Inner Child Enterprises

Pain and Butterflies

2012-02-15T13:51:00.000-05:00

Pain and Butterflies

Is there a pain upon the wings of the Butterflies

Teasing men to dream of what not may be

I see

You see what ?

Dreams crumbling

Tumbling

Out of our heads

Dead

Who said they would come true

Not me

Was it you ?

Flying all sweetly

Completely oblivious

Of how the living are dying

Vying

For beautiful

Never to be fulfilled

Blood is still being spilled

While gardens of expectations

Are tilled

By the blind

Carving crooked furrows of thought

In our minds

Hey you

I am having a 2 for 1 sale

On doctrines

And get on Prayer Rote free

Will you buy a few from me

Let me see

What do you like

Ole Skool

New Skool

I got the tools

That will help you sleep

And keep you from truth

What ever that may be

Just watch the Butterflies

Oh, by the way

Have a look at our flowers

Over there

In that section marked

Pain and Butterflies

A WIP Prompt Joint

Pain and Butterflies

I am listening to now

2012-02-15T10:38:00.001-05:00

I am listening to now

I hear the muscles in my bowels

Doing it’s digestive duties

I hear the breathing of life,

I listen as the air rushes into my nostrils

And fill my lung cavity

I hear the beating of my heart

And it’s attempt to keep pace

With it’s own perceptions of life

And it does well

I hear the bird in the wood

Calling to the day

Letting all know that life speaks

Volumes

I hear the stillness of that very wood

And the reaching of every limb

Of every Tree

To the heavens

I hear the sneaking yet not silent footsteps of thought

Tickling my consciousness to come to play with them

This day

I smile

I hear my expectations

Wailing for fulfillment

Crying against it’s own limitedness to dream

So i let them go

That i may re-create them

More grander than before

And again i smile

I hear delusions being manufactured

In a concept of peace within

But is it ?

I hear your call for this same

I hear God speaking

Am i He

Am i She

Am i simply me

Manifest ?

I hear the evolution of past to now

And somehow it is believable

For at one time

That now was conceivable

As it is “Now”

And hear i am

Hearing the footsteps already expressed

That i address through this time’s illusion

Amidst the confusion

That which i ignored

I hear this smile on my face

Humming along

Singing the song

Of Universes yet to be born

And birth them “I” will

That we may ever seek

I hear this week is gone

Yet it is still awakening

In lessons

Yet to be embraced

I hear the approach of Chance

And i listen as it

Knocks upon the door of opportunity

And i pay attention

As they greet each other

With indifferent salutations

To the dawn

I hear the soft footsteps in the Garden

As we creep through life

Wanting to Dance

But our limbs are frozen in fear

Wanting to sing

But doubt paralyzes our voices

Yet i hear you

I hear me

I hear the calling

For sleep

And that call we all will answer

Won’t we

I hear the warmth in my ears

As the blood rushes to my lobes of consciousness

To attune my listening prowess

And as i said

I hear God in all things

Do you

Are you listening

I Am

You Are

The I Am

Are we not

When we listen

Within

I am listening to now

Professor Owsley was it ?

2012-02-14T19:45:00.002-05:00

Professor Owsley was it ?

she tied the ribbon around my neck

it was pretty

a bit too tight

for my liking

i was choking

and they were laughing

the road has been long

and i have been longing

for it to come to an end

but will it

i think at times it is

but an ever changing circle

a carousel spinning fast

faces passing me

dizzying me

where is the Wizard

is this Oz again ?

cause i see yellow bricks again

or maybe i am hallucinating

overcome with anticipating

an answer to my prayers

ssshhhhhhhhhh

is “HE” awake yet ?

well, go get the Son you fool

oops, ‘scuse me

i apologize for my . . . whatever

i’m only human

can i go sit on the throne ?

he will never know will he ?

the flowers are swaying again

in the wind

offering their ”Poppy –esque” fragrance

a free pass to temporary escape-isms

where all schisms and isms are welcomed

i actually have more than 2 cents

with no sense of restraint

when it comes to giving it

living it

did Alice call

that hole sucking harlot

i mean Bitch

she makes my psyche itch

trying to figure it out

and her thing for rabbits

and other furry gremlins

hey,

didn’t we just past that burning bush ?

‘scuse me

while i do my Hendrix word play

oh say, can you crookedly see ?

cause we don’t see shit straight

all is askew

though you knew

that Disneyland

is for the living dead

so why don’t you

take a seat over there

in my head

the twilight zone

yes right there

while i tighten this ribbon

Professor Owsley was it ?

Owsley Stanley (born Augustus Owsley Stanley III, January 19, 1935 – March 12, 2011) also known as Bear, was an essential and transitional personality in the development of the San Francisco Bay counter-culture. His early activities spanned the Beat-era years of Ken Kesey's Merry Pranksters scenes, but he played an equally important role during the explosion of 1960's Psychedelia culture. As a brilliant and eclectic crafts-person, he became best known simply as 'Owsley'- the paradigmatic LSD "cook" (underground chemist) - a magician-like figure. Stanley's inventive spirit was not limited to chemistry, either. Under the professional name of "Bear", he was internationally celebrated, becoming an iconic figure (producer, engineer & artist) to psychedelic rock band the Grateful Dead's international fan "family", and still honored among subsequent generations of jam band music fans.

magic . . . MA only

2012-02-11T20:30:00.002-05:00

magic . . . MA only

do you have that magic baby

is magic what you got

do you have them magic hands

that makes a strong man hot

do you have that magic baby

is your game complete

when we’re done, the after taste

‘tis it bitter or be it sweet

do you have that magic baby

that makes me want you all night long

not the type that makes me smile

but makes me SCREAM passion’s song

do you have that magic baby

where my thirst is never quenched

my orgasmic dreams continue

i wake not if i’m pinched

do you have that magic baby

to make this wanton one cry

then make it all feel better again

to please you i’ll forever try

do you have that magic baby

let’s start it with a kiss

then i’ll submit to your desires

that i might taste your bliss

. . . do you have that magic baby ?

ever for

2012-02-11T20:28:00.000-05:00

ever for

my soul joyfully weeps in anticipation . . .

of your coming

…home.

i know with all due certainty

that you bear for me a bountiful heart,

filled with the gifts of “Heart”,

with no limitations.

Through many restless nights

i rode the dream streams

of colorful light beams

looking over the horizons

of my aspirations . . .

lookin for you

All my senses enlivened

with the urge but to be of you . . .

through you . . .

in you . . .

once again . . .

for you complete

the “me” of “me”.

Over the eons

i have watched

the waxing and waning

of my passions and desires,

knowing that only your heart

could align my path with my truth.

Need i say that

the warm velvet of your ethereal touch

grounds me in the soil

of the garden of “Birth and Death”

exposing my silly illusions . . .

that i am finite.

Yes Love,

in my delusional haste to live

and the creations of my own hauntings,

i knew you were always there . . .

heart in hand

flowing with the essence of all life

. . . love.

For with Love,

Death willingly is trumped

and thus submits it’s veil of deceit

to what “IS” . . . Life!

So. my dear

bring me the breath of “BE”ing that sustains us . . .

bring me the Joy Divine

bring me my Life’s Light . . .

Light my Lantern once again

bring me our life

that permeates all “BE”ing . . .

that i may awaken

and be transformed in the . . .

ever for.

for we are love

2012-02-11T20:25:00.000-05:00

for we are love

we were in love

but there were rules

in the hard dense dimension

and we were in dissension

of how they applied

and affected the illusion

of our supposed integrity

the rules of love

cares not for love

but cares for themselves

for love can not exist

in borders

and boundaries

and with restrictions

in conflict with it’s self

our souls spoke of times

long ago

yet still here with us now

for we remembered

we remembered the passion

the congruity of our thoughts

and our mutual longings

and the oneness that always prevailed

and here we are again

attempting to defend

a thing greater than we have been

ever here

and my dear

i pray

that we lose our fear

of what is to come

and again

we will drink the nectar

of our own fruits

for we are love

come steal my heart . . .

2012-02-11T20:22:00.000-05:00

come steal my heart . . .

come steal my heart my beloved one

be as the thief who creepeth in the twilight

ever vigilant seeking the cherishable prize

that ushers forth riches untold

let the graces of our aspirations

and dreams

become a presence of One

come steal my heart my beloved

take charge of my heart felt wanderings

let there be no repass of my guilt

for what you take charge of here

i bear no ownership

come steal my heart my beloved one

my longing calls for one just like you

be mindful of your caring

let it be focused upon me alone

should you wander to another garden

where the fruit appears that much sweeter

know that i bear no angst against thee

for you have tasted of my sweetest

and i am grateful to have fed your dreams

come steal my heart my dear and beloved one

come steal my heart

and let us dance in the realm

of expectations of our greater self

let us uninhibitedly display our joy

in the smile upon our face

the smiles that are tethered to our Light Heart

where shadows have no name

come steal my heart my beloved one

and as we comingle in our bliss

let us kiss

and let the ether of our union

be the spirit that spawns life

and the universe shall sing

of the ecstasy of our love

in it’s highest form of celebration

come steal my heart beloved one

and let the angels lose their guard

for my heart in your hand requires no chaperone

and all the eyes of heaven shall be filled

with the beauty of their tears of allure

as they flow to feed those

who know not of thy passions

come steal my heart my beloved one

and we shall dine at the table

eternity has set before us

entwined in all the blessings of imaginings

of all the God-ness of promise

as one

come steal my heart . . .

ANNOUNCEMENT : Inner Child Awards Recipients

2012-02-11T10:46:00.000-05:00

Don’t you ?

2012-02-07T16:03:00.002-05:00

Don’t you ?

Them old Oak Trees of the South wood

Expressed an almost forgotten familiarity

Their statuesque presence looming

Sketching outlines in the skies above

As i looked up

Looking down

You could see their deciduous brethren

Gathered at their feet, mostly

But some of the Ancients

Did challenge their girth

Barren because the Winter took notice

Leaves fallen upon the earth

You could smell the composting of the Oak

As it continued its journey to nurture

And feed the life to come

The background skies just adorned them

In the allowing of their interruptive limbs

To their own expanse and command of what we see

All was peaceful, and none held angst

About another

The Brother of mine, Wind

Still danced, still pranced

Without much resistance

There was nothing really to do

But visit his old friends

And remind them of their symbiosis

For each were born, all were born

With gnosis, as are we

We have forgotten the purpose of the way

Yet each day we awaken and trek forward i think

But then again, what do i know

Save that all rivers flow to Oceans

Eventually, don’t they ?

