energy . . .

energy

i remember the way of the dark

before light souls adorned the skies of night

we had no fear

for darkness was yet differentiated from light

they resided as one

energy

and then the word was spoken

which created duality

and thus all thing were separate

yet the same

energy

thought began to multiply

like the virus’ they are

feeding on each other

needing but a wisp of substance

to substantiate their right to exist

energy

we began to build things

in our imaginings

manifesting thought to word

word to deed

deed to things

energy

then came that little nasty one

“mine”

further creating polarity

from nothingness

dividing bounty

for he could count

energy

and the way of the dark

comes about once again

to reclaim

all things

even the light

energy

© 30 August 2011 : William S. Peters, Sr.

he was home

he was home

they spoke of such things

as Soul Mates

Twin Flames

and imagined of the times past

could it have been

they were once “one”

yes, it is a possibility

for there was something she had

that belonged to him

and he could feel it

since he could remember

he was ever propelled forward

searching

seeking

something

never quite connecting

with the essence

nor nomenclature

nor characteristic

of what that vacant space in his soul

needed

and there she was

gracefully standing in his path

filled with a dancing

magical aura

a divine light show

whose tentacles reached out

and embraced him

yes, this was it

it had to be

for there was a peace that overcame him

and he knew he was home

again

© 29 August 2011 : William S. Peters, Sr.

the fallacy

the fallacy

beyond the understandings

of mortal men

there is the absence

of footprints in the garden

and our consciousness has yet to be spoiled

nor contained

by the boundaries

of morality

this does not go to say

there is not balance

for Karma still yet prevails

but she wears an unblemished aura

and stands naked

before the eyes of the divine

for there is not a word

for sin

again and again

we have approached it’s gate

only to cower in fear

of the perceivable unknown

yet we faintly remember such things

and we call it unconditional love

a travesty to truth

before  the advent of the keeping

of time

when weeping was not yet invented

there was but a bliss

that prevailed

in our hearts

and the song that continually played

that which the butterflies still hear

that which caused us to skip in wonder

absent of conviction

for no one judged

for there was not a need

the Adam knew not of temptation

for what we call innocence

was but the way

and a serpent was but a serpent

until the children

had need to blame

so thus the story was created

aptly to cover faults we ourselves embody

for we believe not in our own eternities

sanctioned

and bound here

we cling to the myth

while soulfully knowing

we have all the truths

for that is our breath

and our understandings

of mortal me

the fallacy

© 20 August 2011 : William S. Peters, Sr.

Mount Kyllini

Mount Kyllini

the temporal fabric

cloaked the wonder of man

and consciousness

could not pierce the veil

the Seven Sisters were gleeful

for their plan

appeared to be succeeding

raining false hopes

capturing the wills of men

as nymphs do

they defiantly deceived

our aspirations

yet we reached to embrace them

and their allure

as they danced

in the cradle of the Bull

their bitterness and anguish

knew no end

since the death of Hyas

whose nobility

was their guide of a higher order

they have weeped for aeons

inside

as they exacted their misdirection

upon Father’s pride

men

suicide was a consideration

when Atlas went on journey beyond

but eternity would not release them

from it’s grasp

so they blinded all they could see

that their errant judgments

would only be disclosed

in the inner light

of those who knew

of the legend of Arcadia

upon the Mount Kyllini

it is mine

it is mine

i sit here

exposed and raw

willing

vulnerable

and

receptive

Brother Wind comes

dancing about me

caressing my skin

tickling my consciousness

into heightened awareness

animated He is

reaching in

to magical places

within me

i visit not often enough

2 eyes closed

1 eye open

i am in the garden

where the imaginings of men

are seeded

take root

sprout

blossom

and bear fruit

to our expectations

for in this realm

whatever i deem

becomes real

i realize

that i have personified

my Brother

Wind

and He follows

the Law of Source

“reciprocity”

and personifies me

as He dances

teases

appeases

Destiny’s call

there are whisperings

being actualized

manifesting

becoming my truths

of this moment

the Trees sway

in gentle acknowledgment

and their leaves applaud

the brilliant marvel

of this epiphanic moment

and my soul smiles

there are Flowers

smiling as well

blooming

blossoming

imparting fragrance

concording the symbiosis

of Brother Wind and i

for Source being Source

answers the call

of all hearts

and as i withdraw

from the Garden

and the Magic

held in this moment

my Soul blows kisses

upon it’s own reflection

exemplifying

a love of “Self”

