Dying Dodos And The Death Of Literature

Let’s hold a funeral for the self sabotaging machine

Where raw excellence has been dime store swapped

For vacant penned flimflam,

A business model cock-up

For the smarmy gatekeeping elect;

So wearying to keep one foot above chilled corporate waters

And the other dangling into oblivion’s blacklisted scarred trenches.

Where have all the wordsmiths gone?

Asks the dying dodo