To the Popularist:

AuburnScribbler

You are nothing but a husk,

an empty vessel,

a proud puppet,

anyone’s!

 

Taste those cancer sweets they give you,

play the foul games they tell you to play,

and choose your opinion, at their newspaper stands,

in order to remain –

 

a husk,

a vessel,

a puppet,

anyone’s!

 

Lazily listen to the songs, the paedophile sings,

watch the glitzy movies, the sex offender produced,

just like a moth, do not question such bright lights,

so, you can stay –

 

a husk,

a vessel,

a puppet,

anyone’s!

 

Step in tow, to be part of the basilisk queue,

to vote the wrong one in again, to ensure no change,

then complain when they create , without looking at a mirror,

to relabel yourself –

 

a husk,

a vessel,

a puppet,

anyone’s!

 

Quick to the click, to the influencer; sick,

who only says what you want to hear, but has no real care for you,

as when in bed with them, you start to squirm, as your hero, is actually villain,

thus, such “crocodile tears” states you’re –

 

a husk,

a vessel,

a puppet,

anyone’s!

 

Be the little helper, for someone else’s vision,

with the misguided hope of respect, so you continue to cry at home,

and family woes grow, as the paycheck, isn’t enough to live,

such a sad thing to be –

 

a husk,

a vessel,

a puppet,

anyone’s!

 

Hold on to God’s hand, every single day,

to turn every religious text, into an instruction manual,

then mangle the purity, to make sins; the duties,

and wear the uniform of –

 

a husk,

a vessel,

a puppet,

anyone’s!

 

A sheep that was bred for premature slaughter,

disregarded such defiant joy, in being oneself,

instead you were an idle, proud, repetitive slave to Mum and Dad,

who gave too much care, for the thoughts of others!

 

Selling out to be in, scared of the out, adding to the gruel-like shout,

spraying the bullets without a care, just following orders, from those up there,

as it’s better to fit, than to be alone, yet you lie with kin, in warzone,

your heart and soul, was price tag, your ghost now burns, thus; not so glad,

as they do scream, no self-esteem, as you were  –

 

a husk,

a vessel,

a puppet,

any-fucking-one’s!    

  • Author: AuburnScribbler (Online Online)
  • Published: September 9th, 2026 11:06
  • Comment from author about the poem: Now this particular "stark" "forthright" "X-rated" poem, is the first one of its kind, that I have written in a long while. This one goes out to that particular person, who lives "their life" on a borrowed set of other people's/popularism's values. The banner picture that accompanies the poem, represents the cage: "merry mob mentality", that people so erroneously enjoy being locked in to, yet, before long, when they start to rethink such a choice, it may well be too late to escape! It is a very dangerous concept, to enjoy being imprisoned in such a system, that has no real care for your happiness, as its only purpose is to take, take, take from you. I hope that you enjoy and take something from this poetic rant, please choose wisely upon your own set of values, and as always, please do stay safe in the madness everyone!
  • Category: Reflection
  • Views: 2


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