We raised a paramecium That we could call our own; A single cell, and yet so much, A presence in our home -- We wanted a forever, but The fates would not permit -- That day our paramecium Just up and freaking Split

We raised a paramecium That we could call our own; A single cell, and yet so much, A presence in our home -- We wanted a forever, but The fates would not permit -- That day our paramecium Just up and freaking Split
He joined a cult because they promised Pizza and a Coke for free: It seems a shallow tradeoff, but He wasn't quite like you, or me, He had a grander vision; he Believed that he was meant for yachts -- Though, true, he's spent most hours since In sweeping rooms and parking lots But his cult was a gentle one: He merely had to do his part, While all the letters of his name Dissolved, and broke into A Snellen chart
it's not my fault you feel it, it's just a photograph -- if you are hungry now, or doing time and money math to see if you have room to go and get you something sweet, that's not my fault, what's done is done, it's a fait accompli
You never know who's at the door, Though people don't come round no more; It's mostly just giraffes, and such, Since folks down here don't get out, much. We get a possum, now and then, A duck or two, a deer or ten: We often, then, must mop the floor -- You never know who's at the door.
I invited some Latin nouns and verbs over But they declined Unless the visit was conjugal Latin grammar is wonderful The language is so easy to grasp to the modern mind And many great classics of literary Scientific, and philosophical thought Are open up to one Who just understands Latin I sing this threnody for Latin A dead language That's still killing students everywhere (.|.)
an infant tile grew to know to undersell's to overblow the house we cover has no price and roof tacks are no paradise
Babbling carelessly down
The garrulous way of the fox,
He found himself far from the town
Where populi wasn’t that vox
He asked for another concern,
But there were no others about —
His mind could find no place to turn
Without a convention to flout
For the wood and the leaves and the dirt
Are commonly thought of as shy
As their message is not that overt —
Though you can find it out if you try —
Warbling thoughtlessly through
The pilloried ways of the past
He found that last shall be first,
And the first aren’t likely
To last
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?
I dreamed of paramecium
Turned into neighborhoods;
A type of micro/macro world
Of unicell canned goods
I don’t know where the setting was,
In Pittsburgh or Korea —
I just know that it did contain
The germ of an
Idea