Echo-Chamber Chant

 "I study social media. Which means that to a first approximation, I watch people argue." 
~ Clay Shirky

Echo-Chamber Chant


(Rhythm: Calypso Andante)


Yelling in a tin can

Imbalanced between yin and yang

One can't be right all of the time

Our two cents aren't worth a dime


Opinions are like sphincters

Too vulnerable to pranksters

If you feel that facts don't matter

Then you're madder than a hatter


Quit craving biased confirmation

It's all just monkey imitation

What we think is nothing major

Stunted thoughts like a teenager


The Fake News has taken over

It's better now to run for cover

There's no wiz behind the curtain

Let's accept Being uncertain


* Repeat it ad absurdum *

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Auto-Critical Critique

Auto-Critical Critique

For starters: this writer usually adopts the voice of an entire chorus; a stance that wears on one quickly. Royal We remains prevalent but the first person is frustratingly nowhere to be found!

His compositions are topical and tend toward metaphysical abstractions, which hold only loose relations to their titles. That is likely the result of having read too much John Donne or Andrew Marvell.

Additionally, there is an acrimonious overuse of verbosity running throughout his strident phraseology. Prosaic sentences seem to go on indefinitely while poetic dalliances devolve into nothing more than mere drivel.

Alliteration becomes campy deconstruction ~ Punctuation is eccentric to the extreme — following a logic all its own¡ Grammarians would wince as arrant arrogance flies in the face of traditional technique. Here even rhyming rings untrue due to syncopated timing ...

Such pretentious devices instantly turn off most readers. Yet for some unexplained reason, their forced application seems altogether deliberate. Perhaps said fact corresponds to the conceited claim that this is indeed "Anti" Poetry.

Regardless, he will never amount to anything in a world where book sales mark success. Long gone are the days when people actually analyzed writing and considered it an artful pursuit. With attention spans waning away rapidly, each l e n g t h e n e d letter hammers another nail into his categorical coffin.

* clang - clang - clang *

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Asomatous

Asomatous

~ Operand at the periphery ~

Like Don Giovanni's opera

It gives rise to an epiphany:

Bridging wide gaps within

A rich binaural symphony.

So let the players sing and

Take you by both tympani.

Such scores are highly rated

Among the annals of infamy.

Donna Elvira love him not —

For he goes beyond polygamy:

Over two-thousand bodices

Removed in crass indecency!

Even statues spring to life

Moved through sheer indignity.

Audiences are often duped

By the libretto's filigree;

Thinking it has something to do

With inborn nobility or pedigree.

The evanescent is nascent mid torment ...

Image: Don Giovanni Dragged Into Hell by Pietro Bini (1796).

---

Author's Note: If you enjoyed this piece, then you might want to take a look at its poetic 'prequel': Rhizomatous

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Gruß Vom Krampus!

Gruß Vom Krampus!


Jolly old Saint Nicholas?
An outdated yuletide hymn —

With more naughty brats than e'er
This season's ripe for him ...

Christ-Mass eve approaches;
Come now feared old goat,

Quit flipping those channels
(Give up that darn remote).

It's all commercials anyhow
After the clock strikes twelve:

Advertising crap to wrap
Like woeful workshop elves.

So stuff these stockings full of coal;
Bad boys and girls beware —

He'll spank you with birch branches
Or box your ears mid-air!

Johnny wants an iPod touch,
Susy's dreaming of VR.

Nellie thinks a 'Selfie Mic'
Will make her a big star.

As for us with half a brain
We still need to smarten ...

Send out our reminder
Via vintage Krampuskarten!

Image: And the Children Shall Inherit the Earth (Krampus) by Chris Buzelli.

