I scathe at the indifference
Beside myself with rage
I crawl with stiff resistance
To forge words on the page
The lathe of love once turned
I remember to this very day
Those hot-ache cokes that burned
To fire the kilns of clay
Hide away then the inference
There’s more which I wish to claim
In this league of subsistence
The desire is mine to aim
So my dear once more to flower
Before the time to go on stage
I write for the coliseum’s power
Of that pastoral present age
