In the deep winter,
When the trees call forth their buds---
A mad time, a dizzying time,
A frightening time,
The newborn to nature's ennui
When her tender leaves
Bud in the deadness of winter's hoary breath;
A warm week in January or February,
There arrives the Mad Spring
Where the careful naturalist
Observes Mother Nature
Peeping open her weary eyes
For just a short peak,
And then the Jack Frost comes
And that Sandman puts the sleepies
Back under her eyes.


Yet, the newborn to nature's ennui
Will be frightened by this madness,
For it seems like spring is a month early.
Do not fear.

It is "Delicious", twice the word is used.
It arouses my distaste, Mr. Emmerson,
Yet the moment I trusted your ability
I felt the flow of your spirit into me.

I often wonder how many of our Scholars
Will not see the efficacy of another's verse
Because they, too, delight in this vice?

The song comes from “The Birks (Birch) of St. Kilda” which is the name of the melody in an episode of Smallville, which is what Lex Luther attributes the name of the melody. If it is the name, or not, that’s been lost, perhaps, within the past ten years; but there is no record of it on the Internet. The melody is actually, the way I know it, a traditional celtic song, sung in both Ireland and Scotland. “Red is the Rose” and “The Bonny Banks of Loch Lomond”. It’s a particularly beautiful song. I’ll leave a link in the description.

But, in Smallville, the melody plays when Lex Luthor retrieves a key to an Orb that can control Clark, and it gives him a clue—what I haven’t watched the next episode, and am researching this very thing right now.

Personally, it seems a little bit too authentic for it to be a false attribution, so I’m a little curious as to how the show retrieved that particular name. It would be curious, if we could lose something like that over the course of a decade. That’d be very curious indeed.

Or, what’s also probable, it is a touristy area for some ancient ruins, and Smallville’s writers invented the name to get Lex Luthor to that specific Island. And the writers of Smallville were just that good. Which, the show is probably some of the best Television ever produced, so they could coin a word that sounds like it has provenance.

Although, after some research, the island is famous for bells, which were rung to draw ships into safe passage around the archipelago. So, it very well could be an actual song, or the writers of Smallville were just that good. But then again, the Smallville Song is “Birk” which means “Birch Tree”. So, it’s likely the show was getting inventive, and it coined a song that doesn’t exist to a traditional melody. It just sounds so authentic, though.

In the Eagle's nest, the carrion was fed
And the Eaglets ripped apart one another
For their mother's pellet of vomit.

In the dove's nest, the silver lined
Creature flew, peacefully giving
The milk from her throat.

One day, eggs from the two nests were switched.
The dove hatched in the Eagle's nest,
And the Eagle hatched in the dove's nest.

The Eagle, seeing it was weak,
Would not feed the dove,
So she starved to death,
And was picked apart by her brothers and sisters.

The dove, seeing her giant offspring,
Fed what she could, but on account
That the bird could not drink her milk,
The Eaglet got hungry, and committed patricide.

Such are wolves and sheep, too.
Such are the evil and good among men.

I was once asked how much I trust my senses
Out of a score of one hundred percent;
The professor then went on to say,
But I didn't listen to it,
"One being the least, and 100 being the most."
I answered as such:

Hearing 18%
Sight 12%
Smell 20%
Taste 20%
Feel 30%

I'm not sure what this makes me.
For the record, I was not saying that because I don't trust my senses;
Yet, that little project was an insight into Marc's PTSD.

Noumenon is Kant's golden treasure.
Phenomenon is Kant's fecal trash.
If Phenomena is not perceptive of Noumenon
That is an error in judgment, or illness.
Perhaps even both.

The idol stood thirty cubits tall;
He towered for fifty years.
Then, the mountains groaned,
Tired upon their course,
They stretched at the command of the LORD.
At his knees, the idol fell,
And there lay he dead
His corpse to be used a millennia later
In Arab swords.

I can conceive of towers reaching twenty miles tall.
I can conceive of technologies that bring us to Times and Universes all.
I can conceive of travel to the outer edge of space.
I can conceive of a Universe infinite and great.
I can conceive of manmade structures, the size of Red Giant Stars
I can conceive of settlements on Jupiter, Venus, Saturn and Mars.

What I see is our species trying to hang a building from a stone,
An asteroid in  high orbit, how obliviously cold
They are to bring a thing so nigh
To our earth which could destroy cities; also how are we there to fly?
I see us trying to make Fusion from sulfur, nitrate and charcoal
I see us fearful to understand leverage, oh so how ominous the toll?

I'm afraid in our current intelligence, travelling to any distant star
Will be as impossible as it seems it is, to make a flying car.
For if we decide to use aerodynamics and fossil fuels,
To make a car fly with helicopter blades and pull
The winds up, while a Maglev we cannot seem to find
Time enough to improve our infrastructure, with a simple technology of that kind;
I'd say that we must discover antigravity
Before we could ever hope to sail the Hyperborean sea.

If I were an average mind, say about 100 level IQ
We'd possibly do the things I conceive, and have problems very few.
Yet, our species is simplistic and absurd.
I'm afraid we won't achieve our missions, but must live here upon the Earth.
So, my friends, learn to live in unity, and learn to get along.
For, this Earth and all its sorrows, shall be our only home.