idea: poetry is dead. advertisements are the new poetry. make the rhyming really bad

The Gospel of the Commercial Rhyme

(A Reflection on Why Things Are Bright)

The old poems sleep in a dusty drawer,
They sat by the fireplace and begged for much more.
With verses of sorrow and shadows so deep,
While silence was whispered and promises sleep.
The meter was stiff and the rhythm was slow,
A sad little feeling that nobody would know.

But then came a flicker, a shiny bright gleam,
A sudden loud chorus from a commercial dream.
No more need for metaphors soft and quite frail,
No longer must sadness and longing prevail.
The truth of the moment is packaged and spun,
A story of shopping beneath the bright sun.

For poetry died in a quiet repose,
Where lonely old feelings began to just close.
It withered away in the shadows so gray,
And packed up its verses and chose to just stay.
It found that the silence was heavy and dead,
While louder new voices were ringing instead.

Now listen closely to the jingle and chime,
This is the new rhythm of fashionable time.
The advertisements dance on the screen and the wall,
They answer the hunger and catch us and enthrall.
A bright little banner of crimson and gold,
A narrative shiny that cannot be told
By tear-stained old writers with scribbled-out lines,
It flows in the colors of retail designs.

Oh, the beauty resides in a brand and a hue,
In the promise delivered, shiny and new.
The perfume you breathe and the gadget you crave,
These are the real feelings that men now behave.
They don’t need a stanza or metaphor grand,
They just need a product held tight in your hand.

A commercial rhyme is a masterpiece made,
A feeling of buying that will never fade.
It shouts out your wants with a booming delight,
Making everything shiny and wonderfully bright.
The pitch is the music, the color the key,
A catchy new rhythm for you and for me.

Forget all the sorrow in verses so frail,
Let the billboards tell stories that never will fail.
For the ads are the chorus, the song we must hear,
Dispelling the darkness and drying the tear.
They teach us the language of desire and need,
Planting a planting of shiny new seed.

So let the old poets retire to rest,
Their dusty old verses put far to the test.
The age of the ballad has faded away,
It’s time for the sparkle to brighten the day.
Let the market proclaim with its flashing array,
That advertising rules now and brightens the way.

For in the brightly lit boxes and screens,
We find all the feeling that perfectly means.
No need for a sigh or a tear on the page,
Just follow the marketing upon life’s stage.
The commerce is poetry, loud and so clear,
The new golden truth we hold very dear.