The Invention of Platitudes

The guns have become party favors

Up is now down and right is now left

We twerk to the clown’s jaunty tune

Our neon tyrant; Parti-colored gestapo

Cavorting in broad daylight amidst fresh corpses


Oh angel of banality/Our new eventuality

Please tell us which pills to inhale

And who to vote for

But especially who to kill

And for what cause

We’re all just dying to hear it

All over again

and again

more


Twenty four hours of spin

Three hundred and sixty six point six days a year

But no movement save for down

An inverted miracle —

__For the converted masses to jerk off to


And so the rave goeß on ünabated*

As we $ign the contract in blood+

But never Ωur own-