keep screaming . . .

keep screaming

his soul was incessantly screaming

into that abysmal void

where the canyon of his own nothingness

swallowed his anguish

without notice

or pertinence

to meaning

and his consciousness

always minimized

it’s seemingly import

through it’s disconnected logic

and deducements

for which the humane have no use

yet mind is always suspect

always seduced

by some distraction from truth

there were no echoes

save that of his own hollowness

reverberating upon the shallowness

of his thin reflections

of self

his cries were empty

and colorless

and embodied but a chaff

of what men used to be

the world had lost it’s vitality

and in his dismal evaluations

he no longer offered

heart felt salutations

to life’s used to be luster

for all about him

he saw too much suffering

and no matter how he rationalized

eyes opened

or closed

he could not dispose

of the visualizations

he conjured through his fellow man’s pain

and the tones of the whining babies

across the earth

never waned

and all he saw

was the inane

becoming more demanding

looking for new ways

to exercise their greed

perhaps that is why

his cries had no sound

have they stolen that too

what else

would the vultures of goodness do

and how much is enough

do they know

do you

behind the walls he hides

he knows these walls are but delusions

a self created illusion

where he could be safe

from the sound of the gunfire

he could hear it in his soul

he tired, like so many others

of the news of Wars

brothers against brothers

and the bonds of love

we once cherished

saw Families

and communities

and Nations

and Humanity

perish

right before his CNN eyes

funny how we are no longer surprised

out raged

that we allowed this sickness

out the cage

and the scores of elitist

who jockeyed for a better position

to get higher in the pecking order

while people are starving

diseased

Daughters abused

Sons losing their Light

as we embrace the nightmares

as something peaceful

and a respite from our realities

and our rulers

can only measure borders

substantiated by

who has the bigger . . .

stick

go figure that rationale

but in the end

my hope will be resolved

this is how my soul

finds it’s own reconciliation

in it’s denial of any affiliation

with the death march

being orchestrated by the blind ones

i shall continue to scream in the wilderness

and speak the word

and some day our voices will be heard

beyond the void

and the balance will come about

with a fury

and no jury will be able to acquit

the dark

when the light enters

and takes it’s rightful place

upon the throne of our souls

keep screaming

© 25 May 2011 : William S. Peters, Sr.