Opus of an Intellectual

You ever pick up your pen and stare at that paper?
Frozen by the overwhelming wave of thoughts that are screaming to be released…
 
It’s the abundance of ideas rather than the lack thereof that holds you back,
And they start from the floor, then stack there up until they fill every crack,
Every crevice,
Every nook,
Every cranny,
Until it consumes the room that is your mind.
 
People seem to respect those with hopes, aspirations, and dreams.
But those that embody all of the above AND focus come few and far between.
 
And to be honest, I’m scared of the thought of fame and wealth.
Now, even without them, I can barely cope with myself.
I know a single poem won’t fix that,
But I figure it could help me lay my train of thought down on the right tracks.
 
And I don't even pay any mind,
To the people on the sidelines,
As if their input should influence my output.
Psssshhhhh. Please.
As if I am a willow to be swayed by the wind that is your hype,
and conform to the standards of your type.
I will NOT attune!
I will NOT abide!
 
Don't you DARE tell me what I can and can't do!
Like you know what I am and am not capable of!
You know nothing of my boundaries and limitations,
And so my thoughts will invade this country like immigration!
You see, in my perfect world common sense would be contagious!
Intelligence would be valued,
Stupidity, outrageous,
Shunned.
 
In it's current state, however, the world sheds it light on ignorance and embraces it.
We've grown complacent.
For sentience there is no replacement.
Our values have nearly evaporated like our oil,
Leaving us parched and dry for substance,
There is nothing but turmoil.
 
-J.R.