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.
For more of Bill's Books and CDs visit or

Now Available

Now Available
The Vine Keeper

Now Available

Words and Voice of 'just bill'

pay it forward

Donate to World Healing ~ World Peace Poetry 2014 Distribution

Total Pageviews

Sunday, February 24, 2013

out of that door

out of that door

i sat in the room
of my personalized containment
a place of my own design

i had decorated the walls
with all the things
i have accumulated
over the span
of my journey here

the scene was the same
every day
every night
every moment
even when i closed my eyes

i was the rote-filled bored one
for i had already
worked my way
through all the Crayolas
and all the combinations thereof

i needed change
i needed a new Coloring Book
i needed courage
to dare

so i simply rose up
walked to the door
unlocked it
opened it
and walked out

i walked across
the pretty vicarious lawn
through the visceral Flower Beds
heading due west
through the meadow
attempting to catch the Sun
before it set

i was seeking an uninhibited expression
of who i may become
this day
this moment

each footstep
created a new way
a new path
but i cared not who would dare to follow
nor did i wish to return
for the memories
ancient and recent
of this and all carnations
i knew far too well

i wanted to climb out of my skin
and this shell
this box
i have built to hold and house
all that i have come to accept
as my destiny
my summation
my self
my life
my lives

as i said . . .  i was bored

as i considered my way
a new consciousness of wonder
began to come about
a dawning
and i became filled
with a penchant
to discover new sounds
new sights
new possibilities
never before considered
in my finite aspects nor perspectives of life

this all seemed so eerily familiar though

my “due West” migrated
slightly to the South
and then to the North
there were no rules
and i had no particular objectives
nor agendas
save but to learn this new dance
this dance of life
i was now engaging in

as i continued forward
i found and stood witness
to explorable new horizons
which ever way i looked
or focused upon

and in my stillness
there was movement
as i became somewhat anxious
for the room i left behind
was fading
like shadows at High Noon
and i felt it all through me
the release

i was seeing my life
than i have ever have before
i saw that it did not belong to me
but i belonged to it . . . LIFE

in the final striking of what once was
that resonant chord
a new indescribable music began to play
for in my submission
i found my liberation
all because
i dared the unknown
and i walked out of that door

© 22 February 2013 : william s. peters, sr.



pieces of perfection
were dancing around
in my head
disguised as ideas
visions and dreams
begging me
to “Pen” them
that they may become
and dance with the Spirits
of those who would dare
consider the exponential-ness
that exists
in the world of possibilities

so i write

© 20 February 2013 : william s. peters, sr.

for Hadessa’

for Hadessa’

it was an early silence
that morning
one so beautiful
like i have never heard before
i could actually hear my self think

there was no screaming
no gunfire
no soldiers in the village
nor any other persons
whose souls expressed
any arbitrariness

i was not aware of my hunger
and the usual gnawing feeling
i always remember having

no it was not fear
i no longer worried about fear
i was too busy seeking reasons to smile

i guess that was my Soul’s gift from God
the anesthetic
that numbed me
from the conditions of my life
the life of my Family
and the people who used to live
all around me

most of them had since
gone away or died

today, this morning
there was just silence

here i am standing
in the middle of the roadway
in front of where my home use to be

i remember my little brothers
they taught me a lot of things
with their innocent eyes of wonder
of life
before they were taken away
by the loud noise and fire
that exploded behind our home

i guess my Mother
did not need here left arm anymore
for there was no one to hold

her tears had long ago stopped
there was just this emptiness
like her soul had went away
along with Daddy
that day

yes we had sunshine
and there were flowers
growing in the fields

they reminded me
of the pictures i have seen
in magazines
about how you live
you have color in your life

i was hoping to see this world
some day
perhaps next life time
for now there is silence
and i watch
the war of man continue
never knowing why
i and my people
were so hated by you
who have guns

