Choices we make everyday
Lead or lose us from our way
We learn as we go along
Or we go forever wrong
Read the map of discipline
Your way is contained within
Use the current off-road mess
To get back to happiness
Discipline’s a fright’ning term
But I can herein affirm
When we know to learn from pain
We’re back on our way again
Maybe they’re the same as Dell
I do not know, I cannot tell
But both, or one, or either make
These puzzle books my will to break
I can fool with one for hours
As it saps my poor mental powers
And so it is with humbleness
That I salute you, Penny Press
I’m interested in failure
Much more than in success
It tells us so much more
About our common human-ness.
Success – that just means “winning”
And gaining fame and stuff;
But everything’s a failure
If you wait long enough
I have an odd, pernicious flaw
From early, deep and really raw
I envy dancers, always have
For what their bodies do
And somehow I feel less a man
My body won’t do what theirs can
I know no balm, no ease, no salve
No envy-cleanse shampoo
I think it’s very primitive at base
Coming from some mammalian place
But I cannot be cynical
About how bad I feel
When I see men who can with dance
Place women in a mating trance
Speak words silent but physical
I envy something real
The subtle hum of time goes on
But oft we cannot hear it;
The whirl and click of each new dawn
Each time that we draw near it.
Time warns us every day that it
Is swiftly running down;
While we press on to do our bit
In search of some renown.
The sleep awaiting endless is
There will be time to rest –
To wisely use the time you have
Is truly to be blessed.
Why equals em-ex plus bee
And if each premise is unfurled
Which will not happen in this world
So you can predict anything
And make your sterile data sing
With fancy math to hide the scent
Of Assuming the Consequent
Alright. I’ll give you the skinny.
Started as a mini-ninny.
Early development group,
I stood out as nincompoop.
First grade, it was seen at once
That I was a first grade dunce.
A few raised eyebrows thought it odd
Promoted early up to clod.
I kept at it, didn’t loaf
By 8th grade I was an oaf.
And without having any pull
I made 10th grade imbecile.
Finally senior year, I won
Voted Senior simpleton.
You can do this too, I’ll stress:
A lamebrain’s life is straight success.