“Instead of framing new words, I recommend to you any kind of artful management by which you may be able to give a new air and cast to old ones” [1. From the Notes to Ars Poetica by Horace added by Ricard Hurd, p. 50.]
Angry. Fourfold. Compare yourself 
to the greatest, are you greatness? 

If I presume it, I am not, rotting. 
Tipsy, frosty world, rooms shaking.

To be great means not to dwell on
what's a cliché but what's worthy
not of prizes but of honest causes. 

Humility should come before a prize, 
but it doesn’t! Values underrated. 

The fuzzy line between honor, truth, 
clarity has been broken in favor 
of homelessness. Senseless. The ire 
spreads in silent bills, ignored but 
more present than a breath untold. 

We are told to forget distress 
in a shopping cart, we comply. 

That’s what we’ve trained to do
best, commerce is prior to life. 

What can be done if we are trapped
in a procession toward a vacuous 
possession? The finale renewed, 
shows continued, the end of a set
is designed to replace old desires
with new ones. We are trapped in 
a tapping against a glass floor.

The tap tap is meant for me to fall 
hypnotic enough to ignore the lack
of fulfillment. True liberty is not 
a fan of choices but an approximation  
to an openness near mia dulce casa.

The closer you are to homelessness,
the bleaker your future will feel.

You’ll drown in choices set for you.
You'll tumble unable to freechoice.

We are homeless while fake idols 
close deals beside of our whipped 
backs, ignorance does not forgive 
consequences. To live for change 
of channel, a remote control with 
no numbers, only two symbols and 
an unfulfilled promise, is death.    

We fought for choices, it's ironic  
we only have two, three, a few more 
but where’s fulfillment? Tap tap. 

We have been so focused on attaining 
enlightenment, freedom to choose, 
that we mistook the eerie tap tap 
for a natural noise. We ignored
that the tap tap denies us what is
more important than having a pair
of choices: the unlimited abundance  
hidden in our chaotic complexity. 

The creative explosion where justice
hasn’t yet been formed, but where 
truth is allowed to live to shine
a path for justice to follow. If 
we could realize that the tap tap 
is not what we really want, would 
you stop tapping to distract your
self from the lack of fulfillment?

Would I stop the tapping in time
to feel there's anger under apathy? 

Tap tap, hypnotic ignorance, tap 
tap, tap, I vow to wake up after 
one last tap, TAP, TAP, TAP, T.A.P.

The dance feels so mighty, enthralled 
we get to forget some anxious moans. 

It is the instantaneous, infectious 
tap, a tap for a tap, the choice 
to tap tap, an infinite scroll toward 
a nothingness that eats us alive.

Second after second, we empty 
our sand clock for the freedom 
to tap. Will we say it's enough?
Will I choose to stop tapping?
Will I decide to free myself 
from those alienating desires? 

Do I possess the ability to stop 
the tap tap or has my apathy sold 
my fulfillment for a bleak future? 

Tap tap. I’m losing faith as the GREAT
tap tap as much as us. They even deny 
there’s a tapping going on to protect
the gates from us. In this tipsy, frosty,
risky world, I hear the grass cracking but
do you? It's a bitter window, shattered.
Oh dear, don’t tap tap while barefoot.
I hope I can hear before the glass floor 
Don’t judge the quality of another based on merely postmodernist rules. We need to go back to the past to construct a more creative future than the one we have been given. Read my post, How to break patterns like Shakespeare?, to understand what I mean.
Signature Lina Ru