“Self”

which is a part

of all things

and all things

are a part of me

so i pick the proverbial Flower

press it to my Heart

touching my Dreams

and i know

that

this moment is eternal

and it is mine

© 30 August 2011 : William S. Peters, Sr.

Night Movements

Night Movements

a semi soft

semi cool

night wind

blowing remnants of memories

through my soul

i reach to grab the tails

as they teasingly

tickle flashes of times

into my nowness

there is a rumbling i hear

echoing from the distance

over the peaks of mountains

that stand quietly

in the obscurity

for darkness prevails

what ails me

what fails me i ask

the thunder is shaking

the very air

and Mother is quaking softly

making me take notice

that all is not quite sound

there must be clouds

for the stars too

have been cloaked

and are not prominently

displaying their wonder

they only peek intermittently

at me

as i peek at them

these are movement of the night

and the lights are dimmed

about me

and within

there goes a flash

as the cache of static

has another go at it

discharging it’s prominence

and it’s dominance

of awareness

for we all know of the lightening

and what it can do

enlightening the night

with it’s eclectic dance

enhancing

what moment before

was not seen

and the night shifts

slightly aright

emulating day

with  it’s own brilliance

in

Night Movements

and the rains are on their way

© 28 August 2011 : William S. Peters, Sr.

but we exorcised them didn’t we

but we exorcised them

didn’t we

the ghosts of wisdom

have been exorcised

from their homes

and now the houses

of our consciousness

are vacant

with for sales

and rental signs

adorning the neighborhood

our thoughts and beliefs

now are on the market

and the rental agents

and realtors

are bustling about

making deals

for whomever

can afford

to occupy the space

to the highest bidder

goes my allegiance

and my obeisance

and obedience

is still suspect

i detect

for we are all looking

for answers

to questions

that can only be formulated

in soul

and the instructions told us

by those who came

before us

have failed us

was it trust

we were supposed to engage

before our faith

so saith the Lorde

and the horde of beings

are fleeing

institution

seeking solution

to the eternal longing

and we listen

to the sirens songs

ushered forth

on the faint winds of illusion

and the demons await us

to infect us

with the eternal germ

where we will willingly submit

for one breath of fair air

we bargain away things

that belong not to us

as the universe

stand in silent witness

to those of us

who have not yet honed

our hearing

for we have spent

too much time fearing

the ghosts of wisdom

who once occupied

our houses of consciousness

but we exorcised them

didn’t we

© 28 August 2011 : William S. Peters, Sr.

this Crisp Autumn Morning

this Crisp Autumn Morning

it is a Crisp Autumn Morning
the Sun peeks through the Trees
bathing the Wood’s Canopy with it’s Light
There is a stillness
as the Trees stand in reverence to my Prayer
Brother Wind has stilled
and He too ceases his travels
as we pay homage to Life.
My breath of inspiration has a lucid touch
and i watch it’s energy touch the makings of who i am
awakening me.
i breath out and i see my breath of light
flow out to greet the world in Holiness.
i am now reconnected.
i again know that i am.

within the silence, the stillness
i feel the small voice of my child
brightly beaming
for again there is a hope that lives
exuberantly dancing in the garden of my visions
partaking of the Fruits of my Soul
that i have collected since the first Aeon of Life
Yes, we are dancing and smiling and singing
to life
with life
for we are life
this Crisp Autumn Morning


(c) 14 October 2010 : William S. Peters, Sr.

in my embrace

in my embrace

i have held you for aeons

in a place

that only my imaginings can touch

for your beauty is too sacred

for the world

when i hold your picture

in my mind

my soul bows in reverence

for you are of the Holy

a place that only Gods know of

i look at my life

and the grandeur of hope

the bounty of dreams

and i realize

that you are that epiphany

i have always prayed for

my spirit is that of the child

skipping across the meadows of life

where flowers are dancing

and butterflies prancing

for they hear the song

of my glee

i have found in thee

and if need be

i will hold you again

til the end

of all perceptions of time

beyond this rhyme

we call the infinite

beyond eternity

for now

you are here with me

in my embrace

© 28 August 2011 : William S. Peters, Sr.

