Yuppies Are A Social Disease- Loki is the Remedy

Yuppies Broke the World

You can never relate.
You were the ravenous parasite who created this status race.
Just to enforce currency taste.
Feed the greed.
Until you chase
What you don’t need!
Chained to bleed!

No escape?
Please.

The scraggly sheen of a magazine
Redefining want,
Glamorizing a light-bright
Preened life-scene?
If magazines matched the arrival of Bibles
We’d be off to devour!

Like the Watchtower!
By…
Jehovah’s Witnesses.
Blowing shit loud is my subliminal bit proud and my business!

But music
Games
Noetic sciences
Poetic licenses
Radio
Free plays and shows
Spiritual visions
Empirical religions
Were all factioned into rubble
Made fashionable on the double.

Collapsed into something...
Accessible…       …sanitized,
Marketable…       …with hands over eyes.
Each act was adapted,
Into something that could be flogged.
Packaged.

Good dog!

Hood habit, understood by all graffiti-Writers who Mob:

Bold sound holds ground.
Asks for more.
Tracks deeper door to door
Than the task force!
Territorial War?
For tag culture is barely worth dying for!

For sure!
But slagged into mulch to stir?
Fragged by vultures?
Those bagged?
Fall back
Into their sepulcher.
Into the same muddy
Mother to kiss her.

A cold crown.
No gold astounds.
But old writers expound
Holding tight to what they found,
Bold sound, holds ground.

Slow. Muddy. Fog.
Go. Ruddy. Slog.
Muck. It. Through.
Nobody’s dog.
Fuck you.
Ground is held.
Sound is welded.
No seconds yielded.
Flow is a weapon wielded.

Collapse everything that’s free?
Unto a stain to
Rile and dump in?
Like the style over substance
Of 3-D?

Tuck the excess flesh.
Strain to match standards to affect.
Plain to me how much is re-trained.
For a marketable commodity.
Such a game is meant to win trust and rape you and me.

So FUCK YUPPIES AND FUCK THE ENTERTAINMENT INDUSTRY!

Aftermath:

Collapse everything that’s free?
If it isn’t marketable?
It sets a spark to roll!
Dark and awful? Or
Independent and suspenseful?

But every skill in the tree
Collapsed instills beyond spirit!
A strength to fill and not fear it!
I’ll spend every jaunt for more to cure
A Renaissance Warrior Impure!

No more following
The ill to slip
Will ‘o’ wisp of marketing.
Reframe what’s blessed and free
Invested for all of humanity?

Into a game to test and release?
Like the lame steps of S.S. Disney?
Is America STILL fucking kidding me?

Individual freedom
Invisible expression
Into this wee thing.
Get the whole collection.
Turn what’s magic in
DIY- Watcha’ got?
To what’s tragic in
3 aisles of pop!

Blind consumerism,
Mind humoring this hymn?
I’m not behind hypnotism;

I’m behind your mom’s hips.
Swinging them.

Stretching her spine.
Fingers blessing every rib tine.
Gulping pain out of her joints.
Sculpting weary pulse points.
Fingers missing none as they spear.

Lingering from a whiff…
Kissing some at the back of her ears…
Sipping until numb what over-runs
Until Mistress’s world of pain to shoulder disappears!

Tell your mom this healing round…
AND her high-pitched sounds
Are the reason I only come around
Once a year!

Please, if it allows you to follow what bothers
I wasn’t making fun of Christmas fathers
Just taking some quick running tongue disruptions
To crawl over!

Back to sparking my pain.

Fuck marketing!
Keeps you chained.
Trained. In the dark!
Every heartbeat starts my feet.
I’m no meter to park!
I’m in to eat targets on a lark!

Come on yuppie
Call me wrong
Call me out!

I’ll overwork your mind.
I’m not your kind.
I rock to unwind.

You ever fought when you were blind?
Or just stop between the lines?
Ever HAD to run?
AFTER hiding?
AFTER you hurled?
Or did you get those guns
From arm curls?

You never found me in your world!
You won’t.
Your best hurdles were
Catcalls, pratfalls
Flat walls like a test of murals!

Untrue. Never paid your dues.
You fuckers front!
Never made the real world.
But conceal power to twirl.
I’ll reveal every subversive play you scoured
Turn you to a meal. Set for me?
Rub curses? Enjoy lava showers!

Malevolence dealt stakes my cure!
The irrelevance of your wealth makes you insecure!
Peddling sense with stealth. I ache! You fake!
I slam this! You’re anxious! I’m sure! You cram shit!
Yuppie cur! You never found ANYONE REAL LIKE US IN YOUR WORLD!

So lame, an utter bust.
Why are SuperConsumers so easily lured?
No frame of another to trust.
Fly like me and be stirred!

“Sameness is the mother of disgust. Variety is the cure.”

Petrarch.