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

a Poem spoke to me

there are but two tears
that have ever graced the cheeks
of all Humanity
Joy and Anguish
and they come from the same well
travel the same path
and end in the same place

there is a space
that is silent
between the sounds
of the incessant rain drops
and i tried to listen
and a Poem spoke to me

there was no escaping the “Voice”
within my Soul
that longed for understanding
that i, my empirical self
may make finite sense of it all
but the “All-ness” eluded me
but a Poem had mercy
and spoke to me

is there a silence absent of noise ?

i sought it
i fought like Jacob
to wrestle with the Divine
for it seemed
like it vacated my mind
as i listened
but a Poem came to me
and tickled my spirit
and i did hear it
and i still do

have you heard the sound of the Petals in Spring
as they spread their wings
and let loose a fragrance
of Joy
of Life
of expectation
as they patiently await
to be fed
your admiration
your consciousness
that they do this for you ?

have you heard the rushing waters
as they journey to the Sea
carrying along
those same Raindrops and Tears
that housed your worries
your fears
your Joys
your Pains
and the many reflections of life
they held
along the way ?

have you heard the sound of the Sun awakening
just for you this day
and trekking from the East
to greet you with possibilities
of what your day may bring ?

when was the last time
you listened
to your Heart Beat
your Breath ?

Have you heard the sound of Chi
being fed to you
in your wanderings
and wonderings
about how it is you live ?

a Poem came to me
and i heard it’s footsteps in my Soul
and when it arrived at the Gate
where my Garden is
i let it in
that it may plant good seeds
in the Soils of my dreams
and we together
the Poem and i
can bring forth
a sweet fruit

i heard a poem
in the silence

a Poem Spoke to Me

© 23 February 2013 : william s. peters, sr.

Miracles in the Cupboard

Miracles in the Cupboard

there are Miracles in the Cupboard
“Be mindful and use them well”
was the Sign on the Door

they were a collection of Class 3 Souls
fresh off the Ship
from the Land of Catatonia

they step into the world of One Tongue
they were there to hopefully learn
how to build Towers
that they may ascend
and move through
this Class B Station
on to Class A
and graduate

many will not make it
and be cast to the end
of the line
to start all over again
for they have forgotten
all previous lessons

oh the waste of all those incarnations
but what is time
what does it mean
when you have a eternity
to work with

some could not endure the illusions
and they learned to pray
to figments of their own imaginings
never realizing
the connect was always with them
that God Particle
that Divine Sparkle

no, they needed Miracles
for they did not understand
the Miracle of Man

some could read the signs along the way
they became adept hunters
as they diligently sought their prey
. . . understanding

most just acquiesced
to what they were given
because it was the easier route
to follow the lead
and the path
that others had established
never realizing that we each
are endowed with our own path
regardless of what we have been told
so they sold their souls out
and blamed their miseries on all other things
but blaming and naming
never did reconcile a thing
and unlike the Caged bird
they had lost their abilities
to sing

sing because your happy
sing because you are free
all you have to do
is open your “Eye” and See

our delusions quickly become our realities
especially if we utilize
that prized Acme Brand of Faith
sold on every Street Corner

it is cheaper than paying the Full Cost
isn’t it ?

but most do fail to ever get to that weigh Station
at Sector A
for they spent far to mush time
looking through that Cupboard
where empty Cans
offered no lasting resolution
nor “Soul-Lutions”
for the Miracle found
in just “Be-ing”

but i must say this
if you are looking for Bliss

There are Miracles in the Cupboard.

© 24 February 2013 : william s. peters, sr.
Miracles in the Cupboard

and we managed

and we managed

Steel Magnolias
Aluminum Tulips
and Bronze Roses
adorned the Botanical
Metaphorical Gardens
constructed for the Children
of the “Machine”

the iridescent light
of painted Sunshiny Icons
hung in the skies
and graced all their dawns
of expectations
for “New Days”
that never quite came about
but they dreamed anyway

yes they dared to dream
of Pink Chiffon
Angel’s Food Cake
and Potato Salad
with Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwiches
on the side
with a couple of chilled Yahoos
to wash the unpalatable meal down

and we managed

© 24 February 2013 : william s. peters, sr.

