Not every form of content creation is supported by a revenue model. A poet like Vernon Scannell could not support himself on verse alone. He is dead at 85. Here is one his poems:
Something has gone wrong inside my head.
The sappers have left mines and wire behind,
I hold long conversations with the dead.I do not always know what has been said;
The rhythms, not the words, stay in my mind;
Something has gone wrong inside my head.Not just the sky but grass and trees are red,
The flares and tracers – or I’m colour-blind;
I hold long conversations with the dead.Their presence comforts and sustains like bread;
When they don’t come its hard to be resigned;
Something has gone wrong inside my head.They know about the snipers that I dread
And how the world is booby-trapped and mined;
I hold long conversation with the dead;As all eyes close, they gather round my bed
And whisper consolation. When I find
Something has gone wrong inside my head
I hold long conversations with the dead.
No money in it, mind.