The Ocean, as a Haven

It is my desire, more and more by the day
To build myself a raft, and on an ocean current
Allow the bed of wood and nails to drift away
Far from this land of overzealous discontent
To leave it all behind, to be lost and gone
To the whims of the wind and the ocean pull
No more preachers of doom, hollering from dawn
Till the dusk of my slumber draws me into its lull

For I am too poor to buy your copious wares
I am too deaf to hear your endless rants
To this madness I have lost many years
What sanity I encounter has become scant
Noise for the sake of drowning out your neighbor
The loudest, most brutal voice holds the real truth
The trick is to lean politically with great ardor
With the jargon of a bona fide conspiracy sleuth

I will built my raft out of what I have
Hobbes and Plato for the foundation
Melville for the mast, my church's stave 
For the floor I accept Cohen's donation
Then I wait for the currents to take me
So that my raft may chase the wind and run
Over waves of solitude and the endless sea
Where I can mediate and escape, for I am done