damaged goods
i am jaded and scarred
but i pray not that i remain calloused
for i have known love before
she visited upon me
one fair day
and my heart embraced her
i have looked upon the world
with a jaundiced eye
for the movement about me
expressed it’s self
with undue
perhaps due
pains
woes
anger
discordance
and i saw
nor felt
no reason
to dance
how my soul longs
for the faint memories
of times
that must have been
for i ache
for goodness
for love
i at times dwell betwixt
dimensions
with a dissension
from what is sold to me
as reality
and my angst grows
as my temperance wanes
for the inane claim
that this is all there is
what is my business here
this journey
where fear promulgates
upon the souls and psyches
of our brethren
the doubt we embody
that speaks lies
defying Eden
while we offer hope
and pleading
to Source
within
and without
my sarcasm
is ever vigilant
seeking to cast dispersion
upon that we see as but
experiential
never quite grasping
the Now
and the potential we possess
to alter how we address
life
we see too many lines
and not the blending
take notice to our differences
the Criers cry
oh my
who trained these vagrant souls
the Dogs
to the Water Hydrants of Life
piss on me
leave and indelible stain
and scent
of waste
and we shall build upon it
i seek the Flowers and Butterflies
Pain knows me well
but who shall it be left
to tell the Children
will we leave a legacy
written in books
that the illiterate ones
may look at the pictures
smiling faces
with desolate backgrounds
and colors of light
laced through
the darkness
i write letters, words
upon soiled sheets of paper
hoping the new messages are seen
some may ingest them
who amongst us quest for this as well
please tell me
new spirits maybe
are we just re-cloaking the lies
that we may get along
through another errant millennium
from drugs of Doctrine
to drugs of Delusion
to Zanex
and broken dreams
that were never tethered
nor anchored
nor rooted
in the soils of “Is”-ness
what business is it of ours
of yours
page #’s flying by
emoting words and thoughts
catalogued for future use
but are we truly blinded
or just faking it
who will filter what
the higher mind of us
should ingest ?
before the letting
of the final drop of blood
that we may be saved
from ourselves
with all these questions abound
i ask around town
and in the Village
there are Vendors
who lay claim
that they have the map
have you visited ?
No is the reply
but i have it on good authority
that this is the true way
so i have been told
let us build another steeple
in the quicksands of time
and sacrifice our convictions
upon the fair grasses
that the sheeple may eat
we will cast from us
the ones we label derilictionous
for they may divert
our own purpose
of control
of the masses of souls
and people will look
seek
and peek
under the skirts
of our pretty dresses of program
we most certainly
do not wish them to see their reflections
do we
for then they would see
a greater truth
that they are powerful
and divine
and truly not
the damaged goods
we have preached
all these years
and should they cry again
they will vie again
as their Soul matter is rinsed
cleansed again
and we all will see
the “I” in me
is that of a truth
of certainty
when we lay down our lives
and die again
forsaking
these man made crosses
we bear
with a tear and a smile
rejecting the illusions
home made delusions
that we are vile
representations of that
which is perfect
the prefect
of the goodness
and the damaged goods
© 18 April 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.
damaged goods
i am jaded and scarred
but i pray not that i remain calloused
for i have known love before
she visited upon me
one fair day
and my heart embraced her
i have looked upon the world
with a jaundiced eye
for the movement about me
expressed it’s self
with undue
perhaps due
pains
woes
anger
discordance
and i saw
nor felt
no reason
to dance
how my soul longs
for the faint memories
of times
that must have been
for i ache
for goodness
for love
i at times dwell betwixt
dimensions
with a dissension
from what is sold to me
as reality
and my angst grows
as my temperance wanes
for the inane claim
that this is all there is
what is my business here
this journey
where fear promulgates
upon the souls and psyches
of our brethren
the doubt we embody
that speaks lies
defying Eden
while we offer hope
and pleading
to Source
within
and without
my sarcasm
is ever vigilant
seeking to cast dispersion
upon that we see as but
experiential
never quite grasping
the Now
and the potential we possess
to alter how we address
life
we see too many lines
and not the blending
take notice to our differences
the Criers cry
oh my
who trained these vagrant souls
the Dogs
to the Water Hydrants of Life
piss on me
leave and indelible stain
and scent
of waste
and we shall build upon it
i seek the Flowers and Butterflies
Pain knows me well
but who shall it be left
to tell the Children
will we leave a legacy
written in books
that the illiterate ones
may look at the pictures
smiling faces
with desolate backgrounds
and colors of light
laced through
the darkness
i write letters, words
upon soiled sheets of paper
hoping the new messages are seen
some may ingest them
who amongst us quest for this as well
please tell me
new spirits maybe
are we just re-cloaking the lies
that we may get along
through another errant millennium
from drugs of Doctrine
to drugs of Delusion
to Zanex
and broken dreams
that were never tethered
nor anchored
nor rooted
in the soils of “Is”-ness
what business is it of ours
of yours
page #’s flying by
emoting words and thoughts
catalogued for future use
but are we truly blinded
or just faking it
who will filter what
the higher mind of us
should ingest ?
before the letting
of the final drop of blood
that we may be saved
from ourselves
with all these questions abound
i ask around town
and in the Village
there are Vendors
who lay claim
that they have the map
have you visited ?
No is the reply
but i have it on good authority
that this is the true way
so i have been told
let us build another steeple
in the quicksands of time
and sacrifice our convictions
upon the fair grasses
that the sheeple may eat
we will cast from us
the ones we label derilictionous
for they may divert
our own purpose
of control
of the masses of souls
and people will look
seek
and peek
under the skirts
of our pretty dresses of program
we most certainly
do not wish them to see their reflections
do we
for then they would see
a greater truth
that they are powerful
and divine
and truly not
the damaged goods
we have preached
all these years
and should they cry again
they will vie again
as their Soul matter is rinsed
cleansed again
and we all will see
the “I” in me
is that of a truth
of certainty
when we lay down our lives
and die again
forsaking
these man made crosses
we bear
with a tear and a smile
rejecting the illusions
home made delusions
that we are vile
representations of that
which is perfect
the prefect
of the goodness
and the damaged goods
© 18 April 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.
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