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I'm against ignorance.

quote by Herman Kahn
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Plain Truth and Blind Ignorance

Truth
'God speed you, ancient father,
And give you a good daye;
What is the cause, I praye you,
So sadly here you staye?
And that you keep such gazing
On this decayed place,
The which, for superstition,
Good princes down did raze?'

Ignorance
'Chill tell thee, by my vazen,
That zometimes che have knowne
A vair and goodly abbey
Stand here of bricke and stone;
And many a holy vrier,
As ich may say to thee,
Within these goodly cloysters
Che did full often zee.'

Truth.
'Then I must tell thee, father,
In truthe and veritie,
A sorte of greater hypocrites
Thou couldst not likely see;
Deceiving of the simple
With false and feigned lies:
But such an order truly
Christ never did devise.'

Ignorance.
'Ah! ah! che zmell the enow, man;
Che know well what thou art;
A vellow of mean learning,
Thee was not worth a vart;
Vor when we had the old lawe,
A merry world was then,
And every thing was plenty
Among all zorts of men.'

Truth.
'Thou givest me an answer,
As did the Jewes sometimes
Unto the prophet Jeremye,
When he accus'd their crimes:
' 'Twas mercy,' sayd the people,
'And joyfull in our rea'me,
When we did offer spice-cakes
Unto the queen of hea'n.''

[...] Read more

poem by Anonymous Olde English
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Gotham - Book III

Can the fond mother from herself depart?
Can she forget the darling of her heart,
The little darling whom she bore and bred,
Nursed on her knees, and at her bosom fed;
To whom she seem'd her every thought to give,
And in whose life alone she seem'd to live?
Yes, from herself the mother may depart,
She may forget the darling of her heart,
The little darling whom she bore and bred,
Nursed on her knees, and at her bosom fed,
To whom she seem'd her every thought to give,
And in whose life alone she seem'd to live;
But I cannot forget, whilst life remains,
And pours her current through these swelling veins,
Whilst Memory offers up at Reason's shrine;
But I cannot forget that Gotham's mine.
Can the stern mother, than the brutes more wild,
From her disnatured breast tear her young child,
Flesh of her flesh, and of her bone the bone,
And dash the smiling babe against a stone?
Yes, the stern mother, than the brutes more wild,
From her disnatured breast may tear her child,
Flesh of her flesh, and of her bone the bone,
And dash the smiling babe against a stone;
But I, (forbid it, Heaven!) but I can ne'er
The love of Gotham from this bosom tear;
Can ne'er so far true royalty pervert
From its fair course, to do my people hurt.
With how much ease, with how much confidence--
As if, superior to each grosser sense,
Reason had only, in full power array'd,
To manifest her will, and be obey'd--
Men make resolves, and pass into decrees
The motions of the mind! with how much ease,
In such resolves, doth passion make a flaw,
And bring to nothing what was raised to law!
In empire young, scarce warm on Gotham's throne,
The dangers and the sweets of power unknown,
Pleased, though I scarce know why, like some young child,
Whose little senses each new toy turns wild,
How do I hold sweet dalliance with my crown,
And wanton with dominion, how lay down,
Without the sanction of a precedent,
Rules of most large and absolute extent;
Rules, which from sense of public virtue spring,
And all at once commence a Patriot King!
But, for the day of trial is at hand,
And the whole fortunes of a mighty land
Are staked on me, and all their weal or woe
Must from my good or evil conduct flow,

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Churchill
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The Teares of the Muses

Rehearse to me ye sacred Sisters nine:
The golden brood of great Apolloes wit,
Those piteous plaints and sorrowful sad tine,
Which late ye powred forth as ye did sit
Beside the siluer Springs of Helicone,
Making your musick of hart-breaking mone.
For since the time that Phoebus foolish sonne
Ythundered through Ioues auengefull wrath,
For trauersing the charret of the Sunne
Beyond the compasse of his pointed path,
Of you his mournfull Sisters was lamented,
Such mournfull tunes were neuer since inuented.

Nor since that faire Calliope did lose
Her loued Twinnes, the dearlings of her ioy,
Her Palici, whom her vnkindly foes
The fatall Sisters, did for spight destroy,
Whom all the Muses did bewaile long space;
Was euer heard such wayling in this place.

