2020 Is Looking A Little Fuzzy And I Can Use A Spritz Of Seltzer Poem by Beryl Dov

2020, in the Chinese Year of the Rat,
books are burned andKindles are melted
to limo in the overstretched era of
the wordless,
the mindless,
the kinky,
the stylish.
Gresham’s Law rules with an iron fist:
golden intellect has been debased
by the meretricious flash of 3D coinage
available, for a limited time only,
on the Drone Shopping Network.

Gargantuan art and photography books
grace the crystal meth tables of society
glued in position by despotic interior designers
and spot lit in pomegranate xenon (the new black) .
The finest salons are tenanted by a murder of
celebrities, entourages, paparazzi,
rappers, thugs, rapper-thug-CEO’s,
aesthetes, hangers-on, sycophants,
mediocre poets, would-be artists,
pseudo-intellectuals, failed bloggists
and dictators, diminutive in everything
but their egos and lust for tiramisu.
Egypt and Rome are resurrected:
the myths,
the pantheons,
the fashion,
the cruelties.
Wait...haven’t we seen this before…
possibly, in one of those charred history books
used to toast the marshmallows?
Nah, it wasn’t there. In hindsight, it was in the
HBO/Walmart/Google/Ebay/Apple miniseries,
Hitler: Mein Kampf and Mein Dreidl,
available, for a limited time only,
on the Drone Shopping Network.