A Poet’s Paradox*

( *according to Oxford )


A millionaire po’etess, very strange,
To be true to myself, negotiate!
How does that rate my writing in exchange,
Let’s see what’s in the 8 ball as my fate.

Commodities in verse, it says “Fuck Yes”;
A millionaire po’etess, very strange.
I might as well proclaim a lucky guess,
Come visit me I’m at the stock exchange.

The other times I’m practicing my range,
To duet with the artist known as ‘Sting’.
A millionaire po’etess, very strange;
I’m born with perfect pitch but I can’t sing.

I’ve got the only clothes here on my back,
I’m rich as Wall but never have the change.
I try to purchase straight off of the rack,
A millionaire po’etess, very strange!