Monday, February 11, 2013

and i want her too

and i want her too

she came to me naked
save for her wantonness
and i was stunned
for i have never looked
upon such a natural beauty

her skin glistened
with a wonder that stirred me
in places i have so long forgotten
and i became aflame
with a passion
that was consuming me
and destined
to do the same to her
her soul

we were coming together
first in our thoughts
then our desires of our hearts
and i knew
as certain as the Law of Life provides
that we, her and i
will be coinciding
in love
as one
for it is already done

it is a Love . . . . Supreme
the manifestations
of the Dream
i have always had
within my Core
the Love i always wished for
and now
as she walked through the door
i realized
quite clearly
that the Universe dearly
cares about
what it is i vie for
have cried for
and this day
i will die for
as i put aside
all my doubts
for she is here
naked before me
save for her wantonness

and i want her too

© 11 February 2013 : william s. peters, sr.

Sunday, February 10, 2013

to the Light

to the Light

we strip off our clothing
and streak through this world
exposing our nakedness
hoping you sneak a glimpse
of our consciousness
which possibly moves you
to places, dimensions and realms
never before considered

we play with words and language
verbs and adjectives, nouns and perspectives
electively intonating,
resonating and exacerbating
concocting new streams
that flow perhaps in to
yet undiscovered dark caverns
that know not of
the myriad essence of light

but that is only an illusion
for we discover ancient footprints
upon the ground
upon the walls
upon the ceilings
where some presence
has left it’s mark
in our distant memories

there are evidences
that either spirit or man
has visited here before
why did they depart ?
the consciousness is definitively prevalent
but can we see ?

were they too enamored
by the world without . . .
or had they found a better abode
that was more surreally nourishing
to the lives they sought
or thought they wanted ?

are they now extinct
as are we becoming ?

and as Death draws e’en closer to our ‘Life’
what are we willing to let go
that we may transform ?

have you heard the Snow and Ice melting today
upon the Mountains of your logics
which reside in some distant land ?

will you too join us in the flow
from delusion
to the New Frontier
no baggage is needed
nor allowed
for we must be clear
as the Crystal Chalice
that we may not only hold the light
but that others may do as well
that their own path may be discovered

we each have a painting to finish here
before we van graduate with honors
from this Creative Art class

what did you create today
what thoughts are you embracing in your “NOW”
what new perspectives are you embracing
as your Truth
if any at all

hold to the rails of your Titanic
and surely you will be saved

well, i will see you on the flip side of Sunshine
should you find your way
i will leave a Theory of String for you
that we may realize our connection
in reflection
of the circum- intro - spections
we once had
before we judged the things
to have a certain verity

as we look without . . .  look within
the Universe is expanding
the more we are able
to conquer the Fable
that our world is Flat
we come to understand the Cyclic nature
of things

yes . .  we have practiced this same lesson before
by way of the Spirit of our Ancestors
and our own “Be”ing –ness
for THE DNA-tic Code speaks
in resonant tones
and the balance endures

there are hearers and . . .
those that have come to speak
but far to many lights are
further de-voiding the void
that is begging to be filled

so clean out your closet
if you will
and hold to nothing
for from nothingness
comes all things
as it has always done

so . . . we strip off our garments
and stand before the Holy
in our full regality
letting loose our illusory frailty
and streak through this world
to the Light

© 10 February 2013 : william s. peters, sr.

pick up the Newest Published offering of Bill
“ The Vine Keeper”

Saturday, February 9, 2013

we at times . . .

we at times . . .

we at times
try to hold on
to things we know
we must let go

we at times
wish to sit back
and remember
reflect retrospectively
when we are aware
that the new growing season
is about us . . .

