THEORY

Civilization swoons under the weight of a solid theory
Gravity warping space and time

Theories within the cornucopia of thinking

Ruminations of the curious mind.

A quantum shift in reality

The world,

rocked after the insurmountable is explained

Hypotheses and their metamorphosis:

Existence contained within the brain

T  hese

H elp

E  veryone

O bviate

R  eality’s

Y ardstick

Idea revolution, concept evolution

New thoughts percolating from the depth of consciousness

as if by natural selection, geothermal convection,

plate techtonic movement or visual misdirection

The universe: an optical illusion?

And we sometimes see what the heart wants us to see

To illuminate chaos; impossibilities

The gas cloud of confusion hanging over our heads

until Bose-Einstein condensation rains down

jewels of a theory.

T  ruth

H ypothesis

E  xtrapolation

O f the obvious

R  eduction

Y es! Eureka!

Every academic field flourishes from theories:

Music, education, math, physics, astronomy, and biology

Economics, game theory, money action and reaction

How about theology?

Big bang! BIG bang. Could it really be?

The strange attraction between matter and anti-matter

Long-term potentiation, LTP, in our brains to make us smarter

The electromagnetism of contemplation, speculation

And creation from ZERO

T  ested

H elped by

E  mpirical

O bservations

R evised and reliable

Y ahoo!

Theories, the ancient greeks first developed

The geeks, and uber-freaks enveloped

By the scientific method

We've yet to define romance by a theory,

Yet selfish genes, memes, and other biological themes,

Attempt

Love fully-expounded would be love rendered dreary

Some things are more exciting as a conundrum or mystery

Perhaps when a Theory of Everything is at our disposal

The pursuit of knowledge will inevitably be

UNNECESSARY:

A startling possibility

THEORY on it's knees

This Planet Earth

A fish in a sea of ash and salt

still swims, it's not his fault.

A bird in a sky of smog and dust

still flies because he must.

In the ground of dirt and sediment lives a mole

If it becomes polluted she must find another hole

Babies crying, business men flying, planes touching down

We are a stressed, the world's in such a mess, our voice drowned out in sound

Yet, we as humans have a choice

We can object; we have a voice

Water, noise and air pollution

All bad. But what's the solution?

Avoid overusing mechanical toys

Don't litter. Make less noise

We must fight for their (and our) right to live

A fighting chance. We must give.

Overpopulation of our fragile earth

Can it handle one more birth?

Or another million?

We now number nearly 7 billion

Instead of creating another baby

Perhaps adopting and just maybe

Our Earth would become a nicer home

Remember, we humans are not alone.

The Devil Delivers a Naughty Note

Dearest Do-gooder,

Anyone who departs down death's dark doorway, awaits my arrival
Simply said, I seldom see civilization's aim at survival
However, he who holds himself high has been fixed to finally feel
That the things taking time, sometimes seem quite surreal
Life is living large, then leaving when one looks lonely
But I bet its better to behave belligerently. No, that is bologna
Do die delicately. Don't devolve into despair
He who takes to tiny talk has tangles in his hair
See, slander slowly slides some, into others interest
Better to build a bridge between buddies, than to invest
in inordinate amounts of alcohol allowing only anger to accumulate
I see everything and every angle and factor it into your fate
Don't you dare deliver darkness to denizens doing drugs
Instead involve your interests in helping heroes deliver hugs
Maybe then when we meet I may make my madness meager
Enthusiastically every entity I envelope, makes me rather eager
For frankly, I feel that fair and friendly folk are fundamentally fantastic 
So stay the course of kindness, lest you see me super spastic

Signed:

Sincerely,

Satan

The Political Gnawings of a No-Hope Misanthrope

In a familiar time and place, 

an era of political unrest ensued.

Thirst for power viewed, 

as equality eschewed.

Ideology polemic. 

Utopia rendered culturally bulimic.

Cast into the mausoleum of forgotten freedom

All hope abdicated, 

Yet the bourgeoisie remained frustrated.

The commoner sidelined, 

proletariats in duress

wallowing in the mess of the schism

The Look (Is It Worth It?)

