The weather grows colder
And I older.
The clock ticks on.
Each second gone
Forever lost to me.
I sit alone.
Mere flesh and bone.
Is there a possibility of immortality?
That may be.
But for now the clock mocks
All my philosophy.
I wonder, could ther
Walking through the summer rain
I think of you with your philosopher’s brain.
Our conversation is always respectable
And almost always focuses on the purely intellectual.
Often I wish I could see
Behind your philosophy
And into your heart.
My poetry is part of me.
But my art
And all your philosophy
Are only part
Of you and me.
Is there more for me to see
Beyond your intellectuality?
Will I ever find the woman behind
Your clever chat
Of this and that?
Conversation runs dry
And I wonder why
I over intellectualise your opaque eyes
And what lies behind …
When I met a pretty Utilitarian last night
Who told me her name was Miss White,
We discussed pleasure and pain.
Then we did that again.
As reading Bentham filled us both with delight!
When a young lady that I once kissed
Said, “tell me, are you a moral relativist?”,
I said, “darling Lou,
Would that bother you?”,
She said, “I liked it when we kissed …!”
She about to go to university
To read philosophy.
I mention that I read Plato
Long, long ago.
I wonder, can she possibly know
That old Plato
Has no hold on my mind …
When I met a philosopher of this nation
Who said, “we’re all living in a simulation”.
I gave him a big kick
And whacked him with a stick,
Which was fine as we’re in a simulation!
In the wood
My dog chased
A squirrel.
No thought of good
Or bad
Had he,
For he was free
Of morality.
In my mind
I often find,
Squirreled away
A thought
I ought
Not to think
Of play
With prey.
Where I
To shave
You would find
My smooth skin
But what
Of mind
That lies behind
My sometimes grin?
There once was a philosopher of this nation
Who claimed we are living in a simulation.
When a student named Rose
Punched him on the nose
He said, “my pain is a mere simulation!”
A most philosophical young lady named Miss Page
Said, “this world is but an unreal stage.
But, let us 2 dance
And perchance find some romance”.
So we did, and crashed through the stage!
K Morris - Poet 