Who killed King Rhythm?
"I", said the poet - "let everyone know it!
I killed my best friend with a pen.
For only when comic is verse metronomic
acceptable, now and again.
I got so bored; my singing sword
desired to thrust and swish
without the crime of rhythm and rhyme
that barred my ev'ry wish."
"Remember the procession of the old time bards,
with their rhyme and their rhythm and their power -
those dismemberers of language with their verse forms vile,
listing rules they could prattle for an hour?
We have won, we have won,
they are gone, they are done,
and the silence of the metronomes
is the sound of the grave
'neath the wind and the wave
that has sealed in a tomb all their tomes."
"Verse will bore when formed through laws;
words shall fail in rhythm's cause.
Pour out prose from pens of chrome,
(and) damn the blasted metronome!"
The orchestra is silent;
its instruments discarded.
Their fate was swift and violent;
now all lie disregarded.
Rhythm is King, and Rhyme is Queen;
tedious flows the flood of words
guessing where'er the stress has been,
leaving the sound of song to birds.
A fad shall pass, its fate is sealed;
the Emperor's Clothes shall be revealed.
Just ask - who killed King Rhythm?