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  You are @ HomeAdults Poetry


Source: Adults

Author: Stuart Johnson

Title: Cultureless Fields

Go ahead and achieve your pointless dose of mediocrity

Sing away your weekend evenings before self-important panels

Create nothing of note

Compose nothing of worth

Inspire nobody but those who bleat away in cultureless fields

Inflict your non-descript, limited talent before the camera

Before the spoon-fed

Before the tepid, easily entertained masses

Who don’t want to have to think

Or have to discover

Or extend their mental capacity beyond the same old formulae

Same old comfortable air-brushed image

Same old voice, same old performance

Same old Cowell-esque “key-change” just about two-thirds of the way through the song

Though the original never had such a nauseating feature

Same old switch to a shot of Cheryl, hands clasped, watery eye

As the wistful vision of pound-signs float toward her

Like flies inexorably sucked towards a pile of steaming…pungent…

Applaud like Seals and “ whoop “ at the end

“ Because he’s just so like totally amayyyzingly cute “

A catalyst for middle-aged housewife swoon

Or misplaced teenage idolatry

Don’t know what you like, just like what you know

As you pick the last of that take-away KFC from your rotting teeth

Louis says: “ take this song, and make it your own “

Louis says: “ take this songwriter’s blood, and turn it to water “

Louis says: “ take this artist’s sweat…and tears…and turn it into the freshly flushed

Contents of your toilet bowl “

Louis says: “ take Lennon’s ‘Imagine’, and make it your own “

“ Suck out its heart, and bring your own bland brand of blandness “

Louis says: “ Take two slices of bread, and place nothing in between "

Louis says: “ Take a vintage bottle of wine, or your finest malt,

Pour three quarters of it down the plughole and fill up with water

Add sugar, copious amounts of sticky, sickly sugar

Until the bored sedated sheep vomit their appreciation and adoration

Of someone’s “ career “ already consigned to wilt

A Play that will not last beyond the second act

A fraud that will not last, just cannot last

Nothing more to offer once the walls of the TV studio are folded away

You're just the latest cut of processed meat

And the assembly line grinds to a halt for another year

The dust settled, someone took the money and ran once more

" It's what the public wants..."

It's not what the public wants

So go ahead and achieve your pointless dose of mediocrity

Create nothingness

Compose nothingness

Leave no legacy remotely fitting of the hype and hysteria

Inspire nobody but those who bleat away in cultureless fields

Published on writebuzz®: Adults > Poetry

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