my Christmas Poem

my Christmas Poem

our consciousness begins to expand

blossom

and we occupy ourselves

picking the petals

off the flowers

for that is what we have come to know

yes we have sown seeds

nourished them

as they flourished

to bud

and begin yield fruits

and the astute amongst us

including thus

celebrate our reflective vanity

and our acuit abilities

for we compete against the ether

seeking to become valid

within the illusory reflections

we call self

in our soulful mirrors

we no longer see the light

for our inner eye

is stitched shut

we live for rebellion

to dogma

and doctrine alone

and the phone rings

but who will answer

and this is the season

where Santa, Rudolph and Dancer

come to visit don’t they

Hey, stop bashing the Clause

Cause it was said

don’t be naughty

be nice

and what is below 32 degrees

won’t become Ice

bullshit i say

let me write my Christmas Poem

my way

(c) 5 December 2011 : William S. Peters, Sr.