A stack of creative
concepts tainted
with ideals of fame
is calling my name.

Just give it a
common
denominator:
chop, chop
monism,
chop, chop
solipsism,
chop, chop
realism,
chop, chop,
structuralism,
chop, chop,
post…
chop, chop,
chop reality
into syllables
because
big ones
don’t bring
fundamental
change.

Your originality
is a waste of time
they say;
it has already
been described.

Foolish hat,
they say,
you’ll never
win a game
that is defined
by tradition.

You
are trapped
by everything
you say
[create]
because
although you
chop, chop,
chop reality;
everything
has already
been baked,
they say.

Enjoy the game
before it bakes
you sterile!

Your thoughts
will be judged
as scientific terms
in the philosophy
of the sheep.

Are you
asleep?

They play
the game of
eloquence
trying to spot
the perfect
combination
of knowledge.

As if life
was a safe
with a simple
combination
of faith.

Such a
childish play!

A bait that is
almost impossible
to ignore if your ego
is as big as their
baseball bats;
thinkers
hitting hard
their predecessors
with the hope
of being
more renowned
than the older.

Such an
impossible game!

Want to find
the truth?

Chop, chop,
chop tradition,
and if you
hate change…

Let your past
be your destiny.

Read your history,
bake your cake,
make your recipe
with true joy.

But as I let you enjoy,
let me chop, chop, chop
without labeling my thought
because once you think
you’ve got me,
read again,
you’ll always find that
chop, chop, chop
is nothing but…

Binary Heart from: http://xkcd.com/99/

Signature Lina Ru