So I wrote a poem. I'd say more, but really it speaks for itself. Please read every line carefully - the rhyming scheme is very smooth so it's easy to read the text while ignoring what's actually being said. I'm curious what others think about this.
Because
I have seen all the world, and I hate none of it.
It is all so beautiful.
Blood and guts, sex and lust, pain and fame, rot and rust,
all of these unique to man;
no animal bleeds or grieves like the sapien can.
For a while I hated all of my kind –
Not misanthropic, more like confined;
I tried to love this race, this race of
God’s creation.
But at the expense of being heretic
God’s creations are pathetic.
Am I to believe an Infinite Being
Created a race of one-sighted seeing?
Now judge me not yet, this context thus set,
I’m no existentialist 20th century pet.
I look not to Nietzsche or the Underground Man,
I look not to Maddox or Palahniuk fans.
I love mankind, though I know not why.
I hate all his hate but I share all his cries.
I think of the sin, the blood and the gin,
The face of the victim of murder by kin.
And the face I’ve described in the line right above
Is the face of mankind in cumulative sum.
There is no ambition that drives any man
That coincides not with his selfish own plan.
And my plan to yours, your plan to mine –
The analogy screams of the sound and the mime,
And the dam and the Rhine, both the butcher and swine.
The victim of crime – the man of mankind,
This is the story of All throughout time,
“And why,” might you ask, “Is this a beautiful find?”
“Because,” I declare, “Because it is mine.”
Because
I have seen all the world, and I hate none of it.
It is all so beautiful.
Blood and guts, sex and lust, pain and fame, rot and rust,
all of these unique to man;
no animal bleeds or grieves like the sapien can.
For a while I hated all of my kind –
Not misanthropic, more like confined;
I tried to love this race, this race of
God’s creation.
But at the expense of being heretic
God’s creations are pathetic.
Am I to believe an Infinite Being
Created a race of one-sighted seeing?
Now judge me not yet, this context thus set,
I’m no existentialist 20th century pet.
I look not to Nietzsche or the Underground Man,
I look not to Maddox or Palahniuk fans.
I love mankind, though I know not why.
I hate all his hate but I share all his cries.
I think of the sin, the blood and the gin,
The face of the victim of murder by kin.
And the face I’ve described in the line right above
Is the face of mankind in cumulative sum.
There is no ambition that drives any man
That coincides not with his selfish own plan.
And my plan to yours, your plan to mine –
The analogy screams of the sound and the mime,
And the dam and the Rhine, both the butcher and swine.
The victim of crime – the man of mankind,
This is the story of All throughout time,
“And why,” might you ask, “Is this a beautiful find?”
“Because,” I declare, “Because it is mine.”