Corydon and Pastorell: The Poets Paint their Pictures of Unsmelly Shepherds Daydreaming on Perfect Hillsides of Unsmelly Shepherdesses and Tending Unsmelly Sheep
Your lies are what we do not want, he said
To poets. Plato said imitation
Of real things ain’t enough since in his head
The real ain’t Real. The wordsmiths’ creation
Is made of images that aren’t Ideal.
Ideals are things that more than just exist:
They are the only really, really real
Facts. Other daily things merely subsist
As copies of Ideal reality.
So, poets’ pics of life in clever words
Are copies of the actuality
Above all that. The poets’ words are turds
At best. And when the writers cast their spell,
The Truth is killed. They should just go to hell.