"sweet" . . . with Video and Spoken Word

SWEET

love has

broken me in a million pieces

time and time again

only to come and say

“i’m sorry”

love has walked in

and out of my life

so many times

in my dreams

and my realities

there is a rut where she has tread

leaving un-erasable footprints

in the garden of my heart

and i keep getting stuck

in the that rut

time after time

i now have a ladder

to save myself

that i will not drown

when this garden is watered

with the tears

that fill this hole

that rut

i have poked a hole

in my heart

of which it’s purpose

is to let go

of all the anxieties

that over come me

and my reason

each “Love Season”

cause when in love

we don’t think right . . . do we ?

i remember all the heart breaks

the ones i received

and the ones i think i gave

but who has time to count

for love is at my door

once more

ringing that bell

asking to borrow another cup

of my sugar

SWEET

© 27 August 2011 : William S. Peters, Sr.

and i bleed

and i bleed

my love

the acute pains of denial

wields a dulled knife

which is carving your name

upon the walls of my heart

for it belongs to you

my tears are red

with the blood of my longings

for again

in this life time

we miss the mark

and the Gods tell me of hope

and i spit

fearingly

upon such notions

time is not honest

for it whispered aeons ago

that this time would come

when we again would commune

but it never spoke

of the prevailing space

and the absence

of being face to face

that i may feel

the lyrical dance of your eyes

as they caress

my presence

i want to feel your breath again

upon my neck

as you breath life

into my imaginings

that they may take shape

in the form

of our eternal embrace

let me again

taste the passions

your bear

only for me

and our union

of love

i sit and exact this query

that i shall bury yet again

in my soul

my expectations

along with those whisperings of old

when i cried for you

died for you

yet,

never denied you

and here we go again

the hauntings of life cycles

attempting to cajole us

with promise

of the morrow

but naught

can erase this sorrow

this day

nor that

which i still remember

of when

the denizens

of our desires

were actualized

in the eyes

of all  who were blessed

to witness such things we shared

yet again

this path

seems too damned familiar

so i sit and i ponder

half heartedly

the possibilities

and though the Sun

still lives in my heart

i shall veil it’s light

for now

i wish but to be alone

in this night

and howl to the moon

the song of my anguish

as i impugn

it’s verity

for the language of this love

this longing

this rending

of my soul

can not be forgiven

nor defended

for the Gods

have cleaved the dream

of our oneness

once more

they have closed the door

with my fingers in the hasp

and while i hold on

for that last breath

waiting for you

and i

i shall deny

this advent of fate

and my longings

shall never dissipate

for it is you

who inhabits

all vestiges of who i am

and who my heart belongs to

was made for

and your name alone

is carved upon it’s walls

my inner sanctum

and i bleed

© 26 August 2011 : William S. Peters, Sr.

disconnected again

disconnected again

all the information one could ever want

about you, but you still don’t understand

people selling peanuts

at the Circus

and Clowns

all around

buying the Cotton Candy

letting the kids

get all sticky

and the lesson’s remnants

endures

got a Wet Nap ?

