what is there to write about
when writing seems like a job
and the pressure of completing the perfect piece
is weighing heavy on the scale
What ideas come to mind
when time ticks you off like
the big boss looking over your shoulder
do you write about not writing
or do you not write at all
theres 400 dollars waiting for me
at the end of the poem
problem is the poem hasn't even started
...
or has it?
...
has time passed me
like a futuristic history book
where the writings of tommorow
are nothing but sooped up versions
of outlines from yesterday?
Have I collected my half
I use to pass up the queen elizabeths
handed it back when they rated my score as the top one
never willing to drive but always eager to call SHOTGUN!
I would lower my standards to make
those who didn't deserve to be praised feel greater than I was
because I hated the spotlight
never wanted a part of it because It reminded me
of the thin line between dignity and pride
where dignity means staying true to being
the best kept secret
and being proud meant speaking out loud
about how much popularity one has
I went from being the shyest person in the crowd
but I never wanted too be too large
I could have sworn they hated me
The thou shall not poets stared me down like I didn't know a thing
on top of that I got the cold shoulder from
them other poets who could actually sing
I just wanted to free, just speak my piece and leave
want nothing in return but to just be..me
My father told me performing is nothing but a showcase of ego
and thought very little of the idea of living off of poetry
With nobody to back me up but the broke poets themselves
I started to look down at the holes in my shoes,
and the paint splattered pants
and said, fuck..maybe mom and dad were right
maybe I can't do this after all
That's when I started to get back into school
and learned about the digital age
where handwriting on a page isn't worth shit
compared to the glossy prints of a high tech mac
I would turn down show after show if it meant
my ego would explode
but accepted anything to do with children for free of charge
telling myself it was nice, but I should have got paid for this
I tried to save the world with my poetry
with a raised fist at end of my ramble
and a scream at the top of my lungs that echoed revolution
from halifax to vancouver.
but now I see an offer of 400 dollars waiting for me at the end of this poem
Call me a sell out while I call myself a struggling artist trying
to prove his parents wrong about living off of love
I've been doing the volunteer work for years now
show me the money
Give me a 5 dollar bill and I'll write my poetry double sided single spaced
jam packed with life if you think that's how much it's worth,
hand me a queen elizabeth and I'll write out your royalties in rhymeform
to show you how much more depth there is to making words just sound the same
I'll kill your piggy bank, roast it, chew down on some coins
and spit out 2 cents for every time a pimp tosses a dime away
I'll call the I.R.S to collect my treasure chest
apply the pressure to the stress
and tell the poetry fans to sign a check and pay to the order of the poets
the ones lifting your childrens spirits because drugs just aint doing it for them
pay for my college fund so I could be done with web programming bullshit
and get on to saving the world.
Throw me a penny if you think that's what I'm worth
Throw me more if you think I'll save the world
Sign a check if you believe in me
Write me an I.O.U and I'll be fine


show me the money
show me the money
OH WILL SOMEONE JUST SHOW ME THE MONEY!