Poetry must be good—otherwise we have a robot/zombie universe under obligation to like poetry.
True admiration is as far away as possible from the obligation to like something.
Some people are very good at creating obligations. It’s called sales.
We don’t want to hurt people’s feelings.
Writing poetry is good, so how dare we cast aspersions on it?
That’s the thing. We are obligated to like poetry—whether it is good, or not.
So if the poetry is not good, and we support it, and read, and write it, and say we like it—but we don’t, what does that do to the soul?
It sells it out. It sickens it.
And further, if an industry arises, if a system of promoting poetry, not because it’s good, but just because it’s poetry, advances, what will this do?
Not only will this kill poetry—never mind killing the soul—it will cultivate a climate in which we invest time, money, and ego, in an inferior product.
And what will this do?
It will create an unspoken resentment of poetry which is actually good.
Do you see the problem?
Do you see how murder of the soul begins with being nice?
Poetry must be good. It’s not a question of it should be good. It must be good.
But what necessitates poetry being good? And how can something as simple as a bad poem ever be banned or suppressed?
There is no answer.
After a long silence, in laughter we face the awful truth of the death of our souls.