i can not explain

i can not explain

no, i did not mean to hurt you

no i did not mean to make you cry

i know the words i spoke

were mean

callous

insensitive

and bitter

and i can not take them back

all i can now do

is live here in regret

but i can not

no i can not

take them damn words back

i have said i am sorry

a million times a day

since that day

when my tongue

went wayward

there are a million excuses

i can come up with

but none of them

can take away this sorrow

they did not yesterday

they did not today

and i know they will not

tomorrow

i have tried to reason

with myself

season after season

since that day

and i can not explain

the pain i feel

when i face my self

i have long ago

stop looking in mirrors

for i do not like what

nor who i see

and though i believe

i have become a better man

here i still stand

with this burden

upon me

that i can not escape

yes, i can not escape

that day

this day

nor tomorrow

and

i can not explain

i have tried forgiveness

and God

and Prayer

Self Talk

a New Walk

yet i can not walk away from that damn memory

of the things i said

to you

the words still dance in my head

as does the picture of your tears

after all these years

and i still

. . . can not explain

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

inspired by Rachelle Ferrel’s Song “I Can Explain”

http://youtu.be/w2uD_MUu55U

into being

into being

through my Supra-Conscious Mind

i speak the words

“Let There Be’

i then proceed to look

for that which i have conjured

if i look for love

i will find it

if i look for troubles

i will find them

if i look for beauty

i will find it

if i look for joy

i will find it

i i look for pain

i will find it

if i look for self

i will find me

that which i look for

comes to be

this is the power we have

we see that which we look for

for we spoke that what we wished for

into being

© 26 September 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

http://www.iaminnerchild.com/

http://www.innerchildpress.com/

you are my purpose

you are my purpose

you are the purpose

for which i was born

this path i walk

has but one destination

and that is to go to my death

where i shall be entombed

in your heart

for eternity

there has been but one vision

that i have held in my eyes

since my inception,

and it’s wondrous beauty

surely rivals any heaven on can conjure

and that is the lovely glow

of your countenance

i look to the skies

and my thought takes wings

for as the clouds billow before me

i see but the shape of expression

of possibilities

of you and i

and our heavenward intention

of love

you are my purpose

© 26 September 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

http://www.iaminnerchild.com/

http://www.innerchildpress.com/

1

1

like a moth to a candle

i am drawn to your flame

let my wings burn

in the sweet ecstasy

of being consumed by your fire

let me have my peace

the way is trying

but i fly to you

anyway

i but wish to cross over

and become 1

a memory

of my former self

i submit all that i am

to your glow

i am mesmerized

by your flickering truth

that grasps hold

of my consciousness

every “Now & Then”

i but wish to

be 1 with you

for the rest of my eternity

so . . .

like a moth to a candle

i am drawn to your flame

1

© 26 September 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

as we are . . . i am a butterfly

as we are . . . i am a butterfly

let us cross the way

and with a stilled reverence

approach the gate

and quietly unlatch this keeper

of the treasures of man

remove your shoes

that we may not infect its virginal soil

with the world and it’s ways

as we step into the garden

we shall tiptoe in peace

leaving our footprints behind us

that Mother may acknowledge

and embrace our presence

with pictures of our Souls

pressed in memory

until the next rain

the flowers have not yet fully awakened

but their fragrance of love

does permeate the air we breathe

and we are enriched thusly so

let us walk the path

to where the fruits of life do grow

and we shall sit upon the dampness

of Mother’s verdant breast

as she prepares and offers unto us

her sweetest of fruits

we shall gorge our spirits with delights

unknown to the weary worldly traveler

but we shall tell of it

when we return and break bread

in communion

with those of our Brethren

who may have lost their way

with their permission,

perhaps the flowers will give

of them selves when they awaken

and allow us to line the path

with their soft demure petals

that others may too come and dine

in this glory of conscious love manifest

let us offer a prayer

let us breathe in the etehric scents of life

and become one with our selves

that we may be in-lightened

and glow

let the nectar of the Gods

drip from our sated lips

that all may see

that our passions have co-joined

with our walk

and our way

let smiles adorn the faces

of we the children of creation

as it was intended

let us dance

without inhibition

for we care not who may be watching

for shame and the vice of “self”

