Poetry is Dead

In the terms on this fight for Freedom os expression, rather than freedom of speech, I continue to pursuit a happiness that shall never be achieved. It is this very suit that keeps me warm that one day shall block my swimming when I throw myself into a sea of knowledge and dive in towards the deeps of the unknown.

It shan't be a problem of language or dialect, but the answer must rely in the sounds those people use to communicate. Within a generation no man will be able to speak to communicate, therefore I suggest the melody of sounds. Poetry is dead. Poetry is as dead as dead. Poetry cannot possibly be awaken ever again, due to the overuse of words which instead of representing strong emotions to describe the very depths of human kind, are now symbols of the past generations who built everything we today destroy. For all of that and much more, I bring a subject that has been out there for quite awhile but never quite explored as it deserves. Ladies and gentlemen, I am talking about music. I am not talking about the generic sounds coming out of instruments, but I talk about music artists - musicians - who play their tool with such a skill that makes us see more than an object and a person: a whole landscape, a whole country and even the very true souls of people. Those kind of sounds.

Now, if we gather together those majestic sounds and swallow them, we might ourselves become an instrument - and an artist - all in one. And we shall speak. But then we open our mouths, the mixture and the mysticism that lies beyond the words and the sounds shall prevail and bring bak to life a very art that seems to be very dead.

And then we shall have poetry restored.

Now, give in to the silence and trust the next piece as one of the few that are left to be heard.