Ther Vine Keeper

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Sunday, May 19, 2013

shine on

shine on

the road from Heaven to Hell and back again
i have traveled many times
the lines that tether the two together
are creations of mine own mind

seeds of good, seeds of angst
i must confess i have sown
the fruit thereof would i have suffered
if i had only known

we aimlessly meander along the path
gathering visions as we go
dreams we ponder, dreams embraced
we face, we nurture they grow

then the harvest does come about
as we turn ourselves to task
we gather the bounty of thine own hands
from whence they come don’t ask

we circumspect in our own works
the thing thy hands have wrought
the blessed gift that all life yields
is what thy road has taught

the crop is weighed the tare is measured
and the measure of self is seen
need not you confess, thy works have spoke
and truth from my shadows i glean

we yield to the lesser of what we be
with not the courage to define
that we are so much more than lore
when we unmask and face our divine

this road we have traveled many times
we know it all too well
can you hear the silence speak
let us listen to what it must tell

let not thy soul yield any more
to the feeble found in the night
be the Sun and shine my child
that the world may see thy light

shine on

© 18 May 2013 : william s. peters, sr.

Sunday Sermons

Sunday Sermons

it was not Sunday
but it was Sun Day
for the light did not fail me
this day

like as certain as certain can be
you did rise

messages have flooded our consciousness
with choices of no end
and dreams
are but that gate
where we may escape
and visit upon our convictions
without conviction
and guilt

the silt lies at the bottom of the pool
a place where fools lie
searching for shadows
to hide from them selves
but this can not be achieved
can it ?

why does man choose still
to parade as clowns of knowing
yet continue sowing
seeds of discord
in what could be
the prefect garden ?

we ardently participate
playing the Game of Life
while the Milton Bradleys
provide us with vicarious triumphs

and the Parker Brothers and Mattels smile on
all the way to the Bank
depositing remnants
of our Bankrupt futures
because we let the Brokers break us
as we trust
as we are told to

they took God
and put his Eye
on the Dollar
and your eye to
as we say aye,
yes, i understand
what you would have me do

though i have little clue
about the totality of the game is
my nose smells Denmark
and something is rotten
and it is not the cheese

so perhaps i will go to Church
and listen
to another of those Sunday Sermons
of Fox News
or CNN
and then again
i can begin again
to start to understand
what it is you are teaching me
and then i can preach it to the masses
just like you told me to
in those Sunday Sermons

© 17 May 2013 : william s. peters, sr.

in the darkness

in the darkness

an ember glow
from my cigarette

a solitary light
in the bright of day

essence swallowed

does the light burn any lesser ?
what is a light amongst
the brilliance of the day

in the night i travel
and i can see that of my own
illuminating pathways
that may footsteps may be sure
and i stumble not

in the darkness

© 17 May 2013 : william s. peters, sr.

God is Mad

God is Mad

total consciousness
is total madness

to see every quark, neutron and electron
dancing in perfect symphonious expression
weaving unfathomable endless realities
for our verity
is quite frightening

enlightening is one thing
but don’t shine it too brightly
for we would lose our nightly
wouldn’t we

there would be no escape
where one could find solace
or quiet

the riot we call life
would be endless
and we would be defenseless
to stop the onslaught of
a proclivity
i would rather not experience
if you do not mind

in my present state of being
i gladly accept the present seeing
and the possibilities
of seeing it all

this is why
i think
God is Mad
cause i know i would be

(c) May 2013 : william s. peters, sr.

to be so

to be so

i stand here
i am the infinite expressing it’s self
that mortal man
may understand

the horizon of all men’s dreams
lay as waste
at my feet
and they tickle my toes
and imaginations are borne
in variegated dimensions
with variegated colors
and variegated tones

i am the stillness
i am the silence
i am Soul
that marches ever forward
in the illusion
that movement exists
in this void

i am chaos
and i am order
i am as duplicitous
as i choose
or i am singular
in my expressions

dreams are but the conjurings
of an untethered mind
and that is the gift
of all gifts
that you may be entertained
with your own awareness

infinity is but a word
that speaks to
a field of wonder
that has no end

grow flowers if you must
or grow weeds
if you please
for you please your self
as you elect to
in your praelective ways

we, the “i”
are the prefects
of the perfect
if that is the way you
select to see it

the world is but
a cooperative experience
you have chosen
to share
in your group therapy session
where you are learning
the values of confession
of your truth
to your self expression

embrace what you will
for it is yours to will
or to Babel

Towers are awaiting to be built
will you find the Rock
for the foundation
that your efforts
not be in vain ?

