Poetry's become too clichÃ©.
So I am not going to give you the satisfaction, of such metaphor and simile.
I'm not going to allow you to envision what is the imagery of a 'poem'.
It's been corrupted, destroyed, violated.
Poetry is dead.
It survives only on that of the angry youth,
and thrives in the twisted thoughts,
and rebellious anxiety that courses through their very veins.
There are no more Whitmans.
There are no more Poes.
There are no more Emersons.
There are no more Frosts or Sandburgs.
Just ancst and anger.
There is no more art.
Emotion has become clichÃ©,
and with it so has an art form.
...such as I am by writing this poem.
*applause* Blank verse, writing exactly what I hate; a poem, angry about... poems.