Poets Eulogy

"Wow! All is well thx for the support! xoxo"... Tweet posted.

The world of TMI’s able to declare my last bodily fluid but unable to share the thoughts that haunt me. To the moments I have spoken creativity I may dedicate this to the society that turned it into butchery disclaiming its artistry. Known to be a mindful oddball and wittingly quirky but unwanted. Hungered despite grace and elegance of such parol. Mindlessly we rhyme and time our execution of words but no one curtsies for a poet. The Public shames and annihilates our art. The place we escape has fallen and stamped on as if to say poetry is six feet under. Buried in the LOL’s and BAE’s lies the silience of those who shy their voices and hide behind the makeup of model citizens. The spoken art has been hung and humiliated amongst illiteracy. For those who write are labeled “Hipsters” … “what a bunch of losers.” As if to be staked for expression and humanism? We rise with thoughts and lead with letters. In a community of “freedom of speech,” our creations are called “crude” and “annoying.”

But why? Why has poetry become an expression of annoyance? And why? why have I shamed my passion? Have we become robotic to feelings and ideas. Advocating the words that slaughter and “trolls” those who innovate? Losing all senses of madness fulfilling the norms and watching amongst us are the drones that bend and control realizations. Living in the real matrix of processed brands of corporates that claim utopia has arrived! We have been hypnotically stationed in our rightful courses of routines and regimen, hoping to inspire in acronyms. Texting away the pains we have harbored and grown in order to just simply “fit in.” Bravo, they exclaim, take a bow. For the works of our older ancestors are accepted and paid to those to manufacture copycats. Unable to rise with originals and innovations, we have fallen into a debt of plagiarism that we don’t even acknowledge. For we poets mournfully sit and listen to the silence of our works we have been shunned and betrayed for virtuosity. Knowing in the silent invisible nation we claim the titles of the exiled. To rise and speak we must speak with logic and calculations. Programmed to shut and to not “trigger.” Societal generosity has allowed for us to sit and smile, secretly sharing on small platforms.

So hush, my fellow poets, and coil your words, lock it in Houdini’s box, do as the school says. Become a pendulum of human androids. As to not say “I write” but to claim your thoughts on Social networks. And to express the same programmed thoughts humanity clones. You cannot live just by rhyming and declaring your deliberation you must join the parade and stop your nonsense and line with the social norms. Say no more of such idealism. Not a prodigy of Monet cases, but a prodigy of duck faces. Facebook this moment, selfie it on Instagram, sign off your ideals on Twitter and write in hashtags, but stop, STOP mindlessly creating, STOP twisting, fidgeting, contorting with words, stop announcing, affirming, advocating your rumination STOP versing, conversing, lyricing your rhymes, JUST STOP.

No one cares.. my dear fellow creators, master the art of social ignorance and watch them prance. Numb the crazies and party with the lazies. Because maybe one day after a world of Kardashians, Trumps and social justice warriors they’ll finally miss the artistry we once pronounced. So before you all in memorial of art, I sing this eulogy to you. May the epitaphs declare in the loving memories of dead poets society.