So what is it,
really, that we’re doing?
The question is
asked
Allowed to hang in
the air between you and me
Between us
As we stare blankly
Because obviously
something is lacking
It is evident, even
without irrefutable backing
That the curtain is
drawn and the lights are turned off
And the voices are
shushed
And all that was, is
and will be said
Has been penned,
scratched, blotted, backspaced
Double underlined
Placed in
parenthesis
Punctuated
Spell-checked
Polished in every
area
In order to hide a
not so subtle case of dyslexia
Suffered by a mass
of masses;
Propagated by a mass
of asses.
I ask again,
What is it, really,
that we’re doing?
Binding ourselves
because we’re sadists in love with slavery
Layers and layers of
chains
Whose links bear
name
Names that must be
named
For in the naming
lies the power
Whose seat is
knowledge
Liken unto a plant
which grows and flower at the fullness
Do not think me
waylaid, or, off set path digress
Set to purpose I
progress
To the naming of demonic
links that we ourselves have allowed
Smugness
Greed
Envy
Hatred
Lies
Condescension
And still we bind
ourselves
Jealousy
Laziness
Spite
Pride
All corruption and
corruption all
What are we doing
with ourselves?
Are we such that we
are content with incompleteness
With the broken and
diseased
Is this the new
definition and ideal of progression?
Is half the new complete?
Is nothing the new all?
Is empty the new
full?
Is broken the new
whole?
Is fallen the new
risen?
To what purpose do
we trod?
We were not designed
to be reigned in
To share hearth and
home with mediocrity
We were created
within a blessing
And by such we
should live
Striving to be forever
greater than now
To tap into and
harness that god-element within and without
Till it echoes
throughout the cosmos
Washing on the
shores of stars beyond distant
Resonating in
harmonics as to the level of even the sub-atomic
It’s to that end
that we do not wait
That we are able as
manifestations of the greater
Being able to create
Rather than destroy
To be humble instead
of allowing
You, me, us, we to
crumble
Oh sistren!
I can hear you
Understand please
that I can hear you bredren
The cry that sleeps
between each word
Each line
Each verse
Each rhyme
Tell us
Tell me
Tell her
Tell him
About the lost art
of forgiveness and mercy
Of patience
Of Perseverance
Of love and
appreciation
Of open arms
Of soft words and
gentle touch
Of consideration
Of caring and
sharing
Of selflessness
Of consideration
Of tenderness
Of being humble
Of gratitude
No we have not lost
ourselves
Asleep yes
Distracted yes
Lift your head up
LIFT IT UP MAN
And take back your
life…,
My life…
Our lives…
Glen Toussaint
2012©
