Said Socrates, “Oh, those poor bastards, for they think they know.
“I may be an ignorant slut, but I know I know not.”
[I paraphrase.]
My point, if I have one, is that “know” is an overused word.
Stinking up the discourse, like a bloated, floating pig turd.
[Remember Jim Carey, in the movie “Liar, Liar”]
“I object, Your Honor”… “Because, it’s devastating to my case.”
It’s a refrain seldom stated, but oft implied.
It works quite well, if you only talk to one side.
Fault us not for we’re wired to be certain.
If the cave wall shadow might be a tiger,
you don’t wait to see whether it’s a mouse.
That said, we’ve evolved these huge honking brains.
Our prefrontal cortexes might withstand the strain–
of asking:
How do I know this?
What if I’m wrong?
Might my mind deceive?
Facts: cherry-picked or strong?
By B Gourley in humor, ideas, poem, Poetry, Thoughts, wisdom on November 12, 2016.
