If a poet launches into the world
a book of poems
because he needs to pay the rent,
we will tolerate it.
But if he doesn't lead a business end
and instead he does
assuming the world
urgently and eagerly needed
read the ramblings of him:
we will whip your vanity
with angry throws
how much tomato or other fruit
we are within our reach.
Let the metaphysical poet die once and for all.
May the financial poet be resurrected once and for all.

You're a genius.
And you don't owe it to anyone.
You're a moron.
And you owe it to your parents
who died
that they did not celebrate your birthday
that they punished you
that did not leave you alone
that forced you to study a language.
You are a lonely genius.
You are a mob jerk.
The culture of 'give me straw'
is raising a world of offended
capricious
of lazy.
The culture of save yourself
is brooding chickens.
The new generation of straw men.