I am a business woo-man
I writhe words and leave bruises
On the bloodied minds of my readerly victims
I inject them with doses of wordy antidotes
They take my poetic license
For syntactic fluency
They reward my fictitious decency
With unimaginative currency
I make money
… … …
I am a business woo-man
I feed off well prepared portions of passionate ambitions
I mould it to mountainous morsels
Some, I dish in expensive ceramic – for the rich
Others, I dish in plastic take-aways – for the poor
Clients are different from customers.
They deafen my ears with pleasant alerts
I smile back at bankers coveting my banknotes
I make money!
