the Yoke ain’t even

the Yoke ain’t even

me and my inner child

locked in the closet

surrounded by all my eccentric foibles

and delusions

dancing in concentric circles

making mud puddles

of what once was clear

was it fear

that overrode our sensibilities

the appeasing

or the feasible

for which we willing

to sacrifice our better judgment

was i distracted

or sedated

when they slipped

the yoke of doctrines

and teachings

around my “Wonder”

choking of the air to my dreams

the very same air

that is required that they may fly home

where they become one

with reality . . .my reality

somewhere along this path we call life

my Zeal became a part time Soldier

in the war against my complacency

and docility

and blind acceptance

i no longer could muster

any of the busters

who enlisted in my army

to go fight for my democracy

in the name of patriotism

for there was a schism

betwixt my beliefs

and believing

that the dreams you taught me to dream

were not deceiving me

do i live

just to pay the tax

you demanded all breathing bodies

to exact

for the right to be here

i fear there may be more truth

to my lunacy that i am willing to admit

and this day you will not be acquitted

for i have submitted my soul

to judgment

and in the Court of appeal

my zeal met me at the door

and together we counted the score

and we want reparations

right after our liberation

from that yoke

you slipped around our neck

the Yoke ain’t even

© 6 July 2011 : William S. Peters, Sr.

http://innerchildpress.yolasite.com

http://justbill.yolasite.com/