Nobody seems to listen
And nobody seems to care
All these words I’ve written
This nakedness I've bared
Still I continue to write
Like a scribe whose kingdom’s come
The words of a poet
Are never said and done
To live with bitter madness
To reconcile with past
To dodge the angry arrow
Is a poets unconscious task...
Still these words keep coming
Like a fool without a cause
An annual case of writer’s block
Dictates my only pause
Perfect is the world we seek
On the wings of trust we embrace the flight
Dark are the waters we drown in
As we hold on to love with all our might
Perhaps I’m but a beacon
In a storm that will never cease
Anchored to this ocean
By a soul that’s never free
Traveler Tim
Re Po 04=19