but we knew this
we know this
that again
it is that time
when we again
kiss our “Aspirations”
upon her lips

she sits patiently
waiting for our efforts
to mobilize
that we may realize
that the Sun has risen
and it is time for work

we at times
choose to lament
bathing ourselves
in the reflections
of missed opportunities
where our impunity
has no basis
as we turn our face away
from the way we may travel
or walk
this moment, this day, this life time

the cement is hardening
and soon we will not
be able to move
and the grooves of redundancy
are getting deeper
forming our own personal abyss
where the light becomes void

we at times
wish for love
but we are not open
to receive it
are we

one must open their hand
and allow their selves to receive
and to give
that which you desire

make room in your cup
pour out the stale stench filled sour waters
of your yesterday
there is a fountain
waiting to bubble forth
from that Rock
that can be cleaved
which is you, me, us, we

we at times
cling to our intelligence
and we are so
when we come to grips
that all we know
have ever known
has been relegated
to worldly things
a lesser expression
of who we can become

we at times
must let go
of the definitions
of how we see ourselves
and step out beyond the corral
for definitions are limitations
and the summations
are always the same
are they not ?

we get what we put in
we reap what we sow
rise up
go to the garden
and turn the soil
and toil this day
and plant new seeds
that we all may grow
and eat the sweet fruit

we at times
we at times
we at times

the time is always now

© 10 February 2013 : William S. Peters, Sr.

Thursday, February 7, 2013

Lean on that !

Lean on that !

they come to you
professing themselves
to be Prophets, Apostles, Saints
and other such ‘Self Edifying”
emissaries of God

the Revelations spoke of them
telling us they would come,
the ‘Wolfish’ Demons
dressed as Sacred Lambs

they speak of such things
as end times
and other non congruous aspects
they term as God’s way
and attempt to convince us
through our vulnerable fears
that Source Father God
has spoken to them
and gave a token to them
to speak of things
that even the Christ
we shall not know

so how do they know
when the end time comes ?

but this is what i say
that if God wishes to speak
to me to you
He provides you with
His understanding
and not that of our own
and for those who are listening
it is already know
that God has not ever ceased
to whisper of the eternal peace
that is provided for His Children
of all walks . . . real talk
for in the end
no one can defend
and proclaim
that they know a way
with a certitude
save that of our hearts
our love
for each other
Brothers and Sisters
of the same Father of all things

Lean on that !

and let me worry about my own soul
save yours if you can.

© 2 February 2013 : william s. peters, sr.

to be of thee

to be of thee

let us hide ourselves in the bushes
and linger with our hopes
that they may be come aflame
with the presence of God
that we become consumed
by the Fire which purges
all of our dastardly ways

is this the ultimate sacrifice
as we so forlornly await
the presence to come upon us

i am lost
and i have wandered
for many years
in my own personal desert
a place where i have sacrificed
my innocence and wonder
upon the sands of time

will you cleave a rock for me my Lorde
that i may drink
for my soul thirsteth for thy Holy Water

let me drink thy fill

the Commandments of Old
have lost their flavor among Man
and we are resurrecting our Babel
that Tower that pays homage unto
our own “genius”
flawed as it may be

you see
i know you are a witness
for what can be hidden
from He who is all things

All Eyes On Me
is what Tupac said
and in my head
it resonated
and my desecrated
demonstrated my disconnectedness
from that sacredness
i once took for granted
and now i long for

something about that dried up well
and i did not listen
to the telling of that story

but just the same
in whatever name
so be it
i do miss the water

and when this bush i hide behind
catches fire
my desire is but this
the bliss of that which i vie for
shall die for
deny no more
and that is
to be of thee

© 6 February 2013 : william s. peters, sr.

back to Eden

back to Eden

i have not always been a Good Father
nor Husband
nor Man
for i am a Poet
and my pain knew more
of my joy
than being a Father, Husband or Man
ever could

it is in the absence
of a thing
it is more cherished

an embrace in absent solitude
is held closer
than that of an everyday occurrence

in the end
what remnant memories
we may gather
of that which no longer appears as ‘is’
is celebrated
with each breath
as a hope offered unto the Celestial Holies
that time is truly cyclical
and will have the mercy
to bring about this love
back again
to in-lighten the eye
of my heart

let us gather the wood
clean the hearth
make a quiet fire
and soon the day’s desire
shall kiss our needful expectations
with a heavenly anointed bliss

and we shall dance
as muses do
inspiring the souls
of poets to come
with such words
that transmute
the burdens of our day

we shall journey from
pain to joy
cowardice to courage
confusion to clarity
convexment to confirmation
that the disdain, despair and anguish
of man
which is required upon the path
shall carry us forth
back to Eden

© 5 February 2013 : william s. peters, sr.

