Glorified Clique (Pathetic Subcultures)

You’ve got downtuned guitars and heavy-gauged strings

You must be SO hardcore

Claiming to be from this or that major city

Despite living in cushy suburbs about an hour away

Let’s not even get to the pop punk brats

Whining about “this town”, breakups, and friends

Put the pizza down and realize you’re not oppressed

Twenty and even thirtysomethings have high school mindsets

Disguising their cliques as “the scene”

Thank the Divine for COVID world shutting your concerts down (No wishes for the pandemic to harm anyone, of course)

And blocking your Hot Topic-core fashion shows that just happen to have live music

The entitlement was so strong it’s actually pathetic

As trust fund babies want to be fueled with hate (while secretly wanting the ramen, too)

To look all big and bad

There’s only so much that could help the scene

Suburbia was certainly a matrix of sorts in blasting these dime-a-dozen wannabe Rise Records fake screamo tunes

Drop A?

For like dropping a reality from their perception

Your subculture is a bloody sham

Diol Family, You Are Not Forgotten

Moving from the Green Star all the way to the Centennial State

Starting a new life for this family of five

All for a fatal blaze to snuff out these innocent souls

The injustice was a mile high like the city they resided

Parents and children all destroyed by satanic teens in masks

While the flames were from the igniting bigotry

One suspect didn’t fit the narrative of the conglomerates

As it was contrary to an unrelated isolated incident to fuel propaganda

Thank the Divine they’ll face justice as adults while living to tell about it

Others have been erased despite never slaughtering men, women, and children

Diol family, you didn’t deserve this

May your murderers face the most severe of consequences



Here’s a link to this story: https://www.thedenverchannel.com/news/crime/two-teens-charged-as-adults-in-connection-to-denver-house-fire-that-killed-senegalese-family

A 16 Year Sentence Isn’t Enough (Dows=Devils)

Did you feel happy defiling so many innocent souls?

To say there were kid’s gloves involved would be a gross understatement

#MeToo ignored you and your wife, but I didn’t

About time the consequences rained down on you

But it still looks like a slap on the wrist

When others faced more time for less

How many people would be able to get away with destroying children

Especially after they were on THAT registry back in their home country?

How many people did you bribe in one or both nations?

You better thank your privilege for only serving 16 years



For those that don’t know what I’m referring to, then you can watch Preying Missionaries and this news clip from Kenya.

Also, the fact Edmond Nyabola doesn’t have any journalism awards for breaking this story is a travesty, too.

May God bless the victims and their families.

Was My Worth Tied Into Being a Critic?

They say every one is a critic

I certainly wouldn’t deny it

My silvery-platinum eyes were spectacles for others

These opinions mattered more in multiple contexts

While proud of these observations

My pride in my own originality faded harder than vintage denim

So many fires, so many embers

Only a few would become pyrotechnics, though I wouldn’t want them to be altars

Other creative works would be on display

There was a joy in bringing light to the obscure from all around the world

No, Japan wasn’t my only destination even though a section of this part of the net appreciated those shiny pennies from the Rising Sun

While I’m versatile, I didn’t want to be confined

Much less ashamed of having fandoms at all

I prayed I wasn’t a failure in all my endeavors

As I’ve thought for most of my life

Invisibility Dissipates With the Trio of Drums

Piano, repique, chico…

The sizes of the three drums brought such color

When one was lost in cultural amnesia

Credit slowly became due long after Barcelona’s crown was rejected

The connection to the lost was retrieved

By hand and by clave

The memories flooded and the shame evaporated

After centuries of propaganda

Robust sounds burst by trios or infantries or cuerdas

Encore, maestros!

Insidious Emulation Mode (From the Perspective of a Clone)

[Note: Let’s see how many references my readers will get in this satirical poem.]

Adoration was entitled to the emulators

As I deserved the accolades for being best

Who wants to be first, anyway?

Fighting for medals was a reason of life

I needed no antennae for such a goal

Obstacles to being the pinnacle disappear

With the snap of my gloved fingers

Reaching 9999 levels of power helped

Making sure I won no matter what

I am acclaimed, more than just a carbon copy

You’d be selling me short that way

So all these originals are complaining of my existence, now?

Too bad

Life’s not fair, isn’t it?

Is it really that insidious when you have thousands of adoring fans?

This is the age where clones achieve coronation