i am sitting on a corner bench
watching the light turn green to yellow to red
regulating the vehicles of the doppelganger coterie
remembering Ronald Reagan, his creeping senility
for no particular reason
and i wonder, is there reason in our ratiocination
his wife's use of astrology in political decisions
Romans are the ones who widely spread this ignorance
and i wonder amongst these motorists
if anyone really knows who is at the wheel
there is a point to epiphenomenalism
reasons we derive norms from naturalistic fallacies
folk knowledge is in sad shape
one can prove a negative
there are no dragons in the fossil records
the motives between ought and is
leave me uneasy
why there have been no new anatomical designs
since the Cambrian explosion
our common alpha
evidently evolution became bored
possibly a limit to creations creativity
i suffer ennui at times too
maybe i reflect that here on the bench
humanity wandering in wonder
at times leaving it all to unpredictable factors
or assign to some deus ex machina
novelist or poet
scientist or artist
while others try and improve their lot
by having some croupier as a personal savior
altho they have never seen the rewards of this gaming table
or personally the croupier
yet all seem quite sure of just what is the game
a handwritten outline of the rules
that is not reflected in mere human musings
a product of some sort of afflatus
that seems never to wont for rules
inspired by some inner vague voice
and as St. Anselm trying to move from there
into some subjective objective answer to it all
failing i feel
yet they build monstrous casinos
fill the air with pleas and exhaust fumes
which is absurdity to me, but who am i
speak not of this to the height of encephalization
for they have mastered the green to yellow to red
studying the stars while mindlessly destroying their earth
exploring the universe, abandoning the one within
and in inner whispers they try to hide
to thine own selfishness be true
there is possibly a grand scheme to all of this
and i can't see the puzzle for the pieces
sitting here on the bench i wonder does anyone really know
just who or what minds the wheel
of a million scenarios that could have been
realms meant to be but a passing phase
with the night upon their lips, a niche no more
extinction and the rising sun in their eyes
our common omega
i am sitting on the bench pondering
the sound of a supernova
the sonorous moonlight
fog reboanting against the trees
didn't somebody else say that
in the end does it really matter
isn't this where St. Thomas Aquinas chose to exit
i am pondering once again
the obsessive intent of the leaf cutter ants
who pass by in the silence
green to yellow to red
sitting on this burnished throne reasoning it all
having burnt the anthropocentric altar in a futile attempt
to remove myself from the equation
failing in its verjuice communion
wishing all a good day
having come to an understanding
entropy and extinction follow similar laws
yet life raises its head
lives all the more, leaf and jaw
the wraith, smiling in a Spinoza knowing, moves on
our common omerta
Fergus Falls 96
watching the light turn green to yellow to red
regulating the vehicles of the doppelganger coterie
remembering Ronald Reagan, his creeping senility
for no particular reason
and i wonder, is there reason in our ratiocination
his wife's use of astrology in political decisions
Romans are the ones who widely spread this ignorance
and i wonder amongst these motorists
if anyone really knows who is at the wheel
there is a point to epiphenomenalism
reasons we derive norms from naturalistic fallacies
folk knowledge is in sad shape
one can prove a negative
there are no dragons in the fossil records
the motives between ought and is
leave me uneasy
why there have been no new anatomical designs
since the Cambrian explosion
our common alpha
evidently evolution became bored
possibly a limit to creations creativity
i suffer ennui at times too
maybe i reflect that here on the bench
humanity wandering in wonder
at times leaving it all to unpredictable factors
or assign to some deus ex machina
novelist or poet
scientist or artist
while others try and improve their lot
by having some croupier as a personal savior
altho they have never seen the rewards of this gaming table
or personally the croupier
yet all seem quite sure of just what is the game
a handwritten outline of the rules
that is not reflected in mere human musings
a product of some sort of afflatus
that seems never to wont for rules
inspired by some inner vague voice
and as St. Anselm trying to move from there
into some subjective objective answer to it all
failing i feel
yet they build monstrous casinos
fill the air with pleas and exhaust fumes
which is absurdity to me, but who am i
speak not of this to the height of encephalization
for they have mastered the green to yellow to red
studying the stars while mindlessly destroying their earth
exploring the universe, abandoning the one within
and in inner whispers they try to hide
to thine own selfishness be true
there is possibly a grand scheme to all of this
and i can't see the puzzle for the pieces
sitting here on the bench i wonder does anyone really know
just who or what minds the wheel
of a million scenarios that could have been
realms meant to be but a passing phase
with the night upon their lips, a niche no more
extinction and the rising sun in their eyes
our common omega
i am sitting on the bench pondering
the sound of a supernova
the sonorous moonlight
fog reboanting against the trees
didn't somebody else say that
in the end does it really matter
isn't this where St. Thomas Aquinas chose to exit
i am pondering once again
the obsessive intent of the leaf cutter ants
who pass by in the silence
green to yellow to red
sitting on this burnished throne reasoning it all
having burnt the anthropocentric altar in a futile attempt
to remove myself from the equation
failing in its verjuice communion
wishing all a good day
having come to an understanding
entropy and extinction follow similar laws
yet life raises its head
lives all the more, leaf and jaw
the wraith, smiling in a Spinoza knowing, moves on
our common omerta
Fergus Falls 96
Dedicated poetry on science/philosophy of science
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