It is a cheap bargain for them
hijacking your high
they love the glare and gold
and ween to be worshipped
apathy airs their sleep
in the abortive barrens of
hubristic hopes,
they sully the word
with their stale sterotype
squaring slogans to shame
fame, fortune and fervor
are their coveted cravings
like daughters of joy.
They cannot hold a pen
and ink an irony
but they call themselves writers
and some muses of minstrel
when they bleed bile
they suck into your word
those parasites of the phrase
Beware! For you may
meet one soon
else read my poem
and be on the watch
they are out on a prowl.
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