Ma’at

For all the stories yet untold,
Of silver, gems, or stolen gold,
The one with which I often grapple
Is the story of that Golden Apple.

(I’m not speaking of the implosion
Which was the original story Trojan.
Those tales are understandably legion,
But I’d like to explore another region.)

The story of the Original Snub
Was once at my life’s central hub:
Instead of learning to play the accordion
I ended up becoming a Discordian.

O, Discordia! Sacred mess!
And all thy holy chaoticness.
When I thought the World was linear,
Normality’s call seemed far tinnier.

But the World’s chaotic soup
Madness on infinite loop.
You have zero need for another Trickster
In such an already unstable mixture.

Of weirdness I’ve been a hoarder;
I’ve made a life of weird disorder.
Chaos, in its myriad forms and shapes
Is now the note which howls and scrapes.

That keening, whining, knifing tone
Makes me wish my life I’d never known.
I loved Chaos to balance Order;
But Reality was hiding it like a hoarder…

…Chaos was under everything.
More seductive than the One Ring.
I thought Chaos was the underdog;
Harassed and overworked, like Kermit the Frog.

But Chaos was Leviathan.
A Vortex with an endless spin.
Not a thing to be within:
I’m no more a Discordian.

…for those (most of you, and more)
Outside the Golden Apple Corps:
For many years, I struck this chord:
Member, League of Dynamic Discord.

But now, I must make reparation
And hereby announce my separation.
With this, my every day is filled:
There’s what’s due. And they’ll be billed.