Pseudo-epic

PSEUDO-EPIC

The songs you liked are now ironic –

The slope of age is monotonic.

A creature needs her gin and tonic

To ascertain if she’s bionic:

Thereafter, calmed to an irenic

Trance (Synthetic? Analytic?)

You realize ages are syncretic.

Decades are no mere static metric

But drive – in toto – an organic

Plunge, more Virgil than Titanic.



Why then does your mirror panic?