A Plebeian Scholar’s Plea

A gown is much too heavy
for the minuteness of existential significance,

But a hoodlum’s garb is much too light
to hold the surge of alacrity in defiance.

While not bound by the intricacies of houses
to live with integrity and benevolence,

There are layers of omnibus auras
that direct from mere ambivalence.

While not voiced as the journeyman
that is so desperately sought,

There is enough of the Renaissance
to join the battles that need to be fought.

While there are Oxfordian intellects
that cast shadows upon us in their light,

A humble flame flickers in a shorter wick
when called upon in an unfortunate blight.

Quietly, in hiding,
pondering beyond the plebeian life,

We await in light slumber
until we are called upon in moments of strife.

While our body, mind and soul
dissolve in effervescence,

The spirit of our work
shall keep us warded from evanescence.

So hear my plea, dear cognition,
for we live to serve the greater intellects,

What keeps us in existence
is the very thing that destroys our prospects.

 

Quell

Quell the angry voices.

» Keep reading.

Sickness and scientific hodgepodge

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Watch

A silk blanket upon phalanges that barely cling onto thin air.

» Keep reading.