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Best Bet The Farm Poems | Poetry

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The Best Bet The Farm Poems

Details | Bet The Farm Poem |

Sixty Seconds, One Minute

Sixty seconds, one minute is all it would take
for others to fulfill a small request that I made.
"I would do anything for you Bill, I would even die."
Well that turned out to be a pack of lies.
I needed a simple favor, so I gave everyone a holler,
but the majority I reached didn't even bother,
so today I hit the streets asking strangers for this same favor
and I'll bet the farm the response received will be so much greater.
Thank you everybody,
you've restored my faith in humanity,
and just so we're clear, I'm saying that sarcastically.

*

If this poem seems cryptic and you want some answers, check out my current blog:

http://www.poetrysoup.com/poetry_blogs/blog_detail.aspx?BlogID=29615&PoetID=16853

Details | Bet The Farm Poem |

Illusions

If everything is infinite,
And space goes on and on,
Then why will our reality,
One day, simply be gone?

In an infinite paradigm,
Should finite things exist?
They’re mutually exclusive,
Opposites on that list.

And yet, the laws that we perceive,
Are finite at their core.
For universes come and go,
Like those that came before.

But if eternal laws apply,
How would they manifest?
Would such domains be linear,
As this realm might suggest?

The truth about infinity,
Is simple and succinct.
What has eternal properties,
Is perfectly distinct.

Infinity would have no flaw,
No beginning or end,
Perfection is its building block,
And that truth doesn’t bend.

But our realm is far from perfect,
Within it, all things die.
This does not fit the paradigm,
And we must wonder why.

Our universe will end one day,
All flesh will die as well.
Which means they are not infinite,
A truth that time will tell.

Yet logic says infinity,
Is how it has to be.
For something can’t come from nothing,
A fact I guarantee.

So anything that comes and goes,
Within that endless place,
Is not part of eternity,
And has none of its grace.

Infinity is limitless,
Completely without flaws.
Those who believe that isn’t true,
Have been grasping at straws.

The finite or the infinite,
Which do you think is so?
Are you prepared to bet the farm,
On what you think you know?

The facts lead us to only one
Logical conclusion,
The finite world that we observe,
Is just an illusion.

So why is it that we perceive
Something that isn’t true?
Do we not end the day we die?
That’s what I hear from you.

You are convinced this dream is real,
You trust the things you see.
You think that finite things exist
Within infinity.

But when you trust your senses five,
You cling to delusions.
If you can’t see the infinite,
You only see illusions.

Details | Bet The Farm Poem |

An Athiest Prayer

I harbor no resentment in fact the opposite is true
For what is really meant is that I care about you
Polar opposites are we in being so very far apart
I just want you to see what is truly in my heart

I mean no harm in any of these words I speak
For you could bet the farm that we are all so weak
I know not your way or have I walked in your shoes
That is why I always pray for the life that you choose

There is no need to chide or even to holler back
I'm not on any side as I'm squarely on the track
But I respect your view and understand your point 
In giving God His due surely it is you He will anoint

Please, sit back down in the chair, I won't cross that line
Saying before it's for you that I care is just one truth of mine
And that will not ever change in each day that I start
As I pray He will rearrange and He will begin with your heart

Details | Bet The Farm Poem |

No Peril

When entering negotiations with a criminal mastermind
Who just happens to be a dictator, cruel and unkind
   of a country with a long record of opposing freedom
   and crushing opponents to death by choosing to bleed 'em

It behooves one to be ready, prepared to the hilt
To counter the fabrications of truth that are built
   into the warp and the woof of his opponent's distortions
   by which he evades capture through myriad contortions 
 
Would you venture a guess that I'm talking 'bout Putin  
Against whom the whole civilized world is rootin'
   for seizing Georgia, Crimea and parts of Ukraine
   (along with a nice chunk of three U.S. Presidents' brains)
 
I'll bet the farm and the farmhouse that Mr. Trump sees no peril 
   ~ That in Helsinki, Putin left him cuckolded and sterile