Ther Vine Keeper

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Saturday, January 7, 2012

smack me dammit till i wake up

smack me dammit till i wake up

i walked the street
in the neighborhood
i looked in the windows
and they were empty

sure, there were bodies
i called to them
and all i heard
was my own voice
within the empty chambers
where souls once lived

there was furniture
with imprints in the seats
where spirits once sat
and laughed

the walls were that dirty old City grey
like the Bus Stations
by deluded reflections
for i saw myself

like the ghost town
our neighborhoods became
i too was cold
and quickly approaching
the gates where one could not pass
holding on too the ass of compassion
but i held on any way

the alleys
where we kids used to take shortcuts through
were empty
no place to hide
or surprise each other
for who wanted to play anymore
i mean everything
was now too serious

and seriously
the ominous clouds of life
were becoming much too much
did i say that before ?
much too much
well that is what it is

people had let go
taking care of business
was the new flow
of the people you know
yeah right
i looked in
and i saw emptiness

i don’t know
what i was expecting
sunshine perhaps
finger snaps
hand claps
cause i was in town

something inside me laughs
at the self effacing metaphor life presents
or should i say forces upon us
with our blind consent ?

and i laugh again
for i am much too familiar
with my own sarcasm
which has now filled this void
this chasm
where i used to be warm

so in my disconnected purveyance
i took a chance
and hollered
i screamed
and there was silence
for no one
i mean no one
heard my voice
that of the lost
who walk our streets

smack me dammit till i wake up

(c) 7 January 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

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