of unfulfilled dreams,
androids seek their claim
to a promised land...
fifteen minutes of fame.
"How can I assure
my rightful place
in the televised majesty
befitting a royal flush?"
Shakespeare and Verdi
could not see it coming,
when everyone would get into the act...
high drama of tragic consequence.
A hungry world eats it up
on crumb laden couches;
dramas composed by lesser maestros
delivering popcorn stanzas and arias
devoted to misfits of ill-fated greed.
Thousands, nay, millions
worship the failure of
lives lived in plunder;
from a pair of crazy eights
to a jiffy pop launch...
now that's entertainment.
"When is it my turn?"
they wonder and munch
as they stare at the spectacle.
Tune in to your own tale
of woe... advertise, then broadcast
the last rite of despair...
they're at least clever plots
befitting a banal twitter.
Are you too waiting
for your own demise?
15 minutes of fame
isn't worth the wait,
of a lifetime of hope.
Sleep lesser gods of splendid drama,
you were trumped by a soup can.
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