True beauty, indeed (to the number-theorists),
reveals the distribution of the primes.
Beauty, too, is courage, the defiant fists
of a defender that we praise in rhymes.
Beauty are oaths, that Prince Hector all times
keeps shielding city, child, and princess bride;
or King Priam's grace for thoughtless Paris's crimes,
rather than wrath for his treach'rous regnocide.
What beauty is not, is Euclid mortified,
if Riemann's Hypothesis's not in sight,
or the Zeta function's proof verified
(for the spread of primes) gives zero insight.
However, beauty is what frames your face:
which ev'n shames Helen of the Trojan race!
On the razor edge of reality,
Those who live in the broken
World of conspiracy theories,
Whose wild tales of improbable
Scenarios cloud their minds,
And draw the shades on truth.
"Bite Size Poem No. 17" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Line Gautheir
Conspiracy Theorists: Get a Life
By Elton Camp
Conspiracy theories are merely illogical rot
That says most events are due to some plot
But they never explain just how or why
The conspirators are so powerful and sly
Scholars generally don’t believe such a thing
Because conclusive evidence they don’t bring
Contradictory evidence is explained away
It was planted by the conspirators they say
Outlandishly false such beliefs are seen to be
Cranks or the lunatic fringe only can them see
“But our views are being coved up,” they claim
They’ve convinced others to believe the same
As true theories, these claims don’t go very far
Actually, it is only wild speculation that they are
The mainstream report always works just as well
And these “theories,” nothing useful do they tell
How many people to the conspiracy must adhere
And a whistleblower they never seem to fear
But someone’s conscience would be in fright
And he or she would bring the conspiracy to light
If they should read this, I know what they’ll do
“Look at that. He is in on the conspiracy too.”
Conspiracy theorists are people we should avoid
They are mixed up and likely some are paranoid