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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.
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