Manners of Intelligence

I have never viewed myself as intelligent,

As if my organic matter was in a far advanced range of quotient

For the complex to be processed with simplicity by synapse shortcut

My capability is rather broad then deep,

Where the geniuses among us can be both,

By election broad, but by talent deep

Much like a diver blessed with a rare economic usage of oxygen

Capable of descending further into subject matter

Without the relative exhaustion of lesser counterparts

I attribute most of my amassed mental conquests to endurance

If I am alive, the organ bearing operations is to be used, so I try to avoid down-time

The brain itself is the ultimate human bottleneck

Keeping attention to one’s environment and choosing its dedicated memory

Is the primary function of an actualized human capable of trumping primal biological functions

Of gene transition, nutritional and oxygen input and excrement excretion

This volition is tempted towards distraction by all modern and historical dancers

Religion, nicotine, fructose, meteorological data, traffic accidents, honey-boo-boo etc.

Which bear little incremental productive value

So in avoiding such side-roads is a prerequisite to mental accomplishment

I am a determined fucker; the thoughts do not stop

I attempt to address them through writing, contemplation, reading, speaking, art

This is my moment to moment contribution of grains to a common beach

So that we as interconnected life avoid or postpone sinking

The hares in the race are crucial, but I know I am a perpetual tortoise

Life takes both; so may the geniuses dive; I will peruse a moderate depth

Of as many square miles of this cosmos as I can get to during my time

Therein I am a creature of low compassion for those unwilling to plow their share

Of weeding through their ignorance based on indolence rather than opportunity

To state one has studied at university and is a finished product, sold at market

Incapable of alteration is standard most foul

I strive to never enter such self-contracts; at minimum never beguile my mental signature

To afford the inactivity of such a gross fiction, for in this we allow time to approach

Like a mischievous tide clawing grains from our beachhead hour by hour

Until the wetlands of our community see the tempest eradicate the moorings

Of science, mathematics, philosophy, language, literature, art, and economics

As the parade frolics in haughty accusatory-stuffed destruction

The idolatry of the dolt will encompass the islands of man

No message from mountains to be had, only answers as we return

Like pellets of cells back into the sea