and i ask
what was it
or who was it
that Cain slew
if you truly knew
you would say
it was not Abel who was slain
but the promise
of what could have been
had we taken
the other road
and drank from the other cup
and held to
the thought
we were all too willing
to let go
for the lore
that never was
for it never was
save in thy own
quixotic theaters
where wonder and reality
as possibilities
of what may be
if we but just deem it
to be so

© 17 May 2013 : william s. peters, sr.

when the call comes

when the call comes

upon the sandy sloped banks
of the stream of consciousness
we sit
to the rushing movements
of the waters
contemplating at times
most times lost
in the ambiance of the moments

we do not always see the connection
but we feel it
and we hold to
give to
some etheric expression
which remains unquantifiable

there are reflections
that dance
light that flickers
as memories are stirred
about times of old
we have put away

this is but another place
where the seeds of Dreams are made
that we may one day plant them
in the soils of our hopes

there are sounds of familiarity
tickling quaint colors
into fruition
as we imagine life

and the streams flows continually
to some greater expression
of it’s self
only to return
with but a breath
so we tether it
bind it
as we attempt to
define it
that our reason
not appear as failed
for how would we look at our selves

we know the time soon come
when we shall have to rise
from this place of respite
for even flowers must bloom
when the call comes

© 18 May 2013 : william s. peters, sr.

be noble

be noble

my hands have bled ‘tween tasks of toil
for purpose was my lot
my Soul was sent to bear a light
and i have not forgot

i taste the wine from grapes man bears
and was drunken for a day
thy voice still speaks and i still hear
lest i forget my way

the gate is kept by latch, by guard
by those who keep the sleep
the children thirst by the rivers edge
they drink the tears they weep

sorrow last, sorrow pass
and time still marches on
collect but mortal mem’ries
and the day my child soon gone

can not you hear the beat the drum
that call from yonder place
where hor’zons meet reality
which soon we come to face

children’s smiles are beckoning
let thy heart awake
but 2 commands we must know
for love never forsakes

the time has come to listen
open thy eye and let
the truth be seen and recognize
the fat lady sung not yet

linger not on the path
‘tis work still yet be done
rejoice in thy becoming
and battle still yet be won

we each may wield our holy sword
and speak what must be heard
you know what you’ve come to do
give spirit unto thy word

be noble

© 18 May 2013 : william s. peters, sr.

all over again

all over again

she keeps me on my toes
29 hours a day
she extends me
beyond my boundaries

with her i see the greater me
and the possibility
of what i may become
for my sum is always questioned
and my tolerance
knows no end

the things i defend
she proves to be invalid
like that Caesar Salad
with no dressings
no croutons

but i still find her
tasty even
though she is not always digestible
right away

she calls me a friend
then proceeds to torture me
with word lashings
and fashionings
from some dark nether region
of her mind

and as we dig together
in the soils of potential
we usually find a light
or delude ourselves so

she is an alchemist
she can take any stone or coal
and make diamonds
and all men vie
to taste her magic
but it is i who has it

we dance the dance of fools
seeking folly
wherever we may find it
for in the minds of the mindless
there is a veritable wisdom
to be had

so i say let us skip
to the precipice
and look over the edge together
and perhaps we shall get lucky this day
and fall in love
all over again

© 18 May 2013 : william s. peters, sr.

Tuesday, May 7, 2013

Notes from the Coffee Table : Series

Notes on the Coffee Table

i woke up this morning
as usual
with the dawning Light

The bright Sun was beaming
through our window
making the call
to begin the tasks of the day

i rolled over
to where my Love
my Lover
should have been
and she was not there

i thought nothing of it
perhaps she was in the Bathroom
or the Kitchen
making ready
to do her daily thing
. . . Love me
loving me
and me loving her

i did detect the aroma
of Coffee wafting
through the air
and my face wrinkled
with an expectation
of seeing her again
her face
as i kissed her lips
and embraced her hips
as i drew her into my space

i held that vision
of we two
in the kitchen
and that first sip of Coffee
and a Cigarette

i went to the bathroom
brushed my teeth
washed my face
and i took a leak
flushed the toilet
and exited
and made my way
to where she would be
the Kitchen

My love, my Lover
was no where to be found
but i did smell those fresh grounds
as the Sun was beaming
through our Kitchen window

i wondered
where has my Love gone

i poured my self a cup
doctored it with
Sugar and Cream
as the steam
tickled my nostrils
i took a sip
lit me a cigarette
and puffed
and sighed

i went to the Living Room
the room where we lived out
most of our days together

i sat on the couch
grabbed the Daily News
and i noticed
a neatly folded paper
sitting there waiting
for me
to investigate
what it was
and what it may have to say

i started to dismiss it
but i could not resist it
so i picked it up
and this is
what it said

My Dear Love

This morning i have awakened before you
instead of with you.

I have missed out on
our early morning greetings
and our session of love
but i did make you some
fresh coffee.

