I see tension in the air,
red and green clouds everywhere.
The same old, tried-and-worn affair.
I walk. I can't afford to care.

The path i tread has many unknown particulars

The good choices appear in only perpendiculars

I find at times I get trapped in the luring  circulars

I seek the butterfly but i come across confused caterpillars

The path is flooded with sad, intrusive manipulars

Some are merely spectaculars

Whilst some dare to strike your jugulars

...I wish to find spiritual teachers but I'm surrounded by lost seculars

I peer and search even using my invented binoculars

But this path i tread has very few, calm examplars

Your buds are crushed
beneath my feet
I will trod upon your
tales, tails and lies