Ther Vine Keeper

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Thursday, May 26, 2011

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
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
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 . . .
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.

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