The Sun was seeing what i was, wasn’t it

And so much more i am sure

For when i act as a Sun, i do

I thought you knew

Don’t you ?

Prison Analogies

2012-02-05T13:42:00.001-05:00

Prison Analogies
Often / Most times, we, are “Self”, imprisoned. Usually by our thought processes, but hardly ever by our intent. Intent is usually of a virtuous make up. It is often our lack of faith in the manifestations of our intent that leads us to either “sow” our own seeds of “doubts” and “insecurities”. Also we graciously allow others, such as “Friends”, “Family” and “Strangers” to do the same. Doubts and Fears are naught but a “Veil of Darkness” we consent to or assist to shroud the light of our “Dreams”, “Aspirations” and “Intents”! So, when i say we are “Self Imprisoned” . . .
One truism about life is that “Life” is a result of our choices. We must accept the responsibility of our lives. We can either suffer the effects of our choices or embrace the “Joys”! When we do not assertively chose, we are still in charge . . . choosing. We are choosing “not to choose”! When we do this we are allowing this manifestation that is not of our own selection, and yet we are imprisoned once more.
Another consideration about c choices and “Self Imprisonment”, we also become “Slaves” to our Goals and Aspirations, do we not? A pretty “Paradoxical” consideration and place to “BE”! So, the question is, how do we avoid this state of “BE”ing i am calling”Prison”? . . . that which is confining and limited in nature? I got it!
Stop Building Walls !
Blessed Be
Bill
© August 2009 : William S. Peters, Sr.
Below is a Poem i wrote some time ago about this topic.
Enjoy and FEED BACK. What is your prison ?

my prison

i have erected four walls
that i call my jail
for inside my walls
i can not fail

outside of my box
in traps i am caught
they tempt me to see
if my soul can be bought

my prison is safe
by my own design
my light’s filtered in
and my truths are sublime

outside of my door
there is my own guard
no one may enter
without their love card

i am safe in my world
and the risks are few
why i stay here
i have not a clue

but some day i’ll leave
and that day is soon
for i hear my heart’s piper
playing Pan’s tune

so i’ll open that door
and then i will see
a bigger prison built
especially for me

so how do i escape
how can i be free
there is but One answer
and that is to “BE”

. . . stop building walls

“before Peace, Love and Freedom can manifest itself in the World
we must first allow it to manifest with in our Self”
~ wsp ~
~ inner child ~

~ U N I R 1 ~

The World that is becoming Real

2012-02-04T18:47:00.000-05:00

The World that is becoming Real

in a world

where we walk in our sleep

we look on with indifference

as the children do weep

promises are made

we intend not to keep

we live in the shallows

while lost in the deep

we profess to seek truth

while embracing the lie

pretending to live

while each day we die

we paint on a smile

while inside we cry

accepting illusions

and never ask why

looking to heavens

for forgiveness of sin

delusions abound

created within

transfigurative salvation

by Genie or Jin

the pathways of losers

dreaming to win

our dance and our laughter

laced with travail

upon stormy seas

less rudder less sail

dis-ease with our brethren

undiagnosed ail

yet i hear souls crying

with silent night wail

but hold to your hope

for the sun soon come

in light of the new day

we realize our sum

the pathway revealed

to whence we are from

and spirits attuned

all minds now aplomb

and joy in the streets

of Gold we will dance

for all “Is” is perfect

‘twas never with chance

each touch of our love

perpetuates advance

i’ll see you at the party

and we’ll sing perchance

in the world that is coming to be

Tomorrow Perhaps

2012-02-02T19:48:00.002-05:00

Tomorrow Perhaps

i was walking down the street

where 1,000 gallons of Petrol

is burned every second

people sauntering, commingling

attempting to fill and occupy their lives

with something

anything

conversations

interactions

discoveries

and new encounters

yet the day is the same

as the one before

and perhaps

the one to come

some of us have forgotten

the sum of who we are

does any one care about the portrait

the painter

the frame

the canvass

with living vivid colors ?

a man walked up to me

made a common city gesture

putting his slightly spread

index and middle fingers

to his lips . . .

no, he was not blowing me a kiss

but this is what i thought

that he was asking for a cigarette

yet, all he wanted

was a light

all right . . . alright

my fear and my tightly bound selfishness

reacted

for that simple 2 fingered action

spawned my reaction,

for this enactment of process

had become my truth . . .

but all he wanted was a light

as i turned the corner on Broadway

life abundant met me

my vision

my consciousness

in a broad way

who could possibly sleep through this

yet still

so many were

sleepwalking

talking to each other

and to themselves

stuck in their dreams

and dreamless days

their ways of coping

some hoping

that the self doping would alleviate

them from being lost

and delegate to them a path

many not . . . perhaps

and perhaps the voices we hear

i hear

may be laced with fear

and doubts

and bouts with self

but i suspect, i doubt

that life is simplistically more complex

in the bowels of my own vexations

i saw nor felt the liberation

i vie for

and though i may say “Die For”

i am living for

and opportunity

to cry for help

yelping like a dog inside

from the place i hide

i too am a vagrant wanderer

clawing, holding on

to the visceral strings of my wonder

playing tunes

along with my self created

orchestrated

symphonies

so while something spiritual in me

resonates with what was about me

the ambiance embraced me

and began to speak to me

loudly

and

now i want to hold on

i pulled out my camera

and began to take pictures

of the busy-ness

to make the assist

in my endeavor to record

the accord

of life

i wonder do they see me

as the oddity

the oddity of a color unique

within this creative expressive painting

of one portrait of life

i see them . . . i see me

there were the vendors of the streets

the lenders quite replete

all giving, offering an option

to barter away their prizes

for yours

and of course

many took the bait

and though some may appear to be

in disdain

at the fleeting joys

the enduring pain

and all the inane, insane

twain the two

i see life evolving

devolving

unto it’s self

while we are attempting

the solving of equations

to the situations

we encounter

or not

some are dormant and waiting for sunshine

some shedding their hulls

to rise above the furrows

and perhaps it may not come today

but there is always

tomorrow . . . perhaps

Half Moon Light, Half Moon Dark

2012-01-31T20:00:00.002-05:00

Half Moon Light, Half Moon Dark

I stand in the not so silent night

Contemplating the resonating of life about me

And me is semi absent form this consciousness

What a mess

The test to find ones way

Out of their own convolutions created

Never to be abated perhaps

Half Moon Light, Half Moon Dark

But we must believe

So they tell us

Or we will never achieve

What I may ask

Half Moon Light, Half Moon Dark

The task at hand always

In all ways

In all the days

Is to find our way

Through our own wilderness

Half Moon Light, Half Moon Dark

My mind stirs and picks at things

Singing song I have forgotten

To annoy me

Or incite me

To further the quest of being free

Half Moon Light, Half Moon Dark

The body has need of things

But there is this thing inside of me

That cares not about such things

For I am enjoying just the “being”-ness of things

Half Moon Light, Half Moon Dark

I cling to the nothingness

In my feeble attempts to make it something-ness

Another fine mess William

For thy inquisitiveness

Comes with a payload of reservations

Doubts and Fears abound

And they never flee

At the sound of my feeble

Soul Blowing of what I claim certain

And certainly I will never overcome

That which is the ultimate validity

Half Moon Light, Half Moon Dark

The moon peaks through the clouded heavens

Half Moon Light, Half Moon Dark

There is a distant train whose whistle is blowing

For those who seek the knowing

To awaken

From their soon to be forsaken journey

And still the resonant “I” in me

Wants of things

Half Moon Light, Half Moon Dark

And the equation that fulfills it’s self

Has cosigned to imbalance

So it seems

Yet in the dreams

I am whole, wholly

Even in my folly

Half Moon Light, Half Moon Dark

Am I the light

Or the dark

Or a contextual representation of the complete

Half Moon Light, Half Moon Dark

I must ask again

Am I ?

Half Moon Light, Half Moon Dark

Rain

2012-01-27T11:05:00.001-05:00

Rain

i love the sound of Rain

every single uncountable drop is unique

they each bring their own color

and give it freely to life . . .

i listen to . . .

the places they fall upon

the things they have come to meet

and the sound they co-make

yet in spite of their differences

it is One Rain

losing the battle . . .

2012-01-26T20:07:00.000-05:00

losing the battle . . .

he held his dreams closer than reason

to him the world as he knew it

was losing the battle of importance

cleverness was overrated

no one gets out alive

we were just moved to another cell

and then the rumors started

life is like that, isn’t it

you know . . . what you believe

and we approach with reverence

laced with a fear

the edge of the abyss

the voices whisper from the void

“Jump”, but you aren’t are you ?

You will return to the village

with another adventure story

to tell the children.

They used to call them Fables,

i call them Lies

for within me belies

a certain desperation

only the cries of a desperate soul

can abate with it’s rationale

and tears and cheers and laughter and smiles

a spiritual cocktail is being concocted

by some would be Teacher somewhere,

at this very moment,

one who wishes to instruct me

how to walk my path

i say, write a Book

and maybe someday

when i have time away from my life

i will read your story

that is what you want me to do isn’t it

read yours and forget about my own ?

Another “Self Proclaimed Knower”

of things they have never seen

through the portal of any of their eyes.

Surprise, that is what “Id” does

when the “IS” ness of self fades

we envision.

Like Television we turn on

and what peace you had

is gone

faded

in the wisping ether

of the yesteryears of thought

no longer remembered

for the tethers of significance

are undone

we are filled with commercials

Prophets and Prophecies

and Legacies of times past

but what about NOW ?

i don’t want to dream no more

of what may be.

