The Pretense of Passion

This one debate regarding language went as follows:
The first speaker said, “Words are signposts to the truth.”
The next one declared, “Words are to mitigate suffering.”
And the third debater declared, “Words are to qualify experience.”
As the audience was leaving I overheard one fellow mutter,
“No matter what else may have been accomplished,
I wonder if any of them realize that words ARE an experience?”

 

Advice one area gave to another,
“If you pretend you know what you’re doing,
other parts will pretend that they support you.”

 

This one little chap inquired of his older, fatherly-type chap,
“Could you be part of the Real Revolution and not know it?”
The father-chap replied, “At least ‘tis neat that a few questions
have absolute answers, eh whaty…eh whaty?”

 

On this one other planet, last year during their annual
“Public Cerebral Confession Day,”
(known in some parts as “Admittin’ Time”), one participant spake as follows,
“I cannot deny, ‘tis the worst of friends,
in the worst of inns, my days have thusly passed,
and always with my brain-flag
waving at half mast.”

The crowd responded with a solid round of “BOO! HISS!” to which he replied,
“Hah, it was persons like you that made me resort to poetry in the first place.”

 

True intelligence is not much harmed by education…
sometimes…in some places…
under certain conditions…

J.

 

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