A poem

Composed in a fit of frustration my sophomore year of college and lately rediscovered. Enjoy!

The Revolt of the Modern Flutist

Play for me no more Shoenberg
Speak of dodecaphonic systems no more.
Pack up your pre-recorded sounds
And get yourself out that door!

Do not tell me to embrace George Crumb
Nor to revere Anton Weber.
For I have endured their compositions
And enjoy listening to neither.

Chide me not about a closed mind
Bid me admire disorder no longer.
Else my heart within me shall not last
And my love of music founder.

So cease the praises of multiphonics
Just because you can doesn't mean you should.
Oh, that Boehm never thought of keys
And flutes were still made of wood.