cloaks our expression not

let us embrace

our selves

and each other

as does the Bride and the Groom

for the first time

that leads onward to an eternity

let us look upon our face

in that of each other

and see that we are truly

One energy

One Love

One Spirit

One Expression of all things

Let us simply ‘Be’

the Joy we vie for

let us Die this day

and pick up the life

we have denied

in our blindness

and mindless ways

let us come unto life

as life

for we are life

unto its self

yes we are

that which we speak

let us speak

of abundance

that with fills the cups

of us mortal men

and remove the glazed haze

from our eyes

that we realize

our sovereignty

speak of

good and holy things

with words that reach back

to our past dark ways

and illusions

and give to our memory

this day

yes,

this day

when we see our selves

as we are

i am a butterfly

© 25 September 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

www.iamjustbill.com

www.innerchildpress.com

my eternal bliss

my eternal bliss

the last Kiss

was the first Kiss

of our eternal Kiss

and i shall embrace in my forever

i would be amiss

if i did not say

i do miss kissing you

this day

and the way of the Angels

has been cleared to the core

of my heart

and because of our first kiss

i dreamed of kissing you

for our eternity of bliss

and that i shall

for that last kiss

was the first kiss

of our eternal kiss

my eternal bliss

© 21 September 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

www.iamjustbill.com

www.innerchildpress.com

eating pieces of heaven

eating pieces of heaven

pieces of heaven were falling lusciously

out of the crying sky

and i stood with my neck arched back

mouth open, catching the wonder of my imagination

on my tongue

i have not done this since i was a child

tasting the sounds of that which pitter pattered

in my ears and my wonder

i was orally harvesting raindrops

that i may one day speak the story of their travels

and the lore of the land and the peoples who lived their dreams

as i thought, as i contemplated, as i quixotically imagined

they began to transmute to words

and implant themselves firmly in my creative cortex

a vortex where my inquisitive child likes to play

along with the many muses who paraded in and out

of this mythical mystical Sandbox of my expressions

we built Castles

this was all too overwhelmingly magical for me

as the lights of Fairy’s tails began to sparkle

i danced with an inward glee

and an unusual happiness took over

and let loose any restraint i may have had

there was an inner quiet playing a song

i remembered from long ago

the silence was not eerie enough

for i could still hear my self thinking in color

and i began to imagine my self dancing in the fields

of lost joys filled with pastels waiting to be borne

in the fragrance of flowers budding

acknowledging my arrival

footstep by footstep

smile by smile

the Sun was beaming in shimmering kaleidoscopic brilliance

pulling at my heart with sweet incantations

beckoning me to let go of my logics

for it needed my clarity that it may shine through me

and i acquiesced to becoming it’s “Ray Bucket”

that i may carry it forth and share it with the world

we danced this day didn’t we

the circles became complete as circles can possibly be

and i saw the lands of many places come before me

to introduce themselves as friends

and relatives i put aside

in the interests of minding my time

as if it were my own

there were delicious twinkles in their eyes

and i wanted to taste every sparkling thought

they ever had that i may see first hand

the glory of what exponential potential

may possibly mean

i was standing on the edge of the Universe

with Chaos chiding me to believe

that all was sacred and nothingness

was my trove of treasures

awaiting my touch of surreality,

the magic i held semi-contained

within the illusory boxes of my supra consciousness

oh my . . .

what have we done i asked my multiplicitous imaginary self.

have we accidentally discovered the undiscoverable ?

have we uncloaked the path from reason to dreams

where all things are but a thought away ?

