Mr. Goebol

A finger proudly pointed-

Ready for action!

Pointing, forever always pointing,

to some mathematical mystery

that even the brightest

"young space cadet"

could never master.

Monotone, dreary dripping

pass in (and then out)

of our poor bruised minds.

A puzzled look or furrowed brow

will not faze this brave warrior

of the Elements!

He is, fierce, proud and

covalently bounded together

by his pants.

All shall bend their pencils

to the Bearded One!

For he has conquered us

and accomplished his mission

that he sought out many moons ago

(September to be exact).

Any hope we had of passing

that gruesome monster of paper and equations

has ceased to exist

within his powerful grasp.

We have the lost the battle; the war.

We must bow to him, the Chemistry God,

and except our fate of

FAILURE.