A Poem by Griffin

I. Hate. Generic. Music. They are all products for the masses to eat up like the masses they are.


Everyday I'm bombarded with amateurs who expect fame and fortune from nothing but privilege.

Like this generation deserves a name for their mediocrity. Look at their idols, the ones the world praises, the entire talentless space wasters;

Playgirls and gang 'bangers the populous raises to the tippy-top of their egotistical steeple.

It makes you wonder though, what did they sell to get the recognition of the next Beethoven

When they hump air on stage, "sing" about selling drugs interwoven with misogyny, or come to the US

Playing nothing but a catchy tune on the radio that girls of a young age get wet over.

And anyone who thinks that they aren't as incredible as the media makes them out to be, their jealous

And get their names tarnished by over-zealous fangirls on the internet, even the rebellious are all products;

Pieces of meat to be sold for the trick of a coin. The flick of a finger and catchy beat and another indie band is big again and it makes me wonder

Is a deal with the devil for the soul you plan to sell  really worth it in the end? Or is fame and fortune torture in itself, punishment for talentless projects

Hitting big on the internet because of idiots who don't know what a chord is? Is having your face on every magazine, making millions

And never having a private conversation equal to the fiscal gain and the supple amount of societal reigns that come from useless mixes

Of the same damn song but with a different drum beat? Because this product does nothing but waste our time and yet we lap it up

Like helpless dogs trying desperately to wake our owners up after they fell down the stairs because they were giving us dog food all our lives

And we never learned it tastes the same as the dog s**t it makes. My god, how many genetic mistakes is it going to take before we realize

Pop culture is torture and its for our ignorance, our naivety , and our ability to drop $200 dollars to see a pop concert

When we're $20,000,000,000 down in the hole. We're in a desert and every new hit is a mirage of the next new hit because they're all the same

Their tacky and lame and not worth the money the people who make it gain. My sanity wanes because this has been going on my entire life

And everyone seems to notice, and everyone hates it, but still, people create it, and still people buy it, and still people sell out

And still people sell their souls for the next big hit.

© 2013 Griffin

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Added on March 11, 2013
Last Updated on March 11, 2013
Tags: poetry, spoken word, one direction, the music industry, sucks



Billerica, MA

This is basically me just popping crap onto a website for the world to see more..

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