mercredi 30 janvier 2013

Cockroaches don't feel pain and neither do football players

Cockroaches don't feel pain. Neither do ticks.
People have been killing roaches, stepping on them, beating 'em with sticks
making them pop under their thumbs as they race up a wall,
pulling out their antennae in the hope that they will
get lost and never find their apartment again
that they will err
cross state lines
get run over on a highway or worse,
drown in a body of water!

Such suffering must be put to an end
and protection for these insects    and other higher
order animals                               is needed.

True, you may be an exterminator reading this piece
watching Monday night football or the Super Bowl and
savoring the painless action of witnessing
other neurons get clobbered
synapses crushed beyond repair
in the name of a Sport that exalts and celebrates the tackle  -however vicious-
between two hefty, jumbo athletes

Nobody is accusing you to understand the pain of a lower order
To empathize with neuro-transmission and consider it like a marriage
However if you continue to put acetic acid on the antennae of roaches
I will still respect you
I will judge based on what I can see (not feel) while
cracking the crusty crab arm that I have disjointed on my plate.

And if you believe that Jane Mansfield
felt nothing at her accident

Due to the devastating head injuries she sustained when her car rammed and slid under a truck
in pre-seat belt full-bodied sedan days
You may have a point 
She undoubtedly suffered more from having her career sidelined because Hollywood got 
tired of big-breasted bombshells and opted for the heady Shirley Maclaines

In the mid-60's Jane graciously slipped away to Las Vegas
Where the booze soothed the hurt
Just as today's footballers
seek the sooth without remembering what it was all about.

dimanche 20 janvier 2013

I want to be an Academic

                                                                                 want to be an academic
Let the World sense my Curiosity
Slalom through my passion

I want to show my Command
Unlike Moses
I've got tablets to show

It's more than rigor
Or blow by blow

I want to keep on dialoging 
Inlaying messages
into the ebony of mass transit

I am the A train of Desire
The paradigm of passion
The Aurora of Knowledge

My Eyes ingest 
So much that I need an appendectomy
My stomach recycles and grumbles
Viva Voce

Here I am 
At your door waiting for the rite of passage
On my cell contacts there is Osiris
It's not him I want
Nor Athena

I want You
The plume
The ink that runs from my veins
The racing clattering train

Clear of prejudicial sources
Fractaled yet structured
Producing astounding ethical results
Such as the percentage of salt erosion on disk brakes
In alpine countries 
As opposed to inter-coastal regions
With evidence of mathematical biological sequences
That finally will offer the unanswered musicality of
A broad wavy swath offering consistent and fundamental
Research now available to an audience that considers itself
Erudite if only texting, twittering and facing
Offer the same Stature as the libraries of Alexandria and New York

For this