Inquisition Ills

the remoteness of our lives leaves us vulnerable to beleaguered domestico-socio lies from out past. free spirit offspring suffer the outrageous slings and arrows of parental misfortunes. our love questioned existence rehearsed weighs them down from once of constant smiles, to frightened, forlorn, frivolous frowns. we bathe them in our born-again baggage, murdering their true inter-be spirit to frenzied, postmortem parental put downs. will we ever lean their presence is one of holy matrimony to be-ness, to want, to plan to have and to hold in foreverness? Not of stupid, misguided sexual folly, torturing them with outdated, misguided meanness? Let us live, love, trust as they grow. If the meek shall inherit this Earth, they will learn to replicate our lost, latent legacies. oneness to none-noneness to one And the beaten go on to adultress ruin. Behold----------another child is born.