Dammit . . . i am a Beetle in the Bog

please . . . “Let It Be, Let It Be”

Words of Wisdom . . .

only the “i” in Me can speak

and the irony of it all

the calling prevails

to hold on to the unseen

and he obeyed

he held his dreams closer than reason

for

to him the world as he knew it

was losing the battle of importance

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i serve the silence

2012-01-26T20:05:00.000-05:00

i serve the silence

within the folds of silence

there is a noise

a voice

constantly beckoning

for my reckoning

and the awakening

of my greater self

all riddles have answers

i am told

all solutions

serve the equation

for that is their duty

i am listening

and i await the lighting

of the candle

that i may remove the bushel

that all in the room may see

and again the formulas fails

where, what is that cloak

that veils the essence

of this light within

casting dispersion upon self

to what end does that serve

does it validate sin’s presence

of that of the illusion

the age of confusion

is upon us

twirling and knitting

and gnarling and sitting

working convexments

around and through

the minds of men

that we may create our own delusions

by the dozens

wholesaling our souls

to the highest bidders

bloodied esteems

litter the landscapes

of the promises we dream of

for some, it is all we have left

dreams so we may think on it

so why not think on

about the uselessness

of aspiring thoughts

which are tethered

neither to deed not intent

the jackal captures the imaginings

in the throes of carnality

revealing the futility

of our mountains of civility

laced with the bitters

the poisonous flavors

of protocol

and the call

is unanswered

so this is why

i chose the silence

though it is but another tease

i yet still seek it

here upon my proverbial knees

listening for that voice i serve

for

i serve the silence

www.innerchildmagazine.com

http://www.innerchildpress.com/

losing the battle . . .

2012-01-24T17:00:00.000-05:00

losing the battle . . .

he held his dreams closer than reason

to him the world as he knew it

was losing the battle of importance

cleverness was overrated

no one gets out alive

we were just moved to another cell

and then the rumors started

life is like that, isn’t it

you know . . . what you believe

and we approach with reverence

laced with a fear

the edge of the abyss

the voices whisper from the void

“Jump”, but you aren’t are you ?

You will return to the village

with another adventure story

to tell the children.

They used to call them Fables,

i call them Lies

for within me belies

a certain desperation

only the cries of a desperate soul

can abate with it’s rationale

and tears and cheers and laughter and smiles

a spiritual cocktail is being concocted

by some would be Teacher somewhere,

at this very moment,

one who wishes to instruct me

how to walk my path

i say, write a Book

and maybe someday

when i have time away from my life

i will read your story

that is what you want me to do isn’t it

read yours and forget about my own ?

Another “Self Proclaimed Knower”

of things they have never seen

through the portal of any of their eyes.

Surprise, that is what “Id” does

when the “IS” ness of self fades

we envision.

Like Television we turn on

and what peace you had

is gone

faded

in the wisping ether

of the yesteryears of thought

no longer remembered

for the tethers of significance

are undone

we are filled with commercials

Prophets and Prophecies

and Legacies of times past

but what about NOW ?

i don’t want to dream no more

of what may be.

Dammit . . . i am a Beetle in the Bog

please . . . “Let It Be, Let It Be”

Words of Wisdom . . .

only the “i” in Me can speak

and the irony of it all

the calling prevails

to hold on to the unseen

and he obeyed

he held his dreams closer than reason

for

to him the world as he knew it

was losing the battle of importance

www.innerchildmagazine.com

http://www.innerchildpress.com/

the Words . . .

2012-01-24T16:57:00.002-05:00

the words

do you still remember the words

to the Declaration of Divinity

“I AM”

do they still resonate with you

in you

through you

will you be you

when you

speak them

tell me

do you remember

the words

New Haiku

2012-01-24T16:55:00.000-05:00

New Haiku

lacking clarity

mud puddles stirred once again

unseen diamonds hide

1/23/2012

racism adrift

untethered consciousness speaks

streams engulf oceans

1/23/2012

war within the self

the hull lets loose the flower

smiles adorns faces

1/24/2012

anger awaiting

volcanic excuses here

peace visits again

1/24/2012

www.innerchildmagazine.com

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Damn Muses . . gotta love them

2012-01-24T16:49:00.000-05:00

Damn Muses . . gotta love them

i have taken a seat beside the waters

and i listen to the babble

of the babbling brook

while looking upon the reflective rivulets

as my life streams by

the superfluous needs are evident

for my tears are flowing to join the run

the journey

to the ocean

where perhaps meaning may be lacking

but the embrace is calming

the questions of life

i have let go

and my frustrative heart vacated as well

yes, tired is an understatement

life never did offer a full stomach

in my brief stay here

all the meals

were but a temporary cessation

to what angst ?

i can not tell

for all i know is the emptiness

oh sure, like most of us

i vied for happiness

cried as well

and as far as i can tell

it is but a state of mind

until you find something else to focus on

and then . . .

yes . . . and then it is gone

vanishes in the ether

and neither way

whether i am Yinging

or i am Yanging

can i in permanence

tether it’s attributes

to my nonplussed Soul

we speak such lies in word

like Namaste’

do you have a mirror

so that i can peer

through that looking glass

the one where you see God ?

not just feel Him

for feelings are but a tease

i wish to be blinded like Tommy

by the Light

and have Elton sing

my Wizard Song

and i will Hum along

while sitting by this babbling Brook

who took time

to dictate this Poem

Damn Muses . . gotta love them

www.innerchildmagazine.com

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Faith . . .

2012-01-19T12:47:00.002-05:00

Faith . . .

the Cock crew

the Crow caws

Soul falls

Man Calls

out

while housed in this vessel

we wrestle with self

grabbing for strings

to hold on to things

to secure bodies

but bodies does not

secure

that which has not

a home here

the Sun rises

we criticize

our eyes

still see that glint of wonder

light filters through

transmutes

what’s within you

and we pull the curtain shut

for we are not ready

are we ?

and the Cock still

does what he does

all through the night now

and the quandary still prevails

what ails man

that he can not find peace

will the search ever cease

for that which is everlasting

we fast

we pray

we give

we say

help me

in many languages

a mixture of joy

of hope

of anguish

souls being tried

vying

lying

crying

dying

where do they go ?

we sow seeds

perform good deeds

trying to balance a “Karma”

Ma never told me about that

the fruit of the spoils

of the sacrifice

escapes my reason

for its sweetness

is but a season

of finite pleasing

and the Gods are teasing us

yet they tell us to trust

all about me

is suffering

and you say

it is perspective.

and that soul in me

laughs

in a most sarcastic voice

and you speak to me

of the choice

of free will

the shrill and the jester

scream and dance

i hear the dichotomous symphony

of life revisited again

reminding me

of the perils of a man

who is filled with questions

self becomes the enemy

the friend

all housed in that vessel

where the eternal like wrestling match

has no time outs

except when i

deliberately delude myself

or seclude my self

in the darkness

which runs and hides from me

offering me not any lasting solace

and still those damn birds

i hear them every dawn

and all day long

reminding me

of what we mourn for

the answering of the prayer for

a better life

where there is a peace

without cease

and still yet

the Cock crew

the Crow caws

Soul falls

Man Calls

out

Faith . . .

http://www.innerchildpress.com/

Coming Soon from Inner Child

2012-01-13T18:49:00.000-05:00

Heaven again

2012-01-12T21:10:00.000-05:00

Heaven again

i took money

i took the toaster

i got laid

me, i took the trip

the all expense

never to be paid vacation

around the flag pole

and then they stuck

it up my azz

with the 24.99% APR

what did you take

in lieu of

your divinity

where peace of mind

and serenity

were once ours

guess i’ll buy a lottery ticket

and if i win

it’s on

Heaven again

http://www.innerchildpress.com/

of things in a frame

2012-01-12T21:03:00.000-05:00

of things in a frame

the picture frames hung upon the walls

of my house

in an ambient,

yet reverent silence

adorning my home

with a warmth of memories

and there were some

sitting on Coffee tables and such

some were ornate

others plain

but all placed where

there

as a reminder

of this path i have walked

at some time ago

into my “Now”

