The Class of 1949, Hollywood
I knew the blithe days of their April's prime!
Eager, lithe, keen-ey'd, their young beauty
A glow infus'd, a core whose light should be
Admir'd by all...That was an honest time
(Seen in compares to this much-shadow'd Age);
Now, as they wither, as their vigor's lost,
I read dim suff'rings, frustrate years, the cost
(To them and us) of Good with Ill engag'd.
I sum their lives with my impartial hand;
And in the register of truths I know
The bitterness Injustice breeds, and more:
How they'd seen joy fade even as they'd star'd
On what appear'd a landscape vast and free--
Turn'd wildness where rude savage tribesmen
Their sentence grim: the death of Hope's bright
Lost Generations: Hollywood 1932-1994
When I was young, they were the golden youth
Of Hollywood's studios. But now they pass;
Each day we lose them; each day, the page I grasp
Speaks of great promise wasted, and the truth
Of their neglect by tsars who never car'd
That they were train'd minds, eager for justice'
To match their greatness with what others made
Of birth and skills and mind...How their art
Is matter for historians to sum.
What we've been depriv'd--this wound in our sick
Concerns us all. Our government--the same
(Incompetent, arrogant) caesardom
The movies knew--now misses what films lack'd,
As their lives miss'd it; and we who knew them
Curse black injustice: But who shall call lost
...Robert David Michael Cerello writes from San Diego, California.