The fog is so thick now We’re buried up to our necks in it Our bodies out of sight And out of mind Making the ground beneath our feet
Life is either A whole lotta nothing Or a whole lotta love Nothing could be easier than love Then again
If human beings are to survive it will be as cyborgs where AI does all the thinking and we supply all the feeling with the caveat that
God is the storm un– til He becomes your shelter from the storm. Amen
A poem is like a dream In that it shows us the truth Without telling it Because, truth be told There’s no telling
Because bodies make a fart joke of… etiquette used to dictate that whe… passed gas at, e.g., a dinner part… the polite thing to do was to pret… the fart never happened
I have a bad habit of predicting the future; it has kept me alive but only to fight another day And yes, my brain is pattern-seeki…
Instead of the invisible hand bending self-interest towards the collective good we got the risible glad-hand laughing our selfishness off
If things feel prearranged it’s because you’ve already rearranged
All men come with self-destruct bu… If he seems to be missing one, you’re the button
Like a real life Picture of Dorian Gray my hair stays full even as my act wears thin
What is wrong with the world today?: Dear Sir or Madam, You are.
The older that I get, the more wanton lust looks like wanting for love
We are hard wired for cooperation to better compete Marxism fails because it enacts a competition
I thought I’d crafted a mystique when all I’d rea– lly made were mistakes
