i can almost smell the drivel
oozing out of your pie-hole
and it makes me nearly puke.

seeing you carry that load
of crap and it smelling,
makes me kinda sad--for you.

i'm wind-blown as i hang-ten
past you, watching your confusion
get the best of you.

and you're busy trying
to underline the unwritten
with a child's eraser.

better you go stand and wait
instead of snugly snoozing
in your hammock of certainity.

i know you tire from laboring
at your mountain of ignorance,
hewing it to a mere stone of hope.

you can seek comfort in number
for we all have done this
and have met the same fate.

as we shatter the comfort of old dreams
and with diligence build them anew
into a splendid castle of Knowledge.

09/29/2005