Long gone
Are the days of Dylan
When records
Would spin so eternal,

Hearing words foretold
By lost prophets
Whose poetry dies
With that dream –

A distinguished cause
Come undone
Thinking worlds could stop
From such singing,

Fearing soon
Most never will listen
Despite sounding good
As it fails

How this audience
Learned to ignore
Each meticulous line
Spelling visions

After youths spent wrong
Feigning interest
Growing hard inside
Chasing work.

Now bohemians
Hide behind jobs
Or appear insane
Growing sicker,

Fighting empty lives
Still suppressing
What our vinyl
Preached all before –

True resistance
Falling on art
Through deliberate acts
Seeming crazy,

Like adulthood
Murdered in progress
Since maturity
Gave nothing back.

For nostalgia
Carries much more
Than reality claims
Being present,

Playing anthems
Yesterday offers
Once again
Until we feel whole.

• J. Pigno