Poetry-Thing Thursday: The Species Human

A classic abridged,
s’like an empty fridge;
all potential courage,
but no porridge,
n’ dropped from’a ridge,
takes less damage,

for there’s nothing spoiled,
nor laboriously toiled,
and man a-foiled,
when reality’s roiled,
the would-be uncoiled,
to be re-boiled.

Humanity’s no dif’rent,
that much’s apparent,
sanity for-rent,
while ev’ry torrent,
of life goes unspent.

And empty are minds,
that should’a been fined,
by their own kind,
when forced to remind,
of the contract signed,
and battles they’d wined.

If not for facts,
we’d be without tact,
for solemn’s the tract,
which man does attract,
but when he’s in pact,
he uses his knack’t,

for wit and creation,
to seek out libation,
from life’s equation,
with hopeful elation–
sunny prostration,
and ocular dilation.

So may we rejoice,
with robust-like voice,
and plentiful choice,

in light of day,
with a better way,
where none can say,
that we didn’t try,
whether obvious or sly,
to use up, fly,

as one greater than kin,
or any name-pin–
the species Human.

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