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Digital Shamanism

Digital Shamanism


Well if you must use the Facebook™
Make sure it aids in Recapitulation.
Nothing doing online
Among disillusioned Dreamers.
Where be the seasoned Warriors?
(They don't conform to techie patterns).
Out here all anyone ever hears
Is a whole lot of dissonant Tonalities;
Butthurt arguments born of hypersensitivity, overindulgence, &
Sentimentality.
So strap on your #VR Headset
Let's traverse this silicon tundra ...
Ignite some sage grass or incense.
Fling open the Windows® of perception!
Mortality is a predator watching — waiting
To pounce upon those who are at unawares :o

Image: Don Juan Matus & Carlos Castaneda

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The Tidal Wave

The Tidal Wave


Doesn't matter how elaborate your sand castles might be
It will soon come and wash them all away ...

El Niño & La Niña stir up whirlpools as they frolic;
It won't be long now 'til high tide floods the bay ...

A lone monarch butterfly flutters its wings against Boreas
Then a hurricane hurries to buffet the quay ...

Submarine earthquakes shall unleash huge tsunamis
So no number of sandbags can secure their delay ...

Primary wave smashes clear past the shoreline
Of what civilization felt fit to flaunt on display ...

Dragged by currents, drowning within torrents —
Underside of an iceberg shows us on our way ...

Submerged in the sea we should finally see
That seam between daylight and dream, isn't what it may simply seem!

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Chaotic Neutrality

Chaotic Neutrality
 
Am within the world
But ain't of it . . .

So hey, whaddaya say
We let the chips fall
Wherever they may?

Roll the Icosahedron
Consistently
Inconsistent.

What Heidegger called
The "Thrownness of Dasein"
And Wittgenstein suggested
To "pass over in silence".

You can bet Plato's pharmacy
Along with its uppers and downers
That King Thamus is rolling in his crypt.

In this script, pretense at truth is indescript.
Slip through the chutes but climb the ladders.
Shuffle your deck; dealing out only what matters.

Few conjugations are gaudier
Than cellar door — painted azure!

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Mirror-Rite

Mirror-Rite

Within the inverse universe
Altered states are at their worst.

Prime Directive may come first
But in a second, creeps bloodthirst.

Opaque looking glass doth stain
Another pane replete with pain.

It may strike one as insane
But think it over — wrack thy brain!

If Memory Alpha serves its function
We can repeat without compunction ...

Kill the lights and chant an injunction:
Reflected Mary — merits expunction!

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Pronounced Machiavellianism

Pronounced Machiavellianism

Swoons the pointy tip of dark triad;
Fell shadow side that alters one's arrow.

Amoral machinations might madden the mighty
Like an upstart principality that shirks legality.

For a Prince should rather be feared than revered.
Thus bend falsified truths, with unflinching impunity.

Dominance writes itself a blank cheque
From morally bankrupt foundations.

An invisible hand moves over the face
Of those whose eyes are always veiled.

Everything comes down to meaning nothing
Within such a bizarro scenario ...

REWIND & REWORD

Suggested Settings:

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Oxy-Morons

Oxy-Morons


Let's engage in a productive waste of time;
Confusing to one's taste buds
Like a slice of sweet key lime.

Organized chaos thrives
Online throughout the web.
Cracking tasteless jokes
Like an aristocratic pleb.

Acting cruelly to show compassion is
Contradictory as a rich man wearing rags
Then setting off a brand new trend in fashion biz.

So hold what's left and write
From center of prefrontal cortex.
Cause bears forth its own effects
While old wrongs are all aright.

These sharps may sound retarded — thus they cleave in manner trite!

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Pot-Boiler

Potboiler (noun): a mediocre work of literature or art produced merely for financial gain.

---

Pot-Boiler

Number NONE on the New York Times Bestseller List!

Featuring lilliputian lingo fit for limited engagements

But that's not all —

Order now and we'll throw in some acid-leaking batteries

Completely free of charge.

Anyway, what's most important is for low brow content

To become so commonplace that not a soul complains.

Such pandering will surely increase our market share

And please the Board of Infesters.

We stand at the verge of a Bravo Nouveau Weltanschauung!

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SeptimuS

SeptimuS


Seven for the Pleiades —

Sister stars of ancient lore.

Some think to call them home

(others think a little more).


Seven were the wonders

Of the world in ages past.

