A Rap-Like Lyric to a Cartoon-Like Future
Written in 1997 by 东篱把酒
Be vivid visions or apocalyptic delusions,
a murky future is going down in the flames.
Now a mythical aura of an epiphany,
let itself be subconsciously spelled at the inner sanctum of men's souls.
Piled on a highly geared futuristic civilization,
the convergence of all societies is entangled
in the webs of enviromental annihilation and pollution,
presenting itself with anatomically gory details.
On highfalutin' high-tech the future highly prides itself,
whilst furiously stoked by on-the-rocks stocks.
Eerily powered by wazoo-wired-up wireless industry,
and shored up by impetuously vertiginous cyber infrastructures
as well as saddled with a heap of sky-rocketing debts,
the quirky future is heavily infested with a gaggle of sassy go-getters
and programed by a bevy of tech-savvy high-fliers,
cloistered to clustered and cluttered cubicles.
Tacky labels of the future's culture lend themselves to blur men's eyes,
and turn men into demoralized fragments of doom.
Ratcheting up nothing but non-stop desires,
men fall for everlasting desperation pursuing niches in the Pantheon's hall of fame.
Flabbergasted at their lack of outer-assurance and inner-balance,
always confused by their crumbling identities,
men of future hanker for more jaw-dropping freedom and unusual stance,
yet they are always emotionally damaged by their desires.
The jugular-shaking and amphetamine-paced future life
drives men to a twisted superposition of violence-escalation and drug-addiction.
In alcohol-binge and deafening heavy metal clashes,
drug king-pins can't ward off violent temptation.
Future tones up equality and justice,
while cloaked in the mind-bending lofty languages from a few big time legal pundits.
Law itself sneaks among fuzzy lines and equivocal words,
eventually reduces to lyrically-slick yet logically flawed articulations.
An indicted can get away with murder,
and happily goes on the lam.
Victims' families constantly live in angst and anger as well as fear,
future's unfettered freedom releases growing menace to ultimate-freedom.
Random violence has caused men to live in the throes of life crises,
banking on the verge of metro-terror syndrome.
A spate of avant-garde feisty hip-hop pop-cult superstars pop out from media razzle-dazzle,
taking no heed of decency and giving themselves over to their all-out libido.
Chains of newly unleashed lucrative music franchises rake in tons of bucks,
in raspy raps and clatter of ballooning ego.
Frenzies of paparazzi and harsh media glare defame and deflect all social celebs
into seedy trajectories of public tabloid preys.
The hype and hoopla as well as uncensored Net-smut over the spam-infested Internet
are hatching latent sprawling crimes.
In higgledy-piggledy virtual Valhalla,
netiquette-deprived netizens grandly hurl 4-letter epithets,
while gun-ho laptop-toting cyber-punks presumptuously pull off bank-jobs.
Slipshod industry has contaminated atmospehere,
and contributed to the future's warping decline.
The ubiquitous chaos finally lead the empire to be bogged in the mire,
and fall on its ghastly hefty shadow from stem to stern.
Future is finally shackled with its own heavy-tech gewgaws,
and dwelt by a cacophony of clones of shameless VIPs,
who busily lobby on issues from rampant Viagra’s abuse
to sloppy construction of expensive extraterrestrial defense systems
thwarting potential invasions from a phalanx of outer-space animals.
Future is ultimately staked on pretentious high-profile yet low-life scum,
with politically stellar on-stage performances,
yet without the desire to match their rhetoric with their actions.
A pile of joint capital-ventures tapping into Galaxies
that have become crass profiteers' ultimate commercial frontiers,
while nukes proliferation escalating from an intimidating stand-off into a scary near-miss.
Evil and His Ilk finally unveil their pug-ugly faces,
and take the helm of this plummeting empire stuck in the mire and fire.
A Hannibal Lecter out of the ADX "Supermax" Hellhole of a rockies-pokey,
takes the shell of a charismatic worldwide leader with a haughty visage and trendy attire.
In final confrontation with Armageddon of the future,
men's humanity strikes a spark yet the flame sputters,
and quickly snuffs out in the wake of the undertow of future insanity.
Men's enticed hearts are frayed by the flames of their own all-out desires.
Men's vulnerability finally prints their own burial missteps,
and carves their own tombstones.
