What tragic, shallow mouths-
Lip-syncing the obviousness
Of Generation Lowest-Common-Denominator,
Afraid of being photographed
At a protest, well why are you there?
Don’t you want to use your hands
For more than masturbating
To the objects the rat race affords you?
So thrilled with the latest 1s and 0s
So many zeroes devoid of even one
Half-decent intention, too busy discussing
How life can best be digitally replicated-
To cultivate a sense of dignity,
A real connection to the unusual-
Twenty million neutral coloured polos
Aware of the unfolding, too focused
On beauty sleep to act on the unrest
Beyond signing an electronic petition
Just a pile of tragic mouths
Barely brave enough to whisper
“Something isn’t right here.”
prince nothing 