You are now more than likely
sitting on the couch
drinking your coffee
and reading this note
my heartfelt attempts
to share with you
my heart felt feelings

As much as i would love
to be with you
in these cherishable moments
of a new day
our new day
i am not
for i am embracing a new way
of my own.

Yes, i have awakened
this day

i have come to an Epiphanic realization
that i want more
i will not be forsaking
the potentials
of what i may become

i want more
to explore
why my Soul no longer sings
of it’s joy
during our routinous rehearsals
of the same old songs
we both know
all too well

i long to be young again
in love like a young school girl
on her first date
and of late
all i can think of
is possibilities
of what else i may be missing

life is short
this is what i have seen

this is not to say
i do not love you
for i do
deeper than i have ever loved another
and you gave it back to me
more than i have ever been loved

but it is you who opened that door
that spoke to me
awoke me
and showed me
a realm
where i am at the helm
of my life’s ship,
and i thank you
truly i do

but today i have awakened
and i saw the Sunshine
yes, the same old Sun
we see every day
and i wanted to go out
and play
in the fields of life
and feel the rife
of a Joy
i have yet to experience
and i know you do

you will always be my man
and if you are there
when i return
if i choose to return
i will share with you
what i have discovered
about me
and then perhaps
we can uncover
a greater possibility
of what we may become
as One Love

and in closing
i am supposing
that there is a smile in your heart
as i depart to you
what my soul is saying
and speaking to me

and finally . . .  i would like to
Thank you for reading this
Note on the Coffee Table

i love you

© 3 May 2013 : william s. peters, sr.

from The “Notes on the Coffee Table” Series

a note for you . . . i hope you “Get It” . . . get it ?

My Love,

i will not lament
and allow the energy of my confusion
and surprise
to suppress your potential joy

the best i may offer unto you
and life
is a blessing
of God Speed
and a Good Journey
as you wander in your wonder
seeking that which you always had
within you

i do understand your penchant to know
for all Souls should be graced
by the presence
and light
of the actualization
of their greater selves

that truly is a blessing
of the highest order

i shall make no promises
to be idle
and allow my soul to rust
in the trust
that you may return
for i too
do not wish to pick up old things
or sing old songs
for i too long for more
than what i have experienced
in my life thus far

there is no fault
to be had
and our love was far more
than a fad
it was
and is
still valid
for i gave you my heart
as you did for me

so in the end
or should i say
in the new beginning
be that what you wish to be
for you have always been free
to do that

smile at your self
and with your self
in your life path
with each foot step
mile after mile
and the world does smile
with you

so with this
until maybe then
i bid you adieu
it is nice having loved you

i love you still

© 3 May 2013 : william s. peters, sr.

from the "Notes from the Coffee Table Series"

Notes from the Coffee Table # 3

Here i sit

here i sit
contemplating the effects
of change
that has come into our lives

you have chosen a new path
and left me at a juncture
where i too must
decide my direction
and press on

last night
as i lay my head
upon my pillow
i could not help but feel
the silence
the solitude
that such an empty bed

i have become so accustomed
to the touching
the caresses
the strokes
of each other’s consciousness
because we were present
but you are not here
save for the haunting
flaunting memories
of what used to be

i found myself indulging
in the divulging
that i too have dwelled
perhaps too much
in that void
of what may be
that chasm
of the expectant me
who has went to sleep

yes i too took you
took us
for granted

i could go on
sharing in this note
i now write
about my struggles last night
that lasted to the dawn
of a new day
but it did not feel so new
and i knew
it was because you
were not there

the Sun did greet me
in spite of me
and what i may have thought
or been thinking
as it was winking at me
between the slats
of the blinds

i forgot to draw them closed
as i have now closed a portion of my heart
which is no longer open
to experience
my perceived hurt
in your absence

yes i am now absent
from the classroom
where i thought
i have come to learn
of my authenticity
which i implicitly

but what i was pursuing
was my visions
my thoughts
my dreams

and though it may seem
that they were once One
i now know this was not
an ultimate truth
nor a sustaining reality
devoid of pain

yes, now as i examine
the insanity of my falsehood
which i embraced
with a certainty
i must confess,
for i now see
the inanity
of what we men
come to believe
if no one stirs
the conscious stew
we are cooking

but when it is all said and done
i will deliberately come undone
that i may remake my self
mold my self
without an exacerbescence
that only i can conjure

so for as sure
as i sit here in reflection
introspectively inspecting
with retrospection
at the intersection of change
correction is not what i need
nor seek

i just wish to peek
at my self
and the rock that is missing
from my life
that i thought was you

so now, here i sit
at the Coffee Table of my life
writing another Note
in consternation
a compilation of me
looking at me again

these are my Notes from the Coffee Table

© 6 May 2013 : william s. peters, sr.