The Scientist
Disheveled hair,
Eye glasses
perched at
the end of
a ripe, red nose.
I am a
Scientist-
of sort
A Scientist
of my
surroundings;
of my life's
environment
I wear
drunkenness
like an
Intellectual
Kingly crown
Doubt is
never
questioned
Ask me,
I know.
Hypothesis
of human
nature are
frequently
explored.
Shared
among my
colleagues,
whilst in
convoluted thought.
Rightfully so.
My cadence
of inebriated
arrogance
has carried
me this far.
Providing me
with a skewed,
albeit honest,
vision of
social views.
As for those
who have been
fortunate
enough to
have rubbed
elbows with me,
while swilling
80 proof spirits,
they too, are
Scientists, of sort.
Experienced
in experimenting
in the ways of
Intoxicated
Social behavior.
Or, quite possibly,
we're merely
lushes…, drunks.
Drunks
paying attention
to everything that
everyone else
misses.
A thing called Life.
poem by Tim Labbe
Added by Poetry Lover
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