RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: LIFE SONGS
A Dying Art
I’ve always been attracted
to the dying arts
The arts for which society
no longer has a need
The arts that do not give
(they say) but only take
The arts that are sustained
by the generosity of patrons
The arts that have lost all relevance
in the modern techno world
Those who presume to know
The vagabonds of culture
The vultures at the door – but
never on the stage – have proclaimed
the death of the theater since
the time of Moliere
The holders of the poison pen
who have so often tried and failed
in the artform of their choosing have
declared in good time and bad faith
the end of the short story,
the death of the literary novel,
the demise of romantic verse,
the extinction of free-form poetry,
the inevitable decline of the written
word itself in all its transmutations
and yet the arts are still here
The theater has survived
a thousand slings and arrows
Poetry has survived the dumbing
down of the spoken word
Literature has thrived by paving
new avenues of expression
As Sam Clemens famously said:
Rumors of my demise are
greatly exaggerated
The arts in all its varied forms
will live as long as civilization exists
