The Poet As Addict (A Sea Chanty From The Seas Of Life) Poem by Max Reif

This addiction is gettin' costly.
I knew it consumed me time.
Now it's taking me money too, mates.
Aye, me pockets are emptied by rhyme!

Listen, I swear by me story:
Feeling burned out last week,
I fled from poems on computer
And decided to go out to eat.

But over the crumbs of me bagel—
No matter I wasn't at home—
I scrawled an idea in me notebook,
And watched it becoming a poem!

Then I got meself in a frenzy
To post it before me work day,
And drove to the nearest Kinko's
To type up what I wanted to say.

I was lucky, the place had just opened.
Signing on the PC with me card,
I clicked to SUBMIT A NEW POEM
And typed away, fast and hard.

Of course, after postin' the effort,
I noticed a wrongly-placed word.
I toggled between VIEW and EDIT
Filled with passion to get meself heard.

Me watch, of course, kept on tickin'—
Ten minutes until me job's start.
I kept strugglin' to get the thing perfect
Fer the blinkin' love o' Art!

I logged off to get me card back
And to rapidly get myself hence,
But I stared in shock at the invoice:
Four dollars and thirty-three cents!

Four dollars and thirty-three cents, boys!
Four dollars and thirty-three cents!
Now I'm paying to get me poems posted,
Four dollars and thirty-three cents!

So if someday you walk by the poorhouse
And you see me in rags, standin' there,
Oh, pity your poor poet brother.
Toss him something to eat or to wear

And I'm sure the Muse will reward you.
But be careful, don't be like me.
Stay far from the Kinko's computer,
Where you pays as you writes poetry.