Not a happy camper.

I'm still here.
Don't want to be,
had my way, I'd be
deep in the wild lands,
holed up for Winter,
ignoring most things.

Finding the roadblocks
too many of late.
Barricades others raise up unwittingly
that stymie my few efforts
to drive through this
and reach goals.

Know I'm causing
tensions among my friends
and worry for the family,
but things ain't bottomed out
still slowly rolling out
along this track.

None see goals
even where they exist,
most see "pipe-dreams" there,
silly things I should abandon
or do their way
even when wrong.

Reduced to ashes,
like the baccy smoked
in my real, trusty briers,
that is the hope dying
as reality drives home
the brutal truth.

There's nothing left
in my tank now.
No gumption, nor rising desires,
not even dreams in head,
just a worried expression
on my face.

Tired of it,
the trying and failing,
the wasted efforts put forth
for little or no return,
just more bitter ashes
in my mouth.

One final wait,
then finish some projects
by unleashing my real nature
and driving through the resistance
raised by those forgetting
I'm that way.

I don't want
Pandora's box around me
after all this time down.
No, I want to taste
the fruits of achievements
not failure's rot.

Move aside, world.
Let me rise up
and do what I can
not stand in my way
and then complain loudly
over my failures.

Or else, perhaps
I shall be forced
to channel one more time
that rage of my youth
into making things happen,
despite your wishes.

27December2014- a tense Dyfedd Rex.