Oscar Wilde wrote, “The best work in literature is always done by those who do not depend on it for their daily bread and the highest form of literature, Poetry, brings no wealth to the singer.”
Which is quite the relief, I have nothing
to lose, my stentorian voice is not tied
to a paycheck or any kind of recompense.
I don’t pay dues, I’m not allied
to a patron, my scope’s immense.
My site’s free, every word
is a gift adrift.
If there’s no wealth, why do I sing?
There is sheer joy in being free.
Oh, there’s despair, a grief
constrains my breath. Always
the death of hopes confected
in the sweetmeats of childish
tales, songs I composed to
keep sanity in the throes.
High and dry I’ve somehow escaped
the moorings of the mainstream
daydream anchored afloat
in the moat circling
the plutocratic castle, all
the facile vassals limp and blind.
The current keeps them dazzled.
I don’t mind, don’t take refuge
in a twisted pride, misguided.
The system’s broke,
not me. I sink roots deep,
mindful of the company I keep.
Letting go of the shackling
beliefs: it’s too late to tackle,
the rot has gone too deep.
I admit, I’ve been asleep.
Waking now to shout: my choice
is here. I add my voice.
Every being arrives with a song.
We open and we claim: we belong.
Soundcloud recording here.
Inspired by: Daydream, Stentorian, Afloat, Pride and Caitlin Johnstone’s question today, “We are collectively being asked a question here, and our answer to that question will determine the entire course we will take as a species.”