Write a poem about what a bitch it is to have to go to a dull boring office with crass commercial philistines who don't see the beauty of art rather than sit around languidly writing poetry all day. For bonus points, make say nasty things about publishers and how your genius will be recognised one day, long after you're dead, and then they'll be sorry, but see if you care.
ReplyDeleteOh perfidy oh woe, oh mores oh tempura!
I sit in a bombed out crater all day
I wait and watch the sales manager Deborah
Oh perfidy oh woe, oh mores oh tempura,
I have to restring my tampura
Blasted Keats and Shelly, Shakespeare and Billy
Oh perfidy oh woe, oh mores oh tempura!
I sit in a bombed out crater all day