Daddy wants a Beer

or two

or a few

yes, let us drink our convictions

into submission

or at least try

and the clowns

all around

are crying

with laughter

painted upon their faces

the Ringmaster dressed

to distinguish him self

from the rest

of the performers

and the daring ones

swinging in the air

letting go

catching

letting go

catching

the rings of their salvation

challenging the odds

while we gasp in awe

at their bravery and courage

and the age of entertainment

and narcoleptic souls

for sure endures

the inquisitive minds

of the young,

for some day soon

they must sleep as well

do tell

were you ever told

about the Lion tamers

and Circus gamers

and Jugglers

and Acrobats

who mimic life

within life

funny i think

the 3 Rings of Barnum

and his magic

do make us compelled

to forget

that beyond the tent

life awaits us

with her harsh reasoning

and the Circus season

will soon end

then what

disconnected again

popcorn anyone ?

© 17 August 2011 : William S. Peters, Sr.

What is your Poetic Purpose ?

What is your Poetic Purpose ?

In this landscape of expression we call Poetry, you are bound to encounter many souls, with many thoughts as to what they feel, think or say Poetry is or should be about. Funny isn’t it. When you think about all the different flavors, colors and music of each persons influences and experiences, i must ask my self “How can that be?” You will encounter many “Notables” who have perhaps established some level of notoriety in certain Poetry Circles who feel it is their duty to instruct all who would listen to their rant. We have a plethora of Columnist, Celebrity “wanna bes”, Teachers, Critics and others who willingly offer their judgment and personal limited perspectives on such. What is Poetry any way. That is a question for the ages. No one has of yet can , nor has provided a valid answer, for the nomenclature of Poetic Expression is very personal. Sure, Poetry like every other Art From and Science has a history. But i ask, are we as Poets doomed to be Carbon Copies of such archaic and dated forms of expression ? Poetry like every thing else in life has and is evolving. We are too! . . .

Opinions . . . . like Assholes, everyone has one. That is OK. But please be aware, that no one’s opinion makes you who you are . . . unless you allow it to be so! The same applies to our personal offerings and expressions through Poetry. I am not you and you are not me and furthermore we should not vie for such things. The noblest thing we can do is be authentically our self! My focus is simply to develop my Craft in expression that i may convey what i am attempting to say in a clear and concise manner. In the practice of such my voice is evolving and distinguishing it’s self as that of my own. And as long as i have been doing this, matters not, for each day, each expression, each word, each verse, each poem is an opportunity for me to define and further the limits i had previously and thereby enhance my Poetic Expressive self. I care not about the critics nor naysayers, instructors, teachers, preachers or whatever they wish to call themselves. I am discovering me. I pray that you too take up your anchor and enjoy your own journey to self and the language of such beauty Poetry can give to you when you give your self unto Poetry.

To Thine Own Self Be True ~ William Shakespeare

I ask you again . . .  What is your Poetic Purpose ?

© 17 August 2011 : William S. Peters, Sr.

http://innerchildpress.yolasite.com

The Business of Books

The Business of Books

So now you are in business for your self ? Yes, you are now a Published Author, and that is exactly what it is !

All too often, newly Published Authors are of the misconception that their work is completed once they get their book in their hand. WAKE UP CALL !!!! Trust me . . . the work has just begun.

Speak with any successful Author, and they will have more testimony that we wish to hear about the hardships and Trials and Tribulations and the Sacrifices that go along with “Success”. Many new Authors get stuck on their achievement of finally getting Published. Yes . . . it “IS” a “MAJOR” achievement. WELCOME to the 1% Club of Writers. But if you are vying for more that a collection of your offerings to be utilized as Christmas and Birthday Gifts, Door Stops, Book Ends and Paper Weights, it is time for you to get an education and finite understanding as you what will help you make the transition into “Success”

I have in the past written a few Articles that address many facets of getting prepared for this moment, but there is nothing quite like experiencing the potential let down when you awaken and realize that people, including Family and Friends are not kicking down your door, not burning your Cell Phone Message box up clamoring to buy your book. Surprise!!!!

The process of being a productive and functionally “Selling” Author is WORK !!!

