Poetry is a joke.
This was well established long ago
When the first clown took the stage
And the fighting stopped temporarily
And laughter was given to old age,
Laughter by poets sad and old.
Poetry is a joke. The jokes were bold.
Poetry is a joke.
This was well established long ago
When tragedy sang the pain of war,
And actors first made their sad gestures
In amphitheaters stony and roomy
For audiences gloomy, but war still went on.
Poetry is a joke.
When lyric replaced the epic
A young and beautiful person spoke,
And, to the elders amusement, dared to complain
That the young and beautiful can also feel pain,
And feel it even more acutely.
Poetry is a joke.
When letters to lovers
Were analyzed by professors
And put away in books
And words were separated from music
And all to themselves words were read mutely.
Poetry is a joke.
There’s nothing I can say—
My love is greater than the Milky Way—
To make my true love stay.
Poetry is a joke.
Ladies. And gentlemen.
I’m sorry I spoke.