where does the beyond meet the “now” save but within me

an epiphany i can not let go

in this brief yet eternal finite appearance

my thirst and my hunger were satiated

abated

and the equated  logics i once prized, now failed

but they did what they were suppose to do

they brought me here

where at this very juncture

i have punctured and torn my comfy fur collared coat

that embraced me in my illusory  subjugation

and with that i knew

with a verifiable certainty

that

i was at the dinner tables of all dinner tables

preparing for a feast that Kings and Queens have been denied

and morsel by morsel

thought by thought

i realized that i was

eating pieces of heaven

© 20 September 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

www.iaminnerchild.com

www.innerchildpress.com

www.iamjustbill.com

but you wanna run from your self

but you wanna run from your selfell there is

it was an perplexuous situation

one i would not wish on

any human being

as i stood before the seat

of karmic judgment

i was forced to look reflectively

at my own experiential-ness

retribution was mine to exact

upon my lesser self

the years and times flashed before me

and i had to answer

for each fleeting moment

of my life

my actions

my thoughts

my wishes

and all the misgivings

i ever conjured from nothingness

to something-ness

most of what i saw

had no validity

nor purpose

i saw my vanities

my disdain

my indifference

and my lack of compassion

in times . . .

when it was such an easy thing

to give

i was also allowed to visit

the well of abundant love

that i always knew

resided in me

and i saw my small selfish self

holding on

hoarding it

like it was a treasure

and i saw the measure

of my smallness

more or less

the gift is in giving

i always knew this

but never the less

i must confess

i did not

when i had the ability

to do so

so in the end

and summation of things

it was i that suffered

as my soul was buffered

cloaked with shadows

of my own consciousness

that refused

to let loose

and share

my sovereign fare

and cares

like the wonderful lights

we were created to be

in the image

this all happened

in the flash of stillness

where time had no import

however

that fleeting millisecond

felt like a million years

i saw tears in the souls of friends

family

strangers

and i offered no respite

nor comfort

then

nor now

and somehow

my own inner anguish

though not cute

was quite acute

know that it is never cute

when we delude ourselves

into believing

we are not a part of

the continual fabric

of Creation’s continuum flow

and this i know

and have come back to tell

whatever hell there is

it is in you

waiting for you

to continue the venue

of walking towards it

or away

the way to our ascension

is calling us

with each breath

each heart beat

with a repleteness

that will more or less

fulfill this quest

of what we were sent here to do

do you hear it

don’t fear it

for fear is what

they want you to do

live your lesser you

that they may be glorified

so love

give

share

care

sing

dance

smile

hug

offer a hand

any damn time you can

and when you can’t

let it become your intent

for we were meant to be

the Creators

the Progenitors

of the path we travel

and thus we can avoid

those perplexuous situations

where there is no way out

but you wanna run from your self

© 20 September 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

www.iamjustbill.com

www.innerchildpress.com

ell there is

it is in you

waiting for you

to walk towards ithe

the visit

the Visit

Silence had socks on

which is why

i did not hear her

when she entered

the noisy room

of my busy mind

she left a note

upon the table

of my contemplative reflective-ness

denoting her brief visit

saying . . .

“sorry I missed you,

I had brought a friend

named ‘Epiphany’,

and we had some wonderful news,

and if we can find ‘Time’

we will possibly return

before the Sunset of ‘Yesterday’”

realizing this ‘Joy’ and i danced.

© 20 September 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

www.innerchildpress.com

www.iamjustbill.com

a Barney Moment

a Barney Moment

i was having a Barney-esque moment

i was feeling Purple

and a little Green

i was tired of people attempting to

stuff my mind with Fluff-Stuff,

hoping i would ingest it

and alter my voice

into some animated Cartoon-like

character

© 20 September 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

for i can dream

for i can dream

there is a light

that filters through the canopy

of this forest

i now inhabit

and call my home

i look beyond the

semi-cloaking leaves

and i seer the enlightened possibilities

that exists above all horizons

the fabric on my limitedness

begins to fall away

and feathers begin to sprout

as my wings of a grandiose freedom

begin to unfurl

and my consciousness

takes flight

in a new world

of imaginings

what can i not do i ask

and there is a silence

and all of creation is stilled

for no reply is justifiably required

for i can dream

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

inspired by # 270 : Daydream :

Daily Guidance from your Angels : Doreen Virtue, Ph.D.

