Make It New

The fad is on the wall, pink poetry
In motion – and you never mind emotion,
The evolutionary logic, flea
That irritates the mind. Reach for the lotion,

Soothe every itch that poetry may bring.
Go tame it, spread it out until the light
Pastels and dims to a safe opening
Of yellow comfort, dissipating fright.

Yes, tame the wild and dangerous sharp verse
With popular interpretations, themes
Of nothingness, where shock means just to curse,
With race and sex and class the only memes

Allowed – and only the interpretation
The fad-dispensers will allow. Don’t test
Their certain relativity, relation
To their mere untrue truth – to black the best

Is their intent, to dim its glow, to show
Their pettiness is all that matters now –
Knowledge cannot grow; beauty cannot glow –
They’re meaningless as a sperm-covered sow,

Decapitated, standing on its head,
Provocatively spread upon a sheet,
So even their pale nothingness is dead.
Thank God that history spells their defeat

(I know – the irony of my attempt
to kill immortalizes them – yet I
will keep them here so they won’t be exempt
from judgment – then, we ought to let them die).

The fad is on the wall – when will it fall
And let the good, the real, the just, the true,
The beautiful that underlies it all,
Return to poetry and make it new.