I'm a happy half-Frenchie
(And a bit Japanesie)
With Chinese blood too,
It all flows a-freely
Before you do call me frog or yellow
Noodle slurping- arrogant fellow,
Try to abstain
From your deep disdain
If only momentarily.
Though a bit too loud for most,
And unfortunately not a good host,
My wish is to make all happy
Even though this poem's clumsy.
Of course,we all do know,
That one should be real weary
Of such a desire to please.
Such a trait, though a flaw
Is my embarras de choix
And so it remains so,
You are all welcome to tease.
Not always wishing to post
Thoughts accompanying your morning toast
Let it be seen that these observations,
Are merely commentary, at most.
And so we go enthusing,
Cogitating, scrambling life.
But it is all confusing:
Its curious stripes,
Its hypes, its strife,
So many quandries are bemusing.
Is free-will an illusion?
Are we not basically odd?
Can there be more than one version,
Of ourselves- are we all fraud?
Do such quantum theories upheave,
cause restriction and distortion,
of our idea of God?
Or does it give us truth,
That above us, beyond us, there lies no real proof,
Of a complete and whole Universe,
Whom remains, (I am sorry)
Undeniably aloof?
Before we even know it,
wipe, there it goes... poof!
All our theories and reactions
Of grandiose dreams and fractions
Disappear in one swoosh.
But does Darwin have to be right?
Is ET really alive?
Can a test tube carry love?
Does our soul truly exist?
And damnit, hell,
Why give meaning to our time?
Refusing to sound dark,
Like an emo in South Park,
Listen carefully to me now,
I did not read J.P Sartre,
To profess an emptiness
Lack of purpose or senselessness.
So make your own big bald spot,
By kneading that one knot,
If we concede to ignorance,
Turn eyes blindly and be vanquished
The mind shall fester in a hot pot,
And most eventually rot.
Without brain-b(l)oggling problems
That quizzes how we see,
What game would we be playing, dear
And what point would there be?
I want only to play, to ruminate
Let us say,
I need to grab those niggles
To sculpt and prod that clay
And pose those questions that are fuel
Which make us this world's mule.
