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nicky-jPoems
So much for practice, for dexterity, for emulation, for process. For processing is king Now. And from now, Until. Allure in the all-powerful Power-station, All at my disposal Though I despise more and more The vastness of the virtual, The sonic truth it damns For the sake of convenience, For the calling of fools. The art is poached, Bagged, and butchered To nourish the moronic masses, Relying on their base nature To consume, to feed, To gulp it down Til their senses dull To anything different, Anything profound. Take your zeroes, your ones, Find your fortune. I'd rather strum around Those telling embers With a clumsy choir And miss.
0
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 5:00 AM UTC
Zeroes, Ones, Hit.
So much for practice, for dexterity, for emulation, for process. For processing is king Now. And from now, Until. Allure in the all-powerful Power-station, All at my disposal Though I despise more and more The vastness of the virtual, The sonic truth it damns For the sake of convenience, For the calling of fools. The art is poached, Bagged, and butchered To nourish the moronic masses, Relying on their base nature To consume, to feed, To gulp it down Til their senses dull To anything different, Anything profound. Take your zeroes, your ones, Find your fortune. I'd rather strum around Those telling embers With a clumsy choir And miss.
nicky-j
Written by
nicky-j
American
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 5:00 AM UTC
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