World Healing, World Peace Poetry 2012

The Files have Now been sent to the Printer for Final Proofing . . .so excited !!!!

I wish to thank John Early of GoldE Productions for the donations of his magnificent talents in the Cover Design . . .  AWESOME !!!!!

Thank You John.

Volume I

272 Pages

Black and White

Poets Picture

Brief Bio

Poem

The Judges

Administrators

ISBN-13: 978-0615623948

Volume II

292 Pages

Black and White

Poets Picture

Brief Bio

Poem

The Judges

Administrators

ISBN-13: 978-0615623955

Please do not blame the Back Cover on John . . i did it myself . . . lol

Available April 1st

Globally

AMAZON PRICE : $15.00

Inner Child Exclusive : $11.00

look for it at the following Sites

World Healing, World Peace Web Site

Inner Child Press Book Store

a parent’s tears . . a parent’s fears

a parent’s tears . .  a parent’s fears

the anger and indignation aside

i can not hide

from this anguish

i must bear

and no matter the volume of tears

the volume of my love

can never again be fulfilled

for my son

was killed

i think, i think, i think

this can not be true

can it ?

a night mare

of hurt

i go to his room

expecting him to be there

playing video games

or sleeping

and he is not

oh i have not forgotten him

the walls remind me

for they are weeping too

for him

for me

for you

his bed is as he left it

shit !

Sneakers tossed about

i remember when i gave him the money

i said to him “honey isn’t that a bit much”

his hand touched mine

as i cosigned

to his dreams

it seems

like that was our last time

i remember the smile on his face

i could taste his joy

and pleasure

in my heart

that smile

is one of my cherished treasures

as are so many others

i carried him

for 9 months

waiting

anticipating

seeing his face

and now

i never will again

for now i have only pictures

and memories

and my anger

but that will not make him come home

my thoughts roam aimlessly

without cease

and there is no peace within me

to be found

all i see is my son

laying face down

in the ground

dead

that picture

will never leave my head

nor my spirit

his final words

i can hear it

playing over and over

his call

“Mommy”

dammit

this shit hurts

it hurts

my Son is gone

and each day since

the dawn i have cursed

Lorde why

why

did my son have to die

this way

any way

any day

i look at his father

and i see Trayvon

i look at any son

and i see Trayvon

i close my eyes

and i see

Trayvon

he may be gone for you

but for me

he and i are bonded

connected

forever

the tears as a parent

offers no relief

for the belief of this travesty

is so surreal

people eulogize

express their hate

anger

sympathy

and empathy

when all i want God

is to see Trayvon

walk into this room

and remove this cloak of gloom

that has moved into my life

because of that night

when my son

died

and took my life’s Sun

away

a parent’s tears . .  a parent’s fears

© 27 March 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

 

i stand not alone

i stand not alone

call me delusional

but i stand not alone

there is a place

that haunts some resonant memory

embedded in me

perhaps it is a DNA thing

who knows

it tells me that

there is something within me

that is greater than my delusions

and it faintly whispers to my soul

beckoning me to awaken

and return . . .

home

i stand not alone . . .

i look upon the fabric of our existence

and the consistence

of absence

is stark

in this dark resemblance

of our semblance

of “life”

but life abundant

only peeks through

every once in a while

did you see the greater too ?

i stand not alone . . .

© 22 March 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

just a write a right

just a write a right

my pen wants to come out to play

what do you say

can i frolic in your garden

where consciousness visits

sometimes

my rhymes are amiss

and i tell you this

i don’t give a flying whatever

about that endeavor

i am more about

how clever

my delivery may be

and what subverted messages

i can allow you to see

you see

i don’t

so won’t you take this

meandering journey with me

and perhaps

we can discover

uncover

something wonderful

there are profane

words

from inane mind

reminding me

of the insanity

i embrace

not often

am i so willing

to face my self

or have to taste my self

and my shit

most times

as the prosecutor, judge and jury

i acquit my self

no worry

i will be redeemed

and to those esteemed ones

like he who peers at me

in that mirror

leering at me

jeering and jibing

while i am scribing . .

go take another nap

i will call you when i am done

poking fun at us

trust me

or not

but yesterday i forgot

something

and a happy face “LOL” and hearts to you

boo

love you too

funny what one may get

when they allow

let

their pens com,e out to play

today ?

did we have anything significant to say

perhaps another nay

or an aye

but know this

i wrote anyway

what did you do ?

just a write a right

and awaken the Lion

and awaken the Lion

for many years

through many tears

the Lion has dreamed of a better place

dreamed of a peace

that never was quite realized

when his eyes were forced open

his hopes

his prayers

were engaged

in a communion with a God

they had forced upon him

allowed him to hold to

and he too believed

that he too

could achieve

that Love supreme

where dreams of Eden

required no pleading

something within him

was enraged to some degree

he asked . . .

