2025
Have we exhumed the corpse of sincerity
From its postmodern grave?
Have we dusted off the ideologies
of the dead past
To play dress up
Like a Nazi at a dinner party
Shooting the salute
With a wry grin
And a shrug of the shoulders?
Stochastic anarchy is a term
That I did not invent.
Metamodernism: the oscillation between
Sincere belief and ironic detachment.
One minute you are a Fascist on the stage,
The next you are a provocateur
Engaging in cosplay
To critique the illiberalism
of the liberal establishment.
People have a desire for truth
But it cannot exist
In a world of disinformation
Where computer algorithms
Trained on bullshit
Are increasingly appealed to
And utilized
By children too lazy to use their brain.
If we are past the time of labels,
If we parade the corpse around
moving its arms and hands
In a ghoulish dance,
Making a mockery of humanity,
What future can we embrace?
Call the truth the truth
But we don’t know what truth is anymore
Since we are outsourcing thought
To the vanity of billionaires
And Silicon Valley firms
Disinterested in any concept
That doesn’t raise their valuation.
We have to remember the past
Not to use as fodder for memetic creation,
But as a reference on how to learn
How to think
How to act.
There is agency
In admitting
You are an agent.
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