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'King of the Arts' - a poem in thanks to music

Updated: May 9, 2022

A thank you poem by Josh Robinson to music and his favourite artists who helped him get through lockdown.

Photo credit:

Instagram: @chris.wanders

When we couldn’t hug

When our hearts were breaking

Filling our glass, overusing our mug

Into Groundhog Day we were always awaking

But you were there, the entire time

The soundwaves we could blare, forget Netflix & Amazon Prime

If I’m running or walking, I’ll have you in my ear as an accompanying gift

Whether it’s the weather or my mood, you can always lift

And you help me work in the gym, and soothe my struggles within

Enter Yungblud, declaring a “weird time of life

Through a lockdown video forced to be homemade

Creativity and resentment were starting to be rife

It’s now twice during this, that I looked forward to Slade

Buzzcuts, mopheads, hair dye

No choice but to watch time fly

Made my childhood bed and laid in it

A chance to be near my dearest, but we could only sit

We threw ourselves into our screens

By June we all had “Televised Minds

Cancelled gigs, what could have beens

Buying facemasks, closing our blinds

The attention seekers wanted us to Imagine

Or binge those Thrones and Dragons Finite though are Money Heist & Tiger King

Captivation when you hear your favourites sing

As Music you see, it maintains its taste

When songs are streaming, it is never a waste

Some musicians were patient, although some did rush

Charli XCX used this to show she’s a cut above

Many proved to be worth the wait

The odd release showed a few stagnate

Finding ourselves in this collective standstill

We thought to start a cool project, learn a new skill

But that initial drive wore off fast, left us with guilt

And bemoaning communities we should have built

Protect, reject, infect

It is your choice, but think outside your bubble

We shaved our heads, men grew more than stubble

Boredom really, it settled in quick

These sonic vibrations thankfully made time tick

Loss, love & redemption

Follow the rules you have no exemption

MPs breaking them, the fire this fuels

I’ll escape with my headphones, one of the greatest tools

Cold or warm, I’ll play Notes On A Conditional Form

Options to join Tim’s Listening Party, to fully immerse

Or instead seek out instrumentals, ambience, find that treasured verse

Several were laid off, others furloughed

A word invented, an updated dictionary follows

Here we descend into lazy mode

I’ll grab another Remote”, this time for Wallows

Right that’s it, I’ll ignore the News

Relating to Ed The Dog wanting a shorter fuse

I took it all on my shoulders, soaked it in like a sponge

Whilst The Magic Gang jauntily ask: “What Have You Got To Lose?

Days revolving around what time something will be on my plate

Yet the Black Dog hung over many

‘Cos they didn’t have a penny Made me realise I should be lucky, and not irate

Brexit’s impact on tours

Wondering if I’d ever see a live band again

Extra leniency for those closest to Big Ben

Everyone asking are these rules or laws?

Are we allowed any fun?

I want some time in the sun

But at least we could settle with melody

Naive one was present in Foals: “Wake Me Up” they pronounced Checking feeds to see if festival line-ups have been announced

A welcome comeback from Abba

Lorde shone a light on solar power

Olivia Rodrigo broke through as sweet but “SOUR”

From clapping in the streets

To crying in the sheets

Then uploading Twitter’s now-deceased fleets

It was only meant to be three weeks

All these different strands, hold my beer

Heads gone, solace in bands, perennial fear

Tears and tiers, Olly Alexander is now all of Years & Years

Sometimes life’s a bitch

Others life’s a beach

Either way you are there to soundtrack

A look forward, a present emotion, a look back

No Music On A Dead Planet, you see

Oh, “How Beautiful Life Can Be

If we save the world, we save one another

It’s a stranger now, but it could be your mother

With you I can revert back to;

That one moment, odd feeling, old memory

Tap into that chilling déjà vu

Through recommendations, word of mouth, NME

Music, to you I raise my drink

You allow absence of thought, or provoke me to think

Like a friend or a cup of tea

You relax, excite and comfort me

Back then, right now, and always until death

The King of the Arts, you’ve never leave us bereft.


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