the clock is ticking

the clock is ticking

you could hear the growling

of their stomachs

they were hungry

the wailing sounds

of the lost children

of creation

were in need of peace

though they wore smiles

upon their faces

behind the masks

there prevailed an emptiness,

for the demons within

had sucked the essence of life

from the marrow of their bones

they now belonged to the world

for too many years of indulgence

in the game

had intoxicated them,

then possessed them

and told them

this was all real

the feelings they had

for one another

were no longer . .

not even  . . .

faint memories

too many meals of acquiescence

and compliance

fed and furthered their fears

no one wanted to be seen

or noticed

to express one’s convictions

of righteousness

had become a dangerous affair

and persecution

was sure to follow

so they wore smiles . . .

smiles of pretense

that all things in life

were fine and dandy,

but life’s candy

was a poison

they could not

would not

survive

no one gets out alive

if you choose not

to lay down your life . . .  this life

surely it will be taken from you

just watch and see

your surreality

become reality

their eyes, those of the people

where dull and listless

evidencing the lost of connection

to the Holy World

the twinkle of wonder

that glistened in those

all seeing portals

had faded

gladed

become glazed over

and that is a stated truth

the youth were no more

for children were born
bourne

only to adorn

the burdens of life

which awaited their arrival

survival of the fittest,

get this

it did not matter

none had a vested interest

in the morrow . . .

for some stench

greater than sorrow

was rotting

and festering

decaying

the hearts of men

with it’s putrid celebrations

sin you say ?

who gave a damn

there were no plans

to span the abyss

from peoples desolations

back to salvation

there was but

indifference

and callousness . . .

oh what a mess

have we made

and as i journeyed

through the nightmare

about me fear did abide

none could hide

in nor out side

for all that was ever worthy

had died

or was in way of dying

as we were vying

for absolution

through meaningless prayer

the flowers and the butterflies

only came in Black and White

and did not show themselves

in day nor night

the total absence of light

for there was not a moon anymore

and i, with all due impunity

put forward my left foot

touching my toes

to the ground before me

flexing my arch

taking my first step

for i have kept myself

here,

much too long

and the song

calling me

calling you

calling us all

must be heard

and acted upon

before the last vestiges

of time is gone

hear me

the clock is ticking

© Spring 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.