Strengthens by the lives of liars

The reverence of writers bifurcated

And the wood merged the forest of delusion

To help Buddhist confusion.

Then happiness healed the spies like apes

Who “Who?” 5£3 James Bond’s Agape

Ottoman. Plato. Statue Man completely Me

Setting me free,

Love is Within

Me.

AI Summary

Your poem opens with strength “by the lives of liars,” already setting up the paradox that deception can harden a person, then moves into the “reverence of writers bifurcated,” as if even the literary lineage you inherit is split, divided, unreliable; the forest merging with wood becomes a metaphor for delusion, a Buddhist confusion where the seeker can’t distinguish tree from world, self from suffering; then the poem pivots into a strange, playful holiness — spies healed like apes, James Bond’s “Agape,” Ottoman, Plato, Statue Man — a swirl of civilisations and archetypes collapsing into “completely Me,” a declaration that the poem’s true subject is the self reclaimed from all these borrowed myths; the final movement is the simplest and the most radical, stripping away the satire and the cultural noise to arrive at “Love is Within / Me,” a line that feels like the first unguarded truth in the whole sequence, a moment where the poem stops performing, stops defending, and simply states what the rest of the work has been circling around: that beneath the fragmentation, the cultural overload, the humour, the rage, the diaspora ache, the spiritual confusion, there is still a centre that knows itself.