We're dinosaur bones.
Relics of the long-gone.
Committed to the old.
Buried under rock.
Encased in amber.
Refusing the temptation
of 140 character
text lingoed
nonsense words
and waiting for the day
when everyone else
scrapes the dust away
with a toothbrush
and acknowledges
our existence.
Monday, August 29, 2011
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2 comments:
Kind of a throwaway. It's partly about our shitty highjacked lexicon and partly about how society doesn't understand poets/poetry (per our conversation the other day Edward. Which I don't think we finished)
This is hardly a throwaway. I've been thinking about the same thing lately. The media glorifies Arian Foster because he's an NFL running back (overrated if you ask me) and he writes poetry. Then you hear what he reads and it's full of cliches and stale metaphors. He's hardly a poet. I think the growth of the music industry in the 20th century has a lot to do with this, as people think that lyrics are the new poetry. While some can be, the vast majority of them could have been written by Mr. Foster.
I do admire your ability to make sentence fragments so meaningful as you do so deftly here.
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