Tuesday, April 2, 2013

Of Rocket Scientists & Hedge Fund Managers

They think 'til every second is perfection
They strain 'til every moment is more pure
They think so hard to earn their lives some reason

For only in their minds is some protection
Building to forever some vast sewer
They think 'til every second is perfection

They navigate the poles, collect the seasons
Have every guidepost marked along the tour
They think so hard to earn their lives some reason

They circumscribe all peoples into sections
Apportioned 'tween the greater and the fewer
They think 'til every second is perfection

The borders that they make are grounds for treason
To teach the young who cross to be mature
They think so hard to earn their lives some reason

They calculate by hand precise directions
But even then they really are not sure
They think 'til every second is perfection

They tolerate some crying within reason
Will let some longing sighs remain obscure
They think so hard to earn their lives some reason

Erections for destructions for protection
The greatest minds find lightning bolts to seize on
They think 'til every second is perfection
They think so hard to earn their lives some reason

1 comment:

Jack said...

Creative, well-crafted rhymes ("mature/obscure, "seize on/reason") and a killer commitment to form. I am floored by how well the repetition worked.

"They think 'til every second is perfection"

People over-distilling their life intake via perception. Sounds like wasted time, I think.