Burning Questions

In his continuing, although sometimes cute attempt, to “consider his spot in history,” and taking into account his own kind of memory, which he just knew history must share, this one hombre would remind himself every morning (or whenever he could remember to do so), “Visuals come an go but audio is forever.”

“Ah, crap,” said the kid, “All great thoughts have already been thought,” and the ole man counseled, “Wait, how about that one you just said?”  The nipper spat and kicked, “Nah, I read it in a book.”  “But,” responded the elder, “Is the author still alive?”  “Naw, the book’s three or four hundred years old.”  “Well,” went on the paternal participant, “Who’s gonna ever know but you and him – go ahead and take it like you owned it!”  And the little vehicle was so temporarily uplifted in spirit that he grabbed the old man’s legs and exclaimed, “Pops, I’m gonna start calling myself, ‘Prince Doo-Cuss I’,” and the elder patted them both confidently,
“I know kid, I know.”


Within certain structures,
only those intellectually superior creatures
can be purposefully stupid, (and of course
those who are naturally so…
Kinda leaves some of you out, eh, and dear,
lets some of you in.)


All barracks finally burn,
And all beliefs never die.


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