Sauntering on with brisker trots

There’s no news
To amuse,
No clues
To put to use
The insight
To invite
Peace of mind
And other things of its kind.

No right song
For the mood to muse,
No right book
For the mind to peruse,
No right man
For the lady luck to seduce,
And the writer’s block,
Deliberately being obtuse.

Who else to accuse,
What more to lose
To lose or to enthuse
Is for me to choose.

Feeling accused
And abused
To a bitch
I’m reduced,
But there are miles to go,
Lots to do
Desires to conqre,
And strength to induce.

No hostilities to spew
Calling for positivity to ooze
Sauntering on with brisker trots
To beautify lives in all the world’s hues.