The Poet is Dead!

Complex though he was, was he just another man?
His body decays with disregard for lost honor.
Not lost honor; forgotten honor.
The years tend to do this.
All of a sudden you miss
The delicate kiss
Of the pen and the paper first meeting. Others mock the poet.
They mean to flatter him.
Imitation without inspiration caused by hesitation.
How the poet's words flowed so freely! Though the notes of Zen hang in the air,
Never once was poetry such a public affair.
The jesters are the murderers are the most popular;
Are the musicians.
A city population screams at indecency.
Joy has arrived in the form of sex and drugs.
And Joy is Rock & Roll.
So celebrate, they shall,
The death of the Poet.
I'd love to play some shows. However, I cannot play shows during the week due to schedule conflicts. If you want to set one up with me or have an open slot I could fill, send me a message via MySpace. Thanks for listening!