Ther Vine Keeper

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Saturday, March 17, 2012

i need my sleep

i need my sleep

standing but a dimension apart
the beasts wait at the gate
with an certain knowing
licking the lips of their anticipation
for a time
when the seventh veil falls
and they will devour
the consciousness of man

greed is their avarice
and they dance in celebratory wonders
with full bellies
for they have gorged themselves before
when the door we open
allows them in

sin you say
i laugh
this shit is real

we feel their presence
and yet we find false comforts
and solace
in the laced web
of our delusions

we justify our paths
and our indifference
while lying to ourselves
saying “i see the light”
“light lies”
are still lies
no matter
what we believe
or conceive them to be

you see,
far too long
we have embraced the indoctrinations
of false demigods
and our “free Will”
has been subverted
and we know longer remember
the feeling of what divine truly is
do we ?

we but wish to sleep
thoughts lethargically dancing
in our subconscious reason
are we safe ?

but the demons
respect not
our illusory boundaries of being

the lips of the trumpeter
who calls to our souls
begin to bleed . . .
and he reasons that our salvation
is futile
but his duty
he still meets
with every breath

i lay my “hands on”
splintered crosses
which no longer
can sustain a nail
yet i say within my justified reason
that life is a journey
of continual crucifixions
is it ?
where be my rest

how can one be resurrected
without a death ?
are we but soulless beings
pretending to be ?
i wonder at times
is it me ?

we run from our inner truths
saying we want salvation
but we extend not a hand
instead we grasp the lies we tell our selves
we would rather make a fist
and strike out
at the reflective self of our brothers

with insensitive cold hearts
we pretend to be compassionate
as long as it is convenient
and non bothersome

prayers . . .  ha
to what do we offer our obeisance
that unknown God of Books
i have to ask you
what about Life’s Book ?
what is in your heart ?

the bell is ringing
the temples are being consumed
empty pews filled with bodies
and somewhere
stands the child of creation
assuming we will be moved
again i laugh

my sarcasm
has become my epitaph
as again this day i die
as we vie for more lies
to take the place
of those dispelled
quelled by the light of revelation
and epiphanies
that which we turn our backs upon
and act not upon

perhaps it is but meant to be
a mystery
this awakening thing

so i ask that supposed
higher consciousness
can i go back to sleep
for . . .
i am tired of it’s reason
it troubles me to be unveiled
the light hurts my eyes
and besides . . .
i need my sleep

© 16 March 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

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