Exon

Bye Bye Bog

I see you there Bog, I’ve observed your ways,

Drunken fuelled foolishness and writing most days.

A man that always listens, when talking’s to be done,

But knows still how to party, when we each call for fun.

You founded the EWC, writing poems of complexity

Great achievements we agree, but your still smaller than me.

The circle was your baby, your gave it its soul

Now you’ve gone from Essex, and Freddy has control.

You haven’t seen the last of me, the drinking is not complete

‘Teddy Bear Bog’ so long for now, enjoy your writers retreat.

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Exon

My privileged peril

By lack of attention, I have let this thing free

It hides no longer in time, but comes to get me

Ignorance its creator, I use as my shield

To fight it is to fail, To flee it is to yield

Friends gift encouragement to lift me from my knees

But they too will fall prey to this infectious disease

The hopeful are unwilling, only the fearful have drive

Though not even this raw emotion could keep me alive

For escaping such inhibitory panic, with intrepid procrastination

Could only push me further into my self-made damnation

And now that it has ended, I have turned round to see

That I am truly fucked, yet in ecstasy 

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Exon

An unremarkable poem for an unremarkable phenomenon.

We secretly hope that we are alone,  So no other being may challenge our throne.

We fall in love with our Survival machines,  But forget our true masters, those immortal genes.

But how, against such insurmountable evidence,  Can truth stay hidden behind a veil of ignorance?

We exist because we should and would,  An entropic low, to be more we never could.

Yet in accepting this we should not find sadness,  Since truth is pure and clairvoyance brings gladness.

And in our last seconds on earth, we will truly know why,  Life is but a quirk of matter, and its time for us to die.

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