You have the opportunity to be the best person you can. 

But vanity may sweep happiness right out of your hand

Appearances may captivate society today 

But its taking all the humility away

Given the option, the option to quit, would you measure the risk and take advantage of it? 

What do you get when you play to sweat?

What do you earn with the muscles you burn?

You don't have to struggle with the strength that you earn.

You use it or lose it, don’t you want to stay firm?

You could count your good fortune and stop while ahead.

But you brave the foolishness to get stronger instead,

Groaning and moaning as you lift a bed over your head.

Looking down the barrel of a loaded gun

When you're looking down the barrel of a loaded gun
You're at the end of the line and there's nowhere to run
There's something very subhuman that happens to you
You lose all fear. You are not you
In a flash of the eye 
you rip the gun away
Congratulations!
You've survived
one more day

The Astronaut Exhibitionist

If you were an astronaut exhibitionist showcased in outer-space,

would you tread in zero gravity shoes?

And would you choose to shift the view of current observations?

Space-time thought creation 

would be altered by your art-like inspiration.

There’s war between your eyes, 

All the banality of life you've despised. 

Somewhere, somehow, it always thrived.

But you erased the boring

using the sucking action 

found in the vacuum of deep space.

If you could use the stars to capture our attention,

revealing the vague unmentioned,

in the catacombs of mind invention,

you’d tear apart the threads of existence 

Revealing a portal uncharted and sublime

Then in a nascent universe we would be.

Free to see the mystery, the revelation 

of your cosmological epiphanies.

The Opposition

Diametrically opposed

Two enemies disposed

Thorns without the rose

Conflict that they chose

Not seeing eye to eye

Rather they should die

Then see the other cry

Asking never why

They shared a common blood

Born from clay and mud

Yet they argued over god

Neither spared the rod

When fighting with each other

He knew not that he was his brother

Yet they were from the same mother

Kept hidden from one another

So they fought and fought

Until a common cold they caught

Forgetting what they sought

together they did rot

The foreigner

Out-of-place
A saddened face
Like a dog chased
Traveling in disgrace

This is what it feels like to be in a foreign land
to have arms without hands
banking your future on a castle of sand

All distorted
Plans aborted
Nothing's sorted
Life's contorted

This is what it feels like to be lost and waiting to be found
Like an elevator falling to the ground
a wild animal wounded and shot down

Strange language
Missing baggage
Ripped and ravaged
Pride won't be salvaged

This is what it feels like to have a one way ticket; final destination
Riddled with frustration
A travel itinerary is not a useless creation

But in my land you're a foreigner too
Walk a mile in my shoes
Wrong choices every way that you choose

New culture new society new way of living
They say that adventure is the gift that keeps on giving
Where everything is a gourmet cuisine
All the strange places that I've been!

Lost and confused
Beaten and abused
Drowning in booze

Can't you understand?
I'm that stranger
Without a map or a spare hand
A stranger in a foreign land

Prophetize

The sun will consume itself then die

We shall not survive

Right now we are alive

Though this prophet questions why?

Day follows night

Night precedes Day

One day that won't matter

We'll all die anyway

The moon has a face

The sky has an eye

from earth we are birthed

Though this prophet questions why

Death follows living

birth precedes death

No one will care

When there is no one left

Time goes on forever

The universe expands

This prophet is an insignificant

excuse of a man

He who predicts a moment

to be this, that or the other

Isn't really living seriously

and shouldn't really bother

Us poor imperceptive folk

Who have no clue what's to come

Think the prophet is a fink

We'd rather remain dumb

The American Standard

Welcome to the American Standard:

A lifestyle of few rules

Where people are careless

and led by great fools

Welcome to tomorrow

There is no today

Their faces are vacant

Their countenance grey

This is one nation

a harvesting station

Corruption and destitution

overwhelming pollution

Raw and unkempt

The rich are exempt

Clawing at throats

Shrill harrowing notes

Pointless violence

Needless crime

Loathsome behaviour

Time after time

strychnine in veins

nitrox in blood

Dead hearts beating

faces burried in mud

An undying nation

Where god supposedly looks from above

Yet there is no compassion

There is no love

Patriotism distorted

virtues contorted

shock news reported

babies aborted

No man brave or free

Trapped in a prison of self-created misery

The innocent are lonely 

and as sad as can be

The Centenarian

I am one hundred and twenty years old
But I'm neither feeble nor weak
I am at the prime of my peak 
While younger bodies grow cold

