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torturing them with outdated, misguided meanness?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.
Copyright © Dave Collins | Year Posted 2023
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