Rararuku

Smart is not what he thinks. Smart isn't facts. It's not math. It's not memory. Smart is knowing why. Smart is separation. Smart is detached. Smart is the observer.

Science explains. What, Which. If we know why, And if we know how, How can it be beautiful. Beauty is in the mystery, In the uniqueness. If I know how, It's not singular. It's not beautiful. Science ruins beauty.

In spring, the earth turns over, The life pushes up, And spits into the air, And the air is wet. The spring, with electric air, With springy new life, Weak life, Air laden, layered, With spring mist. In summer, the sun gives, And it gives and it gives, And it gives, And the air is hot. The summer, with red air, Air that sucks, Because heat makes for heat. Air, empty with heat, But equally saturated. In fall, the earth tires, And life is crushed, And rots, And the air is dead. The fall, with acrid air, With death surrounding, Weak life, Air laden, layered, Festering. But in winter, O in winter. Errant life is dead.

Seven days, In a room. Seven days, In that tomb. Seven days, Such a strain. In the garden Of my brain. Six days, Eras, years. Six days, Gone from peers. Six days, Mind clogging. Fists unclenching, Sight fogging. Five days, Back crumpling. Five days, Mouth mumbling. Five days, Teeth yellow. In floats a sound, A cello. Four days, Sound thund'ring. Four days, Slow, blund'ring. Four days, Starts to slow. Down to nothing, No soft glow. No clue. Three days, Three days. Sinking daze, Sinking daze. If it's not here, I don't know where. The longer I sit, The more I err. Two days, Light sinking. Two days,

It's funny when you talk. Funny how, How you think I listen. Funny how, How you think it's new. It's not. Nope, It's not. Indeed, It Is not. So. Stop talking. I'm not listening; No one is. But neither are you. Funny.

A circle is a perfect thing It is infinite Never stopping Never changing. A circle has no sides Or infinite sides Indefinable Undeniable. A circle is always the same But never the same I can't measure it Or understand it. A circle is just a circle But it's wonderful The culmination of human thought. I'm not a circle Of course I'm not But that's been said And that's been done. So in all truth Circles are irrelevant As a comparative thing Men are circles In that they aren't And what the hell does that mean?

Juice for the weak! Juice for the weak! Juice for the weak and tired And the feeble minded And the ones whose lives are spent, and Juice for the weak! Juice for the weak! Juice for the ones who need it And who they who it desires And the ones who really need it, Juice Juice Juice Juice Juice.