Young poets write words wet with angst
And angry whipsnaps at the world.
Hissed whispers harangue injustice
With facile manipulation.
Phrases, like white-foaming river
Rapids, rushes revelation;
Revolutionary in their
Mind. Their paths of poetic truth
Symbolized by their pacing feet,
Disrupted by four-letter words
As if the sludge and flux of slang
Was less cliché than moon and June.
They’re def in their rap, stringing things
Still damp from camp on lines of twine
For the sky to dry.
I could cry
From the rhythmic monotony.
Written 2004 with tongue firmly in cheek. There are many fine young poets doing Slam Poetry with clever rhyme and rhythm, poets much better than I. This is aimed only at those who rhyme over and over the same simplistic moon-June of old time hacks or think stringing curse words together is the height of witticism.
Illustration: Parnassus by Raphael [Raffaello Sanzio da Urbino], 1510-11