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minds untethered,

loosed in the realm

where thoughts float on by,

souls crying to be at ease,

vying to appease,

denying the easy way

we could travel

with unraveled intentions

he got honorable mention

in the current catalog

of Lucifer de la Sol

where the Dogs of the day

have their way

the carnage laid

upon the varnished table tops

offered  us an illusory respite

‘cause we could see our selves

faintly

in dark reflective saloons

and the lights are dimmed

we were inebriated

with our beliefs

adopted from vagrant

misguided missionaries

who diligently did their jobs

corralling the innocence

of those who would offer a meal

of Thanksgiving

because that is how their hearts worked

later they laced the blankets

with intentions of conquest

and death

for they had not the courage

to fight through

life challenging constraints

for they had no integral convictions

were not they subsequently

to call their kinfolk

Saints

that you and i

may have reason

to worship them

instead of that which we knew

to be true

we are the Natives

in a now lost world

they conspired

and started a fire

burning through

the tattered rags

of our reason

and they said

let us burn a few more at the stake

in the name of something

call them whatever you like

the die of dispersion is cast

make up something

anything will do

for now

for we write the history books

and we justify our own ways

and later we shall

feed them rote

that they may forget

the grandeur

and stature

of who they once were

let them put the ropes

around their own necks

and hang from that tree yonder

call it salvation

if you must

hang more letters around the necks

that we may identify them

as not of us

we have slain the King’s children

and waste our spoils

upon the face

and womb of the Mother

that she too

would be sickened

and not sustain

naught but the pains

and the pouring forth

of the disdain

of those who realize not

that we are not

playing a game here

this is for keeps

and if the correct metaphors are employed

and language given

we can deploy the sheep

to further our private agendas

even while we rest

upon the beaches of luxury

they pay for

happily

we will insinuate that there are doors

by which they may escape

and we have no concerns,

for they have no faith

in their own light

by day

by night

by prayers

by flight

for their fancies

are not of foot

nor are they winged

by spirit

give them a book to study

and mix the motor oil

with vinegar

that they may service our engines

while tossing our salads

and we will laugh

with an unmitigated glee

who has the power

to glean this wheat

from it’s chaff

no worries

they have forgotten the name

and their resonant memories fail them

as they assail the illusions

that they can overcome

while claiming ownership

to the smokeless lies

they think still burns

and yearns for them

paint the path

they dream of

with a soapy like silica

that their continual fall

will manifest

for their footholds

are not sure

nor steady

we will celebrate

and let them laugh amiss

at their own slovenly ways

and slothful attitudes

that refuses to be empowered

by a simple reading

of the directions

on the cans

of their cosigned miseries

we have done our purpose

with a diligent duty

and now we control all things

save their ability to love one another

but soon,

even that will fall to our mastery

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we are manufacturing more shackles

to enslave them as we speak

© 15 August 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

http://www.iaminnerchild.com/

http://www.innerchildpress.com/