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Biography is either masked ball or epitaph. As you find me, so we are.

Friday, 23 March 2012

Is Freddie Dead?

“Does god exist”, the wise man said,
“Is something asked because the head
Oft-times ignores how words are wed”.
Of course god ‘is’.  This point’s not moot.
The reason’s found in logic’s root -
Existence ain’t an attribute.
Which means that just as fairy, faun,
Medussa’s eyes, the unicorn
May ‘be’, they aren’t ‘of virgin born’.
‘To be or not’ is not the task
Of what this really seeks to ask,
(For meaning lurks behind words’ mask).
It’s what is god (you've named it real) -
To answer check the contents.  Feel
Out for the proofs.  Deal or no deal?
Finding no tangible events,
The thing’s made up.  Add non to sense.
Why should this truth cause such offence?
“But you can’t know!” (Well, nor can you)
So, rather than pretend it true,
Let’s stick with what the facts can do.
These instruments may limit me,
Whilst they see further than we see -
True ‘true’ is probability.
To which of these shall we assign
A quantity of tea or wine -
This cup in hand - or that in Thine?
If sometime hence we touch Divine
With future scope, well, then that’s fine.
Until (big if) then tea’s at mine.
Is Freddie dead?  Now check his neck;
With further skill and better tech
We might then notice, “Flippin’ ‘eck”
The past dead cert., considered gone,
Is now no more than fond, “So long”,
We’d be more right (though we weren’t wrong).
If you find my rhyme confusing,
Know I find it most amusing
That these thoughts you’ve been perusing
Are not all mine, perhaps not his,
Their message told more simply is -
More sense applied won’t go amiss.

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