Monetizing Our Soul's Expression: A Satirical Poem

It doesn't come easy as confession

but in the world of sheer materialism

soul wants to monetize its expression

and it's nothing but predictable realism.

With no reward heart won't spill its treasure

ever since it's become stock with a price

forget about doing it out of pleasure

no matter if it doesn't look nice.

For we are writers and poets for hire

pity that we don't have union of a kind

while there's no sign of some better byer

but no discount on fine products of our mind.

On sleepless nights when soul wants to speak

we promptly suppress it by taking sleeping pill

without prospects of a pay motivation is weak

and down the drain goes all the creative thrill.

To all those starving artists now we join

sitting at the corner with our extended hat

hoping someone may drop some bigger coin

or at lest mercifully stop by for little friendly chat.

Hey, I just noticed, it's not myself that I talk about

here, I've been writing getting paid by this joy

those monetary rewards I can live without

in my playful soul it's merely a toy.

No price -- if it's coming from my heart

too humanly imperfect for an ego-parade

but humbleness may even be seen as smart

here -- this joyful rhyme has already been paid.