I should only write poetry. I don't know about you, dear reader(s). I really don't, I'm afraid. But I ... should only write poetry.
Everything is chaotic.
It's a good thing I've only got eight poems. If I had twenty or thirty poems right now ... they would be too rough, and only add to the chaos.
You dig?
However, I will need thirty poems soon. At least thirty.
If only I could shut everything else out of my life. I need to concentrate, man! How can we concentrate in this world?
You, you, you ...
How do YOU(!) concentrate???
Or are you all over the place?
I don't blame you if you are.
It's not your fault. It's not my fault.
We have to blame the elites. Yes. They're the ones who made these modern smart phones. If we couldn't afford to pay for the phones ... they would definitely be handed-out for free. Think about that.
Just refuse to buy them! Just refuse to pay your phone bill! See what happens. A free phone. No bills ever again.
(A lot of you get free phones, anyway. Don't you??? But I'm not on a contract. I'm clever.)
The elites want us distracted.
Uh.
But I may have no choice soon. Freedom! I may have to live in a cave. So be it! I will write in the mornings. I will write in the afternoons. I will write in the evenings. I might get a bit of kip at night. I will never surrender!
On the beaches, yes. On the cliffs, yes.
Every poem a polished and concentrated miracle!
Every poem a spear thrown at Darius!
And I might hit him a couple of times, too ... which is more than Alexander did.
Laters.