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

What Is

What Is

standing in the mirror
of my consciousness
reflecting upon memories
attempting to come to conclusions
of who i am

a “C” minor chord
struck my ears
from the strings of the guitar
and a fleeting image passed
before my jaundiced psychic eye

and i remembered when i once
was a thief of dreams
telling the children
such daunting dastardly things
such as “NO . . .”Can’t” . . . “Don’t” . . . “Won’t”
dashing their wonder
first upon the Rocks
then into the mud
as mine had been done
so many times
in my past
by others
by me

have i too become
that monster
in the dark
hiding under beds
waiting to prey upon
their dreaming
that i may thwart their abilities
to grow more “Discovery”
so they would look like me ?

i have done the same
with Lovers
as they have done to me
poking our fingers in each other’s eyes
so we could not see
each other’s truths

oh the pain
when the show is over
and the lights come on
and we realize
we so willingly played the part
yet we linger and hold on
loitering in life’s theatres
picking up stale popcorn
off the floors of our jaded reason
hoping to reignite
the Dear magic of illusion
but it can not be
can it ?

i catch a glimpse
of a truth
a glint of light of me
as the custodian ushers us to leave

my left eye catches this light
in it’s corner
for my “right”
is not aright . . . alright
it only sees me
as i command it to do so

it is i
who manifests
what it is i see
i am the “Let it Be”

and here i am
many aeons later
still sitting in this theater
telling my self
pretty little charming stories
about almost forgotten glories
about the “i am” that i am not
but i have not completely forgot
my One truth

i just hide
from what is

© 3 February 2013 : william s. peters, sr.

112 The Last Pope

112 The Last Pope

The Glory of the Olive
by a name of Peter
is due to come

will he walk Truth’s path
or create new realities

The Order of Benedictine
is upon us.
Shall Rome fall ?
Shall the gates be cast open
and knowledge
be given to the people ?

Oh Malachi
thou casts a shadow of fear
can we continue
to sleep with this
uncertain peace ?

the 7th Candle awaits the lighting
and we shall see again
the Lion of our sweet Judah
rise up and roar

Temples shall fall
and the bells of the steeples
shall ring but for a while
before falling forever silent
but the song of the call
shall not go unsung

there is no rationing
that shall save thee,
not hedging of bets
for you are
you are not

the record of Life
has already been inscribed
with your name
or without

the quill and the inkwell
is still filled with the Blood
is still held
by the hands of your own

will you live
or embrace
that final traipse
and sleep
or awaken
and embrace
that which you have forsaken
that Divinity
with affinity
of who you are
and have always been

a Child becoming

© 6 February 2013 : william s. peters, sr.

exiled from love . . . an eclectic conversation with my Muse

exiled from love . . . an eclectic conversation with my Muse

i have unwittingly
but knowingly
exiled my self from love

i have withheld my self
and the potential harvest
restraining with deliberation
the fruit from its ripening
with it’s fullness

sure i let some sample my fruit
as i ate my selfish fill
of their hearts offerings

oh Muse of Muse
i will not force that hand
nor thy tongue

when thou translates
i will record

nor shall i beg for your return
i will strive to keep the ears
of my heart attentive
that i may hear the approach
as your grace precedes
your arrival

in the mean time
my Soul sings in silence
with tones of a reverent light
that anoints all the possibilities
of our co-joinery
when we are wed once again

a smile adorns my face
for there is a sacred trust
of the celestial of all things

and in my knowing
we have traveled this path
before us before

and to you i am cleaved
and my fruit of love is yours
to ripen as you will
and as you spill into my void
i give to the world
to eat their fill
of my love
as i have done
since time begun
and men took note
of the space betwixt
that they may assign
some verity
in lieu of clarity
as they unwittingly
yet always knowingly
exile themselves from love

© 6 February 2013 : william s. peters, sr.

