out of that door

out of that door

i sat in the room

of my personalized containment

a place of my own design

i had decorated the walls

with all the things

i have accumulated

over the span

of my journey here

the scene was the same

every day

every night

every moment

even when i closed my eyes

i was the rote-filled bored one

for i had already

worked my way

through all the Crayolas

and all the combinations thereof

i needed change

i needed a new Coloring Book

i needed courage

to dare

so i simply rose up

walked to the door

unlocked it

opened it

and walked out

i walked across

the pretty vicarious lawn

through the visceral Flower Beds

heading due west

through the meadow

attempting to catch the Sun

before it set

i was seeking an uninhibited expression

of who i may become

this day

this moment

here

each footstep

created a new way

a new path

but i cared not who would dare to follow

nor did i wish to return

for the memories

ancient and recent

of this and all carnations

i knew far too well

i wanted to climb out of my skin

and this shell

this box

i have built to hold and house

all that i have come to accept

as my destiny

my summation

my self

my life

my lives

as i said . . .  i was bored

as i considered my way

a new consciousness of wonder

began to come about

a dawning

and i became filled

with a penchant

to discover new sounds

new sights

new possibilities

never before considered

in my finite aspects nor perspectives of life

this all seemed so eerily familiar though

my “due West” migrated

slightly to the South

and then to the North

there were no rules

and i had no particular objectives

nor agendas

save but to learn this new dance

this dance of life

i was now engaging in

fully

as i continued forward

i found and stood witness

to explorable new horizons

which ever way i looked

or focused upon

and in my stillness

there was movement

as i became somewhat anxious

for the room i left behind

was fading

like shadows at High Noon

and i felt it all through me

the release

i was seeing my life

differently

than i have ever have before

i saw that it did not belong to me

but i belonged to it . . . LIFE

in the final striking of what once was

that resonant chord

a new indescribable music began to play

for in my submission

i found my liberation

all because

i dared the unknown

and i walked out of that door

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

www.iamjustbill.com

Pieces

Pieces

pieces of perfection

were dancing around

in my head

disguised as ideas

visions and dreams

begging me

to “Pen” them

that they may become

“Reality”

and dance with the Spirits

of those who would dare

consider the exponential-ness

that exists

in the world of possibilities

so i write

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

for Hadessa’

for Hadessa’

it was an early silence

that morning

one so beautiful

like i have never heard before

i could actually hear my self think

there was no screaming

no gunfire

no soldiers in the village

nor any other persons

whose souls expressed

any arbitrariness

i was not aware of my hunger

and the usual gnawing feeling

i always remember having

within

no it was not fear

i no longer worried about fear

i was too busy seeking reasons to smile

i guess that was my Soul’s gift from God

the anesthetic

that numbed me

from the conditions of my life

the life of my Family

and the people who used to live

all around me

most of them had since

gone away or died

today, this morning

there was just silence

here i am standing

in the middle of the roadway

in front of where my home use to be

i remember my little brothers

they taught me a lot of things

with their innocent eyes of wonder

of life

before they were taken away

by the loud noise and fire

that exploded behind our home

i guess my Mother

did not need here left arm anymore

for there was no one to hold

her tears had long ago stopped

there was just this emptiness

like her soul had went away

along with Daddy

that day

yes we had sunshine

and there were flowers

growing in the fields

they reminded me

of the pictures i have seen

in magazines

about how you live

world

you have color in your life

i was hoping to see this world

some day

perhaps next life time

for now there is silence

and i watch

the war of man continue

never knowing why

i and my people

were so hated by you

who have guns

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

a Poem spoke to me

there are but two tears

that have ever graced the cheeks

of all Humanity

Joy and Anguish

and they come from the same well

travel the same path

and end in the same place

memory

there is a space

that is silent

between the sounds

of the incessant rain drops

and i tried to listen

and a Poem spoke to me

there was no escaping the “Voice”

within my Soul

that longed for understanding

that i, my empirical self

may make finite sense of it all

but the “All-ness” eluded me

but a Poem had mercy

and spoke to me

is there a silence absent of noise ?

i sought it

i fought like Jacob

to wrestle with the Divine

for it seemed

like it vacated my mind

as i listened

but a Poem came to me

and tickled my spirit

and i did hear it

and i still do

have you heard the sound of the Petals in Spring

as they spread their wings

and let loose a fragrance

of Joy

of Life

of expectation

as they patiently await

to be fed

your admiration

your consciousness

that they do this for you ?

have you heard the rushing waters

as they journey to the Sea

carrying along

those same Raindrops and Tears

that housed your worries

your fears

your Joys

your Pains

and the many reflections of life

they held

along the way ?

have you heard the sound of the Sun awakening

just for you this day

and trekking from the East

to greet you with possibilities

of what your day may bring ?

when was the last time

you listened

to your Heart Beat

your Breath ?

