Homo Sapiens

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Abstract

s to places We shouldn’t be in, And dating persons We shouldn’t be with. And we savour the acidic taste Of the female flower so illogically. We vote against our interests And remain enchanted by The imaginary cohesion of nations. We double down on aphrodisiacs and opium, shunning the “Holy” waters of the Zamzam. We worship anthropomorphic beings And follow prehistoric constitutions; Heck, we even fight to appoint arbiters To conserve our mental constructs! We invent states of nature and Social contracts, and “free” hands Of the market that constantly, and discreetly, Extract surplus fiat money. We dig up dirt, dead bodi

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es, and geophysical Instances valued at millions. We waste ourselves, reminisce, Write prose and verses, mount the Sinai, Run between the Safa and Marwa, Wish the dead became alive, And time didn’t fly. Yet, at the end of the day, We are as helpless as an abandoned Fowl-egg in the middle Of a crowded downtown. Eventually, we all hit a wall of grief, regardless a decade since Karma; The world comes crumbling Down on us like The bulldozed ancestral homestead. Still, will you come sit at my table, My friend, and try to understand Where I’m coming from after travelling All these thousands of leagues?</p></article></body>

An evolutionary poem

Our limbic system Gets the better of the frontal cortex, Taking us to places We shouldn’t be in, And dating persons We shouldn’t be with. And we savour the acidic taste Of the female flower so illogically. We vote against our interests And remain enchanted by The imaginary cohesion of nations. We double down on aphrodisiacs and opium, shunning the “Holy” waters of the Zamzam. We worship anthropomorphic beings And follow prehistoric constitutions; Heck, we even fight to appoint arbiters To conserve our mental constructs! We invent states of nature and Social contracts, and “free” hands Of the market that constantly, and discreetly, Extract surplus fiat money. We dig up dirt, dead bodies, and geophysical Instances valued at millions. We waste ourselves, reminisce, Write prose and verses, mount the Sinai, Run between the Safa and Marwa, Wish the dead became alive, And time didn’t fly. Yet, at the end of the day, We are as helpless as an abandoned Fowl-egg in the middle Of a crowded downtown. Eventually, we all hit a wall of grief, regardless a decade since Karma; The world comes crumbling Down on us like The bulldozed ancestral homestead. Still, will you come sit at my table, My friend, and try to understand Where I’m coming from after travelling All these thousands of leagues?