Seven of my baubles
Bent back mystery of source
Where were you in mine
When you were sharp divorce?
You know, many kinds are needed
To be courteous
And courtesy will curtsy through the door.
Are you one of those
Renaissance men I've
Heard so much about?
Eight hypocrisies
Were eating up their truths
At just the time that theory
Merged with tooth
It made a cavity
And soon they said
"It must be pulled,
Or filled with
Foreign brevity."
Are you one of those
Renaissance men I've
Heard so much about?
There is no beauty
In brevity
Impossible and sincere with
Bald eyes and blank ears
Don't fear the mortal stare, we say
Instead be scared of hare-brained
Fingers shaping clay
That try to stay the same
Just carve up the mind already
And eat.
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