GOODBYE Academia
I am far away
From the dark place
Engulfed in the gloom
Of the Gulmohar’s canopies.
Here. People are dead.
Dead people with pipettes.
People who talk and do
Nothing but this horseshit,
Called science.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Dead people bathing in PBS,
And eating from petri plates. Ghosts-
In plain lab coats.
Day and night.
Night and day.
Rotting in the lab.
They all have grey hair.
They all work Sundays.
And Saturdays. Fall sick on Mondays.
Take an off on Monday.
Ah! how flexible.
How flexible indeed,
To bother colleagues on Sunday
And not show up on Monday
When they need you.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — -
Scientists. Have no hobbies.
They do not run. They do not read.
They have no friends. Except collaborators.
And on twitter.
All they do is science. They study,
A protein named ’I don’t care’,
Whose function is ‘ Nobody wants to know’, and
Present posters that shame the word poster.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — -
I liked science. I loved science.
Then I started doing science.
I still like science. But my bones can’t bear
To be around sinister people even when dead.
Who steal your media. Contaminate your aliquots.
Delete your data. Spoil your live imaging.
Ask you to work when your sister is getting married.
Ask you to work with a broken hand.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — -
Scientists. Fascinating little creatures.
That are capable of thoughts like
“I am not the asshole for annoying you,
You are the asshole for getting annoyed”.
Carl Popper will be proud
Of your paradigm shift.
Anyways. Let’s get back to scientists.
And nobel prizes.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Scientists. They know the
PH, the temperature, even the
Carbonate levels of the ocean.
What they will never know
Is to lie among the waves
Let her toss and play with you
Like you were her baby.
Scientists will never feel that.
I like science. But I hate academia.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — -
I know these things.
I do not have a publication
In nature or science.
Or anywhere at all.
But I know a lot of things.
I know how salty the ocean is.
I know runners high.
I know true love.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — -
I do experiments.
Not because I’m dying to do it
But because. I am done with this horseshit.
I want to finish and be gone.
I like science. Sometimes.
It’s just my job.
I’m not crazy about it.
I was. Before. But then.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
I opened my eyes.
And saw the wild wild world.
Mindbogglingly awesome and terrible.
Science can never explain it.
Only poetry can. Let me go.
