Middle Class White Guy
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Poetry Galleries About Me

People On Tv

You smug sanctimonious pudding-faced puritan
The sight of you makes me throw things
Your voice makes me want to shoot things
With backward thinking close minded conservatism
You're not a beacon of morality
You possess no virtuous authority
Your brain holds no more than two distinct thoughts
Children are angels, sex is sick
Back it up I dare you, without saying "self evident"
Or kill your whining rhetoric

You zombie robotic ventriloquist doll
Answer the question this time,
Don't churn out the party line
Is there a thought in your head you came up with yourself?
With no master's voice you're just
A slave without skill or worth
I ask to your face what colour's the sky
You tell me that grass is green
I ask you again, is it blue yes or no?
You rail at what children have seen

You vacuous, air-headed media whore
Barely even a pretty face
You do nothing but take up space
Your glass-like eyes are showing no spark of life
A plastic doll with no sex appeal
A CGI freak that I pray isn't real
In wide-eyed wonder you drift through the world
Helpless without your coterie
No thoughts ever trouble your vacant smile
Dimly believing you're sexy

This endless parade of people on TV
Damning blights on society
Your continued existence offending me
Mass produced mouldings of stereotypes
Contributing nothing to art
A sea of white noise without heart
Exploited by vultures who make you feel worthy
Without fame you are nothing
Junk food telly, just saturated pap
But I'm the fool for watching

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