Scribblings and squabblings

What a ride..

What a ride..



Evolution coin rings.

Straight off lets say a big thankyou to Anthony Bradford at Evolution coin rings for my two shilling coin with my mum’s birthdate on it! I promised an update weeks ago however life took on the magical form of a roller coaster and blasted me through oblivion the second the ring (not shown) was on my finger.

Although I’m not attributing my current house move, relationship momentum, school changes or endless pile of boxes to wade through directly to that ring going on my finger I can safely say it’s been a lot easier to manage looking down every so often and remembering why I plough through and on with the things that I do in the ways that I do.
For everything from Shillings to Crowns.
He did inform me that their may be some tainting of the metal after the work was undertaken. You know what – Still as clean and shiny as the day I made the purchase.

In other news.
I’ve moved around a lot and not been phased in the slightest as an individual. Throw two kids a missus and a house crammed full of useless items into the mix, a short time frame to move and holding down a 40 hour job and something has to give. That’s meant no posts for quite a while and won’t be any for a little while longer I’m afraid.

The autobiography is being published, that decision has been made and we’ve had several people interested. At this stage I’m wanting to do more editing and make the book that much more alive and so I’ve held off from accepting offers. I think it can be better, and as much as I’m extremely grateful for all the interest considering I know how hard it is to get the work out there to begin with. I won’t be putting out the complete works until I’m sure it’s one hundred percent perfect. It’s taken over five years to go from hand written stage to typed up, edited and ready for publication and so, another year or so won’t do any harm whilst we settle here.

We’ve been so busy this past month alone it’s hard to keep up. During writing of this short post I’ve received a message to say a friend is coming over to pick up a fridge and I have Swale here sorting out the water as my daughter asking me repeatedly “When is Steve coming over?” and so life rolls into the next phase of achievement.

It’s as though the earth’s moving at thirty four thousand kilometers a second and I can feel every millimeter. I’ll return when the motion sickness stops.

G.P Williamson.

Short poems

Holiday eyes.

Holiday eyes.

Rubber lips and tricks.
Fake masks and forest sticks.
Click, unreal relationships.
All predominant features and no kiss.
Hide behind holiday eyes like this.
How I ruin the blood.
Sores from curmudgeon pores of your body on mine.
How our soul’s designed.
I was your play time.
Smile and dance by happenstance your spark meets mine!
Kaboom romance!

© G.P Williamson 2018

Short poems

Stab Cupid.

Stab Cupid.
I find myself missing you.
Stab Cupid.
He makes my heart race when I’m happy in last place,
He wants me to pass Go, I’m happy back three spaces.
He wants my pieces checked and mated.
I want to castle and have this game escalated.
I can’t draw I’ve a dull flush.
I’m packing lies to her royal tush.
Stab Cupid.
I find myself missing you.

© G.P Williamson 2018

Short poems


There’s a piece of robust glass in my chest where you used to live all see through clearly and sweetly.
It juts out obviously and none discreetly.
Like how you filled me.
Cut deeply and all briefly.
It’s strange this optical illusion of my reflected expression.
I wish I could taste the whisky to dull the pain which resides in like fragmented lies.
Fermented rope and throated side lines.
Love doesn’t burn.
It hides.
In the memory of your shadow I wait for the night to pass.
Until then, I nurse this robust glass.

© G.P Williamson 2018 <– hit for Instagram!

Short poems

Sport and Sport 2.

9th August 2018

I can feel you shake as the lightning flashes in anticipation for the earth shaking as I control the movement of your hips.
I feel your apprehension at the stagnation of the calm before the storm.
I feel the cold tears and warm rain on your soul.
I feel your heartbeat.
I feel it all.
How your presence manifests the shattered remnants I haven’t swallowed yet.
Black and red,
and wet.

© G.P Williamson 2018

Sport 2

All forked tongues and master.
You wonder why I chain bind and whip rough lustre.
Spit polish, humiliate and find it disgusting.
Talk to me about a lack of trusting.
Rough tussling to crescendo tears and gushing.
Stop, don’t stop.
Keep pushing.

© G.P Williamson 2018

Short poems

Over complicate.

8th August 2018

It’s amazing how we over complicate matters.
By we I mean me not I or us but a whole, a complete mess of riddles and atoms and cells that wiggle and jiggle whilst everything vibrates and moves as a conscious entity, a living breathing, pulsating society.
A multiverse, universe, planetary cycle.

A membrane with a brain we can’t recycle.
It’s amazing how we over complicate matters or matter.
How hopes and dreams shatter, collide and combust grow wings and earn trust.
It’s most overcomplicated for what amounts to “us”.

© G.P Williamson 2018