&

Poem Titled “Go Anyway” by Janet P. Caldwell

www.iamjustbill.com

www.innerchildpress.com

gifts

gifts

i have searched for knowledge

i have searched for peace

‘pon plains, in valleys

i took my lease

i’ve climbed the mountains

to look beyond

‘pon prayerful knee

did God respond

i heard my breath

in quelled repose

i’ve turned the stone

i’ve stubbed my toes

and through it all

i’ve  turned, i’ve tossed

i’ve gathered things

i’ve paid the cost

and now come time

i must let go

to taste the fruit

of seeds i’ve sown

each path has it’s

own reward

and step by step

i must walk toward

gather your notes

and study them well

and wisdom’s gift

is yours to tell

climb that mountain

survey the field

watch and listen

and life reveals

. . . . gifts

© 17 September 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

just the shoes of your compromise

just the shoes of your compromise

we all knew

that Winter was on it’s way

though Fall had not yet arrived

men were beginning to contrive

their plans

for the seasons yet to come

in a redundant fashion

just as they did

every year

this time

some were stocking food

some women

taking names

and numbers

in their little black books

the nookie crooks

looking for a warmth

found in

the sweet respite

of temporal

and delusional love

this would do to Spring time

they often said

before they commenced with the lies

and stories

of the glories

of what a Winter relationship

would offer

everyone wanted

a place

a face

to hibernate in

or with

respectively

but respect often

was never a considered quantity

in the equation

was it

Christmas was coming soon

go west young man

was the tune

most heard

but most migrated to the South

anyway

the leaves began to fall from the Trees

and grown damn men

were down on their proverbial knees

begging

to get a leg in

some needy woman’s door

where the meals were hot

and on time

and hopefully

she was a dime piece

but if she could burn

that was a good start

hearts were expectant

everyone needed something

didn’t they

we all weighed out our options

as the Winter Solstice approached

and we coached our selves into believing

the lies were

laudable

and

plausible

cause

could we survive

another year this way

but our fears of loneliness

would not let us alone

and it is known

that the boogie man

took prisoners

just turn out the bedroom lights

and look under your bed

you won’t find Santa

just the shoes of your compromise

©  17 September 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

I Often Wonder

I Often Wonder

He was a gregarious character. He found a unbound joviality in laughter and visiting Dinner tables whenever the opportunity arose. He would eat to subdue his inner denied anguish, smothering his concerns between the courses of fare he consumed. She on the other hand was a quiet, solemn demure one, looking for soft shadows to duck behind and shield her light, for she feared the questions about what she truly thought. Together they were quite a pair, he with his vice and her with her blankets of obscurity. They each had their own life journey, a sort of acceptance and consignment to a lesser path. They both acquiesced to a small annoying fear that told them it was not safe to stand out and be the magnanimous personalities they always dreamed of, but never dared to be. He played games and faked himself to believing he was that dashing champion he emulated, the one that was found in Comic Books and on Television Sets. She found her contentment in the silence and hauntings of her childhood she had yet to let go. She lived at a certain peace with her delusions that she was still able to smile authentically . . . but she knew the truth, just as he did. Their Sovereignty along with their lives had been marginalized and minimized by their rote.

Many people these days wear such masks, hiding behind something, hiding out from what they wish to be and do have the power to be. I often wonder why do we subjugate our selves to being something that fits in to the misery we don’t even like? Is this truly a safe place for us, or are we destined to continually crucify ourselves upon the crosses of our own making ? . . . I Often Wonder . . .

