Poemander

Defying words and their logic

I speak to emptiness in vain.

My strive must be etiologic

Judged by denial with refrain.

I have no gain to feign perception

And that's not due to my accent.

Again, again I make exception

To thinking I've been heard. Insane!

I know, it's form of self-deception,

Utopian, to some extent.

Why do I even have to mention,

Don't you smell blood, don't you feel strain?

Those who you see in this convention,

They think I'm here to entertain.

Disdain they'll pay with reprehension;

Things they've got greater to attain.

It just not worth their attention.

It's too much work and too much pain.

You see, I'm all for basic compression;

It bugs their mind, peeves their brain.

Adios, its time to come to senses,

Pick up the remnants of this tribe,

Unborn, undead, without offenses,

Depart in spirits to imbibe.

And as we climb over the fences,

Nobody's left there to proscribe.

They'll build up high their defences,

This care not I to describe.

Prescribe, prescribe me medicine,

I'm full of this disease,

Which they call living, loving, feeling, other nonsense.

I'm willing, I have paid my fees.

My debtors all awash with gold and dressed in opulence.

Occurance? No. There are forces governing this day.

Trust me, there are forces filling up this void.

Not single line, not single word I say

Is wasted in the see of unrelenting ignorance.