A thing of beauty is a joy forever,
But it won’t sell cars or shoes worth a damn.
My generation, umbilicals un-severed,
Are victims born in foreign markets, never
heard, our voices crushed below the noise
Of dubstep wobble, 80’s ballads, Morgan Freeman’s voice;
But we are Everywhere We Want to Be–
Between the malls and football stadiums,
Now covered o’er in chrome, Palladium–
the shores of Média, our nation of old,
Here, let us be bought, let us be sold!
Nike, fatherless mother, deliver us!
A pepperoni pizza, with extra cheese