i sit idle in office
writing pomes on post-its
i dont want money but i need
to eat proper & sleep roofed
to gift my sweet
& shod mine feet

 

i would live a life of holy days
make love & art & do my part
to illuminate mind
define the divine & learn
to shine, sublime

 

but society has stolen our time
so i remain on eternal standby
stuck fast to swivel chair
bereft of kind or care
trying to discern wrong from right
transform bondage to flight