Done my life of earning wages, I thought to rest by turning pages
Of the versifying sages whose lyrics I’d found appealing;
But such seeking hedonistic, ’twas most unrealistic
To think this simplistic foray wouldn’t start my senses reeling.
I wished to give my brain a rest, and to this I will attest
I felt that selfsame brain oppressed now being forced to ponder life;
If I’d wanted great vexation, I’d have picked my own contemplations
and enjoyed endless abnegation by taking on a wife.
Why must poems have some meaning, must I reason out a gleaning
Metaphorical images teeming from double-meanings vasty pit;
All poets do is cause me grief, befuddle me beyond belief
To wise their meaning even though it’s otherwise there writ.
What is examination, but some school’s glorification
I owe them no dedication, I’d rather pour myself a drink;
I have no use for words symbolical, less for data mathematical
And it’s not unreasonable to say the animal sciences stink.
I have since absorbed mine curriculum, the quadrivium, the trivium
And now I absorb Christendom for in learning I’ve learned nothing;
I have touched all that is knowable, discoverable, ascertainable
Yet the only thing retainable is the truth I’m now admitting.
That I soon began to speculate, were I to simply deviate
I’d be cultivated, educated and be damned a scholar’s weight;
Not learned in the usual school, for mine is like to that of fools
Where the rest of the talking monkeys and I still puzzle over tools.
Max S