Misunderstood

There is something about me, which isn't serious
No matter how hard I try to be.
People like me when I play the fool
Because I cannot trick or deceive,
But am a bumbling idiot they can lovingly condescend to.
I try... but my rude speech doesn't entice the listener.
My "Grammar" is bad, but it's that they don't want to listen.
My reasons for believing in God are not substantiated.
Though they are.
People see I am 35 and poor, and no job...
Success breeds success.
Fame, fortune, and popularity makes your word sound credible.
It could be I have solved mysteries,
But no one will care to tell.
It could be I am a silly genius which does my act in the woods---
I cannot perform for you. For I am silly.
I cannot hate Jews, or love Queerness, or wear Purple and Pink or tight fitted jeans.
Rather, people want there to be no good and to see no good.
For it is a mind virus.
Thus, life is about ingratiating the desire...
And no one ever sees there could have been more.
I am an anachronism, a relic, an artefact;
An imitation of older times.
I am new, and old, and modern, and archaic;
Futuristic and anachronistic and ancient.
Shall my time come in this lifetime? Where I can eat, drink and merry?
No... for all want to eat drink and merry their way
Which has no love;
I need love to be happy, and that resource is vanishing like the wind.
And that's all I ever had to say, was we need love.
Not John Lennon's love, but real love.
Not the Hippy's version of the Gay's.
Real love.

"Love is love."
Yes... and you know nothing about it.