Life in the 2016
In graves they’d turn, if it could be seen,
how we lived our lives in the 2016.
There was a time when men of words,
inspired the youth and led the herds,
Their words were sweet and sharp and citrus,
for their true love (and for their mistress!)
I guess they’re right, those wise old sages:
‘men will be men, throughout the ages!’
Where are these Learned men of zest?
We shan’t make do with Kanye West.
Of men there a few more pompous
Who names a child after a compass!?
poor kid will realise on reflection
he literally is ‘one direction’
I’ll admit that talk of things this modern
have left me feeling rather sodden
What happened to these men of old,
We’ve left them outside rather cold
Byron, Wilde, to name a couple,
their words could render women supple,
Id shear these locks and gaily trade it,
To never hear Drake say ‘he’s made it’
Im sure that he and Miley Cyrus
cause more harm than ebola virus
has done in the united states
(I’m sure theres only been one case)
Who were these gentlemen you say?
You heard ones name the other day?
oh Jesus wept! There might be murders!
If you think Byron dealt in burgers!
the ones I speak of dealt in letters,
societies first real trendsetters,
their works are our link to the past
and now their legacy will last.
Without them, they would be a mystery!
I suppose they’ll have our browsing history…
And all your posts on Instagram,
of food — ‘will people like this ham?’
If not, you wait until the night,
delete the picture out of sight,
you’d rather go on hunger strike
than have a post without a like
(and god forbid you don’t wear nike
when in the gym or on your bike)
you thought that you were on a winner
‘till no one shared your vegan dinner.
If only you were 2 stone thinner!
Alas, you are a chocolate sinner,
and jealous of those healthy saints,
the utopia their profile paints.
Perfect body; partner; pet.
It’s sometimes easy to forget,
your life’s your own, uniquely rare,
its not a quote on GOCOMPARE
to check which parts need a repair,
and where the gods have been unfair,
its not about who’s lighter, stronger,
how much they’ll lend to you on WONGA.
Leisure time used to be cherished
they didn’t retouch every blemish
but time to read and write as pleased
now we treat boredom like disease!
By scrolling, searching, surfing dross
collecting tidbits like a moss,
encouraging this growing tumour,
with every gossip column rumour,
until our mind’s a hopeless fog,
we drown in this eternal bog…
‘HEY Have you seen this funny dog!’
And do you follow Beibers blog?
he’s got more followers than god!
A question, Mr Justin Bieber
If you are truly Christ, Redeemer,
when will you give yourself for man,
and start a crucifixion plan,
Immortalise yourself you see,
Your Sacrifice will set us free!
Justin sat… and thought….and sat..
“Beliebers will not stand for that”
No bother! we can let them sit!
I’ll build a very special pit
(my plans for that I can’t admit
but maybe snakes and scary shit)
Believe me, it will fast sellout,
as one ‘beliebes’, a thousand doubt.
Is Tuesday a good day for you ?
3 days to rise, or maybe two?
at latest, be back Thursday night,
to hit the club, Justin the White!
Lets get back on from this digression
this will be an important lesson.
Pick up a book and then who knows
you might just pen some wicked prose
instead of playing candy crush
to pass the time when on the bus
with thirty minutes, do the math
in one week, 5 hours you’ll have
To stir up your creative spirit
and if it sucks who cares, just bin it
And spelling is a dying skill,
as dead as writing with a quill,
if it gets tough, don’t try, its fine,
just wait for the red squiggly line,
to tell you that you made an error
its really not a hard endevor.
right click and choose the word you want,
choose the size and choose the font,
a misspelling someone might detect?
No bother, blame autocorrect.
But this I promise you my friend,
that when you meet your sticky end,
you’ll rue the life that you spent losing
hours to mindless consuming.
Pick up a camera, pen or brush,
and do not do it in a rush!
Breath in, be mindful, make it rhyme
leave your phone at home one time,
and for a moment just forget
about your worries and just let
your impulses take over you,
share with the world your unique view.
And with vigorous wing, take flight
above your worries, stress and plight|
and realise that all those things
your car, your job, they’re all just strings
with which you are manipulated
They leave us wanting, needing more,
to keep up with the folks next door.
Open your eyes to this illusion
Designed to keep you in confusion!
As when you think you reached the peak,
a new peak forms that you can’t reach
And when we can’t keep up were hateful,
when all we need to be is grateful
FUCK! We should be celebrating!
Drinking wine and fornicating!
For you are you and I am me.
Theres no one else who we can be.
Be yourself, (Wilde’s not mistaken
when he said “Everybody else is taken!”)
So consider this a call to action,
to eliminate inane distraction
Take this advice or take it not,
Feed your mind or let it rot.
And when were the ones in graves, we’ll say…
Im glad I lived my life that way.