Overcooking the Lobster, performed at Hammer and Tongue, Oxford on February 9th 2016
Oh David Foster Wallace!
Bandanaed Baptist of frat boy angst
Did you spill your milk in the wilderness for this!
Your children had visions of Christopher Hitchens
Expounding the kitschness of Kylie Minogue
And drowned in the sound
Of a thousand interrobangs all gone rogue.
Hipsters who announced with theatrical thunder
Manifestos of derivative syntactical plunder
Carefully avoiding a thematical blunder
With a cultural emetic administered down under
For the discretest verbal tactical chunder;
Reblogging flawless gifs on a radical tumblr
only if they find themselves a practical funder
They veered violently away from the terrorist menace
They believed that life was a metaphor for tennis.
They thought the poet’s job was to be erudite and jokey
But irony’s just gaslighting all lagered-up and blokey.
Oh David Foster Wallace you were the fugu chef who fed a generation similes
You filleted the poison till your blistered lips bled homilies
But your exquisite loins bred cynics who barked satire like Diogenes
Who never spotted the intransigence of rhizomes of misogyny.
They paraded privilege like legs that wear the stockings of neutrality
Got shocked by the suggestion that they’re masking a disparity,
Danced like vampires in the sunlight at the thought of things declarative,
Had tantrums when you told them that it wasn’t all comparative.
They never noticed that they never met a better metanarrative.
Oh David Foster Wallace, I say to your worshippers
The functions performed by the clowns in our circuses
Are gouging great chunks from our cultural surfaces.
And timely reminders of ultimate worthlessness
And wit in the service of sinister purposes.