Worship inspiration

I was wondering where the uninspired go to find their passion again
I often asked myself have I ever been one of them?
And in brief minutes recollect the fact that each word
is a drop of my enthusiasm

A drop of my eternal sweet immortality
Sugar cane epochs growing on and only dying back to the rhizome
Then bursting up again come the wet season
Tropical necessity

I was wondering what grey empty snowed in writers dare
when their creative repertoire is impaired
Autumn stole the leaves and winter the rest of the landscape
Speaking from my third eye from an abundant third world

How many who write their way into the world
Did so, to even the score of a game they don´t understand?
How many well meaning adolescentes fall from cliffs of idealism
to be swept into the polar tides below ice numbing the thought patterns into apathy

What will you rhyme of then pretty wordsmith?
Any pattern you let own your style will be tainted
By a lack of knowledge and awareness you had relented
under the voracious notions of good and evil that man invented

Where is your spontaneity when it is controled by overstimulated moral outrage
It grabs your pen and tapping fingers and locks you in the perfect world cage
that you your self made
and even when winter fades
Spring won´t make you a hippy
Poetry is more than a similie

Inspiration is my god and vice versa
Follow each word of mine heavier than an egyptian curse if you plagiarize
I demand to see free will inside a modern stanza thats what I idealize
Arguements of a perfect ethical world come closer to real lies
Blessings and abundance, malnutrition and disease
Some of them plague us while others please
Blame or praise god for one, I for neither