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Enjoyable and thoughtful Poems about the God’s Created Works.
A GREAT INTELLIGENCE I lack the missing link, but still I link. My mind won't miss the miss-- it likes to think Upon the things it so delights to know! And from its ancient ooze there seems to grow A myriad of mind-imagined things: Like flying serpents flapping pervert scales! Not knowing they can't fly with unformed wings, They're soaring nonetheless! (It never fails); Like single-parent, nothing-fathered plants Which reproduce in happy happenstance; Like raw explosive gases gently joined, And multitudes of life from them purloined; Like trees and flowers, whose genetic schemes Arrange themselves according to their dreams; Like mighty eagles, merely missing wings, Who still can capture lesser linky things, And though they're lacking eyes and claws, their bill Can capture legless miceless mice. I still Can wonder, worship, marvel at the plan That accidentally generated man! Imagine! From a nothing in some sea Came such a great intelligence as Me! And from primordial quirky-murky spawn (Don't ask me where that came from-- let's go on) The highest life on earth should surely rise, Perfected after half a nillion tries! Show me a gap, but give my dreamings time-- My missing links are certain and sublime. Oh, I admit the evidence is sparse, But fables are the facts, the facts a farce, And fools always put their faith in facts! There's more to life than documented acts And records and statistics-- what a bog! Just keep your facts, for I prefer the fog. Just let me work with my imagi-notions-- I'll conjure up from dear old magic oceans Some random broken mutants whose designs Shall quickly conquer Scripture's old divines. Since fools alone can credit God's creation Let ME create with man's imagination. So let my fishes grow from outside in-- With outer forces molding gill and fin. I have no soul for superstitious stuff, I've heard you out, and I have heard enough. My dear religion serves my cravings well, So keep your heaven-- I will keep my hell. You say your way is true and wise and broad? I'd rather be a monkey than a god; I'd rather be a donkey with the crowd And keep the pleasing praises of the proud. I seek no proof that I've a soul to save, I'm living for the monkey's Christless grave. ___________________________________ Copyright 1988 by Stanley K. Brubaker; all rights reserved.

A humorous satire... but infinitely sad.

See Romans 1:22

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