Aftertaste

A haze of smoke, lingering thick
And bewildering around the lips
Of black clad hipsters intent
Upon rending the world asunder
With gerunds, and the errant
Metaphor, their words heavy with
Unsavoured satire, whipped
Into frenzy by the waves of a latte,
While the untried rhyme hammers
Futilely yammering against its cage--
I look around, thinking myself
Profound, to find
I'm just another novice poet
Hoping clichés crown me laureate.