I Am Pretending to Write -- and They Are Pretending to Pay Me: A Humorous Poem
One day I will find the right words, and they will be simple.
-- Jack Kerouac
Like I got a silent agreement with this fine website
I'm writing some crap, and their pay is crappy
so it seems to work for both sides all right
making everybody more than happy.
Who says it's more incentive that we need
speaking for one, they don't owe me a boost
with my kind of contributions I can't afford greed
and earnings seem adequate to what I've produced.
It's in the spirit of how I am managing my stress
never, ever to fuss over what I cannot control
so it's my responses where I add finesse
and what others do, I don't care at all.
I have closed this account four times
and then came back to suck some more
writing my satires and these ordinary rhymes
not giving rat's ass about my earnings or my score.
O.K., while it was not a "worry", but a question did come
like -- if I'm not worth paying, why they keep me at all
but now it has the taste of an already chewed gum
as writer I'm not destined for a march, but crawl.
Of course, I don't say my written crap is bad
it's simply not suitable for this kind of platform
so when I think about it, I am just more than glad
that I seem to be satisfying its every required norm.
For they don't edit me at all, which makes me feel free
not caring what my English-second-language can do
and if this writing is only a pathetic pretending spree
what I'm getting in return is just adequate and true.
Take it or leave it -- appears to be the rule
and I won't be missed or even begged to stay
maybe I have not yet graduated from life's school
but I know how no effort in life is guaranteeing to pay.
© 2024 Val Karas