To be or not to be?
The life of poet is just the same as many of you would think. I wake up every day whenever I want or some days not at all, and help myself to my endless cocain bar before deciding which one of my high end sports cars that I want to take out on the town to pick up super models with. My mansion overlooks the ocean and often I fear that people may be able to see in through the glass front of my estate, but how could they with the security perimeter. I accomplished this all by writing one poem.
To be a professional artist takes little to no work at all, and it truly surprises me that more people don’t take up this lifestyle instead of working endless hours at a dead end job and hating themselves. All the while growing older and more sickly waiting on the doctor to tell them that they have achieved the incurable condition which will finally put them out of their long endured misery. All you need to do is write a few words down. They don’t even need to be good. They don’t need to rhyme. I read poetry all the time on the internet that’s garbage and then all I have to do is copy and paste, then sign my name. Easy right? Some might even say that this post is a form of poetry. Though I would refer to it more as a farce or satire, but that depends on your level of gullibility. That’s all for now, but thank you for reading and I promise much more art will be on the way soon. I think that I may try to record my thoughts for you in this manner in between just posting random works so you can get a better feel for my personality and then perhaps you and I, in some subconscious way will know one another.
✒️🖤🖋-Edgar Allen Beau