On cognitive dissonance (the lack thereof in some obvious hypocrites)

 

Why is no vibration beating

In your dull and muddled mind?

Why do no alarm bells ring,

At your contradictory bleating?

Cognitive dissonance, just not a thing?

Ah yes,

I guess,

It’s when you’re Tweeting

That you speak from your behind.

And in your rectum there is no cognition,

Only a single, narrow ambition,

To expel the crap and the stinking gas,

From where it's been brewing in the store,

And this you do, and express no contrition,

Because it’s valued as rich manure,

By fellow members of your class.

 

I Wish to Chat to A Mushroom

 

I wish to chat to a mushroom,

To tell it all my woes,

I’d confide in its ancient wisdom,

And ask it what it knows.

But I fear it would not understand me,

Would gossip and tell of my fears,

Through its endless mycelium channels

That sprout from its mushroom toes.

I wish to chat to a mushroom,

I wish it would lend me its ears,

But when you confide in a toadstool

Who knows where your secret goes?

I suspect they are less dependable,

Than all the whisperin’ grass,

And their thoughts would be depressing,

And felt as a great morass,

Of damp and dark and breaking down

And a musty smell in the nose.

For although it’s a fruiting body,

It’s only the bit that shows,

And the rest of it’s complex and murky,

And it prattles away as it grows.