Man: A History in First Person

When I was very young,
I created fire.
I created rock tools,
and the wheel.
When I was in my teens,
I learned agriculture,
and made gods that ruled
everything I did.
When I was middle aged,
I discovered that there is
only one god, and that
he hadn’t created everything.
I discovered evolution.
But now I am old and senile.
I’ve just created a new toy.
People tell me its dangerous,
and that it might kill me.
But it makes such a pretty cloud
when I throw it to the ground.

Similar Posts

  • Paradise Is

    Written Feb. 26, 1992. Paradise is      space           to grow           to expand           to soar                like a bird      wind           in my hair           in my wings           in my sails                pushing me along the sea Paradise is      the warmth           of the sun                caressing my skin                     gently      freedom to be           anything I want                including nothing Paradise is      the sweet taste…

  • The Death of a Crush

    This poem was written sometime during the 1986-1987 school year. A fleeting glance A longing look quickly hidden no one will ever know no one should ever know Hidden feelings rip and rend in frustration emotional spasms tightly kept veiled Should anyone find out trap door opens in the heart as a futile escape from…

  • In Celebration of National Poetry Month: A Poetry F.A.Q.

    Poetry can be hard to define, but most people know a poem when they read one. Some people love poetry; others can do without it. Regardless, understanding this art form — as a reader or a writer — is part of any well-rounded education. Therefore, in honor of National Poetry Month, which happens every April, I’ve decided to present some frequently asked questions and their answers.

  • Fear Filled

    Written in 1983. Shadows of images. Images of shadows. Ghost of my nightmare. Monster of my dream. Who are you who hides in my closet? Why do you stalk me? My veins are filled with fear of you. But then, who is the fear-filled one? Is it I? Or is it you? Maybe it is…

  • My Love

    This poem was written in February 1988 during a time when I was writing a lot of love poetry. My Love is as sweet as      the nectar of the honeysuckle      the laughing call of gulls      the soft breath of a babe He is as pleasant as      the sun upon my back      the wind in my…

  • Life

    Written in 1984. Love lost. Love gained. It’s all a matter of time. Friends come. Friends go. There is always more. Nothing is Forever. Except the one Self. You always will be you, though the rest may go. Others will come, That I know.