The terror of the evening -
Faux-friends falling in fallow fawnings all around;
The consequences cavernous
And shivering like too much air-conditioning;
Echoes of your ego reflected in the eyes
Of every hopeful
Clutching at pamphlets
Just a little too tight;
The meritocracy of dead-eyed double speak;
The language of impotence;
Corporate poetry.
Retrospectively intuited,
You are never wrong.
Catching, catching - a disease, a plague of ego.
Outside the temple,
I opened my mouth and spoke in tongues,
Feverishly babbling the sounds of saviour,
Hiding my truth in the folds of ones and zeroes
That made up the cadence of my voice.
A hysteria of fervent idealism.
The prophecy struck, though,
For the confidants fell down in holy terror, holy awe,
And were converted by the purity of my reason.
Nanotech minds;
Spurious fragments of thinking
Hooked on thin awareness and
Skittish absolutions:
You are everywhere at once,
And nowhere completely.
Faux-friends falling in fallow fawnings all around;
The consequences cavernous
And shivering like too much air-conditioning;
Echoes of your ego reflected in the eyes
Of every hopeful
Clutching at pamphlets
Just a little too tight;
The meritocracy of dead-eyed double speak;
The language of impotence;
Corporate poetry.
Retrospectively intuited,
You are never wrong.
Catching, catching - a disease, a plague of ego.
Outside the temple,
I opened my mouth and spoke in tongues,
Feverishly babbling the sounds of saviour,
Hiding my truth in the folds of ones and zeroes
That made up the cadence of my voice.
A hysteria of fervent idealism.
The prophecy struck, though,
For the confidants fell down in holy terror, holy awe,
And were converted by the purity of my reason.
Nanotech minds;
Spurious fragments of thinking
Hooked on thin awareness and
Skittish absolutions:
You are everywhere at once,
And nowhere completely.