For all their groues, which with the heauenly noyses,
Of their sweete instruments were wont to sound,
And th' hollow hills, from which their siluer voyces
Were wont redoubled Echoes to rebound,
Did now rebound with nought but rufull cries,
And yelling shrieks throwne vp into the skies.

The trembling streames, which wont in chanels cleare
To romble gently downe with murmur soft,
And were by them right tunefull taught to beare
A Bases part amongst their consorts oft;
Now forst to ouerflowe with brackish teares,
With troublous noyse did dull their daintie eares.

The ioyous Nymphes and lightfoote Faeries
Which thether came to heare their musick sweet,
And to the measure of their melodies
Did learne to moue their nimble shifting feete;
Now hearing them so heauily lament,
Like heauily lamenting from them went.

And all that els was wont to worke delight
Through the diuine infusion of their skill,
And all that els seemd faire and fresh in sight,
So made by nature for to serue their will,
Was turned now to dismall heauinesse,
Was turned now to dreadfull vglinesse.

Ay me, what thing on earth that all thing breeds,
Might be the cause of so impatient plight?

[...] Read more

poem by Edmund Spenser
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Holding On With Wishes To Experience This

Altrhough...
They're slipping with a gripping,
To a bottomless pit.
With an ignorance addicted unresisted.

And,
Holding on and wishing to experience it...
Are the ones who practice posing,
In a darkened abyss.
With a proving that an ignorance for them is bliss.

The people of today...
Are crazed with beliefs.
And refusing to release,
All delusions they've been feeding.

The people of today...
Are crazed with beliefs,
That the only life to live,
Is the one of deceit.

Holding on with wishes to experience this,
Darkened abyss...
With a proving that an ignorance for them is bliss.

Holding on with wishes to experience this,
Darkened abyss...
With a proving that an ignorance for them is bliss.

The people of today...
Are crazed with beliefs.
And refusing to release,
All delusions they've been feeding.

The people of today...
Are crazed with beliefs,
That the only life to live,
Is the one of deceit.

Holding on with wishes to experience this,
Darkened abyss...
With a proving that an ignorance for them is bliss.

They keep on holding onto to wishes to experience this,
Darkened abyss...
With a proving that an ignorance for them is bliss.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Ignorance

Ignorance is a dreadful enemy
A malady like psychosis
An ailment with scary prognosis
A disease every human must avoid

Ignorance is lunacy
It is a disease of the brain
Holding the mind captive
Blinding its subject from the truth,
Jaundicing the views of its client

Ignorance is an albatross
Brain behind poor decision making
Culprit for derisorily defective reasoning
Rendering its host a nuisance
A liability in useful debates and discussions

From ignorance we must be free.
Ignorance we must strive to banish
To enable us to be accomplished,
Partakers in discussions,
And assets to finding solutions.

poem by Emmanuel Oduro
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A Poet's Voice XV

Part One

The power of charity sows deep in my heart, and I reap and gather the wheat in bundles and give them to the hungry.

My soul gives life to the grapevine and I press its bunches and give the juice to the thirsty.

Heaven fills my lamp with oil and I place it at my window to direct the stranger through the dark.

I do all these things because I live in them; and if destiny should tie my hands and prevent me from so doing, then death would be my only desire. For I am a poet, and if I cannot give, I shall refuse to receive.

Humanity rages like a tempest, but I sigh in silence for I know the storm must pass away while a sigh goes to God.

Human kinds cling to earthly things, but I seek ever to embrace the torch of love so it will purify me by its fire and sear inhumanity from my heart.

Substantial things deaden a man without suffering; love awakens him with enlivening pains.

Humans are divided into different clans and tribes, and belong to countries and towns. But I find myself a stranger to all communities and belong to no settlement. The universe is my country and the human family is my tribe.

Men are weak, and it is sad that they divide amongst themselves. The world is narrow and it is unwise to cleave it into kingdoms, empires, and provinces.

Human kinds unite themselves one to destroy the temples of the soul, and they join hands to build edifices for earthly bodies. I stand alone listening to the voice of hope in my deep self saying, "As love enlivens a man's heart with pain, so ignorance teaches him the way of knowledge." Pain and ignorance lead to great joy and knowledge because the Supreme Being has created nothing vain under the sun.

