Tuesday, February 17, 2009

“…and everyone’s in love and flowers pick themselves.” ee cummings

Where are the poets today? No, pardon me let me re-phrase this question. Where are the love poets of today? It is quite possible that I am looking in the wrong places but as of late the poetry I have heard and seen is all about stage posturing and cute flip flop word plays. Now, that this is not my cup of tea in no way negates the power or refutes the authenticity of these poets. No, but I just want to know where the love poems of today are. Does all poetry have to have an agenda? Race related, poverty related, I got the society blues related?

I ask again: Where are the poets of today? The love poets? Are we so hardened and cynical that we no longer need or desire to hear the words of love spoken? Do we present such an unlovable presence that the world no longer has a want to hear tender words spoken? Has Hallmark and the other corporations who have made things like Valentines a money making fiasco also jaded us to the point where we wouldn’t know good love verse if it jumped up and bit us in the ass?

Is it that poetry doesn’t pay? And our poets have now become lyricists? Writing and fronting music bands? Did Leonard Cohen set the pace when he crossed over from poet to singer?

And what if none of it really mattered at all? What if this is all some kind of randomness that we can’t see through anyways? What if there is nothing? Truly nothing to live for except life? Would we be able to recognize such a mediocre idea as this?

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