orchestrated scenery,
I am Margites, the fool
who got his hand on the Pandora's
box,
I merely existed in the pages
of time, not in the pages
that tend to age with time,
delinquent,
no one gets my intentions,
I really do not resemble any villain,
I'm not Iago's reflection,
I'm beyond craving for desire
and designed pleasures,
I deleted such emotion,
if you think about it I am nothing,
just like the rest of society,
a society is buried in identities,
conceptualizing anomalies,
pleasure and desire,
fear to retire,
fighting for materials and
pride,
you peddle your own
existence into a bottomless pit...
_
I have awakened from my lucidity
to give your civilization a whole
new perspective on life,
not that of Plato, Socrates
or Aristotle...
I am here for a cause,
watch your world,
watch your liberation turn
your world into a chaotic arena,
candles lit, funerals on pavements,
who is the bad guy now,
injustice in democracy is a mere
casualty,
those who disagree much
against the system are advertised
as terrorists,
it's a chaotic world,
the seed is chaos but you
expect order to germinate;
your logic is really skewed isn't it..?
I do not come here as
a mere character,
but as an emancipater,
you people are lost in
scripts,
your roles are merely
designed to keep your potentials
buried... scratching the surface
of inevitability...
You built your whole existence
in this dying squalor,
trying so hard to evolve,
trying to grasp the infinite,
the singularity, the transcendent,
but you're left wandering in shades
searching for your shadows...
Fumbled up in the trigonometry
of belief and faith,
not knowing that this world
is a playground of imagination
and mechanics,
none is enchanting and none
is enchanted.
Peace is a myth,
the world is a spiralling
yin and yang abyss,
good guarantees terror and
terror...well it guarantees itself.
Extinction knocks on 
peaceful lands;
"When the Earth starts to settle,
God throws a stone at it" -Marvel-
Await the construction of your
graves my friends, await it...
_
Eugene:
...
_
By Eugene 'Philosophisticater'
_
Artwork by AdonisZaf
_
Edited by 'Philosophisticater'
_
Philosophistication Poetry © All Rights Reserved ©

 


Submitted: May 16, 2019

© Copyright 2021 Philosophistication Poetry. All rights reserved.

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hullabaloo22

Brilliant imagery and weirdly thought-provoking.

Thu, May 16th, 2019 7:21pm

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