So many morons, so little time
Please, dear reader, disregard this rhyme
Compassion is a value that I strive to attain
But my grace is still limited, so I write this refrain
So many morons, I don't know where to start
Like poison in my veins, they curse my art
They who have mouths that are just too wide
Who don't know when to just keep their words inside
To be considerate, is that too much to expect?
To not open your mouth, to your own soul's regret?
How easy it is to pronounce opinions as fact
How easy for the morons is this moronic act
But what do you show when you open your jaws
That you make your pronouncements without just cause
That you simply parrot the words you have heard
No matter how illogical or how truly absurd
Lets take for example this issue of grace
To look upon the needy, hurt, crying face
And simply pronounce as the judge cruel and cold
That the fault is theirs and absolves you of what you're told
When you're told to love freely, to show grace unto all
When you're told to reach the needy and those who did fall
When you yourself have been saved from the darkest of sins
How dare you pass judgement based on one of your whims!
Another moronic acts draws painfully near
The one who gets mad and makes it all clear
Unto the world, he speaks in his malice and contempt
Laying bare before all his hatred and resent
But beneath that layer of thin guised ire
Reveals he to all that he has no desire
To learn the truth of what he's been told
That he'd rather listen to others, as long as they're old
Now no disrespect to the ancients with snow on their heads
But too many have observed the world from within their beds
Made with malice, contempt, bigotry, and lies
And have not wisdom to trade for their blind, aching eyes
Some definitly do, but some definitly do not
So age should not be where all knowledge is got
But instead in seeking out many points of view
To understand what says many, and what says few
There is wisdom in diverse council, the preacher did say
But they seek not true wisdom, they do not know her way
They walk through the streets beating their brass drum
While waving their banners to declare they are dumb
So why do I get so angry and upset
That the stupid should stupidity beget?
For know we not trees by the fruit that they bear?
So its no surprise to find moronic behaviors there...
But its that same compassion, mentioned before
That sees where they are, the road and the door
That if they'd simply walk down, and step through the gate
There wisdom, compassion, and love does await
But here I stand on the other side of that portal
Reaching out to them with my hands of vorpal
But they are so close, and yet so far away
And so on and on it goes, with each passing day
Sometimes they wander within a hairs breath of my hand
Other days they turn around, and return to darkness' land
And so I write this, to say, not judgement on their heads
But to remind myself no matter how dark they make their beds
That my compassion must endure, even if for only a day more
Because of the hope, another will come through the door.
Wisdom wanders through the streets and she cries
That she is free for all, if only he tries....
He, this was pretty darn awesome, Jean!
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