If you can keep your collection when all about you
Are selling theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust Italian eBay when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait for Fedex but not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated for your Whatson prints, don’t give way to hating,
And yet Whatson don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream of a Banksy canvas but not make it your master;
If you can stencil—and not make stencils your aim;
If you can meet with freerange and disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by Guardians to make a trap for fools,
Or watch more Eine prints you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and frame’em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make flips out of Graffiti Print winnings
And risk it on one turn of Chervalier-and other toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss
If you can talk with gallery managers and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Cartrain—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving gardeners can hurt you,
If all artists count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of postings and PMs distance run
Yours is the Not Banksy Forum and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a collector, my son!
)