i sit and revisit

thoughts, smiles and tears

i had let ease into

a state of distant embrace

where these memories had been bedded

embedded into my character

shaping me

molding me

yet still holding me

in a weathered tethered web

that could not

would not

let go

there were pictures

of my children

friends, acquaintances

sisters and brothers

my Father and Mother

and grandchildren too

and many other souls

i at one time knew

and though i was somewhat cognizant

of the people

who adorned this steeple

where my life’s alter resided

which coincided in my now

there were the times

that somehow

escaped me

and left me

to become some sort of history

reminding me

of who i used to be

i look at the holders of these memories

and each perhaps had a meaning

some uplifting

some gleaning me

from my hull of self

i look at these frames

who embrace the names

of the times

in a land of rhymes

the ones i loved

and love still

yes, these frames

embrace that part of me

i no longer face

a part of me

i had long put away

just for this day

that i may reflect

while looking

on the meaning

of things in a frame

Frames

sometimes a thought

sometimes a word

sometimes a taste

sometimes a smell

sometime a touch

but always a feeling

http://www.innerchildpress.com/

Chaos

2012-01-12T20:52:00.000-05:00

Chaos

there is a presence

a chaotic noise

awaiting it’s turn to speak

lurking in the shadows

on the fringes of my peace

seeking naught but opportunity

to poison and infect my consciousness

yes, these voices

they offer reason

laced with a twisted logic

that we all can understand

and relate to

but you

can never get rid of them

once they move in

they look to sleep on your bed

lay their head

beside you

on your soft pillow

that they may whisper

in moving silent syllables

to you

in your ear

in lieu

of dreams of beauty

and other sweet ecstatic things

so we think

and we awaken

each morning

carrying forth

the darkness of doubt

into a world of sunshine

and rising suns

giving them to our Sons

and our Daughters

drawing no quarters

as we diligently attempt

to slay their futures

labeling life with such things

as respect

and obedience

i call it forced acquiescence

we make careful incisions

and infect their open wounds

that fester in their eternal souls

we pretend to suture

the holes

with the offerings

of empty

meaningless

and false compassions

but why do we have

such passions for darkness

and self inflicted pain

found under the rock of rote

and rite

and doctrine

and dogma

can you build a house upon it

shit

i think not

for it is a rock

that rocks

and sways

each day

with the winds of change

and challenges

for it is a house

that stands on its own

only in the enigmatic imaginings

of mad men

and women too

like me

like you

within each of us

there is chaos

to which we apply

such rationalizations

of actualizations

with validations

and falsely induced

affirmations

we feed this too our offspring

that they may grow to be like us

and we see that same bullshit

in the reflections

of their characters

looking just like us

i am not impressed

have we ever

truly addressed the truth

that we know Jack Shit

yeah he live next door

a doctrinal whore

who sells her soiled panties

to all who would listen

polished and glistening

the lies

to make them a bit more palatable

but a mistruth

fib

fable

deliberate misinformation

or whatever we wish to call it

is still a lie

so let us clear the table

and start all over again

clean the pots Ma

scrub them well

let us loose

all remnants of Hell

before we prepare the meal

we are all too willing to eat

and feed our children

let us not give this present

from the presence

to the world to come

by accepting the redundancy

of stupidity

and insensitivity

and indifference

with deference

and an alacrity

of our own numbness

let us sit in the silence

and take watch

and observe

the shadows dance for attention

move not

close you ears

to the incessant whispering

of their reason

and logic

for what comes thereafter

are the lost souls

who continue

the venue

and there

is but chaos

http://www.innerchildpress.com/

she smiles . . . but not like Sarah

2012-01-09T15:58:00.003-05:00

she smiles . . . but not like Sarah

she smiles at me

through the veil

of Pinks and Lavenders

pained

with hauntings of past lives

her heart still longs

for that embrace

that all Virgins

who came to this world

dream of

the face of our Joys

they bore an innocence

for they only knew

this simple Truth,

that Dreams do come true

only to learn . . .

but not always here

for this is a different place

with different tastes

of self effacing realities

and the shadows enticed us to play

as they tease our longings

for they too clearly understood

the Heaven we journeyed from

we come for this brief visit

seeking the exquisite promises

that show up as lies

and in our own stubbornness

and obstinate-ness

we refuse to succumb

to the dumbed-down-mess

and confess

our errancy of thoughts

and visions

yes we must manifest

and employ our will

is this but another test

we ask

as we quest

to break the self agreed upon tethers

and borders

and boundaries

we must weather the pending storms

in this journey through

this wilderness

this fleeting mixture

of convolutions

until we find solutions

and become clear again

as we face our fear again

and the tears again

will help

so we smile

in spite of

in light of

like Sarah ? . . . perhaps not

but we smile

like we know that we can

as we peek through the Veil

of this loosely woven fabric

called yet again . . . Reality

she smiles . . . but not like Sarah

http://www.innerchildpress.com/

pets

2012-01-09T15:51:00.003-05:00

pets

people collect pets

i suspect

that is to detect

a certain level of compassion

within themselves

we have pet Goldfish

pet Dogs

pet Cats

pet Snakes

and Rabbits

and Habits

and pet People too

why i can even be a Pet for You

the farther West you go

the bigger the Pet Test you know

in some lands

if they could get their hands

on your pet

it becomes a meal

but we don’t feel

their need do we ?

we would kill

at will

anyone who puts

their hands on our pet

that’s a bet

and yet

there is a possibility

it will come to this yet

if we let our “Compassion”

or lack there of

continue to rule

“The Days of our Lives”

there are lands

where Dogs are not safe

Cats either

and there are lands

where people eat People

don’t we

you see

it is a matter of perspective

the electives we employ

and how we deploy them

with a little Soy Sauce

and they will toss

that baby on the plate

why you ask ?

when was the last time you ate ?

Yeah, people are hungry

for something

like such things as Food

for the Body

the Spirit

the Mind

or some Hottie

who makes them salivate

to taste how it feels

for hunger

to be abated

once again

keep an eye on your Pets

and your compassion too

but first let our love

be between me and you

Feed the people

9 January 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

http://www.innerchildpress.com/

outside the Rabbit Hole

2012-01-09T15:46:00.000-05:00

outside the Rabbit Hole

any idea of how deep the Rabbit Hole is

well i’m the one that dug it

and i ain’t done yet

can you dig it

bet

are you having fun yet

in your illusory

collusory

delusory

world

as we herald in

what we want you to believe

dummies

diggin’ for mummies

with overstuffed tummies

and minds

what will you find

when that mirror

of self

has to be finally confronted

another blunt

or blunted

stunted

soul

in that hole

you call self

ha !

take your mind off the shelf

step out of inventory

and see the masturbatory

way

we have been livin’

outside the Rabbit Hole

http://www.innerchildpress.com/

again today

2012-01-09T15:43:00.000-05:00

again today

oh where o where

o where is my mask

which one should i wear this day

my dear my dear

let me hide my face

before i go out to play

the tears i shed are hidden inside

i don my mask that i may hide

and perhaps i can fool my self as well

but i can’t, i can’t i tried

so when the play is over

our true faces must be uncovered

but just the same

oh where o where

o where is my mask

which one should i wear this day

my dear my dear

let me hide my face

before i go out to play

again today

http://www.innerchildpress.com/

Glass Houses

2012-01-09T15:37:00.002-05:00

Glass Houses

we often go shopping for windows

and Someone’s Glass House as well

“DO TELL

what the hell are

you going to do

with that Rock Son

seems like to me

you only need One

yep,

just throw it straight up in the air

and see if you can catch it

and if you are lucky

you won’t

and perhaps it will crash

and smash

that delusional reflection of self

you see

and the way you look at me

look at the world

through the windows

of your own Glass House

http://www.innerchildpress.com/

i am listening

2012-01-07T20:16:00.000-05:00

i am listening

where i come from

where i been

only footprints

and memories can tell

and memories fail me

at times

where i am going

God only knows

at least that

is what they tell me

like a leaf in a Spring wind

i am disconnected from life

like a leaf in an Autumn breeze

the Trees that were once my solace

have let me go

to die

that i may serve

i look over my shoulder

at the plundered furrows

of the garden

that once bore luscious greens

and imaginations

and dreams

of past harvests

and fruits

yes, time

suits not the seeker

but it has served me well

i have gathered

collected

inspected

reflected

on more stories

that i can tell

and there are more

in that well

if not

me and my failing memory

will concoct a stew for you

to leave you wide-eyed

with awe

about all the things we saw

along the way

yesterday

and tomorrow too

how about you

do you have a story

about where you come from ?

please tell me . . .

i am listening

http://www.innerchildpress.com/

smack me dammit till i wake up

2012-01-07T20:03:00.002-05:00

smack me dammit till i wake up

i walked the street

in the neighborhood

i looked in the windows

and they were empty

sure, there were bodies

i called to them

and all i heard

was my own voice

reverberating

within the empty chambers

where souls once lived

there was furniture

with imprints in the seats

where spirits once sat

and laughed

together

the walls were that dirty old City grey

like the Bus Stations

polluted

colluded

by deluded reflections

for i saw myself

like the ghost town

our neighborhoods became

i too was cold

and quickly approaching

the gates where one could not pass

holding on too the ass of compassion

but i held on any way

the alleys

where we kids used to take shortcuts through

were empty

no place to hide

or surprise each other

for who wanted to play anymore

everything

i mean everything

was now too serious

and seriously

the ominous clouds of life

were becoming much too much

did i say that before ?

much too much

well that is what it is

people had let go

taking care of business

was the new flow

of the people you know

“SEE ME”

yeah right

i looked in

and i saw emptiness

i don’t know

what i was expecting

sunshine perhaps

finger snaps

hand claps

cause i was in town

something inside me laughs

at the self effacing metaphor life presents

or should i say forces upon us

with our blind consent ?

and i laugh again

for i am much too familiar

with my own sarcasm

which has now filled this void

this chasm

where i used to be warm

so in my disconnected purveyance

i took a chance

and hollered

i screamed

and there was silence

for no one

i mean no one

heard my voice

that of the lost

who walk our streets

smack me dammit till i wake up

http://www.innerchildpress.com/

yes . . . i want

2012-01-06T23:16:00.001-05:00

yes . . . i want

i want to whisper sweet things into your ear until they start to drip with honey and the sugar crystallizes so i can suck on your lobes forever . . . ya ready ? . . . do you hear me ?

i want to visit your Holy Garden and plant deep kisses in your furrow that i may restructure your mind and your vocabulary so that the only three words you will ever utter again in your life are “Oh Bill mmmmmmmmmmm”

i want to lick your Desires for Divine Ecstasy until you want no more, for that is what i come for, to make you my Vision, my Blissful Objective and i your Dream Master.

i want you to scream those three words i have taught you every time you blink your eyes for i am all you see . . . me, preparing you once again for that next step as you taste of this heaven where we become eternally connected in the Communion of a Love that makes the Angels blush and God smile.

i want to teach you the Acrobatics of Love beyond understandings of possibilities, those positions that make the Kama Sutra run away and hide like the Kids Play it is.

i want you to hold my Head Softly, Delicately, Lovingly upon your Breast, in between every Breath and every Heartbeat, for you complete me as i complete you, for i am your life essence as you are mine.

i want you to be thankful for every wrong turn you have made in life for it was those wrong turns that were the right turns, for they brought you to me, for i have been waiting for you a Lifetime . . . and the song of your heart you now sing makes Flowers Dance and Butterflies Smile and God pats Himself on the back as He says to Himself “Well Done”

yes . . . i want

(c) 6 January 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

but a test you say

2012-01-05T18:53:00.000-05:00

but a test you say

the uncertainty of the next footstep

though not prevailing

does have a permanent home

in the recesses of consciousness

with anguish and trepidation

it laces messages of woe unto all

who would listen

we call it wonder

a pretty little term

dressed in pinks and lilacs

to evade our fears

we have already prognosticated the tears

so that failure would not be so stinging

and we then can tell our selves

“I told you so”

you know what i mean

we have not yet seen

the wonder of our glorious beings

though we dream about it

speak about it

in attempt to conjure it forth

drawing it from the veiled dimensions

of our Supra Consciousness

but those whispering voices

steal our joy

before we can even deploy

something significant

in movement

so we pray

that the day will come

when we are blessed to hit the lottery

or manifest the imagery

of some other far fetched reality

that looms in the silt

buried diamonds

that need to be cleaned and polished

then sold

we sell our selves short every time

don’t we

and yet we beg

plead

to be free

from the Demons we create

that our “Fate”

is understood

and we tell ourselves

we deserve such things

over and over again

we walk this cycle

sometimes we run

that we may again

start all over

funny the pleasure we seek

know that a treasure of self is peeking

as we are seeking

to not discover

the cover of our fears

yet we dare not reveal them

so we seal them

in the seas of our convolutions

again praying for solutions

we already possess

but a test you say

well . . .

