I.

The poet needed badly to make money.
It was a common problem, to be sure;
His education lacked – to put it bluntly –
Any skills that could stop him being poor.
He found a list of fastest growing sectors,
Summoned his meagre business acumen,
He searched addresses for boards of directors.
He sat, he wept, he prayed. He grabbed his pen:

Sir/Madam, with my words I may hope
To find you well, and please see enclosed
An application for employment.
Your business intrigues me. Suppose
I offer a new approach to you
For the ethical elements of
Artificial Intelligence research
And the public acceptance thereof.
What if your young AI were directed
T’wards poems, and their composition?
I believe this would help turn the public
To a more supportive disposition.
I am sure that this worthy endeavor
Would nix all of the cynical minds
Who fear guaranteed end-of-the-world stuff
When AI – as it must – comes online.
I fully possess the unique skills
To work with you as mentor and guide,
I thank you for your time and patience.
Please inform me of what you decide.

So then he waited, as one always does,
For the rejection letters in the mail,
But harbored a small hope, simply because
These megacorps exist on such a scale
That surely one could find in its budget
A little cash to hire a poor poet.