The Philosopher Part 1

The Philosopher is a single long poem, I apologize for the inconvenience of splitting it into 2 parts. He pushes aside the weathered curtain The colourless tub, the bland tiles, his grey glazed sight He looks over his shoulder and invites her into his mental fortress The King philosopher’s decreed writer Her sole existence is to write his thoughts and greatness as the ideas arise from the ashes in the furnace of his mind Invisible revolutionary phoenixes, a wonder never seen The writer is a woman, beautiful, his fantasies rule with an iron hammer He feels nothing for the imaginary woman His dreams told of respect, of falling in love in its truest form: The caesarean of his mind, and she would fall in love with the thought burning society within So she sat there, somewhere, laptop in hand The philosopher closes the curtain, undresses, the water is warm It caresses him like no lover ever has Unlocks the rusting, fading Iron Gate within, this water that stirs the slumbering giant within his flesh He closes his fragmented eyes The distorted images disappear and his mind kisses his wounds better He sighs In his mind she waits behind the curtain, it must be awkward He does not smile, but his lips part, and he sighs the heat away The water cools The philosopher sits The small tub is a tight fit, he looks down The flaws of man so bare before him He sees them in many a light, riddled with the protruding edges of perception He tucks his fragmented eyes away The philosopher looks down on the folds of his flesh again The hair, the child of nature and god, an unholy affair His hand runs over his thigh, the meaningless hair, the soft fat His fragmented eyes see the flaws of society A misguided shamble of enterprises, the idea of destiny a delusion His misty eyes see a cripple He dictates his poem She writes He looks up at the curtain, the veil separating him from humility And he sees its transparency He sees the inadequacy of definition, of documenting his emotion and the ideas of his furnace He realizes the chaos of his being He looks down again He sees a handsome man Thin, fit, comfortable sitting in the tub Society in acceptance of itself and the reality of its situation, a philosophical utopia And behind that lie, he still sees a cripple © Samir Georges 2009