n.i.m.b.u.s.

the life of a man, and all of his deeds

A man came to me,
When I almost was dead,
He grabbed pen and paper,
While I answered from bed.

-What have you done?

-I've lived,
I replied.

-Have you done any good?

-Perhaps,
I surmised.

-But what do you mean?
are you not certain of some?

-I am certain of none!
I declared.

-But how is that so?
One reaps what he sows
And if you have lived,
you have done!

-That is fairly true,
To live is to do,
But morality's few,
And things seldom are what they seem.

Ah, my intrepid young man,
I see you don't understand,
So I shall here forth I shall attempt to explain,

-Pray do so, most quickly
And rightly explain,
For your riddles, old man,
Do cause me much pain!

And so I began...

-Well you see, my good friend,
I once rescued a sparrow from the claws of fox,
I killed several men,
And I stole from Fort Knox.
I tore apart countries,
Became a hero in town,
I was sly with the ladies,
And then killed a clown!

-You saved a sparrow!
How noble of you!
But rest seems quite dubious,
And maybe untrue.

-Ah, but alas, my young friend,
your timeframe is skewed!

The sparrow was fine,
But the fox and two cubs later starved.
So fox population quickly was halved.
The sparrows,
Unperturbed by their hunters of yore,
Birthed children and children,
Far more than before.

The sparrows were plenty and ate all the seeds,
And the farmers went bankrupt,
Sold the land and their deeds.
While the sparrows were plenty,
The third foxlet recouped,
And when he was ready,
He ate all the sparrows could.

He had children and children,
Far more than before,
And together they killed every sparrow
But were hungry for more.
Then the foxes stole into the coops,
In search of rooster and hen,
but the farmers, they found them,
And shot them again and again.

The farmers, rejoicing, sold foxfurs and coats,
But they sold very many and the market was broke.
The country was ravaged,
Without seeds without furs,
The people were angry,
But their cries went unheard.

For our leaders were much too conferred,
On the crisis of sparrows,
The disappearance of birds.
The people rose up,
With pitchfork and sword,
And fought with themselves,
Over sandals and gourds.

The country was war torn,
Cities burned like the sun,
So the leaders, holed up in bunkers,
Knew that something had to be done!
So they dipped into savings,
And melted their gold,
They even tried slaving,
And burnt fortunes untold.

Without hesitation
Crushing each rock,
In great desperation,
They emptied Fort Knox!

So you see, my young man
What I thought to be white,
Then became black,
Whenever we do,
The world will react,
In ways we can never predict.