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.
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Why does this poem seem so tortured? Is there something special about it, if so, what?
High heresies indeed!
ReplyDeleteThat life could begin and prosper, without an intelligent creator. Kowtow to the CREATOR!
Interesting poem mate, your work?
TRF
Yeah, took a while because it's setup and constrained in a very odd and arcane fashion.
ReplyDeleteIt works though.
ReplyDeleteTRF