and the parade begins

and the parade begins

run feet run ...

wailing

in travail

on every other corner

in the cities

and every steeple

that could be found

pities abound

solemn huh Ma ?

people kneeling

before altars

paying reverent obeisance

in the shadows of crosses

tears flowing . . .

i think

prayers and praises being

shouted

all touting

that phrase

“in remembrance of me”

see Ma . . . i told you

it is time

man finally facing a light

perhaps reckoning

offering sacrifices . . .

what is the meaning

to their hearts ?

i wonder

i ask . . .

will they suffice

once a year . . .

even twice

or thrice

still yet denied

denying

could they be lying

while lying those burdens down

only to pick up

where they left off ?

no wonder the tears

queer huh ?

Holy week

a whole week

of torture

carrying crosses

on display

making sure all can see

their burdens on display

is this

for the strong

or the weak ?

i surmise . . .

with eyes closed

another convenient fairy tale ?

or is this folklore

for the folk

who need it

everybody

is hunting for eggs i think

and that golden goose

they call Jesus

what’s the use i ask

me and the drunken ones

sip from our flask again

for the reflection of men

i see

when i look at me

looks good

in a quixotic concussive manner

from this point of inebriation

the psychedelic situational deliberation

it is tolerable now

defibrillate that heart

but tomorrow

when the celebratory times cease

will i again find peace

in the doctrines of my delusional embraces

those jaded systems

of justifications ?

WORD . . .

i shake my head

cause i know

that God knows

who i am

but i don’t like it,

Him seeing me like this

just like i don’t like those assholes

that compel me to remember

to turn the other cheek

yeah, turn the other cheek

so they can kiss my . . .

so goes the story

our paths to the glory

carrying burdens of guilt

while our inner lights wilt

before the throne

can you spell “F-O-R-G-I-V-E-N-E-S-S” ?

GOOD FOR YOU !

i should have known you’d see

that when this time of year comes

we all too soon forget

what ills we have let

and still yet

will seek

when this week is over

and out

perhaps that is the blessing

the brevity of man’s confessing

sins ?. . .  hah . . . amen

and the parade begins

it’s Easter again

© Easter 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.