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The Glass Shackles

~for those who will read this and weep~

 

*the quiet ones,

the silent Job ones,

who quote not from the

Book of Lamentations,

but author their own,

based on-the-job experience

 

localized versions of cryptic elegiacs

accepting the wooden crosses borne,

stepping up to the

unrequested unforeseen,

then buried under, burnt alive,

yet never relieved by dying,

nailed by words, stronger than iron,

promises sworn, promises kept

with no ending date relief,

promises by and to themselves,

but not for themselves!*

 

*the wearers of crystal glass shackles,

adorned with decorative locks for which

no key did the maker make,

nor any divine creator

dare conceive an early release,

never no escape contemplated,

for the lock human, unrepentant unbreakable,

a decorative useless metaphor gesture,

a blunt “life ***** advertisement

 

I compose amidst a

bus pond of mismatched city folk,

a tapestry of ages colors and differing views on god/no god,

none would believe that as the bus sways me,

it’s in rhythm to holy choral music,

hundreds year old,

divinity masses and motets worships,

where one human can hide temporarily

a safe house,

to calm his questioning relentless

from the horrors of no answers,

for when the mind has no solution

to the rough and tumbling lives,

lived in glass shackled confinement,

the poets desperation equals theirs*

 

*summon eagles to transport these imprisoned,

but the shackled refuse,

I come to them but they wave me off,

I go crazy for once I was enslaved,

thirty years war that left devastation,

from which so many poems created

 

so I speak with heightened regard

of one who planned futures for others where his

non-existence was a founding father (ha!)*

 

*but the day came and

I was released by my own inactions,

but means nothing until a way to

away found

to release the yet bound early*

 

got a couch, airline miles, hundred dollars

in my pocket and an unrelenting need

to save them, a consumption disease,

the glass shackled, at ease,

won’t rest till all are freed

this my creed

no one left behind

 

these cyber words do not mock

for they are unbounded, set free,

when

the flesh connects and the needs of the flesh

are stronger for they are in heart conceived

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Written by
bus-poet-stop
Published
Jun 23, 2018
Lines·Words
68·370
Tags
#glass#shackles#buspoetstop
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