“why does your God allow

this misery and pain

to visit upon me?”

with no particular answer

we the Pride

gather our pride

and did the best we could

with Family

Community

Self

and that was alright for a while

all he wanted

was to live

love

educate his children

while he continued

to feed them

the Dream

the American Dream

just like you do

i can be President someday

“Tru Dat”

so we speak a bit different . . . sometimes

and the lines of my verse

demonstrates my voice

as does yours do for you

but i too

have something to say

that i feel must be heard

this day

yes dammit NOW !!!

you see,

this day,

this poem,

this “who i am”

is the result

of all things

i had to face

those things you , America

made me taste

and subsequently eat

but i could never digest the meal

the Hangings

the Ganbangings

the Drugs

the Political Deals

for real

did you think

that would keep me satisfied

and quiet ?

another Riot

looms in the horizon

and you are not surprised

you surmised it would come to this

so in my solace

amongst my family

i regurgitated that shit you fed me

about equality

justice

for is seems to me

it is “just us”

that do not enjoy

the parity

and economic literacy

but you . . .

you can read well i see

and to my disparity

you prod me every once in a while

to see if i am sleeping

and though in my soul

and my heart

i am weeping

for you

for me

praying

again to that God of ours

that one day we may see

that we truly are a family

of variegated beings

colors

thoughts

and shapes

and other perhaps beautiful

diversities

but know this

i am not stupid

and like cupid

i had hoped

that the arrows of our love

and tolerance

would penetrate your heart

and you would be affected as well

by the empathy

not sympathy

of my forgiveness

but i CAN NOT FORGET !!!

No I CAN NOT !!!!

and WILL NOT !!!!

what you did to me

America

and still continue to do

and like the Days of Rome

you send you sick indoctrinated

hate filled gladiators

into our arenas of existence

our peace

our communities

our families

our lives

to spill our blood

Physically

Mentally

and Spiritually

and you have

far too often

thinking we are soft and

asleep

perpetrated these crimes

but we are Lions

mightier than we even are aware of

and if this is the Jungle

we must endure

then endure we will

for we will reestablish our rule

over self

over life

over family

over community

over hate

disparity

inequality

we will give back to our self

our clarity

you subverted

or should i say

we allowed

when we were clouded

by our wants of things

you dangled like carrots

in our eyes

like we were horses

with blinders on

those damn days are gone !

and you shall soon come to know

why “The Caged Bird Sings”

because there is a better day awaiting me

you

and us all

and if you did not know it yet

love is the call

we must answer too

perhaps you need to wake up

so i ask you

or should i thank you

for that little poke

in my side

for i am cognizant

awakening

and there will be no place to hide

the angst and hate

you have shared with us

Amerikka

it is the fruit

of that which you have sown

in this garden we call life

you should have studied

and you would have known this

“ya reap what you sow”

a Universal Law . . .you know

and we are not fearin’ ya

we just squarin’ ya up

in our sights

for soon come

the High Noon Sun

and there won’t be no Gunfight at the OK Corral

my pal

the revolution is the solution

and it will not be televised

listen to dem dere prophetic words

i do hope you heard me

this time

cause you did not hear my Brother Gil

spill that truth

for the Lion is Awakened

and he now hunts the forsaken

any damn time or place he pleases.