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

to the Table . . .

to the Table

it is with every footstep
that i walk in faith
for the ground,
the floor
remains ever below me
that i shall not fall into the abyss

it is with every heartbeat
that my body is fed
and the essence of life is sustained

it is with every breath
that i am nourished
as that which is holy
and symbiotic
gives unto me another moment
of life  . . strung together
that i may hopefully awaken
and realize that i am connected
and a part of
something grander
than my empirically fleeting understanding

i walk in faith
i breathe in faith

it is by faith that the drum beats
calling for my attention
to that which is divine
me . . .  mine . . . mind

we do not question these things
nor do we spend our time
wondering if they shall
perform their duty

i take my hand and touch
that which was but a moment ago
but a vision
but a thought
and by my hand
and my cooperative creative consciousness
it has come to be

i am touched
and i touch
for that i know
is within my prowess
yet my step falters
in the realms of my dreams
for peace
and love
and abundance

all is of this Celestial Fabric
to which i am connected
and i ask . . . why ?

have i failed ?
if failure has no permanence
is not it still possible
to overcome
the limitations we have adopted ?

why is my faith so small ?
am i but a Mustard Seed
waiting to be nourished
by the Holy Waters ?

Buddha spoke of this
Christ reiterated
that we too can be sated
by such a small thing

it truly has potential
doesn’t it ?

let us gather our faith
and feed many
for the Mansions are empty
save for the Souls of yesteryears
the Souls of Saints
the Souls of the Mystics
the Souls of our Brothers and Sisters
and they are lonely,
for they cannot begin to dance and dine
until we bring our Faith
to the Table

© 27 January 2013 : william s. peters, sr.

watching clouds

watching clouds

peering at the soft daylight sky
with a uncertain semi still reverence
i look at the clouds
with the eye of my heart
and their gentle
shape shifting meanderings
conjure memories
as i creatively embrace
the possibilities
of what may come next

i feel the journey
i feel the migration
eased along
by the gentle atmospheric breeze

the trees of the wood
confirm my observances
as the resonate and clap
applauding the show

what is potential
to one who realizes their now ?

from whence does exponentialness come
who is thy Father
who shall bore thee
when the Fetus comes to term

i am reborn into a world of wonder
and the twinkle never leaves my eye
for i have been extricated
from the womb of darkness
and the light blinds me
with a passion to explore
and question

now hence many years
i ask
why did i need to travel this road
only to seek to return
to that place
before there was an innocence
for it was not yet defined
in my understanding
of dichotomous things

the stains upon our consciousness
may be purged
but what about the memories ?

so i look to the skies
just to escape the perceived limitations

watching clouds

© 26 January 2013 : william s. peters, sr.

i read

i read

i have read many books

i have read the passions found in the eyes
of those i took the time to notice

i have read the splendour of life
painted as smiles
upon the faces of children
and adults alike

i have read the joys and hopes
brought to the world
with each new Sun rise
and i rise

i have read the meaning of the message
found in the sound of
each beat of my heart
and that of my lover

i have read the longing passions
and desires
of her as well
as we vie for the communion
that has no end

i have read the footprints of wonder
as she unveiled herself
that a common man like i
may see her nakedness

i have read the wantonness of love
found on the lips of my beloved
when they touched my own

i have read the coming
of dreams approaching

i have read the gentles touch
and embrace
of my fair gentle man

these are but a few of the things i have read
and there is also other things i have read
that appeals not to me,
but they do offer knowledge

and that is . . .
i alone may discern what it is i choose to read
and what i choose to cherish
in all the things i have read
and i choose to cherish the lessons
that teach me to read good things

i read

© 29 January 2013 : william s. peters, sr.

