GRAPHIC LANGUAGEThe time for gentle poetry is done. Low-hung plums of wit, their nectar sweetly chuckled down our tongues, seem overripe, too soft.
.Now verse must take to risk, become as hard as calculus, word problems set to crystal scansion metered out for clarity.
.Let mathematics rule the day. The many, more by nature than the few, in exponential aggregate expand at last to their first power.
.When we are counted, know we are not sheep. Our numbers will not lull, and we are coming fast awake. We are coming fast.
.Awake the guards and light the lamps. Humanity wails at gates barbarians protect. Stop the soothing white noise drone and hear.
.The wall, however high will crumble to the rising street. Entropic force equates by definition. Physics rule the centrifuge of revolution.
.Feudalism had its chance. Recognizing its rebirth we club it bloody in its infancy. Too brutal? Let me say again:
The time for gentle poetry is done.