Time the greatest measure of significance

Unendowed inactive
Unable and unfit
Dumbed down by
The system
Impediments that sit
Squarely on my shoulders
Hampering so much
And so much opposition
And being out of touch

Struggling to communicate
With independent thought
Fighting the transnationals
And the cartels that have bought
The hearts and minds of many
Inviting trouble for
The independent poet
Who find himself at war

With all the armchair warriors
Enraged by what they are told
The discordant notes are everywere
Thankfully I am old
In twenty years mere fodder
In some tomb under the ground
Where at least I could feed the maggots
Those that come around

My body will rot slowly
And give value to the sod
Compost perhaps my final gift
Closer to my god
A reunion with nature
Reciprocity
I never found love tragically
A lost soul actually