home Fiction First Encounter with Postmodern Deconstructionism

First Encounter with Postmodern Deconstructionism

It was a foggy autumn day
(‘Twas partly my fault, I confess
For I was half-asleep and ill,
A campus zombie born from stress)

I wandered into stranger halls
And staggered, sat and thought
Of truth and beauty, right and wrong
(as any tired student ought).

And then they came in jabbering
(I caught Latin, French, some Russian)
Sat themselves in front of me
And got down to discussing

The subjects that were on my mind.
I didn’t know what to feel
Because the gist of all their gab –
Was that none of it was real.

No right, no wrong, no right nor left
Or love or virtue either
Up was down and down was up
And black and blue were neither.

Well, in a way they had a point;
It’s a twisty world we live in
The real truth can be hard to find
And nothing is a given

But this world does not run on words-
For, despite all wise debate
Birds don’t ever theorize
On the meaning of “migrate”.

It helps, sometimes, to step outside
And see the street anew
For things exist, and not just terms,
And I think some things are true.

There’s more out there than human words,
As we to life adjust –
For life exists, despite all odds,
Without input from us.

Well, that was what I tried to say
But I suppose it was conjecture
For I raised my voice a hair too loud
And was chucked out of that lecture.

 

-Anon.