In the race for glory, endeavors misstep;
Ethics sink in quiet waters, so much at stake.
Each manuscript claiming to be novel and rare,
Questionable authenticity laid bare.
In the maze of journals and books,
Peer review marred; integrity shook.
Citations lose their poll;
Impact factor takes a toll.
Once held in high regard, research’s prophecy,
Now, metrics belittle its true legacy.
Is this the end of a genuine era we see,
Or the dawn of a calculated façade meant to be?
The detritus of consumer culture
Is coming down the chimney Christmas eve.
It’s a milk and cookies taming of the shrew.
It’s what we do.
I have a firm grasp on the mundanely ineffable,
But I’m not making any new memories.
All my memories are only passing through.
It’s what they do.
I’ve no time for shamanistic media whores
Who paper the landscape with billboard opinions.
They wouldn’t pass scholastic peer review.
They never do.
In order to maintain the appearance of sobriety
I keep a balanced rhythm of ritual and routine.
My survival skills are tested, tried and true.
It’s what I do.
I stay below the radar and far above the fray,
Attending to whatever task is presently at hand.
If I say I will, I always follow through.
That’s what I do.
But whatsoever has any of this to do with you?
My pupils dilated when we made eye contact.
I didn’t want to stare, but I couldn’t look away.
You dared me not to change my point of view.
That’s what you do.
John 10:12
The hired hand is not the shepherd and does not own the sheep. So when he sees the wolf coming, he abandons the sheep and runs away. Then the wolf attacks the flock and scatters it.
Prince of this World
The prince of this world was not created,
His nature was never begotten,
Oh if only it could be forgotten,
But that darkness is that rejected,
An absence so complete,
It could be pure, yet cannot compete,
And that prince rides out,
His malicious cry, simple doubt,
Fallen malice raising a mace of avarice,
Sweeping the flanks when backs are turned,
Worm tongue whispers whilst nights so young,
Stay away from church today,
What was it that you thought they say,
Why not seek revenge and make them pay,
Let us not work but go on holiday,
And peer review will be the tool,
That creates an illusion of confusion,
And screw tape can contemplate,
Opening some different gates.
@Andrew Carnegie, Sunday 8th January, 2016.
If you would like to know a bit about me and my poetry please click this link below:
https://youtu.be/Ic_V7aX4xbk