What can you say
to a rogue road
word warrior
who fight’s a
new dragon each day.

Tilting windmills
that really are
fat cat monsters
in red sports cars.

Gentlemen protectors,
consummate failures
that succumb to the thumb
of corporate jailors
in this capitalistic
prison system.

Self-directed learner,
midnight oil burner
whose biography
would barely be
a once a day
page turner.

What can you tell
a man who sees hell
in beauty
and pulls
psychedelics
from cow ****.

When reality has been
subjected by
profitable trends
and the world’s end
is only a minor irritation
to their united nation
of bank supporters.

What do you ask
a dreamer
before he passes
knowing that
dead men’s dreams
cannot outlast
greed driven schemes.