I am an expert on some level, so I pretend
To know what it's
About, nodding and agreeing until my mind is
Sparked into a brief
Moment of knowledge giving me the courage to
Sing out loud that
Sweet symphony of songful swearing that is
My opinion of the most
Current headline on every type of communication, from
The dawn of man to the
Near future, where babies are born hardwired with
Electronic DNA of the
Internet, reshaping the pyramid of needs to a sharp
Point that impales the
Present day mind, making men of today ancient
As cosmic dust.

What I saw or heard through the grapevine of
Technology, or two
Old ladies gossiping after a long winded sermon
On a typical patriotic
Sunday of propaganda, heartfelt truths, and lies,
Gives my naturally
Introverted self just enough courage to spill forth
Rehearsed thoughts
Until a simple hunger pang sends me to the dinner
Table to feed my
Brain, and rehash and reform my opinion that is, or
Was, lined up in
My mind, and now improved upon as the nourishment
Gives me complete
Clarification and structure of words until I open
My mouth, and
What I was thinking and what came out in words may
Be compared to a
Rich man turned poor much to my dismay and
Embarrasment, because
My wound of foolishness was self-inflicted.

Now I've learned
To leave the sensitive subject alone. That troubling
Subject that all men
Are natural experts in the subconscious.
Hollywood shows me
What it's like; Now I know a little more. The news
Let's me hear and see
The good fight. On a documentary, the best of course,
Makes me the expert.
I may have heroic fantasies, and nothing wrong with
That, but I never
Knew the truth, the whole story, 'til I volunteered
To go to hell.
Only then you will be an expert, because you have smelled
That smell.