Written in 1997 by 东篱把酒
Be vivid visions or apocalyptic delusions,
a murky future is going down in the flames.
Now a mythical aura of an epiphany,
let itself be subconsciously spelled at the inner sanctum of men's souls.
Piled on a highly geared futuristic civilization,
the convergence of all societies is entangled
in the webs of enviromental annihilation and pollution,
presenting itself with anatomically gory details.
On highfalutin' high-tech the future highly prides itself,
whilst furiously stoked by on-the-rocks stocks.
Eerily powered by wazoo-wired-up wireless industry,
and shored up by impetuously vertiginous cyber infrastructures
as well as saddled with a heap of sky-rocketing debts,
the quirky future is heavily infested with a gaggle of sassy go-getters
and programed by a bevy of tech-savvy high-fliers,
cloistered to clustered and cluttered cubicles.
Tacky labels of the future's culture lend themselves to blur men's eyes,
and turn men into demoralized fragments of doom.
Ratcheting up nothing but non-stop desires,
men fall for everlasting desperation pursuing niches in the Pantheon's hall of fame.
Flabbergasted at their lack of outer-assurance and inner-balance,
always confused by their crumbling identities,
men of future hanker for more jaw-dropping freedom and unusual stance,
yet they are always emotionally damaged by their desires.
The jugular-shaking and amphetamine-paced future life
drives men to a twisted superposition of violence-escalation and drug-addiction.
In alcohol-binge and deafening heavy metal clashes,
drug king-pins can't ward off violent temptation.
Future tones up equality and justice,
while cloaked in the mind-bending lofty languages from a few big time legal pundits.
Law itself sneaks among fuzzy lines and equivocal words,
eventually reduces to lyrically-slick yet logically flawed articulations.
An indicted can get away with murder,
and happily goes on the lam.
Victims' families constantly live in angst and anger as well as fear,
future's unfettered freedom releases growing menace to ultimate-freedom.
Random violence has caused men to live in the throes of life crises,
banking on the verge of metro-terror syndrome.
A spate of avant-garde feisty hip-hop pop-cult superstars pop out from media razzle-dazzle,
taking no heed of decency and giving themselves over to their all-out libido.
Chains of newly unleashed lucrative music franchises rake in tons of bucks,
in raspy raps and clatter of ballooning ego.
Frenzies of paparazzi and harsh media glare defame and deflect all social celebs
into seedy trajectories of public tabloid preys.
The hype and hoopla as well as uncensored Net-smut over the spam-infested Internet
are hatching latent sprawling crimes.
In higgledy-piggledy virtual Valhalla,
netiquette-deprived netizens grandly hurl 4-letter epithets,
while gun-ho laptop-toting cyber-punks presumptuously pull off bank-jobs.
Slipshod industry has contaminated atmospehere,
and contributed to the future's warping decline.
The ubiquitous chaos finally lead the empire to be bogged in the mire,
and fall on its ghastly hefty shadow from stem to stern.
Future is finally shackled with its own heavy-tech gewgaws,
and dwelt by a cacophony of clones of shameless VIPs,
who busily lobby on issues from rampant Viagra’s abuse
to sloppy construction of expensive extraterrestrial defense systems
thwarting potential invasions from a phalanx of outer-space animals.
Future is ultimately staked on pretentious high-profile yet low-life scum,
with politically stellar on-stage performances,
yet without the desire to match their rhetoric with their actions.
A pile of joint capital-ventures tapping into Galaxies
that have become crass profiteers' ultimate commercial frontiers,
while nukes proliferation escalating from an intimidating stand-off into a scary near-miss.
Evil and His Ilk finally unveil their pug-ugly faces,
and take the helm of this plummeting empire stuck in the mire and fire.
A Hannibal Lecter out of the ADX "Supermax" Hellhole of a rockies-pokey,
takes the shell of a charismatic worldwide leader with a haughty visage and trendy attire.
In final confrontation with Armageddon of the future,
men's humanity strikes a spark yet the flame sputters,
and quickly snuffs out in the wake of the undertow of future insanity.
Men's enticed hearts are frayed by the flames of their own all-out desires.
Men's vulnerability finally prints their own burial missteps,
and carves their own tombstones.
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