the teacher, the liar and the paradox

do this, don't do that and one plus one is equal to three when synergy takes place but they don't tell you that in grade school. how can you fit water into a teacup when it is the size of an ocean? so the world becomes tiny, becomes simple with "i told you so" while experience gets hit with explanations eaten up like candy then the disease comes about, blood sugar level is too high, monitor it now, the bills pile up, the problems vanish when it becomes acceptance though it is just a redefinition of what is allowed, like a pass through account, a reflection in the mirror with a beard all dirtied up. smile back. go back without using a rinse, belief reshapes who you are - reshaped when a teacher passes through a memory, and a scoff, or a chuckle, or gratitude when experience locks horns with a billy goat all wild and strong. my way, my way - says the animal whose reality is marked by instinct always right. no more candies for me, i bemoaned the beard all covered with slime, tried to rinse it out to no avail for the dirt had hardened, become a permanent decoration to that face mirroring a goat - whose intense eyes glitter with ferocity, horns clap like thunder, i felt a chill in my spine as it began to buckle with a liar whose name was "experience," that teacher left me a long time ago. now resides in an old folk's home unable to recall one plus one. that's three right? then the thoughts dissipate when a piercing scream shatters a musing tide moving backwards to games coming up from a director wanting to stir up some waves. it's good for the brains, or at least that is how explanations go. and a teacher eats away at candies stirring up memories of long ago when children were simply told what to do, how to think, it was all very manufactured, not that it was against the curriculum unless it became a political debate. the shutters of the blind began to flicker, an aperture appearing from a canvas black. dietary restrictions in enforced mode, red alert all about with frenzied staff calling for more pay and it all ended up in a waste basket when stonewalling became the next act. so the diet did not go into effect, the staffs had all quit, with jubilant folks cheering for sweeter pies hard on arteries. whisk up another debate, another search done memory lane of better avenues blocked. there's always something you know: quitting, stonewalling, bits of sugar accumulating till the sugar daddy wants some sugar himself. he's gone broke with all that dishing out, what's in it for him? ah yes, sugar pie coming up. then the glass eyed reflection of a horny goat broke the mirror. that's bad luck. very bad luck. then the decorative beard around my chin got set on fire, living flames hot. i thought to put them out, found a sea of water trying to fill a tiny teacup. that's too little ... ... it's never enough the old man told me, when the cup gets bigger, so does the sugar content. it's no longer swirling, no longer liquid inside. just candy. there's enough for everyone - and everyone stares back at the sea without waves. gone silent when the salt of the earth is firmly rejected.