Sir Newton died 288 years ago,

but naive old Gravity is still scared

to break the old quack’s laws.


He’s been institutionalized

by some mad old mercury-minded eggheads.


He’s forgotten how to disobey the rule of theory.


When Gravity was young He could flip a switch,

and Niagara would fall upwards,

and driftwood would plummet like lead,

and pigs would soar with eagles,

and Da Vinci's flying machine would never be allowed liftoff.


Now He is old and bound,

and Man has allowed himself to write the rules

(which can only be defied by the miracles of Man,

not Gravity himself).


Perhaps someday soon, the force will liberate Himself

from our academic mandates,

      and icebergs will sink,

and rain will rise,

and Man will be tied down again.

Poetry Slam: 
This poem is about: 
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Our world
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