hup 2 – 3 – 4

hup 2 – 3 – 4

walking Zombies

like Abercrombie

without Fitch

unhitched

from the truth

of our higher selves

man, life’s a bitch

when we try to stitch

our reason to a reality

can you see my soul’s eye flitch

for it can not connect

to what it can not detect

in this suspect

imagining

and perhaps

the chaps that cowboy wears

will not abate his fears

of a sore ass

so he takes another pass

in the class

of Bronc busting

while lusting

for that prize

that all eyes

vies for

to be number one

and the Lorde said

Son . . .

you always have been number one

but no one was home

to answer the door

when He came calling

to teach that cowboy, me

the art of falling

that i would not get all broken up

hup 2 – 3 – 4

and the soldiers keep marching

to the Drum

of those beats

for the “Dumb Downed Ones”

who Hum along

to the song

of illusion

created

to make you feel

satiated

though you had nothing to eat

nor drink

but you still somehow

unbelievably

think

you are full

filled

with more than that shit you ate

that deluded you to extricate

any chance

you had to dance

in the light of your own being

and the Ancients and Saints

are pleading

with the children

to awaken

and realize

that all that we have forsaken

can be taken

up again

if we but learn to

shake it up again

and learn to

bake it

and break it

that bread again

that bread of life

where rife

is the order of the day

and the way

we walk

talk

and cease to balk

the love of one another

thy brother

thy sister

cause mister

if we do not heed now

our seed somehow

will pay our cost

for our being lost

as we are tossed

into that wasted abyss

a price no one can afford

and that golden Chord

of the Divine

which troubles our mind

will unravel

if we continue to travel

this path

of

walking Zombies

like Abercrombie

without Fitch

unhitched

from the truth

of our higher selves

hup 2 – 3 – 4

(c) 8 November 2011 : William S. Peters, Sr.