There once was a man from Nantucket...

I wrote this as part of my art history class.  It was one of the most fun topics that I wrote.


As the late and great British journalist, Malcolm Muggeridge, I carry a great fondness and respect for the sanctity of words. But as the times pass, words seem to be continuously stripped of all proper use and validity. Consider Postmodernism – a title and movement that encourages meaninglessness and usually has no meaning in itself. Many have tried to give this term a proper definition in the past, but have found the task to be as fruitless as trying to set fire to the sun, and found their own psyches thoroughly tarnished in the process. Personally, I found that amongst this mental and existential pandemonium was a great deal of satirical comedy to profess. One of wisdom once said that comedy is oftentimes tragedy in which you are not the victim. The endeavor of sardonic writing on this topic was so laden with ease that the words almost appeared upon the pages of their own free will, carrying an unreserved disdain for my desire to be creative. To counteract this rise and eventual domination of linguistic independence, I believed that this discussion would best be given in LIMMERICK FORM!

In the tumultuous times after D-day
The moral standards began to decay
And Europe looked West
To decide “What next?”
And America presented a relay

They spoke of the “American Dream”
With as many advertisements as could be seen
Europe would have been wary
Of what this idea could carry
If their society wasn’t bursting at the seams

But thanks to a man named “Marx”
Modernism became the new farce
With rationalization
And industrialization
Causing reason and truth to become rather sparse

Critics of this “Utopia of the West”
Thought that pervasiveness probably wasn’t best
The capitalistic ideals
Would do nothing but seal
Our death to this time of unrest

Some men, like one named Lyotard
Tried to make sense of this faux-pas
Postmodernists didn’t listen
And instead started dissin’
This French thinker. What a retard!

Soon, the philosophies became eclectic
And the societal images became hectic
With buildings of vernacularity
Singing songs of prosperity
About the purpose of this, one would be skeptic

But our tendency to be distracted
By flashy images had us “trapped-ed”
In this worship of the picture
To which some gave stricture
In hopes that this attitude would be retracted

But as long as the profits are loud
The advertisers will never back down
They will continue to lay waste
With unfathomable haste
To everything wholesome and sound

There was a time when art imitated life
With clever depictions of our joys and strife
But now the artists have a grip
On what ideas we let slip
Into our standards for everyday life

Instead of dealing with this fuss
We will now start to debate and discuss
About our own identities
In this nation of obscenities
Where the Holy Trinity is “We, Ourselves, and Us”

Eventually, we’ll have to “discern-o”
What our self-lavish ways would “earn-o”
Would it lead to construction
Or will we face a destruction
On par with Dante’s Inferno? 


This problem is still present today
To which many would respond with dismay
What are we to do?
Right now, I haven’t a clue
But I’ll see ya’ll next week. Have a nice day!