I'm sure I've posted this old poem elsewhere. It was written in my freshman year of college - I think.
We've brandished a form of monotony,
"Bigger words make better poetry."
We make an oracle of what we do not understand
And child's play of what we do.
We are different for different's sake,
And not for the sake of being original--
Some use profanity to look bad
Like some men who use tools and greasy rags
To look more like a mechanic and less
Of what they really are: clueless.
Some do not use profanity in order to look good,
Like some men who go to church or carry around
A Bible to look more like a Christian
And less of what they really are: clueless.
Our brandished form of pedanticism
Has made our lives the uniformity of rules
Like a game
Rules to survive, to live, to love, to cherish
The games people play become our lives
And our lives reduced to games
Reducing life further to merely assisted suicide.