Post – Modern Chip on My Shoulder

There ain’t no such thing as Beat anymore

It’s all been co-opted into a new system

Fountains of pain and anguish

Are all just post-modern chips on my shoulder

It ain’t nothing more than my problem

Psychology’s fatigue of explanationism

Has set in really fast

Relative to the time and place from which it was borne

Out of into our world to live

Amongst us humans

In a relationship illusory in its contradictory harmony

Teaching us

But leaving us to our own wretched devices

Doing a fond farewell to all ancient niceties

Including my personal favorite

Chivalry

All gone because of the tenacity

Of the dammed Post-Modern chip on my shoulder

It won’t go away

It’s like a skin graft

That was sown in quite well

So well

You can’t tell

Nor can any other obvious onlooker

Tell what’s going on inside

My brain

Draining fluid off to one side

Bombarded by tiny informatiomites on the other