Here, our eyes
be so set on tomorrow
we forget all about today.

Here, we're so progressive
we've run our own head
firmly up our own ***

It is cyclical,
after all.

Though we may be
at times a bastion of Culture
we're also e'er so Cultish,
though not for Jim Jones
at least not anymore
but rather for politics, actors and phones.

With such a spectacle
of utter sensory prostitution,
it's no wonder so many
choke willingly on pollution.

Though I may indeed blaspheme,
I do so only because of what I have seen.
California is not the rule or exception
but rather an epitome of US deception.

As if the person behind the camera,
it films for the demographics
what the directors want to be seen
Nothing more, nothing less, and nothing else.

Ratings are key
so it would seem
and, alas, tragedy
grips us deeper than joy.

California may be home to happy cows,
but what about the people? The workers? The artists?
Is money really a substitute for a fulfilling journey of life?
It seems for some it is, and if that someone is you,
then have we got the property taxes for you.

This, though a rant it may be,
is only a limited perspective of me
fueled by disappointment and irk
though quenched by many a cultural perk.

We may have our head up our *****,
but at least we entertain the doped masses.
We, perhaps, may be hipsters and sensationalist,
but, at the same time, we're among the greatest.

And that's terrifying.