Timothy Lawton

7/23/1999

Delirium, deleterium I made a rhyme
Melancholy grim jolly in flying time
Apocalypse now and tomorrow
Rattles and clips two polar sorrows
But, why all the vague attroceties?
All our vices and curiosities just seem to produce
The infinite deduce of every individual
Residual accumulations yield rapid sensations
That never last
No future no past
Just today
That is not the way
But, more importantly what is?
The question of the universe
Or, simply not to make it worse
Constitution
Revolution
I have no revolt
I do not aim to overthrow
But, only to build up
Beautify, runneth over the cup
So, why is the world so poor?
I think it’s what the others hoard
Why am I so rich?
I think it might be what I pinch
So, I made a whole slew of rhymes
Sometimes it’s the fleeting that doesn’t lie

7/20/1999

Stupidity, the science of the moron, the pass-time of the idiot
Seldom has mankind achieved such perfection as he has in the realm of ignorance
Were it space travel we would have flown to the very edges of the universe
Were it biology life on this planet would rival the Garden of Eden
Were it philosophy long ago mankind would have learned to live in peace and harmony
But no, it is none of these things we have chosen to master
Nothing to our benefit, nothing to our good fortune
Rather, we have chosen to become experts in the one field where none are needed
Professors of the preposterous doctors of the dumb
Think something and they haven’t had the thought
Name something and they don’t know about it
Quote something and they’ll never have heard it
Say something and they’ll be sure to misunderstand
Yet, it is the degree which we all deny we have
Strange isn’t it
The most monumental achievement of all mankind’s history is our sheer stupidity
And it’s the one thing no one is willing to take the credit for

10/14/1997

If paradise were found

Man would be sure to lose it again and again

If some how, some way

Some magnificent continent still lay in some hidden corner of the earth

Or, if it chose to rise from the bottom of the sea

We would be doomed to repeat history

It’s pristine waters teeming with life would be dredged with nets

Its’ lush woods and cathedral forests would be seen as timber

And its’ primitive people would be thought to be in need of our civilization

Business ventures would be planned and schemes hatched

Hotels and resorts would be designed and investments matched

And it would start all over again

Whether it be on Earth, the Moon, Mars or deep in outer space

The only thing that might be different this time

Is that man could no longer countenance it being done in God’s name

But not out some lesson we have come to understand

But rather by the pride we have in our own minds and greedy hands

No thoughts of a Utopia would exist this time

Just cold hearted calculations counting nickels and dimes

The natives would be considered for loans from the World Bank and IMF

And when they couldn’t pay we’d teach them how to work to pay off their debts

In a few millenium

And maybe by then man may have learned

That paradise is made of straw and easily burned

But, somehow I seem to believe that

Man would be sure to lose it if he found it again and again

From now until the day that this life ends