or chooses

so don’t get it twisted

we only have love for the Lambs

for the meek shall inherit

your balls

if you don’t heed the call

and keep doin what you do

in the dark of your life

just be mindful

and careful

for retribution comes

to reestablish the balance

for Karmic Law marches forth

regardless of your desires

or intent

and though you never meant to

i plead to you

do not

awaken the Lion

how deeply

how deeply

i remember how he touched me

tantalizing every nerve in my body

to awaken

and take the journey

with his intentions

his finger tips teasingly danced into my consciousness

arousing me to rise

as i surmised

and thought of places

e’en my dreams have not explored before

yes, he was my master

he spoke to me

but i never heard the words

but i felt every syllable

and soft hushed whisper of his voice

evoke a longing

that i knew

i was going to fulfill this day

yes, he was going to have his way with me

and i smiled

at the thought

of where it would take me

like a little school girl

my body began to betray me

in the frolicking of expectations

God . . .i want this

i looked upon his face

and the serenity of his countenance

was assuring

as he was exploring

my nether regions

as i let go my allegiance

to this world

an uncertain obeisance

was being heralded in

for i would gladly acquiesce all that i am

to his every command

he was anointing me

at the alter of my womanhood

my breath was quickening

trying to keep pace with God i thought

for somehow

he bought my urgency

my fervency

to a peak

to that mountain top

where only God’s blissful state exists

and i greeted him

and he kissed me

and spoke to me

how much he missed me

and so he gave to me

this gift

of this man

that i make this shift

and understand

how deeply

i am loved

how deeply he touched me

can not be grasped with mere words

for my hasp been let

yet i ask . . . still

how deeply

© 24 March 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

by self

by self

i set boundaries

definitions

limits

protocols

as a modicum of my behavior

that i may be accepted

by my perceivable peers

why i choose to labor so

against my self

who amongst us

possess the answers

we struggle to fit in

be liked

gather friends

acquaintances

associates

to validate

that we are not alone

and in the crowd of many

we still are but “one”

this paradox of our existence

defies consistence

with the reasoning

that resides within

that betwixt our Dream Self

and the false realities we create

that we may experience

some ethereal elation

that we soon abandon

as not real

for we can only seduce our self

that we feel

but for a limited projection

in the illusion of time

and the sublime aspects

of actualization

and authenticity

still dances about us

enticing us to enjoin

with our knowing

that we are so much more

and we struggle to open that door

of our eternal memories

that evade our grasp

and the hinges of the hasp

that have locked away

this embrace to our being

have long ago rusted

and frozen

as we have chosen

for what lies in that closet

of self

was not trusted

and we have since

went on

and skipped along

in our hallucinations

listening to the song

of our supposed symphonic delusions

so we create alternative paradigms

of happiness

in hopes

that the winds will prevail

and maintain our billowing sails

to perhaps one day

actualize our desires

and to no avail

we still yet struggle

to awaken

to the soul of who we truly are

while setting boundaries

definitions

limits

protocols

as a modicum of our behavior

that we may be accepted

by others

and

by self

© 11 June 2011 : William S. Peters, Sr.

Test – Re- Test

Test – Re- Test

test

re-test

test

re-test

test

re-test

 

40 Days

40 thousand

40 million

40 whatever

test

re-test

test

re-test

test

re-test

 

i have been tempted in my wilderness

to acquiesce

to the ways of the world

test

re-test

test

re-test

test

re-test

 

like Christ at times

i rebuked a few things

but many things

i have embraced

test

re-test

test

re-test

test

re-test

 

this cycle seems

overtly redundant

i have been here before

it is not “faint recognition”

this condition of disgust

visited upon me for my weaknesses

i am sick of looking in the same old

dirty mirror

test

re-test

test

re-test

test

re-test

 

food

sex

any old avarice will do

how about you

let us not forget EGO too

test

re-test

test

re-test

test

re-test

 

compassions sometimes escapes me

especially for those Assholes

especially the one i am

damn

test

re-test

test

re-test

test

re-test

 

i remember more about my self

than i would like to

yes, i can forgive

myself too

but i can not forget

yet

gotta find me another Christ

for the one they gave me is defective

i think my One-nest factor

has been hacked

hijacked

infected with a virus

of non-conformity

test

re-test

test

re-test

test

re-test

 

perhaps next semester

we can figure this out

i have tried cheating

but my inner self

higher self

that pure and divine

inner child of mine

smiles

haunting my sanctity

and my solace

till it is no more

test

re-test

test

re-test

test

re-test

 

funny,

the variegated different complexities

betwixt youth and now

some how

something got fucked up

ooops

did i do that ?

say that ?

test

re-test

test

re-test

test

re-test

 

my inhibitions

are having a Holy War

with themselves

each pointing fingers

and attempting

to re-draw the lines

of constraint

restraint

the ones they created and abated to

in the first place

let’s face it

are they ever gonna realize

that neither side of my “Self”

ain’t gonna win

no war within

is that Sin ?

test

re-test

test

re-test

test

re-test

 

i often think about my spirituality

and the actuality of a greater truth.

a friend of mine

just the other day

mentioned . . .

