A Sapient Curriculum Poem by Francie Lynch

The sun sits heavy on our lake.
There's much less to anticipate;
So much to communicate.
So let's reflect on our spectrum;
Our sapient, human curriculum.

I

The sentient clod in Book One,
Sat up, cleaned up, removed his thumb.
With leafless Eve and a fruitful tree
(made fertile with Theology)
Gave rise to Sociology.
Of all the oligies to appear,
Without this one we're not here.

Buy in, ward of tribal wrath.
Empathy's good for a sociopath.

II
To help our clans grow brave and strong,
Our gestures morphed into whale song.
Those gutturals uttered shared found fire,
Pulled our heads from anal mire.
Did more for us than temple choirs.
Soon we make our first speech acts,
Labelling things, voicing contracts.
Our language was invented once
With radiance: with brilliance.
It's acquisition global,
Like math and music, universal.
Not to be learned, but inherent,
Foreboding dark and translucent.
With raised voices we relate,
And in conclusion end debate.
It really does sound quite absurd,
To be seen and not heard.
So form good thoughts and speak good words.

Though our language grew and spread,
By 2100 half are dead.

III

From our mud jambs and our stones,
We peaked, then said we're not alone.
Assumed a greater good than we
Placed us here and made us free.
Co-joined with divines we wait,
To resurrect... reincarnate....
(It's just too weird to transmigrate) .
The ones who really take the cake
Are those who transubstantiate.
Beliefs now sculpted religious states
(The unknown makes one hesitate) .
Thank goodness in our goodwill,
If caught we punish
(Still sadly kill) .
Fear and guilt are base and column,
Supporting gods we relied on.

We surely had ourselves in mind,
To create such gods we find unkind.

IV

We sought solutions to reality.
We love to hear our name.
To think within without oneself,
To think one can prove oneself
With statements of truth and belief.
We plied knowledge, values and existence,
To come to terms with our essence.
If you think, doubt and speak,
Know when to enter and delete;
Then rest assured you're not doomed:

dubito ergo cogito, ergo sum


V

The hub of sciences and controls,
Mines our minds to open portals.
A discipline that aims to heal
Delusions of reality.
It delves deeply into dreams,
Interpreting recurring themes.
Parsing perceptions and relations,
Our cognition and emotions.
Claiming reaction as fight or flight
Is our basest primate notion.
If you're seeking therapy,
For life's complex journey,

Then heal yourself, and heal me.
Couch us in Psychology.


VI

In King James we're told history
With stories bound in mystery.
The collected work of humanity
Were printed for our legacy.
One needs only read The Prodigal Son,
To know the course our literature's run.
There read romance, greed and crime,
Erotica, adventure, The Divine:
Its cup spills with poetry,
Breaching lips with poesy.
The best an author could produce.

The exception being Mother Goose.

VII

Our human/physical geography
Unlocks our global complexity;
Unravels human camaraderie.

To really get it leave your hovel,
Pack your bags, make plans to travel.

VIII

Laws are made for governance,
With no excuse for ignorance.
Economy, society and politics,
Are codified by social ethics;
Crowding cells with amoral convicts.
Rules curb narcissistic needs
With civil and criminal equality.

To understand our civic censure,
Spot a cop in your rear view mirror.

IX

We've searched long, trying to explain,
Using Science, naming names.
Administering tests of redundancy
To master predictability.
Everything now is Something-Science:
As if a hyphen gives it sapience.
But science isn't all that stable,
It's theories ever changing.
Strings loop through everything.
These latest theories can't be grasped,
With ten dimensions moving fast,
Or moving slowly, shrinking, growing.

It seems we're really in the know.
Before Big Bang what ran the show?

X

From cave painting to modernity,
Art projects humanity.
It's very good at teasing us
With abstracts feigning mimesis.
Does the artist need an audience
For the creation to make sense?
For art's sake can we accept the creed:

Ars Gratia Artis.
On that agreed.

XI

What I learned from
Rock 'n Roll
Has helped divine
What I call soul.

(As for sex and drugs?
Best left untold) .

I'm just the boy that ran track,
Studied Shakespeare,
Read the stacks.
Did stand-up routines
In my class.


Those I love I endow
With all my love.
They know by now.

Don't get me wrong,
I'm ageing great,
But there's so much
To communicate.
So much to anticipate.