My Generation.(part 2)

The false glimmer of charisma

Waxing lyrically on the shimmer

Conceals the shadows in the light

Fantastic hollowness of thought

Counting out the take on the insight

Of the taken at the back of the hall

Silhouetted by the moving shadows

Writhing prophecies on the wall

Vexing vanity before the fallen

Cloaks a heavy bright fantastic

Image outside its hollowed light

Deceiving to believe in its self

As the saviour of that living truth

Which it alone is possessed of

Deceiving innocence by stealth

As substance dies an instant death

When style triumphs over beauty

High hype from the lowest heaven 

As the media thieved the language

Murdering truth with killing syntax

In gorgeously manufactured styles

Torturing all us immaculate vowels

The medium strangled the message

As the messengers styled their hair

When presentation hit the airwaves

Surfing highways to lower heavens

That perished our innocent thoughts

And substance died an instant death

As ephemeral flourished by abuse

Subjected upon the corpse of truth.

But writers wrote an’ singers sang

That ancient an’ well favoured song

The future’s here and it won’t belong

To anything but its own sweet self

Unfolding dreams a serene vision

Wraps itself in hollow shadows

Glowering truth upon its surface

Concealing shallowness by depth

It’s the common currency of deceit

Practiced so naturally by politicians.