The Death Of Imagination

The Death Of Imagination
By Mark Spencer

It's the age of technology,
The future is at hand.
The internet now spans the globe,
At everyone's command.

There's virtual reality,
And films in C. G. I.
There's not a lot that we can't do,
Which makes me wonder why...

Why there's no imagination,
In books, movies, or song.
Where did the inspiration go?
Please tell me if I'm wrong.

They sing of sex and violence,
And try to shock the old.
They think using profanity,
Makes them seem strong or bold.

The ballads that I hear today
Are vehicles of choice,
To show off the singer's talent,
And emphasize their voice.

Songs have no deeper meaning now,
Nor qualities that last,
They rise and fall like shooting stars,
Unlike songs of the past.

And what of that great novelist,
Like Wells, Shelly or Vern?
Their books sparked imagination,
And eagerness to learn.

And what's happened to Hollywood?
Their movies leave you flat.
They make films of old T.V. shows,
And heroes dressed like bats.

They remake movies of the past,
Adding special effects,
And they, too, try to shock the old,
With profane disrespect.

They bring our comic books to life,
But fail to give them souls.
Special effects again are used,
To fill the story's holes.

In olden days a child would dream
Of whimsical places.
Oz , Middle Earth, and Neverland,
With magical races.

But tales like these are very rare,
Just drops in the water.
And now imagination's hopes
Rest on Harry Potter.

And where has all the whimsy gone?
You haven't far to look.
A child prefers computer games,
To play, or a good book.

That's where imagination dies,
In that virtual place.
It slips into the void behind
That blank look on his face.

And as technology improves,
And computers advance,
What will become of poetry,
Fantasy and romance?

For with imagination's death,
The soul will die as well.
The virtual reality
Of our own man made hell.