The Stupid

The Stupid are easily provoked into self-righteousness. It’s better than bells on cows or sheep.
They lemming walk through reaction on every stage in which they speak, forgetting to read or think.

Experts everywhere in everything, they delight Islamicists, The Russia, their fellow bullies all asleep. They become what they hate: feminists will replace the patriarchy in their adolescent glories, their whips velvet striped.

Critics, purveyors of what resembles literature, cultural dictators bleeding for a heel to kiss: oh please, accept these deranged philosophies as our bliss. We is individuals, you see.
Yas, we be inagaddadaviduals.

Abandoned by the absence of intellectuals, the learned stooges’ committee guaranteeing poo-etry as the real thing when it’s merely verbal graffiti resulting in declines of awareness, discipline, and cognizance as a resentful rebellion against the maroons in suits all anal-bound and Stalinesque. Silly kids, such Piggies all island bought.

We be not Elizabethan, dey says, denying Shakespeare. We be The New Grammarians, never so ironic as to believe if only the past is seen, the present obscene, then we makes new worlds. Oh Vladimir & Josef, dis is the jerkers’ paradise where everything is eliminated in an excremental void.

If you don’t believe, we kill you proudly. Look what you made us do.

The new chain gang, the sweet fizz of righteous lumbering towards Bethlehem: the sweet beast of mass-turbapurgatory fascism awakes.

Won’t you join our circle game: snake in the ass end of these reindeer games, satisfaction in these black holes of falling through into nothingmess.
Patient wheel-chaired in the hallway of the recuperation facility of history barely mouthing through drool and deranged simplicities, ‘Won’t somebody he’p me pleasssssssse, thrrrrrrrp.’

©Dean J. Baker Gods Of Apparent Decline  121 pages – <- not you by any means so do not buy, freeload these poems cause you knows too much

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author of poetry, prose, and satire My books - http://

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