You will hear all the promises of “Next Week” or “when i get paid” . . .  you might even experience hearing “Blatant Lies” and a myriad of other excuses. Use this as the fuel for your fire. To become somewhat successful does require a heightened level of “Drive”, “Enthusiasm”, “Action” and “Determination”. I call this the “D.E.A.D.” Principle . . .  yes . . .I must die to all that i thought i knew about this process and “Re-Create” my “Self” into that persona i desire to be. I must not allow any thing or anyone deter me from what it is i seek to accomplish. I will listen to the “No” and constantly seek other avenues of expression to let people know i have said what i have come to say . .  I Am Published, and I have a Book for sale and i want you to buy it . . . NOW !

Trust me . .  you will be confronted with a lot if Indifference, Patronization and No . . .  but the truth of the matter simply is, you results will mirror your Zeal and Efforts.

and Finally . . .Remember This !!! . . .  “Every Time you hear a “NO” you are getting closer to a “YES”. . .  Happy Hunting

Blessings

Bill

http://innerchildpress.yolasite.com

"I think of six impossible things before breakfast"

 

"I think of six impossible things before breakfast"

 

i’d

tried

died

defied

lied

cried

abide

chide

dried

flied

guide

hide

collide

pried

pied

pride

ride

side

slide

tied

 

why’d

i ask

did they think

of this task

 

all things

i’d experience

non impossible

 

so what is impossible my friend

we seek it out

until the end

 

impossible they say

just another day

to find another way

away from  the fray

of life

 

or should i be bold

embrace, enfold

do as i’m told

desist and scold

my predecessors

my ancestors

for laying this path

through this wilderness

of mess

that lies

before me

 

6 impossible things

impossible i say

6 impossible things

today

before breakfast

 

when not eating today

for the way of the fray

is impossible of it’s own

 

had i know

perhaps i would have brought

my magic seeds

to be sown

in the gardens of possibilities

 

for i can not think

of six impossible things

before breakfast

 

 

© 16 August 2011 : William S. Peters, Sr.

 

still . . .

still

i wonder if i am awakened

will the dream continue

will i be here

laying next to you

holding you

as lovers do

what is true

the dream ?

it seems

that is where i spend my time

Rhyme after Rhyme

in your embrace

looking upon your face

wishing never to awaken

so i wonder

if i am finally awakened

can i please

please

awaken in a place

where your face

will never part my company

a place

where Dreams are my reality

i wonder if i awaken

will you be here

still

© 16 August 2011 : William S. Peters, Sr.

Meet some of the Authors . . . Inner Child Press

Christine M. Fulco

Poetry

New Book to be released

September 2011

Janet "Derailed Poet" Perkins Caldwell

Poetry

New Book Coming December 2011

 

Michael Jamison

Children's Stories

Coming Soon

 

Janice D. Johnson

aka

Heart Spoken Niecy

Poetry

New Book Coming 2012

Jeffery A. Sanders, Sr.

aka

Cali

Poetry

New Book Coming 2012

 

Miguel Keaton

aka

A Poetic State of Mind

Poetry & Prose

Coming October 2011

Kalissa Powell

Poetry

Coming November 2011

 

Pauline "Cookie" Jordan

Poetry

Coming 2012

 

Valerie Burton

aka

Poetically Spoken

Poetry

Coming October 2011

Mel Atkins

 

aka

Poetically Wriiten

Poetry

Coming October 2011

Teresa E. Gallion

 

Poetry / Quatrains

Coming September 2011

 

Rita Tatum

Poetry

Coming Soon 2011

 

Manish Kumar

Novelist

 

Terri L. Johnson

Poetry

New Book Coming 2012

Rev. Dr. Theresa F. Koch

aka

"Teri"

Novelist / Biographer

 

Vicki Acquah

aka

Momma "O"

Poet / Historian

Coming 2012

Regina Ann

Poetry

HALOS 711

Arthur and Sandye

Spiritual Writers

Reiki Masters

Reiki Instructors

New Book Coming End 2011

Susie Ian

aka

Crystalin

Poetry / Artist

Coming 2011

William S. Peters, Sr.

Poet / Storyteller

New Book Coming End 2011

You can Read more about all the Writers and Purchase their Current Books at Inner Child Press

http://innerchildpress.yolasite.com