Catalog of ri¢h poets: Elizabeth Foster

Posted by @ 7:56 pm on May 7th, 2014

Poets make that guap, right? Easy money. At least that’s what my nine to five office co-workers keep telling me.

It’s easy being poor, it’s much harder to be a ri¢h poet. People who are not poets have no idea how real the struggle is. Major label publishers, celebrities, Jay-Z– everyone wants a piece of the lyrical genius. It can be super overwhelming. Don’t even get me ranting about all those diamonds that get thrown at us on our way to the subway for the evening commute. Yowch! Thankfully, those precious stones can be ground up and sprinkled on cat litter to make that shit shine.

Today starts the first in a series profiling real life rich poets so that you get to know them, understand their pain. Please enjoy this poem by Elizabeth Foster and recognize that it’s hard out here for a ri¢h poet.



there is a wormhole

under the toilet

in the second bathroom

i would advise not

to move the board

that has been carefully

placed over it

for 5 years

every now and then

it spits out expired coupons

for a hardware store in Indiana

i can’t remember the name of

there is a family of cockroaches

living in the microwave

i’m convinced they’ll live on

long after we get around

to that murder suicide

we promised the planet

i still use it because

i think it’s kind of romantic

there is a cat living

inside the radiator

in the living room

i know this because

sometimes when i lie awake at night

regretting all the things i forgot to tell you

before i lost your number

i can hear it hissing

i wonder why it’s so scared all the time

maybe it is lonely

and doesn’t know how to make friends

haha kind of like me


i dropped out of college twice but im debt free 4 fucks sake

catch me at the library snorting lines between each stanza w/ my man ben franklin

if i had a dollar 4 every twitter follower the bills would exceed my bank statement

i have 15 metro cards but i still jump turnstiles

i donated my last $27 to children’s international then closed my bank account

stealin’ all my groceries from whole foods cuz that peasant shit’s below me

duh these shoes are prada

nah I ain’t gonna tell u how I got em

watch me walk up in the MET takin selfies in front of Dali’s 4 under 50¢

like no shit all the normies wish they were a ri¢h poet like me

elizabeth foster is a 21 yr old ri¢h poet living in the sparkling metropolis that is south bklyn. elizabeth can’t really be bothered to write an engaging bio and recommends you learn how to use google because it’s 2014 and that shit is pretty damn useful. follow elizabeth on twitter and tumblr. “Sent from the artist’s iPhone”