Wednesday, July 30, 2014


I have travelled in rain masked by sunlight.
I have waited through each dreary long year.
I have argued my case with all my might
But my reward seems to be nowhere near.
The world calls me a silly old bugger
Because I reach up for a golden fleece.
Men liked me on the rough fields of rugger,
Women preferred bullion and fake sweet peace.
They sought cheap gems as bribes for their flower
But greed unveiled their lack of real passion.
So I revive to tackle truth's tower
On my own terms, not those of cool fashion.
I climb alone, dogged by hollow blind stares,
For none believe and nobody else cares.

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