……The difference is, whatever they started putting in America’s drinking water, they did it after my generation went through puberty, today’s sons wit hands on their hips, thickened lips, brain doing backward flips; I’d rather increase the truancy. Forget their chains, they chemically tuck their balls, on the battlefield in the mirror looking for cosmetic flaws,…. their painted black nails stay turned up so long they look like paws, I think this is where Riley Freeman would yell pause. I’m just trying to figure out what the hell is wrong wit y’all. A can’t be found catalyst morphed the cattle, dumbed down and reduced to a baby wit a rattle, to the point we can’t even properly tattle, whatever it is, It tis what it tis, it dissolved and didn’t leave a fizz, almost seem magical like the Wiz, I’d rather be one of those weirdoes that think aliens built the pyramids.
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Author:
EvenwheniLie (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 16th, 2026 08:08
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 3
Offline)
Comments1
Here we have a wonderfully internal rhymed piece that reflects the views of each generation. I remember having to fight my parents for long hair, for loud music and what they considered sexually provocative images on album covers and books. I busted heads over religion and politics as well as drugs. As a species we haven't come far each generation finding ways to piss off the last. A good write.
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