Don’t feel like it, so, here’s a non-rhyming poem made from the three randomly generated words, “meaning”, “ballot”, and “nationalism”:
Existence is a cruel mistress by nature,
Being born without rules or instructions,
In a world much larger than we can imagine,
Full of boundless interesting and boring opportunities,
Yet still heavily bound by all those who were born much before us.
“Where can meaning be found?” everyone asks,
“It can’t because it doesn’t exist!” the negative reply,
“But it can be discovered through what you enjoy!” the positive counter,
And while both are true, everyone still hopes and wishes for the second one,
Where meaning is discovered through the joys and tribulations of what we call life.
What is this poem about?
The three keywords above, of course!
So I will make a plea for nationalism as a joy,
Rather than something shoved down our throats by government,
Who are likely just invested in keeping their own asses in powerful positions.
So here I begin,
With a very bold statement,
About how meaning can easily be found,
In fighting for one’s own country and people,
Ah, but don’t do it if you live in a bad country…
Nevertheless,
Participating in government,
Whether small-scale town or large-scale presidential,
By using your free time to better your town with public service,
Or simply voting by the ballot for the next kinda-ruler of your country!
Assuming you live in a democracy…
