They say the pudding has good proof
Universe invented before that is true
A physicality, recluse, witches’ brew
Win or lose, after the bruise, truce
Lineage, generations, lost identity
Intensity of the blow withstands city
Knowledge begets philosophical propensity
Decadence of flesh, and then intense pity
The novice sophist, egocentric solipsist
A fixed tryst, the shoe-in is a misfit
List it, gist to make sure we existed
Populace hiss fit, the truth? Dismissed it
In an enlightened age of tightened gauge
Is it a staged play or do we all have a say?
Does it matter, or do we bend in the wind’s sway?
Enquire metaphysics for leeway or just pray
Senses decepted, fooled, guided to what’s accepted
Reality can be constructed, pieces moved, disrupted
Nothing to be trusted apart from assigned value encrusted
Philosophical cogs rusted, alternatives? Not interested.
The hot pan tempers man to take a stand
Persona lost in the daily supply and demand
Mid-life crisis, your brand of seeking reprimand
The modern day cart pusher thinks “I am”