Part Two

I have a yearning for my beautiful country, and I love its people because of their misery. But if my people rose, stimulated by plunder and motivated by what they call "patriotic spirit" to murder, and invaded my neighbor's country, then upon the committing of any human atrocity I would hate my people and my country.

I sing the praise of my birthplace and long to see the home of my children; but if the people in that home refused to shelter and feed the needy wayfarer, I would convert my praise into anger and my longing to forgetfulness. My inner voice would say, "The house that does not comfort the need is worthy of naught by destruction."

I love my native village with some of my love for my country; and I love my country with part of my love for the earth, all of which is my country; and I love the earth will all of myself because it is the haven of humanity, the manifest spirit of God.

Humanity is the spirit of the Supreme Being on earth, and that humanity is standing amidst ruins, hiding its nakedness behind tattered rags, shedding tears upon hollow cheeks, and calling for its children with pitiful voice. But the children are busy singing their clan's anthem; they are busy sharpening the swords and cannot hear the cry of their mothers.

Humanity appeals to its people but they listen not. Were one to listen, and console a mother by wiping her tears, other would say, "He is weak, affected by sentiment."

Humanity is the spirit of the Supreme Being on earth, and that Supreme Being preaches love and good-will. But the people ridicule such teachings. The Nazarene Jesus listened, and crucifixion was his lot; Socrates heard the voice and followed it, and he too fell victim in body. The followers of The Nazarene and Socrates are the followers of Deity, and since people will not kill them, they deride them, saying, "Ridicule is more bitter than killing."

Jerusalem could not kill The Nazarene, nor Athens Socrates; they are living yet and shall live eternally. Ridicule cannot triumph over the followers of Deity. They live and grow forever.

Part Three

Thou art my brother because you are a human, and we both are sons of one Holy Spirit; we are equal and made of the same earth.

You are here as my companion along the path of life, and my aid in understanding the meaning of hidden Truth. You are a human, and, that fact sufficing, I love you as a brother. You may speak of me as you choose, for Tomorrow shall take you away and will use your talk as evidence for his judgment, and you shall receive justice.

[...] Read more

poem by Khalil Gibran
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Ignorance Has Died

Why are they so gloomy?
Sitting and dressed as if for mourning?

'They have been there for a few days,
Sitting in a vigil.
Praying over the demise of ignorance.'

LOL...
You can not be serious.
Why don't you tell them,
Ignorance has yet to pass.

'Are you kidding?
Do you realize how long it took me,
To devise some kind of a plan...
That would keep them quiet.'

So how long you think they will sit like that?

'I don't know.
I paid some kids a few dollars,
If for two weeks they would walk up and down the streets...
Carrying school books and talking loudly,
About their Math and English classes.
I'm on a roll,
So I'm pulling out all stops to see what happens next.'

But it is still Summer.
All the kids are on vacation.

'When I told those children sitting in that room,
That 'ignorance' has died.
I was joking.
I thought they knew it was a joke.
They have been sitting like that for at least two days.'

And that's why you pay the other kids?

'Yeah.
Do you know how much I've spent on cellphones,
Video games, iPods and 3-D Tv's?
To get those kids nagging off my back.
And all I had to say...
Was 'ignorance' has died? '

I don't believe it!

'You?
I've been trying to find something totally ridiculous to say,
To get them to clean up their rooms.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Intelligence We Serve

Repercussions will come rushing,
To repay for our own actions.
To react as if it doesn't,
Is that ignorance we lust.

Repercussions will come rushing,
To repay for our own actions.
To react as if it doesn't,
Is that ignorance we lust.

To believe we live for nothing,
Without 'something' that is near.
Knowing everything we do.
And,
IT hears.

Is the ignorance existing in us,
That separates the Universe.
When we are a part of IT...
But thinking the reverse.

We are the mix,
Not the bowl...
In a hold that grows.
And whipped up like ingredients,
To serve a great intelligence.

We are that mix,
Not the bowl...
In a hold that grows.
And whipped up like ingredients,
To serve a great intelligence.

Repercussions will come rushing,
To repay for our own actions.
To react as if it doesn't,
Is that ignorance we lust.

Repercussions will come rushing,
To repay for our own actions.
When we wake up to see this...
Conflicts we'll quit!

Whipped up like ingredients,
To serve a great intelligence.
We are not the bowl,
Just stirred in the mix.

