our ideas no longer go through a period of gestation.
We’re all experts in a 280-character bracket,
the court of public opinion is a judgmental racket.
these notifications so stealthy,
red dots, red blots, news-headline:
read the plot.
When are we coming down
from this high?
It’s a problem when the satirical
provides clarity, is a literal lyrical
on the horizon.
Craggy desert cracks
my propensity to feel sensitivity
when horror’s thrown thick at me in great immensity.
We all have our own biases, our own proclivities,
this surface correctness doesn’t delve deep, make sense of these.
Wait, don’t quote me, you’re not understanding: can I make an appeal for clemency?
But you forgot what was said, there’s a new calamity in the tropics—
I’m off of today’s hot topics.
Breathe it in, breathe it out,
eyes glaze over—new problem, new town.
Generation Y is ready for lift-off,
whoops, there’s a new spinoff:
job trouble, housing market bubble.
I’m feeling this SoundCloud rap,
maybe it’s a way out of this trap.
#ESKEETIT is fire, cuz we loud n crazy.
Come float with me: it’s all ignorant, baby.
Sensationalism is a trial,
but if you step away there’s tribulation,
elation, live sensations.
So bite deep, soak it all in, pause and contemplate—
puppets and puppeteers, who is fake and who is real?
Cut the strings, fall to the ground.
Shake off the dust and find your sound:
it’s time to explore what can be, what should be.
Your modern day Shakespeare,