pity this monster, manunkind-ee cummings

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All rights go to ee cummings. This is not my poem.

pity this monster, manunkind by ee cummings

pity this busy monster, manunkind,

not. Progress is a comfortable disease:
your victim (death and life safely beyond)

plays with the bigness of his littleness
--- electrons deify one razorblade
into a mountainrange; lenses extend
unwish through curving wherewhen till unwish
returns on its unself.
                          A world of made
is not a world of born --- pity poor flesh

and trees, poor stars and stones, but never this
fine specimen of hypermagical

ultraomnipotence. We doctors know

a hopeless case if --- listen: there's a hell
of a good universe next door; let's go

-ee. cummings

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This poem was introduced to me by my AP Literature and Composition teacher. I really enjoyed it, from the dark message to the sarcastic tone is displays. A brief description of its message it how humanity is so prideful, and how it has damaged many "natural" things, like the trees and the stars. It urges readers not to pity humanity, as they themselves have caused their own issues.

Once more, all rights go to ee. cummings as this is not my poem, this is his and his only.

Hope you enjoyed it,
-Skyler

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