The following poem is dedicated to every talented yet frustrated aspiring author who has yet to have his or her work picked up by a literary agent for representation to a publisher. Hope you enjoy it, and thank you for reading!
Dustin M. Weber
July 13, 2015
When naught but the old prevails,
When new stuff doesn’t sail,
And the scene starts to grow stale
Like Kernels of dried popcorn
Uneaten ‘til the next morn:
Stiff texture, dull flavor,
And not much to savor,
Especially on teeth and gums worn—
In short, not much of a feast…
Or very appetizing, at least…
Just enough to fill,
Even if it’s swill,
The hunger pangs of the beast.
Why should one live on such gruel?
Why suffer a fate so cruel?
Is that what to give?
Is that how to live?
Come now! Don’t take me for a fool.
After all, with each passing year
Comes that which most marketers fear:
The time when trends
Come to meet their ends
And part with a bitter tear,
For even great sagas must end.
Such is the beast’s nature, friend,
And the wise know this well
And search Heaven and Hell
For whatever lies ‘round the bend
For a brand new generation
‘Cross each city, state, and nation,
All fresh eyes and ears
With which to see and hear
Pop culture’s new transformation.
It’s not that the old stuff was bad.
In fact, I could say I’m glad
To have seen and heard
Much of the words
Of the artists we’ve all once had.
Sadly, every artist moves on
And is forced to say so long
To audiences dear
From far and near
Who’ve loved his or her songs,
And somehow, in his or her place
Arrives a brand new face
With new tales to share
With those who care
To hold off spraying their mace,
And often, though not quite always,
The new bard makes new “good old days”
For the young at the time
So that down the line,
They can feel nostalgic one day.
How can such memories form, though,
When new stories get no chance to grow
To replace the old,
Which are no longer bold
Like they were many years ago?
How can new voices sing
When forbidden to do their thing
By those in charge
Who dare to barge
In and ruin everything?
“No, I won’t represent you. You suck!
You won’t earn me millions of bucks,
Unlike Ms. Bomball,
Though she’s no skill at all,
So as we say, best of luck!”
It’s all about the green, you see,
Not talent or quality—
Pandering to the masses,
No matter how classless
A given story may be.
Forget about meaningful morals
And heroes who earn their laurels.
If one won’t give in
To greed and other sins,
She’s doomed to lose such a quarrel,
And that’s what especially bites
And has made me lose sleep many nights,
For where went the days
When storytelling paid
And made legends overnight?
What happened to the days of Poe,
Carroll, Dickens, Doyle, and so—
The icons of old
Whose tales have been told
For ages and whose legacies grow
Even now, when those with their gift
Must struggle to set adrift
Ships of their own,
Cutting them to the bone
And leaving them rightfully miffed?
This current trend has to stop
Of keeping talents from the top
While the scum rises
And gathers the prizes
For their reprehensible slop.
Let the lesser-known, gifted folks shine
For their works, al so sublime,
For only they can bring
The age folks will sing
About, should they just have the time.
The smut’s had its day in the sun,
And that moment has been long done.
It’s time to move on
With new, good songs
To replace those of folks who’re done.
Stop claiming you’re being “picky.”
You’re not. You’re just being tricky
‘Cause what’s out there now
Has made folks have cows
On account of how such works are icky.
Stop holding back those with the gift.
Let them set their ships adrift
And sail to the light
And, in turn, make things bright
For those of us who’ve been miffed
At the stale, bitter stuff we’ve had
That has made the scene smell so bad
For years upon years.
Let’s all now see and hear
The stories that will make us glad.
‘Tis time to show some spine
And help talented folks shine.
We’ve suffered long enough
Through so much tacky stuff.
Let’s hail in a new age. ‘Tis time!
Author Pages: Smashwords.com