I could mock ignorance and stupidity,
Make fun of their mediocrity
Of thought by forging that clichéd
Elitist argument meant to degrade.
But sometimes I have to wonder,
As I traipse around far under
The city streets, where oracular
Words reside among vernacular
And underestimated gems of insight
Are almost obscured, marred by spite.
Beneath the violence and the hate,
Below the self-glorifying spate
Of pretentious and proud ineptitude,
These treasures I view with gratitude.
The slogans with some meaning there
Are not in vain: they’re read with care.