“Light Workers . . . whatever that means”

i laughed

for the chaffed disconnection

of the skin of their delusions

was starting to show up

in preferences

and their references

to being better than thou

lighter some how

than you

than me

 

test

re-test

test

re-test

test

re-test

 

here we sit

on the bench

watching thoughts

pass by

fearing the Dark

is like fearing

the Pigeons in the Park

are gonna Shit on you

yet we feed them any way

never realizing

all things are

synchronistically symbiotic

and connected

 

test

re-test

test

re-test

test

re-test

 

self righteous-mess

can be a dangerous thing

i think

when i feel that way

i have to stop and sniff myself

Grandma always told me

scolded me

about smelling

my top lip

take a sip of that juice son

the Lawd ain’t done with your ass yet

test

re-test

test

re-test

test

re-test

 

preference

intolerance

indifference

the lack of my patience

my deference

test

re-test

test

re-test

test

re-test

 

why i spend so much time

with self examination

is beyond me

i guess i can justify this

sanctify this

ratify this

as the path to my bliss

when i may be

no, will be kissed

when i graduate

from this school

of

test

re-test

test

re-test

test

re-test

 

© 22 March 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

 

disturbing my conversation with my muse ?

disturbing my conversation with my muse ?

he was slamming metaphors of happiness

into his consciousness

hoping to write something beautiful

to no avail

what truly ailed him

was not found in words

for the feeling has yet to manifest

into cognizable words

one could say he was lonely

or confused

but the court crier

thought differently

he surmised

he considered

he pondered

he reflected

he inspected

and no solution was detected

just the absence of all things

of meaning

he visited upon the Book of Faces

there were many

5,000 i think

none whom he knew,

truly

how could he

he did not even know himself

but just the same

it would have to make do

for now

perhaps he would invite a “friend”

to join him

in the meadow of flowers

behind the barn

and they could share a verse or two

he wondered

what would the outcome be

would it be painful

or just another exercise

of less than meaningful words

collected to acknowledge

the accomplishment

of collaboration

betwixt himself

his pen

and the conjurings

he managed

perhaps he would write about the mountain

he could never scale

it is not that he failed

but he never did try

though in his head

all his life he vied

for such feats

many a time he saw himself

at the summit

dammit, who’s on the phone now

disturbing my conversation

with my muse ?

Announcing New Book

The Wind . . . The Mountain . . . and the Sage . . . .

Photography, Poetry and Prayers

William S. Peters, Sr.

