Confused muse abuse

Confused muse abuse

I just wanted to say
thanks for the day.
'just noticed that meaningful things have a way
of scanning, of ryming, of telling themselves.
If this is the case why have books on our shelves?
If all that we need is some time and the energy,
and this in itself produces a synergy.
Momentary interest, a shared point of focus,
to chalenge, excite, enthral and provoke us.
To waffle around a point accademic,
Together to deconstruct something systemic.
Was Jesus messiah, or just a nice bloke?
Let's sit and discuss over wine and a smoke.
But then there are people who don't see the point
of sittng and nattering over a joint.
They do not have time, don't understand why,
"You won't understand it so don't even try.
Exploring the metaphysical issue?
You're just spouting bollocks, garbage, a tissue
of lies. You live in Le jardin enchante.
Why don't you sod off, you bizzare dillatante?"
It has to be said that this happens quite often.
But talking with you has realy help soften
the blow. You know? it's helped put me at ease
'bout the relative merits of "system striptease".
The rest of my time, I get on with, 'coz see
these systems, from here, seem reliant on me.
There's people and places and times to be there.
As a father/son/lover I do realy care.
So it's "nose to the grindstone", you know the score.
I Do it again like I did it before.
I keep myself going by trying to recall
if I ever came up with a reason for it all
How many times I've stopped to concider
" If there is a God, what exactly he did?" EH!
I'm sorry. I started myself off again.
So I shall sign off, bring this thing to an end.
Well, it sure has been real, and thankyou so much
for the active engagement of mind, heart and such.
Please recieve this as an open invite.
To come round to my place, drink wine and talk shite.