When I wrote 'Good Dope'
I knew I'd swung a dinger
an out of park, into stands
winner, and that my dear
father would've celebrated
the homer as a cutting edge
description of scientific truth
Poems
Those feelings you can get of being close to God
when you're sensing a deep connection with Him
receiving definite signs and signals back from Him
rapturous ecstasy flowing through you as pure joy
love for Him, yourself, and all else crystalline clear
well, that's the highest of Homo-sapient hormones
delivered by your brain as dopamine's best emotion
I'm gone now, so this is posthumous,
oh my god I so want to be alive again!
I want to breath fresh air and eat food!
I want to feel the hot sun upon my skin!
I want to be in the light and not the dark!
I want to know laughter one more time!
I want to cry and have the teardrop fall!
I want to sip and taste sweet well water!
I want more time, please, just a little bit!
If as you believe there's only one god
plus he's a he, which is fucking weird
and we're his biggest accomplishment,
why the hell would he make us so small
and put us out in the middle of nowhere?
You go on to claim your god made a son
that needed a human mom but not a dad
and this godchild walked on top of water
and rose up after being dead in his grave
which makes you bat shit crazy my friend
Your religion stated Earth sits in the center
our planet is only six-thousand years young
geographically the world lays as entirely flat
after your alternate facts, science truth came
and enlightened us all to your goddamned lie
Now there're no living god in your fake churches
you've exactly zero direct lines to lords supreme
so, you're a bunch of highly evolved chimpanzees
flailing your hairy arms in anticipation of bananas
fully out of your minds, loony bastards and bitches
Yes, we're each the most important character in our own story
but all are insignificant sub-plots compared to the much bigger
main tale, the one about how the entire Universe, including us,
came to be, and the answer to that question is in science truth
the only actual knowledge existing in the Universe, because all
else is simply meaningless stuff until a scientific description is
assigned, so science (and her many branches) is the only reality
I'm feeling three-quarters fantastic, one-quarter meh
but since fabulous mood is really what matters most
I'll take the one-fourth percent loss gratefully smiling
Now as looking good's concerned, this point is muted
aged cells and overused skin have undone my telling,
I'm hanging onto the first three-fourths with all I've got
I love what you love, my computer's forever same
our yellow, blue, and black wires, identical in brain
When watching documentaries, I too feel really good
if we can bottle that emotion, I really think we should
As contribution is two-time bombs, ticking to the blast
is it the red or the green wires we snip to get there fast
I can't remember what I had to say before I lost the thought
yet in the searching for gone things, some new ideas popped
A lot more than two, actually, as a slew of thinking came
becoming blocked as beaver dams, log jamming in the rain
Then the overflowing pondering conceptually flooded fast
ever leaving me in a debris field, devoid of everything I had
Every baby is adorable, between black and
white and every other color of the rainbow
and all human infants live within the perfect
presence of everyday living, fully absorbed
in a moment to moment mode of existence
So many men lose that ability to be happy
right here in the now, I know I did one time
I found it again, thanks mostly to Eckhart
but I didn't become one of Tolle's groupies
because that would've only pulled me back
All caught up and nowhere to go
as if this last quarter stage of life
is devoid of the poignancy once
claimed by youthful exuberance
My ability to care is leaving me
as a dried out, quietly deserted
termite mound, with only hollow,
lonely holes of forgetful neglect
The way out is marked, solutions
back blocked by years of declining
decay, and so I'll follow the insects
disappear into the starry night sky
We were barely twenty, I think, the first time you told me,
"it doesn't matter what you think Marshall!", but like a
stubborn Homo-sapiens caught up in his own selfish
feelings of ignorant, over-importance I strongly bucked
your theory, replying, "no Mitchell, you're wrong, it does
matter what I think!"; yet fast forward now to sixty-two,
where I finally get to hold your truth, which you had way
back when, that it actually doesn't matter what I think, and
as you also said it really doesn't matter what anyone else
thinks, although you didn't say why, but I'm guessing it's
because human thought is nothing more than silent signals
worthless, meaningless, invisible electronic impulses sent
from a space already dead and lost forever to the sizzling
hands of a red giant star and a shrinking, lonely white dwarf
