Monday, December 25, 2006


The minds of men build monuments to mediocrity.
In castles of conformity, they're born, they live, they die.
They wear a badge of morals and intense integrity
And waive the right to question, to doubt or wonder why,
They seek the static luxuries dollars can afford,
The homes, the whores, the status of a young and buxom wife.
The comforts of a country club, the bliss of being bored,
The rich rewards of raunchiness, the hollow gifts of life.
These are men and women grace thee upper class,
The stenciled social register, the pompous overweight.
Like women's bras at bargain sales they form a huge morass
And like the tangled merchandise are hard to separate.
But these are men and women who are wiser than we know.
They cling to their conformity, possess no special urge.
They climb financial ladders to a profit-plus plateau,
But never to the lofty peaks where greatness can emerge.
They swim in satisfaction in a whirlpool of peace.
They crow of small accomplishments like roosters at the dawn
And slink in slimed serenity and seek no sweet release.
They trim their true emotions like a cultivated lawn.
Mediocrity is greatness to the mindless mind,
Chained by false illusion, completely unaware
Who take pride in shortcomings, blindly undefined,
Holding high the light of darkness, gleaning glory from its glare.


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