Repercussions will come rushing,
As we're stirred up in this mix.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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One Disturbed

Seeking an attention,
By the use of offensive means...
Teaches not a thing,
To one disturbed...
By mental dysfunctions.

An ignorance like this has been fostered.
An ignorance has been allowed to flourish.
An ignorance that grows becomes expensive.
Since an ignorance bestows,
A flowing of it that becomes out of control!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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To enjoy, rules are not required.

Ignorance of raga stood not in my enjoying music.
Ignorance of mudra, the same way,
for dance.
Ignorance of grammar stood not in my enjoying a poem.
Ignorance of beauty, the same way,
for lusting you.
13.06.2001, Chennai

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Don't Light The Fire

I'm trying not to get mad
Mama says anger on fuels ignorance
Don't light the fire she says
But I've never been so tired

Got enough problems
Shouldn't even have to deal with this
Mama says anger only feuls ignorance
Don't light the fire she says

Jumping hurdles
Climbimg mountains
Delegating
Demonstrating
But mama says anger only fuels ignorance
Don't light the fire

Close to the wire
Every minute i tire even more
Keep pushing
Keep pulling
Til I get to the door

Anger only only fuels ignorance
not sure if i can hold it much more.

poem by Kendra Evans
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Part V

It is the young man shatters silence first.
"Well, my lord—for indeed my lord you are,
I little guessed how rightly—this last proof
Of lordship-paramount confounds too much
My simple head-piece! Let's see how we stand
Each to the other! how we stood i' the game
Of life an hour ago,—the magpies, stile
And oak-tree witnessed. Truth exchanged for truth—
My lord confessed his four-years-old affair—
How he seduced and then forsook the girl
Who married somebody and left him sad.
My pitiful experience was—I loved
A girl whose gown's hem had I dared to touch
My finger would have failed me, palsy-fixed;
She left me, sad enough, to marry—whom?
A better man,—then possibly not you!
How does the game stand? Who is who and what
Is what, o' the board now, since an hour went by?
My lord's 'seduced, forsaken, sacrificed'—
Starts up, my lord's familiar instrument,
Associate and accomplice, mistress-slave—
Shares his adventure, follows on the sly,
—Ay, and since 'bag and baggage' is a phrase—
Baggage lay hid in carpet-bag belike,
Was but unpadlocked when occasion came
For holding council, since my back was turned,
On how invent ten thousand pounds which, paid,
Would lure the winner to lose twenty more,
Beside refunding these! Why else allow
The fool to gain them? So displays herself
The lady whom my heart believed—oh, laugh!
Noble and pure: whom my heart loved at once,
And who at once did speak truth when she said
'I am not mine now but another's'—thus
Being that other's! Devil's-marriage, eh?
'My lie weds thine till lucre us do part?'
But pity me the snobbish simpleton,
You two aristocratic tip-top swells
At swindling! Quits, I cry! Decamp content
With skin I'm peeled of: do not strip bones bare—
As that you could, I have no doubt at all!
O you two rare ones! Male and female, Sir!
The male there smirked, this morning, 'Come, my boy—
Out with it! You've been crossed in love, I think:
I recognize the lover's hangdog look;
Make a clean breast and match my confidence,
For, I'll be frank, I too have had my fling,
Am punished for my fault, and smart enough!
Where now the victim hides her head, God knows!'
Here loomed her head, life-large, the devil knew!

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Inn Album (1875)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Tired

No not to-night, dear child; I cannot go;
I'm busy, tired; they knew I should not come;
you do not need me there. Dear, be content,
and take your pleasure; you shall tell me of it.
There, go to don your miracles of gauze,
and come and show yourself a great pink cloud.

So, she has gone with half a discontent;
but it will die before her curls are shaped,
and she'll go forth intent on being pleased,
and take her ponderous pastime like the rest--
patient delightedly, prepared to talk
in the right voice for the right length of time
on any thing that anybody names,
prepared to listen with the proper calm
to any song that anybody sings;
wedged in their chairs, all soberness and smiles,
one steady sunshine like an August day:
a band of very placid revellers,
glad to be there but gladder still to go.
She like the rest: it seems so strange to me,
my simple peasant girl, my nature's grace,
one with the others; my wood violet
stuck in a formal rose box at a show.

