Ther Vine Keeper

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Sunday, November 6, 2011

i live on the precipice . . . of continual tears



i live on the precipice
of continual tears

i stand at the banks of the river
where man’s anguish
flows into forgetfulness
that ocean where all is lost
and tossed to and fro
upon the waves of absolution

i continually ask
what is the solution
to this pain in my heart
will i find cessation
upon the breasts of another lovely
who pretends they know of love

who i ask
is willing to sacrifice life
at such a level of denial
through life’s trials
and tribulations
and travail

my tears are right here
waiting for reason
to speak the liquid-ness
of their being-ness
for man seems
to be seeing less
as time marches forward

and toward that direction
of inflection
seeking detection
to enact election
of more than an erection
our correction
of this deflection
to the convection
of divine connection
within our circumspection
is but suspect
as we seek to detect
that we have the power
to elect
who we are
who we want to be
and how we see our selves

and we are blindsided
by our blinded
aspirations
for celebration
without deliberation
lacking the elation
to foster elevation
of spirit
and understanding
of the equation
in this situation
for we have lost
our persuasion
to enact liberation
or balance
for the valance
has been pulled
shut
and there is not light

but
what are we to do
do you know
or are you just blowing smoke
while i choke
with the yoke
of your reason
season after season
while trying to be pleasing
while you are teasing me
with the goodies

and all the children
and the hoodies
put on their footies
to keep from cutting their feet
in the street
where completeness
can not be found
upon the ground
in any town
and momma still got her night gown on
curlers in her hair
for she ain’t caring
about such things
while Sarah
sings
with her Vaughness
and this mess
goes on
and on
and on
beyond the break of dawn
and this is the test
i think
as we sink
to the murky bottom
of this sea
where no one sees
naught but the pleas
of the hungry children
in the wilderness

and if you do not understand
the demands
of this man
i understand
how you feel
if you feel
anything at all
that is real
which is why
i do call
this day
for a new way
and until someone says
the magic word
that can be heard
by the herd
in this absurd
contextual
inflexual
surreality
of humanity
immersed
in insanity
i shall stand here
on the precipice of tears
continually
feel me


(c) 6 November 2011 : William S. Peters, Sr.

5 comments:

Martina said...

This is so beautiful! "A precipice of tears..." what an image!

UNMUTEDINK said...

POWERFUL INTROSPECTION of waiting on the edge for a response... LOVED IT!!

W. S. Peters, Sr. said...

|Dear Martina and Jamie . . . .i am humbled and honored by your presence and comments . . .
blessings
bill

Joyce Little White Dove said...

Beautiful My Friend

W. S. Peters, Sr. said...

i thank you Dear Joyce .. .
blessings and love
bill