This is dedicated to all those of us who would like to be expressively true but fear our own shadows of greatness.

Inspired by the Book Titled “I Often Wonder” written by my Friend Alan W. Jankowski.

http://www.innerchildpress.com/alan-w-jankowski.php

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

let our Poetry Dance

let our Poetry Dance

i heard her faint whisper

delicately caress the ear

of my soul

she was beckoning me

to put aside “Life”,

for she wanted to play

it was time for us

to frolic

and whirl

and spin

and dance again

pick up your pen

and let me speak

life unto life

for i have

a verse or two

or more

to disperse

to the world

yes, my beloved

has awakened

and cast gently open

the door to my heart

for she wanted

desired

aspired

to embrace

those who would live

this day

and become

the way

with poetry

let us play

my dear muse

let us impart smiles

who would not refuse thee

to those who would hear

and understand

and love to all the rest

come my Muse

for the day

this day

is required of thee

teach me to be clear

as we endear

our longings for peace

and tranquility

to the vision of man

and let us not

forget me not

compassion

let our passion be

to build Castles

for all the Children

and fill

all the rooms

with dreams

that bear no limitations

let these dreams

be ever abundant

and self manifest

with astute

acutely sagacious

possibilities

that can not be rebuked

nor assigned to refrain

and let all see

and believe

that

all that is conceived

is achievable

let us pen a verse

or two

or more

that will light

the unused candles

in the closets of Man’s souls

let us open that door

that holds at bay

the dreams of this

eternal day

yea

let our Poetry Dance

© 10 September 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

mine

mine

every time we encountered

she would unsheathe her sharpened tongue

and proceed to carve a piece of my heart

for her own demented pleasures

i knew the day would come

that i would have nothing left to offer her

save my retribution

but now

i was still too soft for her

and she knew it

but i bided my time

took notes

i learned so much

during these painful exercises

of her sickened expressions

of love

i even learned to laugh

at my inability

to be strong

in her presence

and deny her advances

but as i said

she knew i was helpless

some how she had managed

to get in my head

and twist my reason

while manipulating my will

still

something inside me

was enjoying this torturous expression

of what i so wanted to be love

i could not win the race

my hope was waning

with every new sliver she sliced

from my innocence

she was my endearing sadist

and my masochistic proclivities

would not be quelled

she had a spell over me

and with that same tongue

she indelibly carved her name

in the inner chambers

of my heart

and it spelled

“mine”

© 1 September 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

she slipped off her shoes

and softly

sweetly

suavely

sensually

sashayed

from out of my dreams

and into my heart

yeah,

she was smooth

she was a cross breed

of Satin and Silk

yeah,

she made me feel

auspiciously a'lacritous

yeah, she turned me on

the way she touched me

cajoled me

to come out of hiding

from that place of

love disconnectedness

where i was residing

hanging out

licking my wounds

of past experiences

and self doubt

she took my fears away

made them disappear

in thin air

i was smitten

and she was hittin’

on all of my

cerebral erogenous zones

as if she knew

my every weakness

and Lawd

was i weak for her

i would be a freak

for her

i would turn

my own damn self out

any day of the week

for her

you see

she knew me

better than i knew my self

now normally

that would be scary

but i did not have time for that

i was too busy

calculating

figuring

deliberating

in my

equivocating

while creating

semi deluded fantasies

of how i could

make her mine . . .

for ever

yeah baby

she was smooth

her very presence

melted my butter

she was the Fresh Hot Biscuit

i had been dreaming of

all my life

and i was ready to

consume her

totally

and the only words

i could now conjure

was

mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

© 9 September 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

2002

2002

It was the year 2002
. . .
you disgraced me
you played me
for awhile, though I'll admit
I had some fun.

But there was too much pain
to daily endure . . .
inflicted on me
. . . by you.

Maybe, it was not your aim
not out loud, anyway.