Well, since it makes her happier. True I thought
the artless girl, come from her cottage home
knowing no world beyond her village streets,
come stranger into our elaborate life
with such a blithe and wondering ignorance
as a young child's who sees new things all day,
would learn it my way and would turn to me
out of the solemn follies "What are these?
why must we live by drill and laugh by drill;
may we not be ourselves then, you and I?"
I thought she would have nestled here by me
"I cannot feign, and let me stay with you."
I thought she would have shed about my life
the unalloyed sweet freshness of the fields
pure from your cloying fashionable musks:
but she "will do what other ladies do"--
my sunburnt Madge I saw, with skirts pinned up,
carrying her father's dinner where he sat
to take his noon-day rest beneath the hedge,
and followed slowly for her clear loud song.

And she did then, she says, as others did
who were her like. 'Tis logical enough:
as every woman lives, (tush! as we all,
following such granted patterns for our souls

[...] Read more

poem by Augusta Davies Webster
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Beginning Of Strong Delusion

A precursor to that Strong Delusion, is the only sound conclusion,
Why, darkness in politics is ignored, by some who know The Lord,
Ignorance is bliss, many say, is this the face of the Church today?
As some ignore Biblical insight, to embrace what is truly not right!

That Strong Delusion I speak of, will be poured down from above,
By The Lord as a strong reproof, on all who embrace not the Truth,
All those who know not our God, who will see instead His Iron Rod,
When Christ Judges every nation, this, according to His Revelation.

Is this just part of that falling away, in God's Church, we see today?
Falling away from the Truths we hold, as The End begins to unfold.
Christ asked, will He find faith, when He returns at the end of Grace,
So is this the beginning of the fall, prophesied by the Apostle Paul?

How can we lead others to Light, when we embrace wrong as right?
As we ignore the darkness of man, supporting an even darker plan!
Are we not watchmen on the wall, to warn others of the coming fall?
Of a land falling from righteousness, due to that nation's ignorance!

Yes, God's people were destroyed, when ignorance was employed,
As light and darkness will not mix, when we stray for political picks,
For ignorance shall never bliss, when you stray from righteousness,
As all darkness will be condemned, by a Righteous God in the end!

poem by Bob Gotti
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Ignorance...

If ignorance ruled the world then all poetic thought would die,
For ignorance drowns freedom of expression in rivers deep,
Creation is the nemesis that ignorance shall strive to banish,
Words of wisdom shall be strung up from the tallest trees,
Free thought cannot be allowed to corrupt the flock of fools,
All emotion and freedom of thought must be banished,
Conformity to the plan is the be all and end all,
Those who speak out shall see their words burned,
And Ignorance shall reign evermore...

Spread the love... The peace will follow...

Make a difference in this life... Think for yourself...

poem by Cosmic Dreamer
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Religio Laici

(OR A LAYMAN'S FAITH)

Dim, as the borrow'd beams of moon and stars
To lonely, weary, wand'ring travellers,
Is reason to the soul; and as on high,
Those rolling fires discover but the sky
Not light us here; so reason's glimmering ray
Was lent not to assure our doubtful way,
But guide us upward to a better day.
And as those nightly tapers disappear
When day's bright lord ascends our hemisphere
So pale grows reason at religion's sight:
So dies, and so dissolves in supernatural light.
Some few, whose lamp shone brighter, have been led
From cause to cause, to Nature's secret head;
And found that one first principle must be:
But what, or who, that Universal He;
Whether some soul incompassing this ball
Unmade, unmov'd; yet making, moving all;
Or various atoms' interfering dance
Leapt into form (the noble work of chance
Or this great all was from eternity;
Not even the Stagirite himself could see;
And Epicurus guess'd as well as he:
As blindly grop'd they for a future state;
As rashly judg'd of Providence and Fate:
But least of all could their endeavours find
What most concern'd the good of human kind.
For happiness was never to be found;
But vanish'd from 'em, like enchanted ground.
One thought content the good to be enjoy'd:
This, every little accident destroy'd:
The wiser madmen did for virtue toil:
A thorny, or at best a barren soil:
In pleasure some their glutton souls would steep;
But found their line too short, the well too deep;
And leaky vessels which no bliss could keep.
Thus anxious thoughts in endless circles roll,
Without a centre where to fix the soul:
In this wild maze their vain endeavours end:
How can the less the greater comprehend?
Or finite reason reach infinity?
For what could fathom God were more than He.

