The gods have fled? They haven't been invited!
A century has passed opposing beauty
And now we stand depressed, dismayed, indicted
As artists for our failure at our duty.
Our art, our poetry--none beautiful
Enough to bring the gods to Earth--
None terrible enough to bravely cull
Us of the evil spirits we give birth.
We ought to bravely, boldly mark our blaze--
Instead, we set all art ablaze and kill
The soul. The avant garde's designed to raze
Instead of raise us--empty, never fill.
We wander lonely, stripped of flesh and soul--
We've been abandoned--art has lost its goal.
Bravo! Splendid courageous stuff. I stumbled a bit with the grammar of the third quatrain, though. Maybe you could tinker with it a bit.
ReplyDeleteI changed "coldly" to "boldly" (which I think was a typo in the first place, though it offset "ablaze"). Or is there something else that was tripping you up?
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