Cummings

Okay, so I don't hate all poetry. I've found another guy I like other than Shel Silverstein, Dr. Seuss, and Edgar Allan Poe (yes I know bizarre mix).

pity this busy monster,manunkind by E. E. Cummings

pity this busy monster,manunkind,
not. Progress is a comfortable disease:
your victim (death and life safely beyond)
plays with the bigness of his littleness
--- electrons deify one razorblade
into a mountainrange; lenses extend
unwish through curving wherewhen till unwish
returns on its unself.
A world of made
is not a world of born --- pity poor flesh
and trees, poor stars and stones, but never this
fine specimen of hypermagical
ultraomnipotence. We doctors know
a hopeless case if --- listen: there's a hell
of a good universe next door; let's go