Unapologetic & Not-Here-To-Please Poetry | The Normalised Exploitation Of All Creative Arts | A Poem

Creators are natural givers

And I’ve watched them drown in jobs they abhor,

Watched them despair, tired and exploited,

Giving more and more, time for money,

To survive, not more, merely survive,

Waiting for results of debates whether to raise

Wages by a few pence whilst the salary of the reckless

Goes up, without a reason, just like that, without discussions,

Hundreds and hundreds of pounds, just like that,

Self-serving, whilst people, in hordes, are still trying to create

In a destroyed and hostile environment, giving for nothing

Until they stop, it’s what keeps them sane,

It’s what keeps you sane and yet there is no gratitude,

No compensation, nothing, you feed the starving artist regime,

You want people to be truthful, uncorrupted, useful,

The way we raise children and ourselves is incompatible,

We urge suffering, struggling, monotony, functionality,

Efficiency, money, money, shallowness, depression,

Poverty, giving in, giving up, offering our vocation to money,

To survive, to merely survive in the world you built

Where honest dedicated and purpose-driven people

With their hearts in the right place have to be resilient and

Barely stand a chance, and fight and fight against your terrorism

With their hands full of love, with everything they have to give,

Still holding on to creativity but you suck their lives

Right out of them with your outdated and anti-human institutionalised

Patterns, how many people have wasted away on their deathbeds

Thinking it’s too late, I should have done this and that and why

And why not and what stopped me, what did I do, for what,

For whom, what, all my life long,

They die with regrets in their chests, where their heart was

Eroded by your big mouth, and in that moment they see it clearly,

Their wasted vocation, unlived, that you took for granted, that

You killed with your inhumanness, you efficiency, your presumed

Normality, everybody thinking the same shit,

Everybody looking the same, speaking the same, integration,

Oppression, all squeezed through the same machinery,

Feasting on our flesh, in times like these, with our heads barely

Sticking out of the communal misery, you leave us there,

You money-hoarders, greedy absorbers, the arts you take for granted,

Suffer you fools, you must suffer, and then some might give their last penny

To fraudsters and false hope proclaimers because you

Didn’t take care of us all, because you never cared in the first place,

Because you needed us to pay our basic bills, basic rights,

Pay up, pay up, queuing whilst you’re hoarding,

People that are so giving, so full of love,

That, in their deep-seated despair, invest in pyramid schemes,

The way the entire world works is a pyramid scheme,

Good jobs, bad jobs, one person making billions, one person making

Nothing, money dividing where it should unite,

Infecting whilst preaching about healing,

What are you doing to the ones who truly try to heal others,

Try to help others, try to make this world a better place,

Try to bring light into the darkness, try to spread love instead of hate,

Try to give instead of take, shame on you for burying your artists,

For starving your artists, you fools, shame on you,

You natural takers, when will you give back and not

Exploit the souls that give, it’s a two-way street,

Where you like to hang out for free

Only seeing what you want to see,

Encouraging old rotten sayings, justifying your egotistic behaviour,

You are failing your artists, your creators, your givers,

Your everyday people, and force everyone to take and take

In sheer panic and fall on their knees, and roar

In gratitude for the bits and pieces and debated leftovers

You spilled, shame on you.

Photo by RF._.studio on Pexels.com

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