There are real writers,
true master crafters
and then there are wannabe’s……
who always fail to capture
any literary rapture
You can
take a path
that’s logical
and go to
someplace tropical
enjoying weeks away
from any of life obstacles
while sitting on a beach chair
enjoying cherry popsicles
as you skillfully chronicle
all the beauty that
surrounds you
for a travel periodical
becoming someone that
society calls rich & prodigal
Improving your moods
in ways most psychological
which could leave your latest
income uneconomical
but that would just be trivial
matched against the relaxation
of your journey as a whole
such a trip would soothe your soul.
as what you publish would be gold.
as the checks for what you write
come in the mail
Or you could call yourself a writer
that some magazine would hire
never realizing that you were
just a pathological liar
sitting at your desk in Iowa
with no background
check required
in this job you have acquired
in a tiny office space above
some body’s old garage
where you’d create a true mirage
using Google to inspire you
with all the paradises
found around the earth
knowing you were fooling them
with each and every word
getting paid for something so absurd
while filling your soul with great mirth
achieving temporary fame
sending splendid, written work you claimed
you wrote beneath palm trees
In a hammock near some distant seas
there are two ways writers can appease
their hungry creativity
taking a path that is more logically
a place that you saw visibly
and wrote about what physically
lay spread before you beautifully
or spend some
weeks in winter’s gray
at a small, cramped desk
typing away
while becoming geographically
a writer whose a liar
tainting authorships desires
writing false work uninspired
till they find out and you’re fired.
but I am heading for Tahiti
where you skills will never beat me
with your Des Moines styled graffiti
penning totally made up visions
you’d best be heeding my prediction
you’re better off just writing fiction