Thursday, May 7, 2009

Ode to Wicked-Whit and Habeas Corpus

T’was Theutus that demon god
Who had betwixt us mirrors wrought
A blinding fold of occultic smoke 
So we took of which thou had spoke

Our case we plead and it is thus
Are we to blame… or Theutus?

It was not smoke, but golden fruit
Need I now these prosecute?

T’was not I that did entice
Thine self brought evil into paradise
These cabalistic themes ye weave 
Knowing ‘tis cozy to stay and frigid to leave.

Furthermore what have ye learned
Of cognizant minds scoffed and burned
And rapturous trust to cerebral inhalation?
Relent thee not to such crackling erudition! 

Though these two points seem miles apart
Relinquish the vanities and uncertainties of science and art.

M. Thomas Eves, 1994

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