Have you heard the sound of Chi

being fed to you

in your wanderings

and wonderings

about how it is you live ?

a Poem came to me

and i heard it’s footsteps in my Soul

and when it arrived at the Gate

where my Garden is

i let it in

that it may plant good seeds

in the Soils of my dreams

and we together

the Poem and i

can bring forth

a sweet fruit

i heard a poem

in the silence

yes

a Poem Spoke to Me

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

Miracles in the Cupboard

Miracles in the Cupboard

there are Miracles in the Cupboard

“Be mindful and use them well”

was the Sign on the Door

they were a collection of Class 3 Souls

fresh off the Ship

from the Land of Catatonia

they step into the world of One Tongue

Babylonia

they were there to hopefully learn

how to build Towers

that they may ascend

and move through

this Class B Station

on to Class A

and graduate

many will not make it

and be cast to the end

of the line

to start all over again

for they have forgotten

all previous lessons

oh the waste of all those incarnations

but what is time

what does it mean

when you have a eternity

to work with

some could not endure the illusions

and they learned to pray

to figments of their own imaginings

never realizing

the connect was always with them

that God Particle

that Divine Sparkle

no, they needed Miracles

for they did not understand

the Miracle of Man

some could read the signs along the way

they became adept hunters

as they diligently sought their prey

. . . understanding

most just acquiesced

to what they were given

because it was the easier route

to follow the lead

and the path

that others had established

never realizing that we each

are endowed with our own path

regardless of what we have been told

so they sold their souls out

and blamed their miseries on all other things

but blaming and naming

never did reconcile a thing

and unlike the Caged bird

they had lost their abilities

to sing

sing because your happy

sing because you are free

all you have to do

is open your “Eye” and See

our delusions quickly become our realities

especially if we utilize

that prized Acme Brand of Faith

sold on every Street Corner

it is cheaper than paying the Full Cost

isn’t it ?

but most do fail to ever get to that weigh Station

at Sector A

for they spent far to mush time

looking through that Cupboard

where empty Cans

offered no lasting resolution

nor “Soul-Lutions”

for the Miracle found

in just “Be-ing”

but i must say this

if you are looking for Bliss

There are Miracles in the Cupboard.

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

Miracles in the Cupboard

and we managed

and we managed

Steel Magnolias

Aluminum Tulips

and Bronze Roses

adorned the Botanical

Metaphorical Gardens

constructed for the Children

of the “Machine”

the iridescent light

of painted Sunshiny Icons

hung in the skies

and graced all their dawns

of expectations

for “New Days”

that never quite came about

but they dreamed anyway

yes they dared to dream

of Pink Chiffon

Angel’s Food Cake

Ambrosia

and Potato Salad

with Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwiches

on the side

with a couple of chilled Yahoos

to wash the unpalatable meal down

and we managed

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

www.iamjustbill.com

and i want her too

and i want her too

she came to me naked

save for her wantonness

and i was stunned

for i have never looked

upon such a natural beauty

her skin glistened

with a wonder that stirred me

deeply

in places i have so long forgotten

and i became aflame

with a passion

that was consuming me

and destined

to do the same to her

her soul

we were coming together

first in our thoughts

then our desires of our hearts

and i knew

as certain as the Law of Life provides

that we, her and i

will be coinciding

in love

as one

for it is already done

it is a Love . . . . Supreme

the manifestations

of the Dream

i have always had

within my Core

the Love i always wished for

and now

as she walked through the door

i realized

quite clearly

that the Universe dearly

cares about

what it is i vie for

have cried for

and this day

i will die for

as i put aside

all my doubts

for she is here

naked before me

save for her wantonness

and i want her too

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

www.iamjustbill.com