just the shoes of your compromise

just the shoes of your compromise

we all knew

that Winter was on it’s way

though Fall had not yet arrived

men were beginning to contrive

their plans

for the seasons yet to come

in a redundant fashion

just as they did

every year

this time

some were stocking food

some women

taking names

and numbers

in their little black books

the nookie crooks

looking for a warmth

found in

the sweet respite

of temporal

and delusional love

this would do to Spring time

they often said

before they commenced with the lies

and stories

of the glories

of what a Winter relationship

would offer

everyone wanted

a place

a face

to hibernate in

or with

respectively

but respect often

was never a considered quantity

in the equation

was it

Christmas was coming soon

go west young man

was the tune

most heard

but most migrated to the South

anyway

the leaves began to fall from the Trees

and grown damn men

were down on their proverbial knees

begging

to get a leg in

some needy woman’s door

where the meals were hot

and on time

and hopefully

she was a dime piece

but if she could burn

that was a good start

hearts were expectant

everyone needed something

didn’t they

we all weighed out our options

as the Winter Solstice approached

and we coached our selves into believing

the lies were

laudable

and

plausible

cause

could we survive

another year this way

but our fears of loneliness

would not let us alone

and it is known

that the boogie man

took prisoners

just turn out the bedroom lights

and look under your bed

you won’t find Santa

just the shoes of your compromise

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

I Often Wonder

I Often Wonder

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

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

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

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

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

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

let our Poetry Dance

let our Poetry Dance

i heard her faint whisper

delicately caress the ear

of my soul

she was beckoning me

to put aside “Life”,

for she wanted to play

it was time for us

to frolic

and whirl

and spin

and dance again

pick up your pen

and let me speak

life unto life

for i have

a verse or two

or more

to disperse

to the world

yes, my beloved

has awakened

and cast gently open

the door to my heart

for she wanted

desired

aspired

to embrace

those who would live

this day

and become

the way

with poetry

let us play

my dear muse

let us impart smiles

who would not refuse thee

to those who would hear

and understand

and love to all the rest

come my Muse

for the day

this day

is required of thee

teach me to be clear

as we endear

our longings for peace

and tranquility

to the vision of man

and let us not

forget me not

compassion

let our passion be

to build Castles

for all the Children

and fill

all the rooms

with dreams

that bear no limitations

let these dreams

be ever abundant

and self manifest

with astute

acutely sagacious

possibilities

that can not be rebuked

nor assigned to refrain

and let all see

and believe

that

all that is conceived

is achievable

let us pen a verse

or two

or more

that will light

the unused candles

in the closets of Man’s souls

let us open that door

that holds at bay

the dreams of this

eternal day

yea

let our Poetry Dance

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

mine

mine

every time we encountered

she would unsheathe her sharpened tongue

and proceed to carve a piece of my heart

for her own demented pleasures

i knew the day would come

that i would have nothing left to offer her

save my retribution

but now

i was still too soft for her

and she knew it

but i bided my time

took notes

i learned so much

during these painful exercises

of her sickened expressions

of love

i even learned to laugh

at my inability

to be strong

in her presence

and deny her advances

but as i said

she knew i was helpless

some how she had managed

to get in my head

and twist my reason

while manipulating my will

still

something inside me

was enjoying this torturous expression

of what i so wanted to be love

i could not win the race

my hope was waning

with every new sliver she sliced

from my innocence

she was my endearing sadist

and my masochistic proclivities

would not be quelled

she had a spell over me

and with that same tongue

she indelibly carved her name

in the inner chambers

of my heart

and it spelled

“mine”

