“CONFLICTING EVIDENCE IS NO EVIDENCE.” a poem OCT 3, 2019 (Thor’s)

“CONFLICTING EVIDENCE IS NO EVIDENCE.” a poem OCT 3, 2019 (Thor’s)

Gus smacked Bill RIGHT IN THE FACE,

And blood spilled on the floor, all over the place;

Then, Sally kissed Tom RIGHT ON THE LIPS,

So Tom said: “She loves me,” and he grabbed her hips,

And she then screamed: “Rape,” and Tom ran away,

‘Til they caught him and threw himInPrison, in”The Usual Way?”

“The bars are so hard, unyielding and cruel,”

But Tom, that Dear Tom, is nobody’s fool?

So, he used his “one call” to call Sally on the phone,

And agreed to marry her, but, when (he got out and) they were alone,

He beat her up real good, with a set of brass knuckles,

Which are SO DARNED SOLID; anyway, Tom got him some chuckles,

But then he read: (That) ALL THINGS ARE MOSTLY SPACE,

And matter ain’t solid, so the whole human race,

Is vibrating matter, so WHY ALL THIS HURT?

You’d THINK we would just “go through one another;” that’s what I assert.

EVIDENCE ONE: Solid matter doth exist;

EVIDENCE TWO: Molecules vibrate; so, here is the dualistic twist:

THERE IS NO EVIDENCE AT ALL; we’re caught in a dream,

And there is NO EVIDENCE for existence. LET’S ALL SCREAM.

There’s NO EVIDENCE to support history just because residue,

That APPEARS to validate IT, comes into view,

FOR, IT EASILY DISSOLVES, eroded over time,

AND there’s NO EVIDENCE really for Thomas’ crime.

Did he really hit Sally? She’s only beat up until,

The damage goes away, BUT WHAT ABOUT PICTURES FROM BILL?

You see, Bill took PICS of his face and Sally’s too;

“Isn’t that GOOD ENOUGH EVIDENCE, Mr. Poet for the likes of you?”

NOPE! That is ONLY dream evidence, which vanishes when you awake;

“Well, TELL US HOW TO WAKE UP, MR. MYSTIC, for goodness’ sake.”

Answer: “You’re ALWAYS awake, but as soon as you are aware of IT,

You are NOT YOU, but ALL.” AND THEN, WE ALL THREW A FIT,

And punched one anothers’ faces, until The Cows Came Home;

“AND this writing’s not here and never existed. IT’S A BIG DREAM POEM.”

fin โ™ฅ

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“REASONABLE CYNICISM?” a poem, a.k.a.: “Rumors Of Human ‘Quality’ Have Been Greatly Exaggerated.” Thursday, October 3, 2019 (Thursday)

“REASONABLE CYNICISM?” a poem, a.k.a.: “Rumors Of Human ‘Quality’ Have Been Greatly Exaggerated.” Thursday, October 3, 2019 (Thursday)

I CONTEND (that) noble, virtuous, consistently carried out acts,

Do NOT align with what we might call “Reason able Facts.”

THE FACT of Human Existence, as we crawl around this wobbly rock,

As far as we can tell, has ALWAYS been: KOOKS, who like to talk;

Like TODAY, people (1) watch TV; (2) want MORE & (3) listen to tunes,

Taking advantage of what they can get away with; in short, we’re a bunch o’ loons;

For instance, The U. S. President is a wonderful reflection of our world & soci ety;

As for Mother Teresa? & other “saints,” I don’t buy their “pi ety.”

Remember, I mentioned a Japanese friend of mine, who worked with Mother Teresa?

“She was a slave driver, who [often] yelled at us; why’d I ever get my travel visa,

To go to Bombay and work with her, doing work there for the poor? (pause)

And, also, at a moment’s noticed, all us REASONABLE people go to war,

To prove how good we really are orMaybeThat: “Might is Right.”

(The ONLY reason, I think, most people ’round here don’t con stantly fight,

Is because they fear their families might disown them and/or they’d be thrown in prison),

& The Next Generation’s not better or worse; just another bunch o’ goofballs has arisen.

George Washington? (ComeOn) (pausse) “I can NOT lie; (pause)

I chopped the cherry tree.” Far fetched, Baby; I suggest, “inA pig’s eye.”*

I don’t buy his nobility; he probably beat his wife, but Martha ain’t talkin’ & that is life.

So, the next time you read “sugar coated” stories of how “perfect” Jesus was,

Or How The Buddha sat under The Bodhi Tree FOR YEARS, just because,

You might ask: “When did anyone with consistent nobility ever live around here?”