5 January 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

http://www.innerchildpress.com/

well . . .

2012-01-05T18:47:00.000-05:00

well . . .

i was in my Sock Drawer digging

looking through my underwear drawer as well

in the closet

under the bed

i bumped my head

for . . .

i was looking for a delusion

that would fit this day

i needed one badly

the way was dark

and i needed some light

even if it was but and illusion

created for my sedated self

i woke up this morning tired

grateful yes, for i did awake

to what is the issue

the same old perspectives greeted me

in the form of Emails

and messages

and posts

and i knew right then

that the first 3 hours of my day

was toasted

a waste ?

yes i needed a delusion

that would fit this contusion

where my heart was bruised yesterday

and the day before

as it is every day

the score is

Home ~0~

Visitors ~0~

and my Hero is still

the Silver Surfer

what for you ask

‘cause he can escape

with no need of a cape

like Superman

or Batman

or that man

who feeds me lies

every day

that he knows the way

is the Truth and the Light

where is it i ask

what is the task

of obeisance i must perform

is it prayer

the loosing of my fear

or is more tears raining down on my Soul

that is required ?

the Fire is not out

but i am pissed

to be constantly dismissed

to gather more damn wood

shit i have clear cut the forest already

and Betty and Boo

still give me the finger

and in other words or gesture

they say “F” you too

what are we to do . . . now

some how i must find that perfectly fitted delusion

that fits like a glove

they keep telling me

it is love

well . . .

http://www.innerchildpress.com/

the House with no Heat

2012-01-04T10:20:00.002-05:00

the House with no Heat

i went outside this morning

and it was COLD

i said “DAMN”

it’s “Cold as a Witches Tit”

a saying i often heard

and repeated

i finished smoking my Cigarette

and went back in

and immediately huddled

next to the Fins

of my “Rolling Plug In Radiator”

and then . . .

i thought about

the House with no Heat

as i sat on this seat

constructing this ? Poem

my mind became adrift

and again i thought

quite a challenge now

because i was cold

caught in my own drama

but think i did just the same

i thought about those who may be living

in a House with no Heat

that’s “F’ed” up

imagine that

and i did

and i went to visit it

in my mind

that we, the inhabitants

may converse in kind

about that House with no Heat”

and i could complete

this ? poem ?

in spite of the dire-ness

of the situation

what i saw was

a sort of elation

for the children were bundled

and playing games

entertaining themselves

Momma was cooking

and Daddy was looking

at the newspaper. . .

last weeks i think

so i struck up a conversation

created some dialogue

about how Cold it was

in this House with no Heat

for i forgot to bundle up

my imagination

and i was shivering

quivering

as my imagination was slithering

back to a warm fireplace

burning brightly . . . hotly

so i asked them

how do you do it

and the all stopped

and looked at me

smiled at me

and said to me

that can’t you see

we are grateful

because last year this time

we were living in the street

with nothing to eat

so here we are

we have come so far

though we now live

in a

House with no Heat

Inner Child Services Announcement

2012-01-03T21:54:00.001-05:00

Dear Family and Friends . . .
as a part of the continuing efforts to expand our Services, Inner Child is now offering Various Marketing and Production Products aimed at making Your Brand, Your Product or Your Persona more visible.

We are now offering the following :

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Book Snippets : See Samples Attached
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The Inner Child Store

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and Her New Book Snippet from . . .

100 Select Poems plus One

a word from Martina

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for Publishing concerns or queries go to

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Thank You

Inner Child

who really understands ?

2012-01-03T19:36:00.000-05:00

This Poem is inspired by My Brother Joski . . .

Much Love to you my Brother, my Friend . . .

bill

who really understands ?

who amongst us truly understands

the path of a man

we call brother

who truly can feel

the pain another

endures

we go about our lives

insulated

for we have our own issues

and woes

dancing in our thoughts

we sometimes employ our toes

to dance

that we may perhaps

dance our spirits away

far away

where we can no longer hear it

the cries of that inner child

for solace

understanding

and comfort

where we may

escape from the ghosts of darkness

that haunts all souls of light

and some

believe they are not

and can not be

frightened

but the auspiciousness of life

and i smile for them

for even in their delusions

they seem to be ok

for a while

others of us

have given up

attempting to reconcile

and reassemble the puzzle

of reasonable divinity

and with undue affinity

we yet still meander down crooked paths

we see as straight

but straight unto what i ask ?

i look to my left

and i sense pain

through my eyes

and they are open

for a moment

but i have to close them

and seek that place

that place of dreams

so i can face

all that seems

displaced in this heaven i desire

the fire i once avidly stoked

as a youth

quietly burns

with a sort of ambient glow

and most times i am content

to sit and watch the licks of flame

flicker

from orange to yellow to blue to red

and sometimes green

for there is still yet much

we have not seen

will we ever ?

and as clever as we may think we are

or i am

or wish to be

there is an looming uncertainty

as to where this path truly leads

yes like you too

i know what i have been told

and all i embrace as possibility

was put in the fold of “knowledge”

by someone else

who perhaps too

stood on this same precipice of self

seeking answers

and in the end of it all

wherever that may be

call it the land of the free for some

purgatory for others

i ask again

this simple question

for that other man

who resides in me

as well

who really understands ?

every day

2012-01-03T00:59:00.000-05:00

every day

she sat in her room

almost all alone

just herself

God,

a Muse

and memories

and it was enough

she was not playing house

but playing home

wishing for warm things

the way they use to be

she dressed the dolls

with smiles and love

using big brother’s red Magic Markers

to draw hearts on their faces

and any spaces she could find

God smiled too

i could tell you

there was no sunshine in her life

but that would be a lie

for she vied for it each day

when the rains of anguish

did not chase her inside

within herself

but she knew God was there

waiting for her

for He must have been lonely too

when she did go out to play

she did so with an unbridled passion

for she played to forget

the beatings

her Mother endured

from a man

who acted not like her Father

though he was

so long ago

he has been this way

every since he lost his job

and now they had to rob

Peter to pay Paul

when they could find him

and there were the voices inside

that was always waiting for her

in her special hiding place

the place she went

when she did not wish to face

the harshness of the possibilities

that the realities

she now endured

would last forever

what ever . . .

Mommy spent much time alone as well

locked in her room

she never smiled any more

like she used to

when they were a real family

but she, this little girl

found happiness

in those secret places

her own world

where she could dream

as she wished

about whatever she wanted

though she was haunted

by these dreams

that seemed

like they would never come back home

and this is why

she spent so much time in her room

where she could paint the walls with happiness

instead of the gloom

that living was giving to her

every day

Home . . . come

2012-01-01T21:12:00.000-05:00

Home . . . come

there is a flame

that burns

in the deepest recess of my heart

and it burns for you,

waiting for you

lighting your pathway home

the child within me

sits in solace

quietly praying

for your safe return

that i may hold you again

in the embrace

of the Holy

the Angels dare not make a sound

for the reverence

of this sacred moment

which holds all eternity

calls forth but a word

a voice

only God himself may speak

and we await pensively

for that utterance of praise

when the Bride and her Groom

are reunited

in the chamber of matrimonious union

as my Brother Solomon once said

thy Breast, my Love are Comely

and i long to lay my head

and listen to the Universal rhythms

of thy heartbeat

as it speaks and confirms

the truth of our oneness

images of long ago

sweet memories

still dance

and dominate my thoughts,

for consciousness

of your “here-ness”

is all i desire

so long have i longed

to feel thy gentle touch

upon my skin of my reality

that it may dispel these delusions

yes, delusions i have created

to keep me company,

delusions that you

have never left me

i had to deny this truth

to maintain my sanity

it is not vanity

but my “Vain-ness”

that does adorn my house,

that which whispers questions

offering a confirmation

while seeking an affirmation

that i do deserve thee

but truth of the Light to be told

“I NEED THEE”

to complete me,

and fulfill the cup of my dreams

that i may drink again

from that fountain of love

borne in the Womb of Creation,

in you

i have kept the lantern of hope burning

for surely if i am not diligent

darkness would consume me . . .

again

i abide in this whirlpool of convolution

with my loins afire

with this burning desire

and a relentless passion

that again we will consummate

our union

before the throne

which is seated

in the Garden of the Divine

this is the Sweet Fruit

that of a Soul fulfilled

where the Harvest is never ending

and thy sweet nectar of bliss

shall again drip

from my lips

and you shall feed that need

for me to plant my seed

of the divine

i shall plant them

in the furrows of thy goodness

the “IS”-ness

where the Children of Sovereignty are Borne

spawned in spite of

that which comes

to claim the hopes of man

and i a Retired Warrior

now sit in this Silence

listening for your Foot Steps .. .

i know them well

for each foot print of anticipation

is indelibly etched in my heart

as i sit here

on the edges of sunshine

cloaking myself with Dreams

Visions

Prayers

and other Supplications

to Creation

and He who holds all things

i keep this Flame

for i am the “Keeper”

of that “Eternal Light”

within me

and each Heart Beat

each Breath

confirms that it is so

as i await your presence

your return

Home . . . Come

i hear you

2012-01-01T19:01:00.003-05:00

i hear you

like a reed in the marsh

wavering to and fro

in the soft Ocean breeze

i too have dreams of flying

to but embrace my Brother the Wind

and let him carry me to foreign lands

but i am rooted where i am

but i still imagine

of those things unseen

we vacillate betwixt such ends

creating our own convolutions

seeking solutions

to the seemingly impossible

my thoughts drift asunder

and my toes are stuck in the mud

the twilight approaches

the Sun of the evening

sets beyond the horizon

and gives way to the night

and the light of the Moon

draws forth the warm embrace

of the Evening Tide

as they come again

to kiss the shores of our consciousness

they come to my house

and lay gifts at my feet

tales of the travel they enjoyed

the Seas of the World

the Streams

and the Clouds of the Sky

and the Mountains and the Valleys

and we must mention the Rains

of the Rains

i stand ever so planted

lost in the whisperings of life

and the wonder of their journey

while the tentacles of my own doing

these non forgiving roots

which tether me to where i am

yet nurture who i am

holds me fast

where i am

the Sun of the Day

now slumbers as well

here

yet is now dancing with children

of another land

urging Workmen and Mothers

to indulge in the calling of Life

and duty

while some here sleep

but not i,

i am dreaming

i feel the nudging of my Brother, Wind

softly caressing

stirring me

reminding me

that this is not so bad

for he does bring the stories

and whispers them in my ear

and i softly reply

“i hear you”

Thank You

Blessings to you for the New Year

2011-12-31T14:16:00.003-05:00

Greetings to you all Friends and Family,

Here we are, standing before the inevitable . . . CHANGE !!! Many people from all over are coming together with a certain commonality . . . The New Year. We offer to each other the best of our Wishes, Prayers, Intent and Love. I am Grateful !

