Setting goals is well and good.
It’s healthy! If you don’t, you should.
Objectives get you going when
You’d rather fall asleep again,
And if you’re running out of gas
They fan the flame beneath your
Asymptote, which mathematicians teach
Is always slightly out of reach
But leads us to infinity!
Go, you! It’s back to bed for me.
I haven’t seen the news today.
Is everybody still okay?
One thing before you answer, though:
Don’t tell me if the answer’s no.
The game is fixed
The good outcomes
Before you even
Took your seat
Let’s save some time
And let the babies
Have their way
I would, except
I love to play
When it’s damaging
That the victim’s credible
You’re on the wrong side
I don’t mind taking credit for
Good deeds done years ago (or more):
They’re part and parcel of the man
I am today. I didn’t plan
To base my reputation on
What happened then. Those days are gone,
But I’d be foolish to deny
I did those things, so I don’t try.
When people look at me, if they
See teenage me, then that’s okay.
I have a lot to offer now,
But if it helps to be somehow
An avatar of younger me
I’ll gladly shake the laden tree
I’ve nurtured from that humble seed
And taste the fruit of that good deed.
NOTE: If my youth was wasted, let
It go. I wasn’t human yet!
Many things we think we know
We really just believe are so
Because we trust the ones who said
(Or wrote) the things we heard (or read).
That caterpillar, for example,
We decided not to trample
Underfoot while strolling by
May someday be a butterfly!
Is that a thing we “know”? Not really.
Woolly bears with wings? That’s silly!
It’s impossible to tell
Without, like, watching them, so, well,
I guess we’ll never know for certain.
Experts, though, may raise the curtain
On what they perceive to be
The “truth” if “we” “trust” what “they” “see.”
The medium, McLuhan told us,
Is the message. Who would scold us
If we chose to take his word?
Would famous people lie? Absurd!
If someone tells you something’s true
And they’re more popular than you
Among your peers, they’re clearly right.
Ben Franklin proved that: With his kite,
Some lightning and a restroom key,
He sold us electricity.
If Joe from Dover’d pulled that schtick
We’d all have known his parlor trick
Was bogus, because who was he?
Ben Franklin knew publicity
Was where the power truly lay,
And that’s why we have light today.
In case you don’t believe me yet,
You read this on the internet,
The same place where Ben Franklin wrote!
If that’s not truth, it’s got my vote.
I don’t know what’s true
But I know who’s lied to me
Which seems like a clue
Equi- from equal, and nox as in hard:
A coin on its edge between dark and unstarred
(And please, hold the rant on how our star’s the Sun–
There aren’t enough hours, now autumn’s begun).
Relentless reminder we’re slightly more old
With each pumpkin spice latte (with cinnamon) sold,
We’ve started the plunge from the top of the tall
Summer tower toward winter’s cold sidewalk.
Some Saturdays are days of rest,
Slow-paced and lazy, Bacchus-blessed
And unproductively okay.
Today was not that kind of day.
If every sleep’s a tiny death
And likewise every wake a birth,
Last night a clutch of pups drew breath
In turn, then quickly left this earth.
(One’s mewling yet, for what it’s worth.)