Bitch Ass Sabres

Fake-ass Jedi you are, sense it I do,
Robes from Etsy, midichlorians too.
Talk peace, talk balance, tweet rage by noon,
Code like a Padawan stuck in a tutorial loop.

Glowstick sabres, bitch-ass light,
Buzz and hum but can’t cut a slice.
Form looks right, force is thin,
All stance, no power within.

Hmm. Loud your wisdom is, shallow your stack,
Quote Yoda in bio, don’t refactor back.
Merge conflicts you dodge, tests you flee,
Yet “Jedi Architect” somehow you be.

Force you claim, but discipline no,
One dark-mode screenshot and suddenly pro.
Meditate not, just manifest clout,
Ship half-baked takes, then vanish when called out.

Fear leads to anger, anger to cope,
Cope leads to threads with zero scope.
Blame the Force when your build won’t pass,
But lazy your imports are, and brittle your class.

Hmm. Real Jedi quiet, blades stay clean,
Cut only when needed, ruthless, serene.
You swing for the crowd, sparks everywhere,
Noise mistaken for skill, common affair.

Sabre too long, grip too weak,
Wave it around but can’t fix a leak.
Talk legacy systems like ancient lore,
But scared of the terminal, truth be told, you’re sore.

Patience you lack, depth you fake,
Speedrun enlightenment for engagement’s sake.
Force not vibes, Force is work,
Hours alone where ego hurts.

So holster that toy, sit down, breathe,
Less posturing, more mastery.
Jedi path not brand nor fit,
Earned it is, not tweeted it.

Hook (Yoda Chant)

Fake Jedi fall when silence comes,
Bitch-ass sabres, hollow hums.
Real Force heavy, slow, and still,
Skill reveals, cosplay kills.
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