The human condition; 
    it rocks,
    it rolls,
    it gives us souls
and the puzzle of what the hell that means.
    It's chocolate and Stilton;
    it's Goethe and Milton;
aromatherapists' hands and microwaved beans.

The human condition;
    it sucks,
    it's shite,
that unasked for soul in a long dark night.
    Angst, dumb fears,
    pointless, pointless tears
    What is this me? And who are you?
    Oh to be a bird,
    even an absurd
one like the ostrich or the emu.

The human condition
      is all kinds of things
           We're nailed to the ground
                Our songs rise on wings
                     Chocolate and shite
                          Tears and delight
                               Pernod, Marmite.

Schrödinger tells me: 
decide which way 
on the human condition seesaw 
to teeter towards today.

Tags: Schrödinger, poetry

Tags: Schrödinger