Ode to a Conference Speaker

When I hear about your brand identity
I reach for the mouldy fruit
Ready to hurl it into your bland
Artificially intelligent influencer face

When you call me a consumer
A content creator’s pre-approved product
Built from algorithmic equations and synergy
I can feel that tomato in my hand

I want to push the envelope hard
Down the pro-active incentivized throats
Of your boring brand ambassadors
And choke off their pre-processed blue-sky thoughts

I don’t want to think outside Pandora’s box
I want to smash it and expose its contents to the rain
Your art, your fears, your poems, your dreams
The real, complex, vulnerable, fucked-up you

I am not a statistic, or a demographic
I am not a human resource and neither are you
But I am considering going armed
With a basket of mouldy fruit

 

April 2025

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