Tag: Cats

My Cat Is A Window

My cat is a window through which I see 
The world, my world as I want it to be: 
A place to silently observe 
Until I’m ready to move — 

The cold and the wind through reflected eyes 
Can seem, and do seem such a paradise: 
To live and to love without having to serve 
And with nothing, ever 

To prove

Schrödinger’s Cat

So, I was here watching Schrödinger’s cat,
Now it’s both dead and alive:
How it has managed this, I do not know.
Somehow, though, it did contrive

So both to be and to not-be at once
Putting poor Hamlet to shame:
So the old Law of Non-Contradiction’s
Broken, and I am to blame.

So in the middle of Animal Rights
Physics, and Theater too —
I’ve violated immutable laws
What’s a poor blogger to do?

 

Magic Cats

It used to be, disorder was
The rule of my existence;
But then I found these magic cats,
And learned about persistence

They taught me about liberty,
And honor, and adventure:
I came to realize my life
Was little but indenture

A bit of sallow love within
A skin of pure corruption,
That I'd have stayed within, except
For their kind interruption

Some cannot see them, so they say
That this is all fantasia:
Or that I am imagining,
Or suffer from dysphasia

One of them traveled from Saint-Priest,
Another from Kamchatka,
Another from South Florida,
I think it's called Palatka

They said my spirit had a cold
And needed some ablation;
As stuck as I had been within
The concept of causation

And so I sold my house and land,
And traveled to Alsatia,
To find some Gentianaceae,
Perhaps some stray Sabbatia

For magic herbs and remedies,
And parts of geomancy,
Were just a bit of what they've taught -
Whatever's caught their fancy --

I travel now around the world
With these three as instructors:
And lead but half an orchestra
Like most semiconductors

If none of this makes sense to you,
And seems like thought transference,
Then find yourself some magic cats,
And we will reach concurrence 

Agreement: it's the end of life,
The start of life, its middle --
And every trio comes in threes,
It's just part of
The riddle

there’s much

there’s much to fear, where’er we go,
and life will not quite go to plan:
we all survive as best we know,
and anyway we can

there’s much to worry on, and fear
is constant to us thinking lot;
the pain’s approaching – maybe here –
and sooner than we thought

there’s much to contemplate, and so,
we build our fortresses and wait;
but life comes in a farrago
to our enfeebled state

there’s much fear, and far to go
for woman, girl, for boy, for man —
we all survive as best we know,
and anyway
we can