Mathy Stuff

Things Not Unclear

Taiyou Summers Terada

My mind is open, but does not receive

Things unseen, are now perceived

Self recursion is unrelenting

To a point that's mind bending

Paradoxes, occur so freely

It's almost as if it comes out easy

Gödel showed without a doubt

That numbers talked themselves about

Poems, like numbers, do the same

But I have to admit, this poem is lame

It is not the case that Things Not Unclear

Envelopes truths within shot of the ear

For this poem to go on any longer

Would only make it the more sombre

Lines and verses are already laid

Too bad the rhythm and styles clichéd