Reading “The Pilgrimage”
by my beloved Brother Paul Coelho

and i hold on

and i hold on

i told her to hold on
that i may catch my breath
for she inspired me beyond
all the joys of my imaginations
for all they could embrace
were the dreams
of the possibilities
of what may come to be

how i long to lay my head upon her breast
for i know that my solace
is found in her heart beat
as i listen intently
to the blessings of her presence
with each sacred breath

my fingers long
to dance upon her skin
feeling the soft down
rise to greet me
with a desire now fulfilled

her lips has always
been a wonder of mine
and soon come
i shall taste of the nectar
they offer
just for my pleasure
a treasure i not share  with the world
save in my smiles of satisfaction
that i am blessed

oh the ways of love and longing
the songs my heart now sings

and this moment becomes eternal
as i glisten brightly
in the love
of this dream
of her and i

and i hold on

© 1 February 2013 : william s. peters, sr.

blessed be the child

blessed be the child

he put the Crown of Thorns
upon his head
hoping to bleed his mind
of all the errant thoughts
of the world

he searched for Crosses
for he had a pocket full of nails
and without fail
there was always someone available
to serve the purpose
of the hammering
not to mention those with piercing spears
whose fears had them
trying to kill that inner voice
only to have the water of spirit
pour out upon the Earth

his works were mighty
miraculous even
but they were not enough

the Virgins came running unto him
offering their secret treasures
for the sweet pleasures
only they dreamed about

who has the Oil for the Lamp
that all in the Room may see
and the Virgins may be fulfilled ?

he multiplied and fed the possibilities
and the feast was before them

who shall eat ?

the wine was abundant
but the people only understood
the temporal relief from their anguish
for a moment of brevity
for certainly
they were already inebriated by the world

but a few understood,
but none stood and professed
until they felt threatened
by their own surreal delusions
for their earnestly
was at best but a dance
for they heard not that music
that was always playing

so they went home
and threw them selves
a party of pity
celebrating their fitting dreams
that gets them by
but another day

they cast stones to the center of circles
hoping to demolish the demons
of their own false embraced convictions
and be deified
as they vilify their brethren
but they were not loosed . . .
just confused

for years to come
they followed the scent of salvation
with their hopes alone
but not their deeds
for their seeds and dreams
were not rooted in any particular reality
and the soils were shallow
and had no way to nurture the promise

the children  became the weapons of destruction
and no mass could save them
nor could any priest
matter not how much confessed

their words became inflammatory
and incendiary towards one another
for the only important aspect of life
was “ME”
but they had already died
but knew it not

many have vied for a life
that was always theirs
but they knew it not

many prayed to a God without
but He resided within
but they knew it not

many loved a certain few
never realizing
that the Agape for all
was required here
but they knew it not

they hated themselves
and continued through each moment
to persecute their inner Saviour
by not believing in the message
but they knew it not

for to persecute the object
the messenger
was not threatening

it was better
to embrace their Barabas
and celebrate with more wine
and song
like some victory
had been achieved

let us vilify our Judas
let him become our objective Demon
for serving the part
of delivering the ultimate blow

kill the messenger you say
but he has already hung himself
in that tree
on that hill
that we may never forget
how we Slaughtered the Lambs

let us eat our Young
and smile with an inordinate glee
and we shall perish together
holding to our illusory love
as we create our own God
who shall judge us favorably
as we so wish

the Blind lead the Blind
and none may find
the way
for the way is found
in trust
of our Divine
not our Mind

and perspectives of our objectives
and how all should go
the way that
that small i in me should choose
still confused . . . .huh ?

a consideration is
when we let go of the outcome
and enjoy the journey
and gather the lessons
and pay them forward
we then come into a being of service
and what we then gather is our joy

we can then deploy our goodness
and profess that
“we deserve this”
for then we serve the purpose
of giving life unto life

blessed be the child

(31 January 2013 : william s. peters, sr.