Cynics are, in normal life,

Not to be admired.

They castigate and denigrate

And cannot be inspired,

Shine intellect into the nooks

Revealing lies and scams and crooks,

Write the most despairing books,

Make us dispirited and tired.


But, anyway, humanity

Ignores most buts and ifs.

We have our normal arguments,

Our spats and snarls and tiffs.

But deep inside we can’t deride

That destinies can be defied.

We paste some feathers on our hide

And keep jumping off of cliffs.




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