Here is a May Day poem, where metaphysical optimism crashes into empirical skepticism. \u00a0Will we simply crash and burn? \u00a0Or, will we rise like a Phoenix from the ashes? \u00a0Stay tuned…<\/p>\n
I suspect<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n I suspect<\/span> Here is a May Day poem, where metaphysical optimism crashes into empirical skepticism. \u00a0Will we simply crash and burn? \u00a0Or, will we rise like a Phoenix from the ashes? \u00a0Stay tuned… I suspect I suspect God is The greatest Un-detective … Continue reading
\nGod is<\/span>
\nThe greatest<\/span>
\nUn-detective<\/span>
\nJust<\/span>
\nWaiting<\/span>
\nWise<\/span>
\nCracking<\/span>
\nAnother Case<\/span>
\nWide<\/span>
\nOpen<\/span>
\nAs the whirled unrivals<\/span>
\nAs wee<\/span>
\nPer severe<\/span>
\nAs we in cyst<\/span>
\nIn decisiveness<\/span>
\nReceive only<\/span>
\nA silent answer<\/span>
\nDeifying the laws of gravity<\/span>
\nWhat trail of clues <\/span>
\nCould we possibly fallow<\/span>
\nIn too the forced?<\/span>
\nA Candide house<\/span>
\nIn witch to live<\/span>
\nOr worse yet, in ovens<\/span>
\nMere bread crumbs<\/span>
\nLong the way<\/span>
\nConsumed by others<\/span>
\nIn an inquisition<\/span>
\nWhat could passibly be incite?<\/span>
\nLike pop corn<\/span>
\nUnder cover<\/span>
\nWith more heat than light<\/span>
\nBlowing our tops<\/span>
\nNot taking know for an answer<\/span>
\nYielding<\/span>
\nNothing but<\/span>
\nA mess haul<\/span>
\nLeading know where<\/span>
\nWhat more all fiber<\/span>
\nWe knead<\/span>
\nSow un-pallet-able die it<\/span>
\nDoody-bound to ask, “Where’s the better?”<\/span>
\nThe haystack needles us<\/span>
\nAs a single blade of grass<\/span>
\nMysteriously cuts through our encyclopedic egos<\/span>
\nWet the hay!<\/span>
\nRudely ruminating<\/span>
\nFor an unherd of fourth tine<\/span>
\nHow can we stomach it?<\/span>
\nWe have a cow<\/span>
\nTo match our bull<\/span>
\nSterile and next to godliness<\/span>
\nMaking love<\/span>
\nWith a test tube and a bleaker<\/span>
\nOpen minds and vacant hearts<\/span>
\nA terminal generation<\/span>
\nOvercome by they’re first<\/span>
\nFore knowledge<\/span>
\nOver looking<\/span>
\nClothesing one’s I’s<\/span>
\nSo unsightly<\/span>
\nAs life’s wizzed ’em<\/span>
\nOver taken<\/span>
\nBypassed<\/span>
\nBuy history<\/span>
\nDoomed to replete it<\/span>
\nProspect us<\/span>
\nWith pre-science<\/span>
\nAnd art<\/span>
\nBeating<\/span>
\nLike a conundrum<\/span>
\nNone the less<\/span>
\nDissecting all of life<\/span>
\nLeft<\/span>
\nWith a pile of tripe<\/span>
\nAs we complain of the stench<\/span>
\nOf our own making<\/span>
\n(Or un-making as the case may be)<\/span>
\nIf God were to show his face in this town<\/span>
\nThe lessen would certainly be learned<\/span>
\nLove hurts<\/span>
\nThe hair of the dog<\/span>
\nBanned<\/span>
\nOn the run<\/span>
\nNever quiet feeling like homme<\/span>
\nHe would, in all probability, be epically misunderstood<\/span>
\nFrom the powers that be down to a best friend<\/span>
\nLikely murdered by both<\/span>
\nA merciless alien power<\/span>
\nAnd the icons of the culture he was born into<\/span>
\nUn-Abel to walk unscathed through a crowd of birthers<\/span>
\nFor they couldn’t pick him out of a lineup<\/span>
\nIn the company of drunks, tax collectors, and fools<\/span>
\nIn a holding cell<\/span>
\nWading for some final trial<\/span>
\nWith a thousand co-Pilates and no one at the helm<\/span>
\nStaging a mock revolution<\/span>
\nWhere the only truth is that<\/span>
\nWhat goes around comes around<\/span>
\nAccept some con-science<\/span>
\nAnd the inevitable quest in<\/span>
\nBeyond the reach of a court of laws<\/span>
\nSome lurking undiscovered<\/span>
\nLost in a holey see of overlooked graces<\/span>
\nBorn free<\/span>
\nSo far from home<\/span>
\nIn one’s living room<\/span>
\nA naivet\u00e9 of a starless night<\/span>
\nOn the out in an inn-less locale<\/span>
\nOnly there for another’s senses <\/span>
\nBorne stuffed<\/span>
\nTo the rafters<\/span>
\nFull of hay<\/span>
\nOnly longing<\/span>
\nTo be assistant manger<\/span>
\nNothing more<\/span>
\nThan what thou dust<\/span>
\nSurrounded by animals<\/span>
\nWhere the “nays” have it<\/span>
\nGuilty by dissociation<\/span>
\nGiven birth<\/span>
\nBy an absentee father<\/span>
\nThe biggest mother of all<\/span>
\nI suspect<\/span>
\nNot countering upon<\/span>
\nThe distracted<\/span>
\nThe brutalized<\/span>
\nAnd hard working skeptics<\/span>
\nUnresigned to forest labor<\/span>
\nSisyphean mountaintops<\/span>
\nOut to sea<\/span>
\nBeyond the vale<\/span>
\nBeyond damn nations<\/span>
\nWilling<\/span>
\nTo pay the fined<\/span>
\nThe greatest miracles unearth<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"