The Accepted Oxymorons of the Bovine Masses

I’m a modern man, a man of the millennium,
highly in need of low-income housing,
a lowly employee in a high-rise flat.
I’m down and out but rough and ready;
an over-sized, undernourished
heavy-set lightweight
Drinking expensive beer in a supposed ‘free’ house.
I’m a premature poster-child of postmodern prehistory,
an introverted exhibitionist,
a faux intellectual;
a genuine, highbrow, middle-class, low-life.
A hypocrite.
I send an email from an Iphone
and use broadband to broadcast
the broad thoughts of my small mind.
My Facebook is kneejerk,
I over-celebrate understudied
private opinions on public forums.
But I’m small-fry in the grand scheme;
a long-term, short-stay, part-time, busy body.
An uptown, downtrodden, hyperactive, under achiever
that’s low-rent and high maintenance.
I drew the short-straw in the long-run
as my revenue stream has no cash-flow.
It’s fair to say, I’m psychologically, anatomically
And economically


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