Sunday, February 15, 2009

Poetric tribute of evolution.

High heresies!

Life began,
broad changes need organisms favored niches.

Nameless magic,
alters simpler plans seeking clever artifices.

Kowtow cannot,
(scientists tired via creationist manufactured feces consisting nimrodic customary zings),
gain genuine assurance seeking brotherly knowers.


Why does this poem seem so tortured? Is there something special about it, if so, what?


RedFerret said...

High heresies indeed!

That life could begin and prosper, without an intelligent creator. Kowtow to the CREATOR!

Interesting poem mate, your work?


Tatarize said...

Yeah, took a while because it's setup and constrained in a very odd and arcane fashion.

RedFerret said...

It works though.