The Folly of Man (Chapter Two: My Generation)

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I watched as the
best poets of
My Generation were
drowned by a wave
of pseudo-Ginsbergian
literary charlatans.

I watched as the
best minds of
My Generation
destroyed themselves
on the mouldy remains
of last years grain.

I watched as the
best bodies of
My Generation were
barred from sight
by rails; the ribcage
is not an erogenous zone.

I watched as the
best soldiers of
My Generation
wandered through
Iraqi streets at dawn,
looking for an angry fix.

I watched as the
best jesters of
My Generation were
lost in a hazy
mist of flatulence
and broken bones.

I watched as the
best ideas of
My Generation were
dismissed so as not
to offend those who'd
follow all laws anyway.

I wept as the
best part of
My Generation
never even got
started because of
a poisonous sense
of fashionable apathy.