I suggest they MOSTLY [just] drown their sorrows in beer,

Declaring how much they like that vile, precious drink,

An “acquired taste” it is; anyway(s), that’s what I think.

And, if you don’t know me well, I would definitely NOT smile at me too much,

For I’m just another bloke, yearning for the forbidden touch,

Of a Sympathetic Girl, who might’n call me “Sweetheart,”

But, when she gets to know me, I’m only hopeful she won’t depart,

Leaving in a fit of disgust, (pause) because, Folks, this poet’s lined with crust,

And filled with gall, desperately TRYING not to fall,

But mostly never standing EVEN PARTIALLY proud and tall,

As with everyone. (pause) But, I STILL CONTEND, “WE’RE ALL JUST FINE,

Despite that AnyOfUs can LOSE IT, with just a glass of wine,

For we’ll say SOMETHING (that) we’ll be sorry for In The Morning;

REASONABLE? Is SO Doubtful! I give you THIS TINY WARNING:

That EVERYONE’S A MESSY THING, BeYou GAL OR GUY;

We’re mostly BEWILDERED FOLKS, striving to “get by,”

With a smattering of ridiculous hope, in only a single eye,

And THE GREATEST TENDENCY, with the slightest pressure, (pause)

ToCompletely BREAK DOWN AND CRY.

fin โ™ฅ

  • – a phrase meaning: No way; highly unlikely.
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“HOARDING IDEAS.” a poem October 3, 2019 (Thor’s Day)

“HOARDING IDEAS.” a poem October 3, 2019 (Thor’s Day)

There are NO REALMS; there’s NO Heaven, but let’s not pout,

Even though Nirvana’s dissolved, and Valhalla’s on its way out.

Let’s go visit NEVERNEVERLAND and/or go sit on The Moon,

Talking with The Cheese Man; it’s good to be with him. (We’ll be there soon.)

IF we took all the children that believe in LIFE AFTER DEATH,

And gave them sufficient doses of L. S. D. or meth,

Perhaps THAT WOULD BE A SUFFICIENT START?

However, that would take care of us ALL, for the human likes to depart,

And go to some place ELSE ANY PLACE AT ALL,

Just to avoid the situation (s)he’s devised (which has failed) to give us A BALL.

The thing is: We do a lousy job, coming up with PLACES to go to AFTER WE DIE;

We think that (our devised) NICE PLACES AFTER DEATH explain WHY,

We are suffering now and are so miserable in The Nation,

So we devise the next GetAway OUR DREAM VACATION,

And, whenwe return to our miserable little existence,

We’re tired and confused, and STILL HAVE GREAT INSISTENCE,

That HEAVEN will be PERFECT, even though we’ve NO idea how,

Anything could be perfect, for WE CAN’T FIND HAPPINESS IN THE NOW:

(1) These places DON’T EXIST, although we talk about them every week;

(2) So there’s NO ONE THERE. You’d think we’d get tired always seeking to seek,

For A BETTER PLACE, where (finally) HAPPINESS WE’LL FIND.

(3) Ain’t gonna happen, Sports Fans, and, so, Little Virginia just whined,

Saying: “But I want Santa to bring me presents and stuff,”

AND (you know) Little Virginia CAN NEVER GET ENOUGH,

Of what it is she THINKS she’s looking for,

But let’s all be sure: SANTA’S COMIN’ THROUGH THAT VERY DOOR,

Or down the chimney, even though it’s been blocked up forever,

And Jesus will in THE NEXT I CLOUD, in The Land of NeverNever.

YOU KNOW, There’s NO LIFE AFTER DEATH for us Honey;

There’s no death; DEATH’S A MYTH; it’s even money,

That whatever THAT THING (death) is, IT’S LIKE FALLING ASLEEP,

And we can continue LIFE in another state that is equally deep

As THIS STATE, The World State of Joyous Confusion and Woe,

With Donald, Nancy, Vladimir, Rostropovich and Edgar Allan Poe,

Ravin’ about The Glories of Heaven, truth and justice and acquisitions,

Solidarity and Congressional Holidays and Divinely inspired missions.

Geez, suffering’s part of Life? Sorry; too bad; let’s all weep on That ICloud,

And “hoard” ideas within our minds. Come on, for crying out loud,

Our MINDS ARE SO CROWDED with all this funky imagination,

That our insanity is totally obscured, as we plan our next, GREAT vacation.

fin โ™ฅ

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