What We Have Become

This know also, that in the last days perilous times shall come. For men shall be lovers of their own selves, covetous, boasters, proud, blasphemers, disobedient to parents, unthankful, unholy. Without natural affection, trucebreakers, false accusers, incontinent, fierce, despisers of those that are good. Traitors, heady, high-minded, lovers of pleasures more than lovers of God; Having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof: from such turn away.

I Timothy 3:1-5

It’s easy to mock now,
no more barriers,
no more inhibitions,
godlessness the avant-garde,
cool, hip, chic;

truth irrelevant.

Poetry has become an abstraction,
a train wrecked shambles,
a self-indulgent journey into
self-imposed decadence,
its only purpose;

masturbation of the mind,

without rhyme,
but more importantly,
without reason.

Snotty, excitable little twits
so full of themselves they can barely walk,
let alone write about things they understand
even less,
fluffy little balls of bullshit,
stuck in the diarrhea of their words,
political correction and self-satisfaction
going hand in hand;

a religion for the masses.

Everyone is a poet today,
everyone a self-made god;
everyone is okay and getting better,
everyone capable of greatness,
everyone a master of their own fate;

it is our culture,
it is our society,
it is our psychology,
it is our national anthem;

it is what we have become.
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