Genre : a Poetic Photo Journey

92 Pages

8.5 X 6.5

Pub. : 2012

Inner Child Press

3rd Printing

Soft Cover

$25.00

Purchase Here

Announcing Inner Child Radio Schedule

not fall

not fall

Trine Square =’s12

Disciples of Vibration

Pyramidic bases

Disciples of Light

Disciples of Energy

actualizing

resonating

calling you

who is this King

that lays in the chamber

waiting

anticipating

the ascension

beyond all perceivable borders

and restraints

we create

no quarters will be drawn

as the dawn of the Soul

comes to be

see

open thy eye

the One

as the Sun of Life

comes

to liberate

ye who have voluntarily

embraced the task

of service

purpose evolves

laying waste

to errant thought

and doctrinal ghosts

of what never was a truth

save in transitory deludable lives

such as that which we believed in

they called it sin

and we cowered

seeking shadows

that we may hide

never quite understanding

that our own cosmic light

can never be extinguished

for we were hand crafted

from a dust

manifested from a One truth

Thoth brought forth a verse or two

for you

for me

and still we listen not

perhaps we have forgotten

how to attune,

align our holy seeds

in the garden of Mother Divine

the poles are now shifting

yet still we fear

lifting our psychic eyes

to the Sun

and i ask why

are not we already blinded

and our Christ exemplified the path

of resurrection

and the “Fathers” as the Church

twisted his words

to make it convenient

while subjugating the power of word

to serve their own end

damn them

or love them

for it is their misdeeds

that nourishes the seeds

of a truth

that will self rectify

and straighten all men’s paths

and it will not be denied

can you hear the music

i hum along

to the song

listen i say

listen

listen to that which is within you

it is true

it is but You speaking

to you

the Universe is thine my child

as is the Trine squared

and know that you too

are but a disciple

of the most high

and in the end

you can

not fall

© 19 March 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

some not so

some not so

a solitary tear

slowly explores

the southern route

to his chin

reflective of his journey

that droplet

became a rivulet

which he fought against

becoming a stream

from dreams and visions

hopes of ‘morrow

who treated him

as if he had a plague

they, yes they

teased forth this liquid epitaph

of his anguish

and his joys,

his faint memories

of the glittering

gleaming twinkles of light

found in his life’s muddied stew

of his yesteryears

cute ones, ugly ones

some fun

some not so

all acute

when that single tear

came to visit

© 18 March 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

to be who i am

to be who i am

4 + 7

i’m squaring heaven

craps shot 11

and i am still eating

unleavened bread

in respite’s sweet sorrow

far off is the morrow

and it’s potential horrows

still loom in my head

we hold to our fears

counting them dear

ain’t that shit queer

we live to play dead

change your thoughts they say

this is a brand new day

make a new path, new way

in my new shoes built of lead

yet still have i desires

fuel by the fires

as i continually aspire

my divine wings to spread

so i will not bereave

when i can conceive

that i too achieve

as i rise up from my bed

for i am a Son

kissed by the Sun

Universally One

i shall not be afraid

i shall extract this dead

out of my head

take off my shoes of lead

my wings be spread

spit out sorrow’s bread

to my dreams be wed

cause i am not afraid

to be who i am

© 18 March 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

June Barefield triggered this as reflected in the Open Stanza.

His Profile pic displayed a 5/4 and i had to go in to it . . .

i came up with a bit more of me.

Bless up my Brother June

i need my sleep

i need my sleep

standing but a dimension apart

the beasts wait at the gate

with an certain knowing

licking the lips of their anticipation

for a time

when the seventh veil falls

and they will devour

the consciousness of man

fully

greed is their avarice

and they dance in celebratory wonders

with full bellies

for they have gorged themselves before

when the door we open

allows them in

sin you say

i laugh

this shit is real

we feel their presence

and yet we find false comforts

and solace

in the laced web

of our delusions

we justify our paths

and our indifference

while lying to ourselves

saying “i see the light”

“light lies”

are still lies

no matter

what we believe

or conceive them to be

you see,

far too long

we have embraced the indoctrinations

of false demigods

and our “free Will”

has been subverted

and we know longer remember

the feeling of what divine truly is

do we ?

we but wish to sleep

thoughts lethargically dancing

in our subconscious reason

are we safe ?

but the demons

respect not

our illusory boundaries of being

the lips of the trumpeter

who calls to our souls

begin to bleed . . .

again

and he reasons that our salvation

is futile

but his duty

he still meets

with every breath

i lay my “hands on”

splintered crosses

which no longer

can sustain a nail

yet i say within my justified reason

that life is a journey

of continual crucifixions

is it ?

where be my rest

how can one be resurrected

without a death ?

are we but soulless beings

pretending to be ?

i wonder at times

is it me ?

we run from our inner truths

saying we want salvation

but we extend not a hand

instead we grasp the lies we tell our selves

we would rather make a fist

and strike out

at the reflective self of our brothers

with insensitive cold hearts

we pretend to be compassionate

as long as it is convenient

and non bothersome

prayers . . .  ha

to what do we offer our obeisance

that unknown God of Books

i have to ask you

what about Life’s Book ?

what is in your heart ?

the bell is ringing

the temples are being consumed

empty pews filled with bodies

and somewhere

stands the child of creation

assuming we will be moved

again i laugh

my sarcasm

has become my epitaph

as again this day i die

as we vie for more lies

to take the place

of those dispelled

quelled by the light of revelation

and epiphanies

that which we turn our backs upon

and act not upon

perhaps it is but meant to be

a mystery

this awakening thing

so i ask that supposed

higher consciousness

can i go back to sleep

for . . .

i am tired of it’s reason

it troubles me to be unveiled

the light hurts my eyes

and besides . . .

i need my sleep

© 16 March 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

ain’t life a bitch

ain’t life a bitch

within the mind of every man

there is a vast landscape of possibilities

and i walk the lonely crowded road

seeking that elusive horizon

of completeness

men are enslaved

to the colors of their own reason

which is stolen from each other

endowed by fathers

mothers

and others

as an elixir

to fix

those things

we believe broken

has anyone spoken a truth

in the empty auditoriums

where mindless audiences applaud

because it is the proper thing to do

so they tell me

we have been cued

so do not elude the protocol

or you will surely fall they say

the days are far too short

to get anything meaningful done

once it has begun

it is filled with distraction

and the actions we purpose

fall like leaves to the forest floor

to but become the compost

that perhaps nurtures

new illusory growth

of new illusory truths

don’t we have to plant seeds

go gather some from the roadside

that have not found

fertile ground

and let us recycle them

can not i just imagine the fruit

will it fill the belly

of this beast

that eats at my soul

inside

perhaps if i just die

i will not have to vie

for your acceptance

and then you will eulogize me

with accolades of lies

surprise

i am watching you

and listening too

that’s what the God in me says

and in the end

i suffer not to defend

the ways of men

but for the ways of God

i will die

for it is only a matter of time

before their life poetry

ceases to rhyme

with the divine i think

what do you think

will this ship of reason float

or sink

ain’t life a bitch

© 15 March 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.