I would like to just take this moment in time to speak with you about our own Greatness . . . Individually . . . and of course “Collectively”. This year we have witnessed many movements come about . . . some for Good . . . and some not so. The prevailing aspect of being of “One Mind”, is there is Power. We are witnessing that in such things as the 99% Movement; The 2012 Prophecies; World Healing, World Peace 2012 Movement and unfortunately the War, Famine, Suffering and Strife experienced across this Planet. But . . . perhaps this is also a part of the “Perfect Balance” of Creation in that such things do elevate our consciousness and propel us to “Change”! This is a good thing i think; not the suffering, but the mere “Possibility” that we will awaken as a collective and employ our power to effectuate this “Quickening” to Change.

So this is my intent on a personal level based upon what i believe i have learned thus far in my life.

*   If i have it to Give . . . i will
*   May i be Clear in my Intent for Goodness
*   May i continue without reservation to express my Goodness
*   May i always seek to see the Love and Light in my Brothers and Sisters
*   May i understand that “My Way” is just that MY WAY !
*   And Finally for me . . . May i preface all aspects of my Life with Love.
*   May you have a wonderful and Wonder Filled New Year of Joy, Peace,
        Love and Harmony
*   May Each Moment of Goodness upon the path you travel transform
        into the Eternal
*   May you be clear and Understand that YOU are a Magnificent and Essential
        Element of Creation and Powerful beyond our present Understandings.
*    May Your Inner Child come out to PLAY !!!

Blessings of Love

‘just bill’
William S. Peters, Sr.

Inner Child

Happy New Year

2011-12-29T12:44:00.002-05:00

the road lies before us

to adorn it as we wish

what new Mountains

will you consider

along this pending journey my child

or will you be but a Valley Dweller

and wish

and dream

of all you could have been

could have done

had you tried

vied

to come outside

that of who you think you are

who you may have been,

were

and play

in this coming day

Happy New Year

from where i come

2011-12-29T12:41:00.000-05:00

from where i come

we embrace a concept

that things must be done

that we may validate

self

journey

purpose

esteem

and dreams

to be

or not to do

to do

or not to be

what was that question you asked ?

where in the garden is the middle road

the Awakened One spoke of ?

or was it beyond the border

where the absence of suffering lived

you know

that village down the road

by the way,

where is that road

where does it begin ?

i myself have wandered for many a year

not always diligent

not always seeking

but always indulging

in something or another

there were many a sweet slumber

where dreams of miniscule things

such as a sweet embrace

were actualized

and i smile now

for it was those moment

that now loom so significant

in this little hovel

i live in now

there was a time

i cared not to dream

of such things as gardens

and now i am a forgone horticulturist

yes, forgone

for all other thoughts

have seemingly died

along that roadside

many years ago

but i remember them

for they earmarked

the steps of maturity along the way

maturity did you say ?

scratch that

for i still am in some sort of fog

however the contexuality

has changed

as life redressed it’s agendas

and me too

these days i anxiously await sign

to see that slightest showing of green

that signifies new life

as it crest the furrows

for what i do know

this is life

and with any providence at all

perhaps there will be a fruit

of some kind

this i do enjoy

so i plant seeds

along my road side

should i have to be redressed again

and visit that place

from where i come

and of course . . . i will smile

2011-12-29T12:38:00.000-05:00

and of course . . . i will smile

we watch them go by

this occurrence of time

years

like rivers they flow

filled with smiles and tears

the fears we once held

have been dispelled

with the forward march

for they were

but some strange shadow

that somehow

interceded betwixt

me and my light

i reflect on the road

and the passages of rite

and rote

and a side note

we made it through

anyway . . . didn’t we

so here we stand

some looking forward

some behind

some blind-ed

by circumstance

or choice

yet for all

there are the voices

cloistering themselves

taking numbers

and standing in line

for their turn to speak

and plead their cause

for your attention

some offer obeisance

and reverence

and some

are just damned and filled

with arrogance

for me

for you

for anything but self

and how they would have me walk

and while they sit in the Lobby

and the truthful seekers

in the pews

seeking to aright

all the askews

in the me’s

and the you’s

we perhaps may get lucky

and comprehend

it is we who choose

to travel the easy road

or cut one of our own

and deep inside each one of us

i know we have known

that choice

and how we exact

our way of travel

is the voice the universe hears

and responds to

so i will skip

but not to Lou

for i have none

but skip i shall just the same

with a smile upon my countenance

for it is quite simple

voices or silence

this is where i am

and it matters not what i do tomorrow

for that will also appear

show up

and validate it’s self

as i just allow

my nows to be strung together

with no didactic recourse

and of course

i will smile

what do you see ?

2011-12-28T12:45:00.000-05:00

what do you see ?

what do you see my child

when you look away from the Sun ?

do you see the shadows,

or are you temporarily blinded

by gazing at thy brightness

know that you are the Son of the Sun

it rises each morning to greet you

hold you

warm your expectant heart with its love

know my child

it is but a regenerative spirit

that has come again

to kindle that fire

within you

can you feel it’s purpose

burning you to a fever

to live this day ?

what do you see ?

Oh how we danced

2011-12-28T12:41:00.000-05:00

Oh how we danced

i took my beloved in my arms

we passed thorough the gate

into the garden

we looked in the eyes

of one another’s souls

where there is naught but beauty abound

we smiled

we danced

oh how we danced

i am just a poet . . .

2011-12-28T11:27:00.002-05:00

i am just a poet . . .

destined or cursed

fated ?

i can’t help my self

words dancing in my head

seeking acknowledgement upon my pad

begging my spirit to liberate them

from their prisons within me

that they too

may see the light

such is the way

of we who listen

can you hear the cries of the children

the hungry

the thirsty

who wish to sup

from thy cup

and sit at thy table poet ?

feed them !

i look to the heavens

and words rain down

into my consciousness

stirring me to awaken

and serve

their syllabic libations

i look at one who may suffer

an anguish of their own

and it becomes that of mine

begging me to lend my voice

choice ?

within that of my own self

there are confused little children

playing in the playgrounds

swinging and laughing

falling and crying

as they are vying

against the tethers of my denial

i must give them life

i go to sleep

and they whisper

always attempting to awaken me

and my pen

is this the duty i have come to exact

in this time around the circle

we spin thoughts into stories

laden with spirit’s virus

that we may infect

that and whom may be affected

and none are safe

and the angry little devilish ones

seem to be having fun

when they expectorate

with a vengeance

when i liberate them

and their malcontent voices

i would rather think of

Flowers and Butterflies

but they won’t let me

they say i sleep too much

for their liking

we strike deals with them

for all that appeals to them

is to make me suffer

within

as i struggle to be clear

is this the embodiment of my fear

dear poet

that they may become silent ?

this is one for the ones who would understand

the demand

to write

speak

and weave the verse

with meter and rhyme

in lines

to be inspected

by those about us

more times than should be

belies our own validations

odd you say ?

for in the speaking

of those faintly heard voices

to the paper

we extricate our own woes

and who knows

what would become of me

if i did not

destined or cursed

fated ?

i can’t help my self

i am just a poet . . .

my eyes grow dim, but yet i fight

2011-12-28T11:19:00.001-05:00

my eyes grow dim, but yet i fight

the world i once looked at

through my rainbow flavored thoughts

have dulled a bit

perhaps more

over the years.

all this is the becoming of adulthood

the glass i once looked through

needs to be pieced back together

polished

that these Rainbowic colors

may have life again

the pane that once reflected

naught but my joys

and innocence

and ignorance

now lies like shards

upon my meandering pathway

careful son

you may cut your feet

and bleed upon the carpet

or some pad of paper

leaving your footprints

your mark

of undeniable anguish

the language of tortured souls before me

still yet wish for voice

is this my destiny as well ?

. . . to pass on

with the song not completed ?

i look upon the faces of the children

and i see the possibilities

of their traveling this same road

of the impending doom

where one assumes

the righteousness of the world

and again, perhaps it does exist

but surely it is resonating

in a dimension apart

from the limited wholeness we view

askewed from the embrace

i hear all about town

and all around

that “Love” will save us . . .

will it alone be our Hero . . .

or are we required as well

i am compelled to remain confused

for that is the poison we are fed

in our own heads

where the light from that window

is forbidden to penetrate

wait . . .wait . . .wait

what am i saying here

Oh My God

i call on thee

you

to see me through

hear me

i am screaming

within

and without

in my lines and rhymes

and verse

and the lack thereof

i pray thee

may i become that child again

as this world i once looked at

through my rainbow flavored thoughts

completely dulls

for

my eyes grow dim, but yet i fight

can you hear that call ?

