A young man purposes to kill all phonies
Starting with his heroes the magi of sincerity
Who just don’t cut the mustard
Incapable of their own stern doctrine
And proceeding through all others
Who have compromised and sold their souls
Their souls which they never truly possessed
So all signs point to me he thinks
Who has outthought his teachers
And he reaches the sad but logical conclusion
That all must die even the children
Especially the children to spare them further indignity
And he celebrates the ecstasy of gunfire and blood
The release of centuries of pent-up fury
And yet he holds out hope that somewhere
Sometime in this repugnant but necessary venture
He will discover one who shares his vision
Someone capable of his austere discipline
And he sets out
And he succeeds victoriously
With a middling magus
An artist of some renown
Admired among the masses for his philosophies
His soft inconsistent philosophies
And it should have been I
Who was renowned and admired
And now it will be
But the young man is apprehended without harm
Except to the hapless artist
After this his first attempt
And is tried by a jury of his inferiors
Who vote like the democrats they are
For his punishment
To be locked in a cage for all time
To be frisked by sentries and probed by psychologists
But they committed a stupid error
As he knew they would
And granted him writing implements
So that he might detail for some future species
Or some strange visitor from another planet
The simple truth of his struggle