Celebs.

I am suffering from
Soporific suffocating entertainment
With a curtailment of intelligence,
My brain’s gone dead
Cos I don’t know what the celebrity said
About the programme and the other programme.
Where the celebrity was fed
Or where they cooked
Or where they poohed
Or where they talked about posh food
About what they sang
Or walked
Or slept or talked
Or told their future on the weegie board
Or checked their nails
And squeezed their warts
Or watched their own life linger
In a celebrity limbo hell
Whatever the celebrity did
Someone watched and debated
And dissected and related
And moaned and laughed
As they ate a cockroach in the bath
When they gave birth to a mango
Whilst dancing the tango.

Well you might think
There’s a celebrity invasion
But I am not of that persuasion
There is no hiatus of imposternators
It’s a sham, a fake
These celebs are on the make.
It is a façade
These celebs are not who they say they are.
They’re not real celebs suffering the flows and ebbs
Of an outrageous celeb life;

No, cos they are creatures from outta space.
Absorb this information at your own pace.
But you will really have to face
That they are not of the human race.
Cos no human being
Could possibly demean
Themselves to such a base
Of humdrum distraction
And meaningless non-action
Of a vaporous vacuum
Of vampiric blood curdling creepiness
Of cosy irrelevance
And 2 faced malevalence.
No human would buy
A one-way ticket to grovelling obsequiousness
And non-questioning nonchalance,
Shackled down by
Shallow ineptitude
And dubious rectitude,
Indifferent to the consequence
Of their self-indulgent nonsense.
No human would reach out to embody
The worst of the shoddy.

These creatures are sucking your engine brain.
Don’t let them
Let go of the strain!
Take your foot off the peddle
Don’t let them meddle
In your action brain.
Don’t let there occasion
An outta space invasion.
Liberate and activate
TURN OFF THE TELE !!!!!!
It’s never too late.

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c2016