2011-12-27T15:22:00.000-05:00

can you hear that call ?

he walked around the landscape of man

with the seat of his pants still dampened

from sitting upon the Dew ladened grasses

of the early morn

yes he still embraced

these magical moments of transformation

as he took a ring side seat

to the new day’s glory

on the Skirts of Mother’s Garden

he sat in a ambient silence

as he awaited the dawn of this days symphony

where the fragrance of Mothers offering

danced in the gentle stirring

of life

he could smell the Harvest’s fruit

as it whispered it’s hopes and expectations

to his soul

and he became the exuberant instrument of it’s song

he cared not about his own appearance

for that which he had witnessed

dwarfed the thoughts of man

and all judgment

all he knew is that

his heart was filled with a light

and he lent this freely

to all who would taste this Joy he possessed

the sweetness he gave

the Gift

he remembers how the Sun of the new day

crept across the landscape in reverence

slowly awakening it’s Children . . .

and how it’s vibrant light

touched his naked toes

and warmed them

only to completely envelope him

with an indelible surety

that he was present

and he was

he could still hear the chirping

of those who sat beside him

in this Amphitheater

in the Pews of this Holy Temple

and offered their praise as well

as they commenced with living

and giving back

in songs of joy

and gratitude

yes, he was thankful

each day

for in that stilled moment

within him

he was held by Creation

and the Hand that spawned it all

can you hear that call ?

the Song of your Heart.

The Inner Child Awards

2011-12-27T13:33:00.004-05:00

Greetings Family,

We are Happy and Honored to acknowledge these Wonderful Souls and the Work they do in the Service to the "Community of Humanity" . . . won't you join us and offer your Congratulations and Blessings in Love.

Bless Up

Inner Child

Inner Child : New Ventures : EPKs

2011-12-26T23:08:00.001-05:00

We are proud to announce our New Ventures for 2012.

Due to Popular Demand we are now producing EPKs (Electronic Press Kits)

An EPK is a product Offering Publications that assist the prospective client to understand who you or your company is and what you represent.

Check out our free Sample

Martina Reisz Newberry Press Kit

EPKs are generally directed at marketing . . . .

Martina Reisz Newberry Press Kit

EPKs . . . Starting at . . . $199.00

Check Out Martina's Book Snippet

By Inner Child

100 Select Poems plus One

Get in touch with us if you have interest in any of these services.

innerchildpress@gmail.com

Can you feel me ?

2011-12-26T12:33:00.001-05:00

Can you feel me

pain and suffering

despair and anguish

is but a finite space in time

and i shall pass through it

the portal to pierce it is mine

and i always knew it

i speak the language of the unknown

where untethered ancient souls have gone

and they lend me their ears

and give unto me the guidance i seek

through this unconscious wilderness

the test of all souls

is not to ascend

but that of being clear

that we may peer

in to the void

where chaos is spawned

where the dawn of every sun resides

awaken my child are the whispers

spoken through smiles

and flowers

which adorn the sides of the road we travel

towers built in deliberation and plot

will never alot an understanding

for the bounty of the heavens

is not in visions without

but within

where tongues babble,

there is wisdom in between every utterance

every word spoken

for this is where

the eeriness of silence lives

broken pieces of dreams

litter our cerebrality

and dance in the fields

we gather them

plant their seeds

hoping for a yield

whose sweet fruits

will allow us to forget

that which we have come for

our Cosmic errand

yet, secretly we vie for that portal

in the harvest

when we sit and break bread with the divine

where we un-corral our essence

but the door is hidden

in the riddle of the middle road

. . . ask Buddha . . .

i too drink the wine

and pretend it to be that sacred elixir

which once dripped from the lips

of my beloved

whom is reflected in mine own countenance

in life’s mirror,

but fear clouds my discernment

that i am “he”

and in the firmament of thought

i find no basis,

just another oasis

in the sands

of this seemingly endless desert

where the Gods and Angels

trod nor tread

or visit upon

with any certain frequency

yet somehow

something

assures me

that this is but a journey

this same energy

entity

implores me

to endure . . . hold on

until this broadcast of errancy

is gone

and i feel the ”Fault”

in the program widen

broaden and grow

as the sequence of what once was sacred

bleeds it’s antiquated

exaggerated lies

through the hearts of men

virgins

and children

as it is seeking

and vying

for it’s own cleansing and purification

and doctrines and dogma

and rote and rite

are being discarded

for they fail “Scrutiny’s” litmus test

yet the quest continues

as new venues are offered

to attract

and distract

the earnest ones

as we blindly deify falseness

and things that pass on

into the land of the forgotten

but me, you, we

i ask that this task

we engage

be re-explained

for whether it be

illusion or delusion

makes not much difference

for the pain in this moment

is like unto an eternity

when you are immersed in it

like in quicksand while sinking

we die a million times

and face it

as we are hopefully resurrected

in those fleeting visions

of extrication

liberation

salvation

and whether it be an hour

a day

a year

a lifetime

a moment or a minute

we are neck deep in it

can you feel me ?

Happy Holidays

2011-12-25T14:51:00.002-05:00

My Dear Friend,

wishing you all the Best this Holiday Season and Beyond.

~ ♥ ~ love ~ ♥ ~ peace ~ ♥ ~ harmony ~ ♥ ~

Our Free Gift to the World and to You … Pass it On

http://www.innerchildpress.com/free-holiday-gift-2-u.php

Our Free Gift to the World and to You … Pass it On

http://www.innerchildpress.com/free-holiday-gift-2-u.php

Blessings

Compellation and Tryst

2011-12-25T14:45:00.002-05:00

Compellation and Tryst

what innate character within man

compels him to mold such manner

that has him

embrace his muse

with divine affection

in a moment

and thus

turn the shoulder

of conscious rejection

is it the dichotomous aspects

of Soul

the convolution of Spirit and Matter

and it does matter to me

the flatterous words of thee

my muse

as you impart to me

that which i can not

readily see

and then i shoo you

rebuke you

for you

make my indulgence

of self

uncomfortable

you do

i thought you knew

perhaps you do

as you exact what’s due

our appointed times have come

have gone

and at times you come

in rhymes and verse

at times

your words

are terse

as you attempt to disperse

that which is wayward

within

and then

i draw closer

to that mystical place

where i may one day face

my sum

i often contemplate

deliberate

and examine

many such things

as the compellation

and tryst of man

and with your whisperings

i believe i am on to something

i consider just how

does a Muse like you

speak thru

that which confuses me

as you bemuse me

with the breeze from Soul

from heart

but never mind, mind

for mind is being schooled

and ruled

by the illusions

and the delusions it creates

to not suffocate

its self in it’s own mind stuff

it regurgitates

how does one control a mind

a thought

its quite easy you see

you take a Truth

and dress it with a Lie

and there belies the quest

of man

or you take a Lie

and veil it with Truth

and man will never understand

and that is but another test

and in my thinking process

i must confess

that i always embraced

Truth as an ultimate

but can i face it,

taste it upon my tongue ?

this is my song being sung

and thus continues

the venue

of the endless seeking

and we believe we are peeking

at the Sun

the Light

held within a Night

but not quite

who was it . . . Descartes

who said

“Cogito Ergo Sum”

“i think therefore i am”

damn him

had we not assumed

would we . . . “BE”

caught betwixt

needing that fix

to become aplomb

and list no more

on the Oceans of consciousness

and find that shore

that safe harbor

where we journey no more

the stormy seas

uttering pleas to the heavens

twixt . . . and

of Compellation and Tryst ?

Thy Words, Thy Love

2011-12-23T14:57:00.000-05:00

Thy Words, Thy Love

the words dripped off his lips like honey

he made you want to lick them

he had a tongue

that could make Satan succumb

and offer his all

at his altar

without falter

or thought

for even the Dark One

would be caught up

in the intoxicating elixir

that filled this one’s cup

for it was the sweetness

that ushered forth the completeness

that even the Angel possessed not

just the mere mention of his name

defamed Virgins

and resurrected them again

to the throne of grace

they were created to occupy

and i sigh

and the eyes of all men envied

that perplexity

that of their own convolutions

held within

for all they knew of

was Sin

for they did not understand

in spirit i too am that Virgin

awaiting my Bridegroom

that we may be wed

and my soul be em-bedded

again and again

as i am deflowered

from the illusions

of the world

let the chaff be gleaned

and thy glory be seen

as i cease to demean

my greater self

my God essence

the expression of presence

which is about me

within me

and abound

my Lorde

my Beloved

speak to them

speak to me

set me free

and let me be tethered to naught

but thee

that which my soul

has always sought

home

lift thy veil

and erect it to my ship

to catch and gather the Winds

that i may sail

once again

the Cosmic Oceans of knowledge

that i “AM”

as thou Art

Omni in all things

and the Universe Sings

listen

let the Nebulas of the Heavens

speak to me

dance for me

sing praises to me

for we are one

one energy

in this concordant symphony

we have come to know as life

let the Sun come up

and never set again

in the lives of the children

i shall erect it

in the permanence of truth

just as the Ancients

and the Sayers of Sooth

foretold

and with the words spoken

from the Heart of you Source

of course

our expression

is but a confession

of that which is grande

and they, thy words

shall drip from my lips

like honey

that others may taste of thy love

with a map

2011-12-22T14:19:00.000-05:00

with a map

from the heavens of self made egocentricity

to the bowels of humility

has he traveled

unraveling his thought from doctrine

seeking ideals betwixt

pleasure and pain

would suffering liberate him

would he learn to appreciate the small things

with humility

sitting heavy upon the shoulders

of his consciousness

or just wear the cloak

of falseness

molded by his cooperative spirit

which seemingly went along with the wind

who knows how it blows tomorrow

there was a sorrow that abided

the 4 letter words were taking their toll

he was paying the price

yet never had any groceries in the bag

and the cupboard was filled

with meaningless things

which could not sustain

anything save the illusion

that he was ok

and day by day

he sought to shore up the walls

of his esteem

for he like so many others

were taught the theories

of the “lesser than”

aspects of self

such as sin

again and again

the world about him embraced this

kiss of a preeminent death

and we believed

that there was no overcoming

so we went slumming

trying to forget

yet something was speaking within him

dispelling the indoctrinations

of this manufactured existence

thought was like a pestilence

upon the vain hopes

of we children who attempted

to climb those slippery slopes

of liberation

from the teachings

that prevailed since man could remember

and if you forgot

there was always one

somewhere all too willing

to remind you of the class

of asses. . .

