In Praise of Old Relics

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Recently someone asked what type of writing I did. I said, "I write poetry." They laughed. Why? Ignorance, I guess. Or maybe just perhaps I represent something antique in today's culture. *Ponder* lmr

 
 
Dig it:
This piece is an antique,
And this poem is a relic.
 
It really used to be
About something...
But nowadays substance is
Highly underrated
And talent is a waste of
Time, sweat & energy.
And so now this poem,
Like all poetry, has become
Irrelevant,
Insignificant,
Passé.
 
This poem is  a
Played-out exercise.
It is a cypher...
A relic,
Useless as the diaper
Worn by an old
Funkadelic.
 
It causes a little
Death in me
How no one gets
The drift,
Appreciates the gift...
Respects the craft,
Marvels at 
The soulful
Immediacy or
Has much
Use for poetry anymore.
 
Society has become
A smart phone whore,
A ring toned-deaf,
Reality TV-obsessed,
Instant gratification junkie
Clone of itself...
And poetry has become
A relic.
 
It fought in a war
An  artful,
Intellectual war...
And  then  it  lost
To the dim-witted
Same ole, same ole shit
That real music has become.
 
 
I mourn the death of
Poetry... May it
Rest in peace...
Because much like
Music... it really used to be
About
 
Something.
 
 
 
 
 
 
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