I've lived to see two great wars
The invention of the automobile
an alcohol ban and then a repeal
Scientific collaboration across distant shores

I've seen the invention of the telephone
The birth of the computer and internet 
We haven't seen evidence of aliens, yet
I feel that we are not alone

I've survived the sinking of the titanic
and putting man on the moon
I've seen 'grownups' act like bafoons
As the cold war left nations in panic

So how have I been able to live such a long time?
I count my blessings and pray
And because I read every day
I've even avoided losing my mind

I feel that I will always be fit and strong
I have all my teeth; they match my health
My age is my flag and my longevity my wealth
Actually, I am one-hundred and twenty years young

A Childhood Memory

Do you remember the time when life was simple?
The summers spanned like immense oceans.
We were filled with readable emotions.
We used to play make-believe with stuffed animal friends
Ol’ Jack Frost brought fluffy, white snowmen.
I was never alone back then.
Remember Halloween hayrides and the electric excitement of Trick or Treating?
Autumn foliage brought forth to earth leaves of fire
Inviting mounds gave way to a child’s desire
Remember being frustrated as a kid and out slips, “I wish I were an adult?”
What about now? I bet some of us wish we were kids once more
Gaze through the window at a future present, and open up closed doors.
Reminisce about the past over a half-full glass of memory ale.
Feel a warm glow in your heart over dreams of childhood.
I look back at my yester-years and realize those times were good.

Little Plastic Lucy

She wears a face of plastic
Lucy is her name
Her lips are tight elastic
with hair long and plain

Withered is her pointy nose
just a touch of pink
Diamonds on her piggy toes
age 16, I think

Her smile is contagious
when she shows her teeth
On top she is courageous
fear lies just beneath

For every day after school
she rides bus one-two
To the local swimming pool
for the perfect view

She's always watching boys
as they take a swim
However she most enjoys
a talk with Mr. Tim

Who is a man of thirty
mohawk on his head
With him she is quite flirty
wants to share his bed

Yet for her he doesn't care
he's just passing time
He would rather do his hair
than statutory crime

Lucy shines her waxy smile
she wants attention
Tim is bored all the while
zero comprehension

Why does this girl talk to him?
There are boys her age
"What a bore!" says Mr. Tim
feeling in a cage

He makes excuse to escape
she cries by the pool
Then he feels like quite the ape
a bit like a fool

Plastic Lucy ends up sad
Feeling like she's had
Mr. Tim feels embarrassed
because he knows that he's been bad
So rather than feel harassed
she finds a younger lad.

NEWSFLASH>>Crooked Cop on the Beat

I walk the beat.
I chalk the street.
Citizen's protection
at my discretion.
I'm a crooked cop.
Two L's a pop.
I'll turn my back
to what goes on 
in the other side 
of the track.
I’ll take a small bribe.
Just trying to survive
in your crooked hood.
Doing bad good.
Whatever you want.
Whatever you need.
I'm the Man.
Raise your hands,
you're under arrest.
Two slugs to the chest
if you cross me
Not that I need
your sympathy
I'm full of greed
take heed
I want that speed
in your pocket
forget the coke rocket.
Turn it up
cuff 'em down.
Pigs living in
the stomping ground.
Yes I am
walking ham.
Understand.
Respect.
Check
your
chin
(grin).
Paid off
again.
So soft.
Donut eater.
Bottom feeder.
Crooked cop
headline featured.