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

mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

she slipped off her shoes

and softly

sweetly

suavely

sensually

sashayed

from out of my dreams

and into my heart

yeah,

she was smooth

she was a cross breed

of Satin and Silk

yeah,

she made me feel

auspiciously a'lacritous

yeah, she turned me on

the way she touched me

cajoled me

to come out of hiding

from that place of

love disconnectedness

where i was residing

hanging out

licking my wounds

of past experiences

and self doubt

she took my fears away

made them disappear

in thin air

i was smitten

and she was hittin’

on all of my

cerebral erogenous zones

as if she knew

my every weakness

and Lawd

was i weak for her

i would be a freak

for her

i would turn

my own damn self out

any day of the week

for her

you see

she knew me

better than i knew my self

now normally

that would be scary

but i did not have time for that

i was too busy

calculating

figuring

deliberating

in my

equivocating

while creating

semi deluded fantasies

of how i could

make her mine . . .

for ever

yeah baby

she was smooth

her very presence

melted my butter

she was the Fresh Hot Biscuit

i had been dreaming of

all my life

and i was ready to

consume her

totally

and the only words

i could now conjure

was

mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

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

2002

2002

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was the year 2002.

(Bill)

yes, it was 2002

yes, i did beg you to stay

yes, there was pain

and you were not alone

i was melancholic

for the frolicking love

we once shared

had disappeared

but God did i love you

yes i did notice

how our song

was becoming

somewhat discordant

how i longed

to not hear

that eerie music

playing on that damned flute

i refuted everything

myself

and then you

and finally i tried

i vied

to refute love

but love would not

be denied

nor defied

and i cried

for you

each day

i died

for you

how i so wanted to

see you

walk through the door

of my heart

once more

and take your seat

that has been waiting for

your return

baby,

i spurned you

back in 2002

and i have yet to move

forward

toward

that happy place

i yearned for,

for it was you all the time

you were my reason for life

my rhyme

the rife of my joys

and my expectation

my elation

my smile

and now,

i have been exiled

from your garden

where my ardent heart

needs to stay

needs to live

not only the days of past

but that of my now

my tomorrows

and all that i can ever be

i beg of you

to give your self

give me

give us

another chance

you see

you were the world to me

in 2002

and you are now

and i thought you

should know

how i feel right here

and how i felt

in 2002

a Janet and Bill Collaboration

© 9 September 2002 - 2012

www.janetcaldwell.com

www.iamjustbill.com

Inner Child Press

i attest

i attest

my sweet Father

how is it my tongue

can find such sweet flatterous words

when i need thee the most

these times are dire

there are challenges anew

that greet me

at the Sunrise

each day

without fail

they lay with me

each night

as i seek the solace

of sleep

there is no sense in me

that is common

and the wisdoms

of the ages of creation

that of the Sages

are not that of my own

save when you visit upon me

this i have always known

they say

your grace is sufficient

i attest

show unto me

the face that i seek

that i may taste

the joy of your presence

in thy bridal chamber

wed me and bed me

and take from me

my naiveté

that i may see

that you are my provider

the champion

my heart has longed for

thy spirit

has stirred my waters

draw no quarters

take no prisoners

unloosen my bonds

and smite me

with thy mightiest blow

that this darkness

which looms about me

and within

‘til i know of only light

let me again

be pleasing

in thy sight

Oh my sweet Father

e’en in death

there is no peace

without thee

i attest

for i have died a thousand times one thousand

this day

and though the way

has allowed me the power

to pick my life up again

i keep picking

up my old self

again

renew me

redeem me

break me

and make me

a “New” vessel

that i may hold a New Wine

pressed from

your Holy Vine

by your hands

that has not been moved

by the illusions

of time

i have no plans

that are valid

nor worthy

of an eternity

without you

and thy blessings

and now i am confessing

that without you Father

Progenitor

Source

i am like

an untethered feather

in a cosmic storm strewn gale

immersed in a world

of Sins and Failures

that is not of me

nor my kind

and i wax blind

and sore

to my core

when thou speakest not

to me

hear me

hear my words

feel my longing heart

which aches for your embrace

let my eyes

renew

with a twinkling wonder

let thy servant

look upon thy face

for surely you already know

that . . .

“i need thee”

i attest

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

http://www.iaminnerchild.com/

http://www.innerchildpress.com/