by Vittorio P. Cuneo-Flood

Darst thou accuse me of being a fool,

If I hold to the truth: ’tis the same for us all.

The gall! The cheek! That you would dare say:

We live in a lie so there isn’t a way. Nay,

I do not mind to disagree,

But I can’t accept, that you are free

To say one thing and do another.
No that, good sir, I shall not suffer.

Prithee, I ask you, dear friend of Hume.

When the shower don’t work, do you assume

That it broke down by chance? Or do you instead

Go and find out the cause which made it inept?

Compare yourself to the ’sophers of old,

Who would piss in a barrel and sleep in the cold.

Their minds in the heavens, their limbs at the ready,

T’obey the commands of their reason. How many!

I laugh. I cry. How daft that claim!

‘There is no truth.’ It is a shame,

If you can’t see the contradiction

’Tween those words and your own fiction.

Age! Come on! You can agree

That there’s something inspiring and noble to see

In a man, whose mind and words and act

Are in perfect accord … I think that’s a fact.