To day they've been updated,

But short term memories don't last.


Seven notes of melody

Comprise all tonic scales.

Infinite variations give us

Endless sonic tales.


Seven sins prove deadly

For those lacking self-control.

Get to know your triggers,

Or the outcome won't be droll.


Seven are the Chakras;

Vortices of vital breath.

Meditate on these and see

Horus vanquish Seth!


Seven senses function

If a dreamer is wide awake.

Sixth be the so-called psychic,

Seventh: uncoiled ethereal snake.


Seven seals will break

When Judgment Day arrives.

Then we'll know who excelled

Or erred by wasting precious lives ...

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Verb Boss City

Verb Boss City


Nobody wants to hear it;
Tiny brains cannot bear it:

Any outpour of adjectives
Accompanying their respective
Subjects to achieve a higher objective.

They were once believed to be blessings
Of superlative bliss, but lately
Sunny ideas meld together

While choral nocturnes
Turn into perverse 
Techno trysts.

Red tail-lights pulsate
Like bloody irony through
The autobahn's main artery.

Penthouse apartheid
Scrapes skies overhead
Because Phobos hates hoboes.

A gilded cage may suit the socialite parrot ...
However—a Jack Hare—won't chase suburban karat!

Image: Urban Bunny courtesy of Laura Heikkala.

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Non-Standard Disclaimer

Non-Standard Disclaimer

The proceeding is an unpaid Badvertisement
Wherein you (henceforth, "the readers")
Are subject to the terms and conditions
Of disservice delineated herein:

We (henceforth, "the writers")
Will not condescend to dumb down
Our message, which is the essence
Of this antipoetic license.

The readers will be given consideration
Only insofar as they are willing and able
To interpret these overstatements
With a perceptive or receptive mindset.

Subterfuge such as sarcasm, satire, and simile
Shalt be utilized to outwit even the savviest
Swashbucklers slogging through this boggish
Assemblage of piss-poor penmanship.

Although the readers may not buy it
All sales are final; in other words
There are no refunds to be given
For the minutes you have now wasted...

Console yourself with promotional code: NOLENS-VOLENS!

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Trench Trap

Author's Note: This Anti-Poem now has a sequel > Urbane Combat

---

Trench Trap

Mayday, mayday

Bardship Battalion

Undergoing heavy

Artistry fire!

Dug foxhole

Too deep;

Hellish shock

Setting in . . .

Please send

Literary support.

Airdrop grants

Over coordinates:

Lima, Mike

Alfa, Oscar.

Enemy columnist

Approaching position —

 

* END TRANSMISSION *

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PROLIX

PROLIX


Hark the herald angel's hum:

Bring your banjo

Pick then strum!
 
Moot point wavers

To and from.

At Devil's banquet;

Don't drop crumbs.

Life's more sanguine

Than red rum.

Break up huddle

We gotta scrum.

Time to kick-ass

Spit out gum.

There are secrets

Left to plumb ...

March to beat

Of internal drum.

Have no reason

To feel glum.

Pull that slack

Old school chum.

First one fucks

Before two cum!

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Amateur Hour

Amateur (noun):
1. A person who engages in a study, sport, or other activity for pleasure rather than for financial benefit or professional reasons.
2. An athlete who has never competed for payment or for a monetary prize.
3. A person inexperienced or unskilled in a particular activity.
4. A person who admires something; a devotee or fan.
 
Middle French [1775-85] from the Latin amātor (lover).

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Amateur Hour


First and foremost: here's an amateur!

Auteur pour son compte

Lover of les belles arts

(imitator supreme)

Orator des choses sublime.


Borrowed barbs from Baudelaire's flowers —

Ne comprends pas?

More's the pity, old sport.

Behold unbridled puissance;

Douceur gone sour.


Moliere's Misanthropos

Il est tres apropos

Exemplar par excellence

Et aussi le ne plus ultra

Connoisseur covering . . .

 
Fifteen minutes of shame

Rife with disrespect

For conventional flow

And blatant disregard

Toward savoir de lecteur!

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