which came to me as I was reading a book review
The word; when all else cannot
Nourish, one must dig the earth
To find ideas, and chew them,
Cooked or not, until one feels
That he has gotten full. The
Things which keep one's cells
Alive, the food and warmth and
Status, money, make for mediocre
Meals. Their tastes are dull.
They do not last. A feast is
Conjured out of thought, and,
Eaten, leads to celebration.
Fail to think and all else fails.
One must consume ideas.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 42 times
Written on 2015-03-19 at 19:42
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A Perfectly Ridiculous Poem
When all else fails...that's notThe word; when all else cannot
Nourish, one must dig the earth
To find ideas, and chew them,
Cooked or not, until one feels
That he has gotten full. The
Things which keep one's cells
Alive, the food and warmth and
Status, money, make for mediocre
Meals. Their tastes are dull.
They do not last. A feast is
Conjured out of thought, and,
Eaten, leads to celebration.
Fail to think and all else fails.
One must consume ideas.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 42 times
Written on 2015-03-19 at 19:42
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text| Texts |
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