Druidic job searches and the Maharaja
The genie in the bottle has abandoned me. Once, I was the king of Spain. Now, I am in the valley of the mountains, steep spires of rock and coldness overlook my every breath. Now, I am in the midst of triangulated strangulation. Mercies are foreign to me, mercies have become luxuries. I wonder how cold it can get before the sun finally arrives.
No-one buys poetry anymore. No one wants to move to the higher level but instead, give up their freedoms and liberties for complacency. We lost the war on terrorism because they won the war of fear. No-one remembers Gene Kelly singing in the rain, or Frank, who did it his way. Now it is all hip hop thrash,trashed mementos form a celebrity,stoned. Cold artifacts from a manufactured age.
I refuse to let the artist die. I refuse to give in. I refuse to believe we are adrift. I refuse to settle for anything less than beauty, for excellence. Divide the penny and smile.
Unemployed. Unemployment. They still suck.