The World Is Yours

How can I put forth the truth when I'm branded
Novice and knave, by plebs who've been stranded
In drought wrought islands, with tigers and spiders,
And all they can do is scream till tonsillitis,
While I have befriended the same beasts they burden-
With the same screams and same dreams with no twists and turns with
Which to excite or edify the mind,
Or take the hapless heart on a roller coaster ride-
And I do accept that I was like that once too,
But I've now found oasis 'mid the cloudless sand strewn
Desert of the new age with new cage , rage, loose pages,
But the hazes have lifted, while I admit I've been loose,
Now I feel like a winner, even though often times I do lose.

Though none among the angelic hierarchies will listen,
Still I sing, still I sing, in the hopes I can christen
My scribbles into verses, and my lines into poems,
So that when they're recited most'll croon "Oh I know 'em!"

And maybe then it'll be though my heart still fidgets,
It'll be for a new line and not for monetary stipends-
And soon maybe I'll climb among the angelic hierarchies,
And beat the shit out of them till in their pants they all pee.
But that's just for hoping, and I'll still be happy,
If in this lifetime I can grind a poem to make the whole world see
Beauty in a moment, and taste of serenity.