Mis-sung was the song
the lyrics had changed.
All harmonies were lost in
that tune that we sang.

Instead, beneath the moon-light
an eerie flute played.
Out of time, and out of rhyme
both the instrument and us.

Even still, you begged me to stay.
I could not . . .
So in time . . . I left you.
By staying with your madness
there was nothing to gain.

Too much harm and the pain
too hard to take . . .
the internal alarms began to ring
it was time to cut this string.

I saw the opportunist that you were.
I could not assist, no my love
I could no longer sing.

Your charm, I did disarm
tossing it into our lake.
Tumultuous disaster
was left in the wake.

I had to desist and bid you adieu.
Always know that the love
that I gave is yours to keep.

It was the year 2002.

(Bill)

yes, it was 2002

yes, i did beg you to stay

yes, there was pain

and you were not alone

i was melancholic

for the frolicking love

we once shared

had disappeared

but God did i love you

yes i did notice

how our song

was becoming

somewhat discordant

how i longed

to not hear

that eerie music

playing on that damned flute

i refuted everything

myself

and then you

and finally i tried

i vied

to refute love

but love would not

be denied

nor defied

and i cried

for you

each day

i died

for you

how i so wanted to

see you

walk through the door

of my heart

once more

and take your seat

that has been waiting for

your return

baby,

i spurned you

back in 2002

and i have yet to move

forward

toward

that happy place

i yearned for,

for it was you all the time

you were my reason for life

my rhyme

the rife of my joys

and my expectation

my elation

my smile

and now,

i have been exiled

from your garden

where my ardent heart

needs to stay

needs to live

not only the days of past

but that of my now

my tomorrows

and all that i can ever be

i beg of you

to give your self

give me

give us

another chance

you see

you were the world to me

in 2002

and you are now

and i thought you

should know

how i feel right here

and how i felt

in 2002

a Janet and Bill Collaboration

© 9 September 2002 - 2012

www.janetcaldwell.com

www.iamjustbill.com

Inner Child Press

i attest

i attest

my sweet Father

how is it my tongue

can find such sweet flatterous words

when i need thee the most

these times are dire

there are challenges anew

that greet me

at the Sunrise

each day

without fail

they lay with me

each night

as i seek the solace

of sleep

there is no sense in me

that is common

and the wisdoms

of the ages of creation

that of the Sages

are not that of my own

save when you visit upon me

this i have always known

they say

your grace is sufficient

i attest

show unto me

the face that i seek

that i may taste

the joy of your presence

in thy bridal chamber

wed me and bed me

and take from me

my naiveté

that i may see

that you are my provider

the champion

my heart has longed for

thy spirit

has stirred my waters

draw no quarters

take no prisoners

unloosen my bonds

and smite me

with thy mightiest blow

that this darkness

which looms about me

and within

‘til i know of only light

let me again

be pleasing

in thy sight

Oh my sweet Father

e’en in death

there is no peace

without thee

i attest

for i have died a thousand times one thousand

this day

and though the way

has allowed me the power

to pick my life up again

i keep picking

up my old self

again

renew me

redeem me

break me

and make me

a “New” vessel

that i may hold a New Wine

pressed from

your Holy Vine

by your hands

that has not been moved

by the illusions

of time

i have no plans

that are valid

nor worthy

of an eternity

without you

and thy blessings

and now i am confessing

that without you Father

Progenitor

Source

i am like

an untethered feather

in a cosmic storm strewn gale

immersed in a world

of Sins and Failures

that is not of me

nor my kind

and i wax blind

and sore

to my core

when thou speakest not

to me

hear me

hear my words

feel my longing heart

which aches for your embrace

let my eyes

renew

with a twinkling wonder

let thy servant

look upon thy face

for surely you already know

that . . .

“i need thee”

i attest

© 6 September 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

http://www.iaminnerchild.com/

http://www.innerchildpress.com/