The Deist thinks he stands on firmer ground;
Cries [lang g]eur{-e}ka[lang e] the mighty secret's found:
God is that spring of good; supreme, and best;
We, made to serve, and in that service blest;
If so, some rules of worship must be given;
Distributed alike to all by Heaven:

[...] Read more

poem by John Dryden
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I remember, I remember - Past and Present after Thomas Hood and William Wordsworth - Lucy

I remember, I remember
the house where I was born
before foreclosure took away
the homestead I had sworn
in good faith, all attest 'tis true,
to leave grandchildren three: -
times change, leave little rest, I rue
that difference to me!

It seems so very long ago
the liberating Yanks
found welcome everywhere they'd go -
though some were pita swanks,
but since the Shah announced 'I ran'
our bearings all at sea
became - time reeled again would ban
all difference for me!

I remember, I remember
the sun porch, now in pawn,
proud flag a flying red, white, blue,
which now hangs so forlorn
Sun, moon spun round each priceless day,
or so I seemed to see,
four bucks a gallon gas I pay -
what difference to me!

My mind thought then nostalgic ease
eternally could last,
all my desires, priorities
seemed sated very fast,
The fever on my brow shoots higher
now Sheiks of Araby,
up ante for crude imports, tire -
what difference to me!

I remember, I remember
before Alaskan oil
had spilled upon once pristine shore,
polluting fauna, soil.
With climate change I'm feeling sore,
note each commodity
continues rising more and more -
what difference to me!

Back then I'd travel aimlessly,
cared not I ran Iraq,
from dawn till dark, from sea to sea
could, rising with the lark,
ignore the cost of gasoline

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Cloak to Gloat

I am not inspired by those who conspire,
To undo what the good ones do.

I am so tired by the backstabbing done...
By those who cloak to gloat and run.

I am not pleased by any of this.
And wish this evilness dismissed.

But this is how we live today and breathe!
It's got to flee!

Maybe someone like Barack will stop it.
Blocking ignorance that mocks it!
Hopefully this sleaze will up and leave.
And a peace to feed we'll greed.

I am not pleased by any of this.
And wish this evilness dismissed.
But this is how we live today and breathe!
It's got to flee!

Maybe someone like Barack will stop it.
Blocking ignorance that mocks it!
Hopefully this sleaze will up and leave.
And a peace to feed we'll greed.

I am not inspired by those who conspire,
To undo what the good ones do.
I am so tired by the backstabbing done...
By those who cloak to gloat and run.

Maybe someone like Barack will stop it.
Blocking ignorance that mocks it!
Hopefully this sleaze will up and leave.
And a peace will feed our needs.

Hopefully Barack will stop it!
Blocking ignorance that mocks it.
To undo what the good ones do we see.
And those who cloak to gloat will leave.

Put those who cloak to gloat on the run!
Put those who cloak to gloat on the run!
Put those who cloak to gloat on the run!
To redo all the good deeds done we need.
And those who cloak to gloat will leave.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Knowledge Is There to Gain From This

It is difficult to escape the power held,
By those acknowledging a knowledge.
Once it is there and gets one wide awake...
All exits to get away from it,
Seem to be permanently closed.
There are no fences to jump,
Or keys to unlock gates.

Even the faking of not having it,
Is hard to do when ignorance approaches.
There have been cases,
In which attempts have been made...
To masquerade a wisdom,
For the sake of keeping peace.
Since all peace wishes to do is to live in it.

This can not be done.
It seems that ignorance becomes offended.

And conflicts begin!
The forces of ignorance struggle to win.
Leaving consequences for them to suffer!
And knowledge is there to gain from this.
But it is ignorance that is stubborn.
Wanting to prove without knowledge...
Alone it can exist in the spreading of its nonsense.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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The Increase Of Its Popularity

The one thing about ignorance,
That is beginning to make sense...
To those advocating their prinicples,
And beliefs with enforced implementation...
Is the acceptance of ignorance everywhere.
Spreading to eliminate the thought of its existence.

Leaving the many who had perceived ignorance to be,
As appalling and offensive to become today outnumbered.
Making the appearance of ignorance the choice preferred.
That satisfies both purpose and taste,
Without need for debate to question.
With few left to argue the increase of its popularity.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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