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A Poem for the Brain

Gray, wrinkled, three-pound thing, I clearly see

I cannot trap you with an EEG,

You nervy organ, you, skull cased and free,

A brazen challenge to psychiatry.

Soft mass, I cannot help resenting you

Each time they search and probe for my IQ.

Half of Einstein's lobe was twice of you,

You joyless megavolt computer shoe.

Be careful, Judas organ, or you'll find

God cauterizes every rebel mind.

You small, gray lump, you always seethe and grind,

Spend small electric currents thinking blind.

Yet, you're the only shabby place I see

That his Great Mind may come to dwell in me.

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