Thursday, May 09, 2013
Nobody reads poetry anymore.
can't even find good ol' Carl Sandburg
in Bookshop Santa Cruz anymore.
can't name anything Ginsberg wrote before the
Howl, or even after anymore.
can't get invited to dinner parities
quoting T.S Elliot anymore.
can't seduce a beautiful girl
reciting Neruda anymore.
Shell Silverstine is the last thing you
remember being interesting.
everyone was running around
claiming to have read Rumi, hasn't.
Gwedlyn Brooks is loved for that one
poem, in part because it is alive,
but mostly because its short.
the kids go to hear poetry
the poetry slammer yell the words out
because it means more if you just
say it louder.
the schools make the kids write
Haiku without love.
rappers try to find words that rhyme
with feminism and capitalism.
Paradise remains lost to Milton and to
the poetry books sit on the bargain shelves of
Cold and alone,
like forgotten lovers
taking up space till the book store closes
somewhere out there, everyday, everywhere
there is a boy
falling in love for the first
time with the most beautiful girl he has ever seen.
And the words he chooses next will change everything.
Posted by Nefarious X