Fairy Tales were for the weak.
And the un-burdened every week
Conveyed in the words of Lord + Squire
That their Apprentice had been let go
Due to Lack-of-Funds.

To Muses and Patron-trusts.
The Old World seemed to have developed on a handshake.
Support in your journey and one’s mean of life.
And I’ll do anything for you, just to see it through.

Over wrapping like plastic seals,
To give foundation,
And the Artist nourishes guilt in hindsight.
Why couldn’t I have sought this life alone?

Financial Doom at the Artist
That chooses almost-famous-quips.
Lingering around and no affirmation to noticed
Face.

Haste otherwise,
And somehow this handshake,
Proves miraculous.
And I read their works 400-2000 Years later.

And I wondered when I had to pinch the paper
Of frozen okonomiyaki and made it the sauced,
Enriched with tons of dairy, cheesy way.
When one has no cheese,
And the bread+butter
Has turned to ingredient shelf condiments
And making it to cheese.
And I no long bring a fork to eat 1, ⅚ of the jar
Of conal-glass pimento olives.

Somehow they did those same things and called a charcuterie tray a salumi plat/platter
And hearts did tatter
When there was no fresh capacol
For night-meats
I-need-protein hell.

Sitting around in the same cell all day,
And I punch the keys in rhythm and when I clock out
I’m distant.

Nowadays they call that: Work/Life Balance.
Rome always referred to it as Shame.
Roma knew it as Depression.
And Spain saw Guilt.
While Rhineland blues
And Israeli red-hues
Was more of a Kind-Regional-Thing compared to My Family’s Style.

They say you don’t feel your family’s honor or shame for 50 Years.

40 is a projection of a 8-slice pecan pie,
Italian Pizzas have 10.
They live a little longer over there – knowing.
We’ve been here before.

You still feel it,
All those Millenia Later.
The Terms Just Changed.
And got translated.

[incorrectly.]

(badly, at that.)*

{in a sort of corrosive-archetype type way.~~~}**