Foxy breathes new life into the ‘Dead Poets Society’

And, so, dear friends to World Poetry Day; OK, it was yesterday but that all fits in nicely with our mantra of “you read it here eventually”. Besides, I will be the first to admit that I rather overdid it on Monday’s National Drink Beer Day – so many ales, so little time – so you are lucky I am here at all.

As the bright young things, and the old soaks, among you will already know, World Poetry Day was established by Unesco in 1999, with the aim of promoting the reading, writing, and teaching of poetry worldwide.

Naturally, for the purists, the rise of AI has taken much of the craft out of the literary art, but our august organ, for one, is still swelling, and the Dead Poets Society is alive and kicking. So, sit back and enjoy “Foxy’s Ode to Adland’s Finest”.

The cuppa’s cold before the morning starts,
A frantic room of caffeine-driven hearts.
The whiteboard fills with lines that scratch and bleed,
To capture what the modern crowd might need.
We chase the trends, we target every click,
And hope the phantom algorithm’s quick.
The pitch is set for half-past ten,
Then rewritten and torn apart again.

The brief arrives, a paradox in print:
“Be bold, be fresh, but give a cautious hint.
Be native, viral, classic, and concise,
And do it all for half the budget’s price.”
The strategist unearths the hidden vibe,
A magic lens to woo a cautious tribe.
The copywriter stares into the screen,
Searching for nouns that no one else has seen.

Then “art and copy” pair to make the grand,
Transforming widgets into cult-like brands.
A typeface changed, a colour scheme revised,
Until the product’s wholly idealised.
The presentation deck is 60 slides,
A glossy map where corporate language hides.
We tell a story, paint a dream so deep,
To sell a mattress promising more sleep.

The client frowns, then smiles, then shifts the goal:
“It’s good, but does it really have a soul?
Can we enlarge the logo just a bit?
And change the chorus so the kids like it?”
Back to the glowing screens at nine o’clock,
The creative walls begin to feel like rock.
The deadline looms, a heavy, silent ghost,
For one short, high-visibility post.

Yet when the camera rolls and sound is clear,
And words collide to banish static fear,
A sudden magic fills the chaotic space –
A truth is told with unexpected grace.
For just a second, art and commerce blend,
And message turns to something like a friend.
A clever jingle echoing down the street,
Where human eye and manufactured meet.

We craft the mirrors where a culture peers,
And sell the hopes of all the coming years.
The lights stay on, the cursor blinks in place,
Another brief, another brand to chase.

AI my arse; who needs a robot when you have an organ like this?

Foxy has ditched X but is still on Instagram,  just don’t get too excited as she’s never there