Intelligent Design . . . or Unrefined? a Poetic Look at the Science Book

A Close Evaluation of Advanced Civilization

"All I have seen teaches me
to trust the Creator for all I have not seen."
Ralph Waldo Emerson

"There is a God-shaped vacuum
in the heart of every man
which cannot be filled by any created thing,
but only by God, the Creator."
Blaise Pascal

At times, we have debated
Intelligent design,
Not Him who has created,
But what He had in mind.
I'm certain that our Maker's smart;
Omniscient sure is He,
But He must have a jolly heart,
Constructing you and me.

Intelligent design? You bet.
The Architect endures.
But did we turn out fine? Not yet!
We need some mental cures.

But still, I do not question
Creation's master plan,
Despite our schools' suggestion
Developed thus by man.
From primal soup to in-group,
The think-tanks still maintain
Invertebrates to nincompoop
Emerging with a brain.

Intelligent design? You bet.
The Architect endures.
But did we turn out fine? Not yet!
We need some mental cures.

I get a big bang of a laugh;
I cannot tell a lie,
To read each pompous paragraph.
I crack up till I cry.
From those who claim God can't exist
And that the earth was made
By random atom blasts and mist
That simply ricocheted.

Intelligent design? You bet.
The Architect endures.
But did we turn out fine? Not yet!
We need some mental cures.

My Grandpa looked just like an ape;
He finally lost his hair.
And Grandma shuffled, out of shape,
When rising from her chair.
But primate offspring? I'd say not,
For they accomplished much,
Investing in us, food for thought,
With loving Midas touch.

Intelligent design? You bet.
The Architect endures.
But did we turn out fine? Not yet!
We need some mental cures.

Regarding in the looking-glass
My own reflection there,
Is stronger than a laughing gas
To stop me unaware.
And catching glimpse of you as well,
I scarce can hold my peace.
Although I may say, "You look swell!"
I may a laugh release.

Intelligent design? You bet.
The Architect endures.
But did we turn out fine? Not yet!
We need some mental cures.

Yet we esteem ourselves to heights
In self-made confidence,
And we pursue our own delights
Despite the evidence.
We overlook the truth so clear
In our pursuit of fame
To chase the phantoms insincere,
As if it's all a game.