Gone on vacation the rythm,
to the wind flies the rhyme
A poet teetering on the edge,
blast tradition and conformity...

Weary becomes the traveller,
he who tries to remain correct
Politics in every blasted thing,
time to burn the pivotal shack

Try as one might fame is distant,
"old glory" has become just that
Fortune a dream, no a nightmare
poverty reality literally to the literary

To live and do with utter passion,
caring not the critic's passing gas
Writing and expressing irregardless,
definitely not for the feign of heart

I have crossed that threshold,
my nightmare changling dream
Behold these words I have writ,
to hades I say with literary politics

(c) 2006
~Nikki~