I tell you all: It is getting too late!: A poem 

You know the caretakers of your instinct 

are filling up your life 

by submerging you in instinctive drive 

How do they reckon they feel your pulse 

of your impulse, to manipulate your desires – 

make them your aspirations, even ambition! 

Do they rip apart your fledgling astuteness, 

so that you don’t even know what your mothering 

and are eager to fit into their square 

without being aware that you are being orphaned 

And you are made to believe it is a celebration for your dead, 

at least a requiem! Would you like to thus be wed; 

and your inherited antiquity to nightmarishly be bed or bled? 

I want to know if you have an iota of intuition, 

even the intelligence to discern. Your recognition 

in their eyes is when you scald the righteous 

with blame in response to their calumny against the right-thinking! 

So, intuition failed, intelligence failed, astuteness failed! 

So how do you red pencil your scarlet fever of scars? 

If you go to the optician to get your prescription glasses, 

will you be intimidated by the faint realisation 

that you are already wearing blinkers as you age 

devoid of your conscience speaking on behalf of your consciousness? 

That you are not conscious of your conscience, but of their  

misguided morality preaching at you a populistic propaganda and a piracy of your privacy 

Your consciousness never stirred as you bared naked to them 

and genuflected for them to take you from behind! 

Where would you go now, if I tell you, 

someone is crying for you who only speaks through your inner voice; 

and you didn’t listen, understand or realise…and would you thus 

think it prudent to just forego the reawakening (after all it is getting too late) 

and just make prudential providence a miscalculated bypass 

as you misadventured all the time and options in your lifetime!