drones of currents

Weaving currents, in and out
Silent screaming, hear no shout
Empty faces, features void
Meaningless purposes destroyed

Don't look close to find the fear
Inevitably leading to the tear
Passerby swift with haste
Overlook the common waste

Steady beat far away
On shore manages not to stay
Anchor in, pull the weight
Carried to the golden gate

Peering in, in search of change
Eyesight still at closer range
Rub out blurs that block and haze
Begin to clearer see the maze

A rat with cheese to hurriedly seek
Drone numbly on with hunger weak
Sustain the drive to carry on
Though paths ahead be vague and long

Movements mechanical steps of feet
True faces yet to see or meet
But known existence lingers before
The faith to seek that something more

So, I'm kinda feeling washed up in the current..fearful to hope beyond the immediate, yet unable to maintain the numb void of the present..stuck in a routine with no ends in sight and not even distracting hills to climb or descend on this ever long and flat continuum..just same followed by more same followed by repetition of the same. The aching need of guidance, of some direction or purpose that will enhance the overall goals..something to distract me with any form of excitement rather than just numbly passing the time. Goals are set, but so far off that everything looks the same from this distance. Make the distance shorter by wrinkling the time with calls back to the living. Wake up calls to remind one of their existence, to allow one to truly live again if only for a short while. Then back to the sameness..

Oh, and if anyone knows anything about publishing a poetry book please let me know..I am really starting to consider it now..it might make for some nice pocket-change at the least :P