Some have said of me that I'm
l i t e r a t e !
Strange but that makes me feel
like literacy wears some super-glued
tattoo required to pass through
into an elitist world of who's who;
some judgmental pathos for seeing things
the way t h e y need them to be rather
than allowing Truth to bite them in the
nipple-of-reality.
We all know someone who tries to
hype us with Jargonian propheticisms
about anything at all, manipulating
revered passages from acclaimed works
like the Bhagavad Gita or the Yoga Sutras
of Patanjali, or intimidate us by slinging
names we've never heard like a quick-order
cook tossing raw potatoes onto a sizzling skillet
of lardy-lies deep frying our minds so that we
wet ourselves believing Mahatma Gandhi reincarnated
right in our midst.
We, the literate dedicated entirely to impressing
ourselves with our o w n liter-a-c-y
our mental greatness surround ourselves
with surreal props--those likenesses
that mirror back what we perceive and then
p r o j e c t our selves to be.
I abhor elitist thinking, detest flowery shows
and multi-syllabic displays flounting arrays of Thucydides
Pericles, Herodotus, Ranke, Rilke, Rankine, Rousseau--
Henri or Jean-Jacques; those tasty, toasty tidbits
of acclaimed literary genius.
We- the wee-class of humanoidals--how we
continue our own dissection--plucking Indigo
petals from our flowering children, tearing civilization
from the neck and throat of snobbery and literary
grandiosity.
I hate elitism: eclectic, ephemeral, ecclesiastical,
euphemistic, euphoric elitism.
E U T H A N A S I A.............. p l e a s e!
Gold trophy winner
Silver trophy winner
Bronze trophy winner
Adding your comment:
DAMN! 
you sure have some rocking images and comparison.. "...quick-order cook tossing raw potatoes onto a sizzling skillet of lardy-lies..." 
and the mirror projection.. 
though you do have some spelling errors there.. eClectic, euTHAnasia.. 
