rest in peace

rest in  peace

slippery silk knots of indifference

have formed a noose

around the neck

of my reason

and they are cinched tightly

when my convictions

comes for a visit

to my monogrammed gallows

to bid adieu

to what i once held

as my sacred righteousness

no, i do not wish to die

this day

nor any other

though i realize

it is required of me

i will pretend to acquiesce

to your ways

that i not be persecuted

in the streets

that all may see

and jeer at me

false light

from man made lanterns

illumines the path . . .back

herding us swineful

woeful ones

to the meat packing houses

we are weighed

measured

and numbers are statistically crunched

that our collective worth

for the market

be quantified

there is strength in numbers

for those whose wishes

sets before us

the fixed

trickonometry

we imbibe

with sorrowful deliberation

we garner self effacing credos

feigning a determined conformity

that we not be found out

knowingly sacrificing possibilities

that our children

may one day escape

the asylum we have endured

and made impregnable

just for them

the madness . . .

we submit to conjured fervors

and allow malcontent spirits

to seduce us

with logics

of no basis

the foundations of reason

that of the homes

where our hearts once resided

have crumbled

into our selfish little pools

of etheric tears

tell me

can not we see ?

it was once told us

“if thy eye offend thee

then pluck it out”

and perhaps the time has come

to mount the steed

this type of courage rides

for i no longer can bear

my reflection

nor that of this self righteousness

which characterizes

these Earth Borne Gods

that have taken root

and flourishes

within me

within you

a madness, a sickness

for which i pray to for cures

speaks to me

and tells me

with a questionable reassurance

that a cure is on the way

i wonder . . .

did i have the right zip code

when i addressed

my letters of supplication . . .

when i redressed my faithful bequest ?

did He get it yet ?

Can He Read  .. .

my language of anguish

in the expressive writings

i regurgitate and ingest

time after time

it pains me to think

i have brothers

who suffer as i do,

for though Love is not dead

somewhere in my head

i too am calculating

to exacerbating conclusions

of my confusion

i see no light

at the end of your tunnel . . .

and mine . . .

it has collapsed

along with those doctrines of gall

you fed me

i hear the desperate whispers

from the dismal shadows

of hopelessness

but i shall not listen

the noose is tightened once again

and i gulp

i swallow

hoping to clear

a bit of space

a passageway

while fighting to give breath . . .

just one Holy Breath

to my reason

that it too may be resurrected

while we are yearning

for divine intervention

and praying again for an end

to our forsaken statures

they are in the lab

concocting

new board games

to maintain our occupation

with the ideologies

they tell us that

those “knee born” offerings

 and supplications

to some unseen force

without us

is what we should trust in

is that Sin .. .  hhhhmmmmmm

and like you i too

do pray

offering the miniscule seeds

of desirous intent

to deliver me

from this state of lament

where our latent memories

remind us of our eclectic

disconnectedness

and all the other mess

we enjoy wallowing in

as we lay to rest

with our indifference

without deference

i say . .

rest in peace

22 April 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.