Ther Vine Keeper

"The Vine Keeper . . . messages in poetry & prose" by William S. Peters, Sr. is an Epic offering of Bill's writing. It is 439 pages of a truly transformative work. The Book Size is 8 by 10 Perfect for just $29.95 . . . makes a great Gift of Love and Spirit for the Seeker.
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Thursday, March 29, 2012

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
The Judges

ISBN-13: 978-0615623948

Volume II
292 Pages
Black and White
Poets Picture
Brief Bio
The Judges

ISBN-13: 978-0615623955

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

Available April 1st

Inner Child Exclusive : $11.00

look for it at the following Sites

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

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
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
that picture
will never leave my head
nor my spirit

his final words
i can hear it
playing over and over
his call
this shit hurts
it hurts
my Son is gone
and each day since
the dawn i have cursed

Lorde 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

he may be gone for you
but for me
he and i are bonded

the tears as a parent
offers no relief
for the belief of this travesty
is so surreal

people eulogize
express their hate
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
and took my life’s Sun

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 . . .

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

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
something wonderful

there are profane
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
and a happy face “LOL” and hearts to you
love you too

funny what one may get
when they allow
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
and that was alright for a while

all he wanted
was to live
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
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
again to that God of ours
that one day we may see
that we truly are a family
of variegated beings
and shapes
and other perhaps beautiful

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
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
and Spiritually

and you have
far too often
thinking we are soft and
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

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
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

and there will be no place to hide
the angst and hate
you have shared with us

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
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
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
as a modicum of our behavior
that we may be accepted
by others
by self

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

Thursday, March 22, 2012

Test – Re- Test

Test – Re- Test

40 Days
40 thousand
40 million
40 whatever

i have been tempted in my wilderness
to acquiesce
to the ways of the world

like Christ at times
i rebuked a few things
but many things
i have embraced

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

any old avarice will do
how about you
let us not forget EGO too

compassions sometimes escapes me
especially for those Assholes
especially the one i am

i remember more about my self
than i would like to
yes, i can forgive
myself too
but i can not forget
gotta find me another Christ
for the one they gave me is defective
i think my One-nest factor
has been hacked
infected with a virus
of non-conformity

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
haunting my sanctity
and my solace
till it is no more

the variegated different complexities
betwixt youth and now
some how
something got fucked up
did i do that ?
say that ?

my inhibitions
are having a Holy War
with themselves
each pointing fingers
and attempting
to re-draw the lines
of constraint
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 ?

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
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
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

the lack of my patience
my deference

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


© 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,

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 ?

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

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


Announcing Inner Child Radio Schedule

not fall

not fall

Trine Square =’s12
Disciples of Vibration
Pyramidic bases
Disciples of Light
Disciples of Energy
calling you

who is this King
that lays in the chamber
the ascension
beyond all perceivable borders
and restraints
we create

no quarters will be drawn
as the dawn of the Soul
comes to be

open thy eye
the One
as the Sun of Life
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 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.

Sunday, March 18, 2012

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

Saturday, March 17, 2012

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

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 . . .
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
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

perhaps if i just die
i will not have to vie
for your acceptance
and then you will eulogize me
with accolades of lies

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.