If Music Be The (Junk) Food Poem by Mary Champion

Music's lost its heart and soul.
Emasculated Rock'n'Roll -
the best they have on offer - can't appeal.
They don't sound bad - they're just a bore-
don't leave me craving anymore-
a formulaic format I can't feel.
The dead hands of committees who
work plastic puppets, programmed to
make safe, synthetic, soulless tracks,
for kids who don't know what it lacks.
True inspiration loses out
to simony. It's all about
ripping off the dumb consumer,
while I, a jaded baby boomer,
recall the songs that grabbed attention,
got me hooked with bright invention -
eager to repeat the pleasure;
feeling more than I could measure.

But now I am left cold- uncaring,
no longing for another airing.
Are no new hearts to be inspired?
No rebel guns who won't be hired?
No pioneers who must be free
to play what music ought to be -
a living, breathing, vital essence
that moves our spirits by its presence.