my Easter looks like this

my Easter looks like this

sometimes we act out the role

of that helpless Toddler

of our World

our Diapers are soiled

and need a changing

the Urine

and other things we Piss and Moan about

while hoping for a miraculous change

has soured and transmuted

into a caustic flavoring

encapsulating our existence

and like the Ammonia it produces

it is slowly burning the skin

from our delusions

we are no longer comfortable

with the way things are

are we ?

our caretakers

the Pharisaic Parasites

no longer

have a negligent eye

they have NO EYE

that remotely resembles nor cares

or concerns its self

about the charge it, they were elected

selected

to keep

and the people, the children weep

while looking for that Saviour promised us

and our keepers of the Throne

treat us as the Drones that we are

and they just keep on doing

what they “Will”

caring not for the people

the children

nor the home

we must all endure

for as the Gods they think themselves to be

they do what they “Will”

any damn time they wish

this is my Social Commentary

for the querulous ones

the ones who see no Sun

in their days

for the tainted corrupt ways

takes away all of our shine

and there is nothing . . . NOTHING

passive nor sublime

about this

like Cyndi Lauper says . . . .

“time after time”

our life rhymes are forced

and of course

we need this brief reprise

to give some semblance of hope

to adorn our eyes

and our dreams

with unrealized possibilities

and potentials

of what may come to be

i pray our Children do not reflect

our image, our Sums

but as they say

“The Apple does not fall far from the Tree”

So i ask . . . what kind of Tree are we ?

What Fruit do we bear ?

Am i to be cursed as that Fig Tree upon the Road

that feeds not the Hungry ?

Careful . . . the Stranger may be thy Saviour

so Save me my Brethren

Save me my Lorde

from my self !

Lorde please help us to see the “Way”

because this day

that comes upon us

we must crucify someone

and my hands

my feet

can no longer hold any nails

for the meat on my bone

is frail and lacking substance

when will we too be resurrected

and rise above

our difficulties

our challenges

our will-less-ness

we the people

the sheeple

like i, like you, like we

who know not what we do ?

what are we going to do know . . .

humph . . .

continue sitting at the foot of that cross

and watch and jeer

and cheer

as we go about the letting

of our blood

and that of others

our Sisters

our Brothers

throughout Creation ?

is it done yet ?

Progenitor, Father of all things

we come to you

requesting you visit upon us

Your Grace

and may that be sufficient.

for i am tired

and

my Easter looks like this.

© 29 March 2013 : william s. peters, sr.