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I don’t know why

 

I don’t know why

22/06/2017

I don’t know why they call it death, I’m still here.

I can still see you crying from where I am, with you.

Why can’t I hold or touch you?

Well it’s just like there.

I can ask all the questions but I don’t have all the answers.

There’s a belief, well a few actually, each tends to involve a magic birth and a kind of return, some speak of a whole new conjoined world.

Truth is I watch you cry and feel your tears, I remember every minute of every year.

I believe in you.

You’ll do great things now as you did before I left, and I’ll love you just as much if not more each day.

Come what may.

You don’t believe where I am now is a place I can stay?

Oh no, it doesn’t work that way…

I forgave my ancestors for the pain I’d seen.

So I get an eternity token it’s like a giant pinball machine.

This token gives three rolls of the dice, a card to draw, a stack to play then three balls more.

Each ball can hit a bonus or a replay slot.

It’s like recieving an extension on a life we haven’t got.

I forgave myself (Forgiveness is a regular theme) for the things I’d done and made people see.

So I got another token, that’s three plus three.

This process continues through a library of options but if I’m honest I wasn’t much good at owt else.

So I left with six balls and played them through, of that I lost four so then I had two.

That’s why I’m stood here watching you.

Ten minutes in eternity as the token’s sky blue.

I watched you grow, love and mourn.

I watched you win, grow and fall.

I watched you marry have kids and losses.

I watched you stand up like a boss.

I watched you teach them, watched them grown.

Happy for all the things you went on to show.

Life everlasting us having you would mean.

You’re my angel, my princess, my queen and went on to birth for the team.

I watched them grow.

I watched you lie.

It was nearly your time to die.

I watched them pull near, I watched them mourn, you were near the edge when my idea was born.

A hand in my pocked I discovered at ten minutes into eternity had nearly gone by.

I was lucky by comparison and a fool I was not.

I placed that last ball in a circular pot.

I released as it chimed to accept my last plight.

It spun to the left and rolled to the right.

Down a tube of existence, through nine birth’s of creation it landed on “Granted” to my exhileration.

Twenty more years you’d get with the team and I’d get to watch from here in between.

So back to your question, why am I here?

I can ask all the questions but the answer’s quite clear.

Cancer.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

 

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poems

Tiny pictures (Short)

Tiny pictures

17/06/2017

My body flakes away aimlessly in tiny reflective mirrors, cascading in all directions tiny pictures of who I used to be.

Confusing themselves with memories I’ve yet to have.

Gravity holds no place here the only way is outwards.

Like failing grasps of a broken heart desiring the neediness of a new freedom.

Flaking away, giving my all until found or worse.

There’s no me’s left to give, perhaps this is just a reflection of a poem I used.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

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poems

Real fantasy

Real fantasy

17/06/2017

When there’s no fear during an argument anymore.

When the passion fails to rise.

When her opposing voice matters not.

It’s then, then you’ll capsize.

Sink for the sake of it because swimming isn’t worth the bother,

beneath the waves you’ll find that secluded kind of other.

She’ll suck you of your senses, pacify your thirst.

Remove the blood from your very veins unless you get there first.

She’ll cater to your every whim and you will set her free.

She’s real and all your favourite dreams,

She’s also fantasy.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

 

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poems

Rare Silence

Rare silence

27/06/2017

Fish tank bubbles quietly as you cough in the other room.

Our girl’s back moves softly as she sleeps against the couch.

A door opens elsewhere and a stranger is gone,

Somewhere in the distance and my stomach churns for bacon when coffee is my saviour.

A lone tissue stands unmoving from the box.

Otherwise everything is still and the day is golden.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

 

 

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poems

Power of listening

Power of listening

15/06/2017

You watched my lips move and nodded along.

You listened intently to the words of my song.

Like a chorus of comparisons a lyrical line you tuned in on.

An atmosphere, a paradigm.

How things have altered, became the rythme.

Praise be the forces that make us stable.

Thankyou to luck, to dedication.

To a passionate ensamble.

Thankyou to the dice on the right side of the gamble.

Now it’s laid out where I see half of the table.

I just hope it plays out to be solid and stable.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

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poems

Movement

Movement

12/06/2017

What’s our obsession with movement?

Day turned to night.

Dark turned to light.

The earth moved beneath them.

They ran to one another.

Immersed in heaven they fell in love.

Can’t they just be still and chill?

Have a beer and watch T.V.

Eat pizza and listen to music whilst speaking Italian.

Everything is better in Italian.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

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poems

She wrote “I love you”

She wrote “I love you”

12/06/2017

She wrote I love you on his hand with her fingernail.

Traced his life line back to birth and beyond to find another him.

A him from another time in another place.

She caught him a whim because she could.

So easily with just a line, a stroke of her hand and he was hers as they both wanted, unfaltered.

They shared books in life stories, broken hearts and house warmings.

Death and loss with ghostly partings.

Holding hands where none depart.

Excalibur might hold the strength of total unity but the ground provides unwavering solidarity.

Where he was her sword she was his world.

The clocks ticked backwards and they got younger as her eyes stopped time.

Every fibre of her clothing bristled with energy, the chemical energy made manifest that he knew too well.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

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