ooopps i meant the masses

who would question not

a thing

but just moseyed along

singing the song

all life long

of accepted rote

did you read the note from God today ?

it is in your Soul

yes en-whole

with a map

ask Lot

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ask Lot

at a very early age

he tired of tripping

across the cracks in the sidewalk

yet he was filled with wonder

and he did like to wander

and convexingly so

he was sure footed

and restrained

how can a wanderer wonder

and be sure of foot

he took notes

he only ventured in the recesses

of the corral

yet always came back with discoveries

found only in perspectives

but where is the gate

to be loosed

in a state of the confused

he deluded himself

and pretended to be

all he could not fathom

impossible you say ?

let us play in the barren fields

and pick the flowers

that have long since died

and in the defying of truth

he created alternatives

to live

is this to become the lot of man

ask Lot

oh how he missed what he never had

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oh how he missed what he never had

he had heard whispers

amongst the elders

about this time of year

which they called Christmas

why one time he even saw a picture

of some fat guy with a white beard

dressed in red

with a sack on his back

filled with wrapped boxes and stuff

but he said to himself

enough of this nonsense

cause he could not make sense

what this was all about

his doubt

as to the truth of the whispers

about giving gifts

to the youth

grew

for he knew

that people cared not

about such things these days

and if it was ever true

the ways of things

most certainly have changed

what could one possibly give to another

their Brothers, their Sisters

that was meaningful

other than

their ear to listen

their hands to hold

their smile to share

their love

as they shared tears

of joys

and sadness

yet still there was a certain curiosity

that he seemed to somehow recognize

and his eyes began to feel wizened

as they misted with feeling

and he did not understand this

there was a kinship to the stories

a distant familiarity

about what the elders whispered

something about Fireplaces

and decorated trees

the singing of songs

the glee the children shared

as smiles adorned their faces

as they prepared

for that magical day

they called Christmas

oh how he missed what he never had

the day of my Soul

2011-12-20T18:27:00.001-05:00

the day of my Soul

i clawed feverishly at my chest

seeking to rend my flesh

for therein abided a darkness

that prayer alone could not extricate

as the prophecy foretold

that ill fated demonic seed

found fertile ground

in the hearts of men

and we watered its garden

with false tears

from the reflective pools

of “me-ness”

that reveals us as we are

i suffer an unspeakable anguish

of a cup that can never be filled

for there is a hole in my heart

left by parting of the muses of Divine Virtue

too long has indifference

sat upon “Compassion’s” Throne

and “Grace” relegated to be but a name

a name men call their daughters

or in rote speak its empty words

before partaking a meal

i am pained

when i look upon the smiles

of the children

whose promise fade in the ether

like the wisping smoke

of a dying fire

for its fuel is no more

i have found solace

in all its brevity

in the laying of my head

upon the breast of many a damsel . . .

but all good things do come to an end

that we may discover new beginnings

so i rise

with jaded visions within my eyes

that i again may walk

my crooked path

seeking dreams of actualized clarity

devoid

unencumbered

of this illusion’s influence

but it is not to be

for what is “FREE”

but a word of distraction

and in the mis-exaction of task

i have asked of my self

many times

within the lines

of many rhymes

to what end ?

we curse our verse

with such examination

faintly elated

in our conclusions

never sated

for that ever present darkness

with its semi-onmipresence

infects all i touch

and such is why

i deny it

for prayer alone

will not resurrect the one

who sat on the throne within

yes, i defy the allusion

so, i am

a flesh painted with contusions

borne of insistence

to come to a resolution

amidst the world of confusion

again and again

i claw feverishly at my chest

seeking to rend that flesh

that entombs such a death of spirit

to liberate self

that i may extricate this darkness

which has found its way

into the Day of my Soul

in another cycle

2011-12-19T15:08:00.000-05:00

in another cycle

like a fallen Autumn leaf

upon the lawn of the approaching Winter

we drift aimlessly

seeking a purposeful place to rest

we are blown across this landscape

in our attempts to escape

the recycling of life

as we acquiesce

the test ?

is it for consciousness

or allowance ?

will our defiance matter ?

i look at the bed of the forest floor

matted with the years

of repetition.

this is a game that time always wins

in all ways

there is a silence that abides in the wood

or perhaps it is i that does not hear

are the Trees singing praises

such as we

to this regenerative truth

or just going along

with the way things are ?

i wonder do they despair for the fallen

those who were once the offspring

the children they held

and fed upon their limbs

only to have to let go

as the incessant march of the ages

played the tune of a reality

that must be

and i too

like that fallen leaf

may be in a state of wonder

or perhaps not

but with me, this i do know

the winds of change

are dancing, tickling

all of life’s branches

and ever moving

sometimes gently

sometimes brisk

sometimes harsh

as i await that bed

where i may rest my head

in the winter

and find my solace

as i give back to life

in another cycle

The Sun of Man

2011-12-19T14:57:00.000-05:00

The Sun of Man

with genocidal thoughts and intentions

the Legions of the Dark

multiplied upon the consciousness of men

arming our personas

with instruments of War and Death

such as Greed

racism

prejudice

bias

indifference

politics

religion

sexism

and me-ism

the schism betwixt men

grew wider

as we scrambled to hold on

to what last vestiges of righteousness

we could find

even if it was borne of “Self”

we were drowning

in the bottomless pools

of our own regurgitations

of maligned and self serving doctrine

and dogma

and the dog Ma bought me

died in the baking Sun

of truth

fried in sayings of sooth

as the frayings

of the inane

who would call themselves humane

began to unravel

we have traveled this way before

have we not ?

for i still smell the stench

the rot

of the festering souls

who are ingesting the dreams

of the children yet unborne

yet to come

what sum do we seek

this week

as we peek at our fears

in the prismatic tears

that reflect the light of souls

and in that sliver of recognition

the conditions are altered

as our once twisted visions

takes position

that we may see our own color

while tasting the fragrance of possibilities

as it’s perfumed and intoxicating essence

wafts through the gentle breeze

of our awareness

begging us to please

take notice

and we know this

to be true

for that Messiah in you

spoke that this day would come to be

when genocidal thoughts and intentions

the Legions of the Dark

would embark on this quest

to consume the light of man

the Sun of Man

the universe replete, thus i speak

2011-12-17T16:51:00.000-05:00

the universe replete, thus i speak

the beast stands beside me

a dimension apart

whispering in a language

veiled

in the cloakings

of resonant memory

i hear the tone

and it strikes a chord

that calls forth the warrior

whose days of dormancy

has come to an end

what shall come of

what i have come to know ?

the question fades

with the urgency

of task

so i ask not anymore

before me stands the quest

to aright that which is askew

with me

and all the crooked paths

become straightened

there is no anger

nor penchant for balance

just retribution

for the eons of torture

the innocent child have suffered

but a bite i took

of that spoiled fruit

which compelled me

to adventure beyond the knowing

and the sowing of seed

i have done

attempting to resurrect the glory

i once held

that was stolen

and bestowed upon my brother

of the shadows

all because

of that simple misdeed

was for naught

thus far

how i long to drink again

from that place

where the four rivers

converge in the garden

that my soul may find it’s clarity,

but i was cursed

for my innocent offering,

banished to wander

in a realm not of mine own.

had i known . . . would i have ?

we have erected towers

in our feeble attempts

to return home

and they spilled the people like me

upon the land of dreams

and we awakened

with ”Babel”-ing tongues

of understanding

we built alters

offering our obeisance

and they turned their back upon us

and they called themselves Gods ?

this is when i asked the question

“to what, to whom do we serve?”

i suffer this anguish daily

meeting the Sun each morn

with a truth

that i must endure the game

yet another cycle of time

and my soulful query of “Why”

seems to fall on the ears of the deaf

i have offered penance

i have offered stripes

i have offered love

but there is naught they wish for

for they have many souls

who are all too willing

to do their vain bidding

and to be their sacrificial lambs

so my blood is not required . . .

here

they find pleasure

in the songs of the Righteous

and the lament

of their daily toils

and we erect symphonies of anguish

praying that Prime will intercede

and we plead

in the interim of space

that place where

light is swallowed

where the hollowness does exist

in the abyss

of nothingness

we send our hope

to be vanquished

that it too,

the future of our children

be not eaten

for though we are not beaten, yet

we have let

the deceits overcome us

and now we ask

in what God do we trust

in the cavity of creation

where the breath of the Holy

was implanted

we aspire to ride the ether

of our inspiration

that we may transmute

the power of Soul Speak

that others may hear

and set free their fear

to no longer roam

in their own houses

that they may visit upon

the domiciles of these false warlords

and collect their reciprocal bounties

i am removing the shackles silently

deliberately

that they not notice

as i unblind my singular eye

and i now see clearly

the disparity

which we once called our verity

our truth

now the winds of solace

dance playingly

with the unified consciousness

of the people

and we all begin to sense

a greater presence

coming

summing up our wantings,

that which is no longer appeased

in nor with empty prayers

that were never heard

and that which we thought

and was taught

was once the beast

has long ceased it’s whisperings

for the voice i now hear

is that same holy breath

infused in me

and my fear is loosed

and now i have come,

i no longer dream

of empty things

i need not the Law of Attraction,

for within this fraction of existence in me

that small morsel of Prime

is mine

and i am

the universe replete

thus i speak

written at 6:00 AM

This day . . . come

2011-12-17T16:43:00.001-05:00

This day . . . come

for many are called, but few are chosen . . .

The battle cry is being whispered

in the “Halls of Silence”

to the obedient souls . . .

“prepare thyself warrior, for thy presence is required”

In the dawn of the new morn

the battle will commence

upon the fields of our consciousness

are you ready ?

Gather your armor, your sword,

kiss they loved ones adieu

for you will not return

from whence you have come

A new path is being forged

in the ancient wilderness

and our swords of light

shall cleave the way

What prayers you may have

leave them behind

for this battle, hope is a weakness

and will cause failure of thy guard

We go forth to smite the shadow

whose devise ways

seek to spoil the stew

of Eternity’s Promise

and that may never come to be

Awaken my warrior

service is required of thee

this day . . . come