Epic Poem, part 1

BIg ambition. Little execution.
Of a life that takes thirty. That's one-third or three fifths...
a band underappreciated, I'm lost, searching,
teaching, guiding, assisting, yet I remain incomplete.

In the moment I stay goal-settled and vision-oriented.
My shoes remain untied for the journey.
To trip and fall forwards, the destination of mis-steps. 
Thick skin and heavy hearted navigating.

Lacks responsibility,this solo mission and pursuit for "she" 
who is out there but apologies to the current-
these rough waters, tides controlled by the moon.
Out of control, inflictions run rapid.

The monotonous tone of the faucet drip
Creates Ground Hog's Day with no spirit of fear. 
Life's short conclusion, a plank on a speed boat. 
So everyone has kids or aliens.
 
I need a real source of inspiration.
The juices are fresh and free flowing.
My release date? every morning before
the sun's rays infiltrate my den.
 
So these children complicate freedom. 
My guess is I am required to grab a ticket and get in line. 
Waiting for a miracle to drop like a meteorite in the sky.
These abundant blessings caught my attention.

Like wealth, friends, and emptiness.
Origins do not reflect imperfections.
The intervention i seek stands time's test. 
The topic at hand-deep like a civil war wound.

With everlasting implications.  Every man's intuition.
mislead by the p on the p. God knows what I deserve.
Wants and needs never the same thing.
Priorities configured by importance.  Hence, why I teach.

"Those who can't do, teach." 
Revelations and epiphanies exists within the numbers of 12, 24, or 30.
Not the Fibonacci sequence when hearts skip a beat. 
And Mind's deceives and lives breathe distortion.

Explicitly, parents are the road map that lead us to nowhere.
in the catacombs of public education
a cauldron boils meaningless facts and details
like bubble, bubble. These stained stalls are eroding philosophies. 

No silver bullet- a village can't transform man's savage civility. 
Behaviors and attitudes inked in our nation's fabric 
like sheer energy that runs and protects our youth who 
escape from reality with the XBOX, PS3 24/7.

I cant run out of ammo, my heart speaks unforseen truths. 
but when it speaks, I'm usually burned by the fire. 
This humbled American, watching re-runs on the internet.
entertained by the monkey, who runs this country?

instead of racism, a race circumcized.
for you to eat... and robots tell you that in 90 days.
it will diminsh, shrink, roll over, sit, beg, paw, belly, jelly.
Content with me?  This epic poem will see.