The world of Art mirrors the world of Society. Just as the latter is based on hierarchy, on a class system, so is the former.
And in the world of Art, poetry is the lowest class.
In the world of Art, poets are the proles, the slaves.
Just as slaves in the world of Society are bullied and beaten, treated as subhuman, so in the world of Art poets are similarly abused.
All the wealth/value produced by Society's slaves is stolen from them by those in the higher classes. The latter grow rich on the former's misery.
Every idea or good generated by poet-labor is also stolen, plagiarized by the higher classes of Music, Painting, Film and Prose.
They prosper on the poet's back.
All their wealth comes from stealing and using what the poet-slave produces.
As slaves, poets internalize their inferior status. We grovel before the Masters of Music Painting Film and Prose. We become their lickspittles, their toadies, their dogs, obsequiously grateful for the least crumb falling from their fat tables.
We flatter kiss-ass praise these Masters for their greatness, forgetting that every good every gram of worth they possess, every virtue, was stolen from us.
From time to time the slaves of Society have risen up against their evil Masters, have rebelled against their oppressors.
But the slaves of Art, the poets, have they ever revolted against their oppressive Masters?
We have never protested against the Prosewriters the Filmmakers the Musicmucks the Painters, the Masters who daily steal our resources, we have never tried to expose their criminal acts of theft and exploitation.
No, we never even dream of rising up in fury to confront and attack these overlords whose cabals conspire against our welfare,
whose cultural institutions and media are designed and operated to keep us in penury and abject submission.
Whose statutes of power stand ready to cripple and punish and murder us.
As they have done so often.