I think, therefore I am… confused.

Benjamin Hoff, Author of The Tao of Pooh

. . .

O House of Reason, my Brain above,

Beyond reason you are, when folly you love.

You wrinkled organ, you sheeple sponge,

You lack retention and knowledge expunge.

O Bowl of Wisdom, cracked and leaky,

Exuding thought ever so bleakly,

The broth of sages, bitter and searing,

Away from you, from confinement, is veering.

Confusion cracks our brittle brain-bowls,

And titters at the tumult that unfolds.

Confusion’s aim, is not confusing.

It aims to confuse a being of its choosing.

If this poem thus far, has proved perplexing,

Flee reader! Tis signs of Confusion’s vexing!

. . .

Granville D. Austin