The intelligent are put where they can’t hurt anyone:
The cages of academie,
The gaslight houses' jackets,
The cardboard towns along the street.
Words may have meaning someday
But for now they are the playground of the damaged
Given a platform to say:
"There is no truth
Except my lie"
And if it's offensive enough to the holy
It will be advertised
In waves of saturation
For the cognescenti.
The informed are a bomb that has been defused.
But history will soon enough be wiped smooth,
As it is periodically, when the deceit gets too thick
And faith can no more be relied on to fool.
It's a black hole of knowledge
For those too naive
To believe,
Who stay within the life of the mind
In the crypt of the truth,
Waiting
For someone to find them
But they never really do.
