Nailing a Philosopher by god must an atheist

Nary a task gets completed ever
To prove he was wrong, the philosopher.
For proof is slippery. If he is clever,
He escapes logic, thought, and touchy feeler.

A philosopher's job is never ever done
And least of all not, when he's already gone.
Reality alone is hard to defend as true.
Theory makes no sense?? Chill, dude, that's cool.

Arrogance, haughtiness, upmanship rides.
Sometimes you write posts, into the night.
Sweating out arguments, starting a fight,
Emotions swept up, one gets undignified.

But never mind the name calling, the mud-slinging, the strife,
It is good brain flexing, and gives one a mighty appetite.
Some lose weight, or face, or get outright banned,
But we bounce back, and argue on, as if nothing has happened.

Nobody! Nobody gets convinced
Of the opposing view,
Yet we press on, and nothing
Stops us from stating a point.

We do our part
'Till death does us part.
We endure hatred, laughter, ridicule
To gain ground, if only miniscule.

Ship of fools
Ship of philosophers
We all have mental agendas,
In vino, veritas!!