How could a poet like me,
So opulent and fluent with rhyme,
Bear the heart of the lonely sort
And grief-stricken out of mind.

These words that flow like honey
Seem not to attract the sweetest of teeth.
But instead appease my troubled soul
And leave my aspirations bleak.

I went to the place where I once lived a life,
On the rocky shores of that beloved river.
No shouts or laughs are heard there now;
I couldn't hear a whisper.

I sat 'round that old forgotten place,
Last light of my childhood - reaching its ends,
Wondering what happened to my home
And the trees I used to call friends.

1
This world is not for me.
Society and all of its greed
And pride and fears and lies,
But I see - the Fields of green.

I see the forest beyond culture's smog.
I see rivers and meadows and in them I see God,
Not society's idols corrupting my mind,
But beauty in nature, for people I have no time

2
I don't hate man, I just hate men.
I reject the crowd, receive the critics
And then, when I can, I plan
To change their lives, to change their stance.
Their pre-contemplating outlook of meta-physical well-being will be
Their posthumous regret when the trumpets sound early.
They cannot possibly want to die this surely.

So why wait, why bother, why help those who ridicule the very foundation of existence?
For better or worse, I ask myself this
And demand an answer; demand a reply.
But to answer myself this would just be a lie,
Because in the end I just can't see myself here.
Down in the underbelly while God's world is out there.
Man was meant to live and love and learn and laugh and lavish in the dirt;
YES! The wondrous Earthen soil that brings life to this otherwise wasteland of a planet!
Do I sound crazy? Fine then. I'll can-it...
But let me leave you with this.

3**
While you squander your existence, I'm flying with J.L. Seagull.
While you sit on society's thrown, you'll never reach my level of regal,
For I am king of myself, I relish in happiness
I **** the marrow out of life and think not of shame or pride or possession or power
And therefore I must leave.
I wish you all the best of luck and hope some of you learn,
That you are just playing your fiddle and watching Rome burn.

I sing, I dance, I lavish in sound,
I know what matters in this life,
For happiness is my only love,
And music is my wife.

I speak to you on this, the first day of the rest of my life.
Scores of men have said it before,
But never so true as it is said before you now
For I hereby take the pledge, the oath, the honor - of a man among trees