...Sooooo.... I wrote some... poems. For my creative writing class last semester. Urgh. I actually like them, which is funny because I hate poetry. Don't worry, there's only two, and they're short. I'll separate them with pictures from our 3rd anniversary day trip to NYC. Bad blackberry pix. It was cool though because they've converted a portion of the old elevated train rail into a park... a long, thin walking park through the skyline of NYC. It's pretty awesome. Anyway, the first poem came about due to my fascination with cells as we were studying them at the time over in Biology.
Cells
Encapsulated organelles—
Mitochondria, nuclei,
Chloroplasts in plants and a little DNA—
But on their own they’re not alive
It takes a cell for life to thrive.
The smaller things make bigger things—
Emergent properties appear;
Cell life, organisms, then thumbs, intelligence—
But lonely minds are not enough,
There must be more, or all is naught.
Computation, exploration,
Some genetic variation—
Hurdles on the path—of human evolution
That began in nonexistence,
And ends beyond comprehension.
The second poem came about because well, I had to write it for a grade of course, but also at the time I was finally invited into a Dungeons & Dragons game that I had been trying to get in on for a while... I've still never really played a whole game. Anyway, I had to create a character and I thought it would be fun to play a magician/engineer type who doesn't believe in magic. Kind of a crazy person, really.
Cirk Kamoron
In Gygaxian worlds, I’m a level nine Mage,
I’ve traveled the earth for seven times an age,
I’ve seen dragons and mermaids, once even an owl-bear!
But the oddest odd marvel that I’ve teased from its lair,
Is that effect has causation (and not seeing this is tragic),
So despite all the evidence, I don’t believe in magic!
But what do I chant from the spell books I’ve earned?
And how did I charm the scales off that Wyrm?
How did I heal all those warrior’s wounds?
And what did I use to raid all those tombs?
Well I’ll tell you my friend, but prepare to be baffled,
‘Cause magic ain’t mystic; it’s with science I’ve battled!
It’s not curses I cast but jagg’d bolts of reason,
Shooting out from my fingers completely off-season!
I fight goblins with logic and give elves their comeuppance,
I bind them with sense and I blind them with science!
Don’t tell me I’m crazy when my carpet flies near,
Magic spells are not real; it’s technology—that’s clear!
Don’t question my judgment, don’t query the hows,
But don’t trust the learned wizards, with wizened old brows!
Oh they’ve studied the mana, and they’ve codified grimoires,
Those know-it-all gimcracks! Those snooty old bores!
But where magick comes from, they can’t aptly explain,
So I’ll tell you right now, the laws of nature are plain!
These addle-brained mystics would like you to believe,
That magic is more than just a card up their sleeve:
“The source of all power comes down from the gods,
Or up from the daemons, else what are the odds?”
But I know in my heart, that account seems too hollow,
When Occ’s razor’s applied, then my logic you’ll follow!
When magical force is to objects applied,
Square the sixth root and by scrying divide!
Count up all the rune scrolls, distill all the potions,
In summation you’ll find mathematical notions!
But the sad fact remains, I feel very outcasted,
Without peer approval, my… ideas remain flaccid.
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