Sounds And What They Are

This poem took roughly 30 minutes to compose. Feedback welcome.
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The crunch of a potato chip is
not some anguished cry;
it is the gentle murmur
of compliant satisfaction.

The glug of a cola is
not some savage sound;
it is the soft and subtle sigh
of complacent consonance.

Addiction does
not howl with destructive revelry; it
trudges in weary silence,
passively undisturbing,
narcoleptically undisturbed.

Political humor bites
with all the geriatric toothlessness of
caustic sludge,
incessantly regurgitating,
perennially indisposed.

Sounds And What They Are
is not some incisive roar;
it rings hollow
under the crushing weight of its own hypocrisy.

The sound of an oreo is the sound
of the silent lamentation of the soul.