So much for carcinogenic romance

Old poison pursed in lips 
Carcinogenic romance
The lung tissue slowly ripped
Fresh breath, not a chance

The coughing that it gave
An epoch without hair
Sent her to an early grave
Toxic cloud in the air

Nicotine first seduced the teen
Then the raging twenties,
Poor, polluted spleen!
Infarctions there were plenty

Blackened gums from chewin’ baccy
The young buck played the game
He didn’t see the heart attacky
Only his decisions were to blame

The Rasta puffed a doobie
He was twenty-five
Baked like reefer Scoobie
‘Wasted’ he was described

All three users died a young death
Their years together totaled ninety-nine
Even to their last breaths
They believed that they were fine
Legal or illegal usage
Is like consuming filthy sewage
It’s a self-inflicted crime.

Existence: Now and the next

The Earth wobbles like a bobble somewhere in space

Earthlings exist; its an unusual place

Wonderful critters big and small, people short and tall

inhabit the planet, third rock from the sun,

active or passive, there’s busyness and there’s fun.

It is a life of action – reaction, animal attraction,

political peculiarity and religious factions.

Complexity is disguised in the blush of a rose, the design of our toes

or an elephant’s nose.

Who knows, maybe our descendants will laugh at our shows, or ponder over ancestor poems and prose.

Everywhere there are mysteries; questions galore,

There’s the matter of scatter, the journey of sand onto shore.

Our thoughts run deep, our lives play shallow; we are driven by ambition

While we sleep, dreams seep memories and radical visions:

A future in another universe after rebirth, the worth of the earth to aliens, will we act as interstellar neighbors, distant strangers, or friends?  

It’s our mission to end poverty, intellectual robbery; wide-spread pollution

There is a solution buried beneath the confusion of every-day living

If the rich keep giving, and we continue to form cultural bridges,

Education advances, then our hearts won’t need to bleed hope,

but sanguine blood. Now God, communicate directly to us.

Continue helping us cope with the darkness and the absurd.

Let the good words be heard, clearly, not blurred.

And the slurred, erased. Abasement replaced with encouragement and love.  

We are not beyond forgiveness, we are not lost, we must work hard,

Because freedom from suffering exacts this small cost.

I look down and see 5 billion bipeds cooperating, persevering,

thriving and surviving. They are all working, eating, drinking, thinking. Thoughts trickle from the mind as collective laughter and tears: will they be here to endure the hardships brought by another 1000 years?

Sure. If they continue to play their part, and think with their hearts,

Humanity and sanity will still be here.

Ghetto Sense

Hold your head up kid
You're just another victim of the ghetto
Yet you've got guts
With dirt on your torn boots
and your ripped sleeves looking sick
You get by on prayer
But you'll make it some day
Know it. Own it.
Another victim of the ghetto
but you've got better things to do than mope
You've got your hungry brothers to feed
a young baby on the way
And you are flat out broke.
but you've got guts
so you'll find a way
Live it. Feel it
The decay where you are
Sometimes suffocates you
tightens up your throat 
like mothballs dipped in Kerosene
The paint is peeling from the walls
The ceiling caving in over a bare head
Itching to crash southward
On this bitter cold day
you ruminate on the meaning of things
Yet you get by with what you have
Victim of the ghetto though you are
You have your pride
Your Self-esteem
Filled with it without knowing the sense
called dread.
You'll find the means to salvage your life
and reclaim your questioned existence
Good luck, kid.
I know you can do it

Alzheimer's

My brain has rotten. 

My neurons caked with decay. 

I can't remember my last name or enjoy the fruits of play. 

I'm suffering, forlorn. 

Curse the day I was born! 

I have a mind disease, Alzheimer's twelfth degree. 

I look in the mirror but I can't tell that it's me. 

My son says that I'm looking better.

 I can't of course agree. Because I'm lost. 

So far out at sea. 

Only God can save me from me. 

Help! Give me your hand. 

I cannot stand this misery. 

The happy life I once lived is only history. 

I can rhyme, but that too will fade in time. 

My poetry used to be so clever, crafted line by line. 

Now, daily I cry. 

I wish that I would die. 

What did I do to deserve this sickness?

 I can barely wonder why. 

My  cognition has deteriorated to the point of uselessness. 

I'm an empty shell. 

Lay me down to rest

 and banish my head demons to hell.