Short poems

Fighting.

Fighting.
29th July 2018

I heard it said I had to grasp it with both hands if I wanted something to come of it.
Never mediocre, always learning, the far end of stood out, stomach churning.
Books burning, piles and heaps of skips, mountains filled with notes and quips.
Sarcastic shoot from the hop hit bits of luminescent sh*t.
Fried alive amidst screams and cries, raging heights.
Clown faces, lemonade, tastes of bleach as Bucks Fizz plays.
I never made my mind up.
Legs rise as smoke engulfs my character and eyes lock here until the ever after.
Loved to death and passioned through birth.
Dated in life.
Married in earth.

© G.P Williamson 2018

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Short poems

Daisy chain my name.

Daisy chain my name.
2/08/18

I don’t want a pocket full of poseys.
I want a heartbeat in a jar.
I don’t want you wearing my skin,
But I want you not too far.
I don’t want your love creamed like a lotion,
But I’ll have you swallow ocean after ocean.
I don’t want to lay claim to fame.
I want your daisy chain to write my name.
I don’t just want those intricate lips to lay me tender.
I want to have you surrender, surrender, surrender.

© G.P Williamson 2018

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Short poems

Train wreck.

Train Wreck.

15/0518

Hmm how interesting, the fear train associated with the hazard gap you’ve explained time and again.

The safety net the great pretext to beat what they haven’t conquered yet.

Him I’ll never forget.

I need to bring forwards what I’ve not achieved to date.

Goodbye Lee.

No regrets mate.

© G.P Williamson 2018

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Short poems

Tore my house down.

Tore my house down.

25/04/2018

And there we’ll go to another wedding, another baby shower, another “Isn’t this fun?” another happy hour with statue faces, airs and graces, elongated gestures and food you can’t take where nothing’s out of place and there’s nothing I want more than to scream “What a f*cking bore!”

Take me out of this race I can’t help the faces, I run backwards and trip “Just get a grip” as I cry mercy and quit because you know what? I’m not over it. I never will be. When you left you tore my house down and chewed up the foundations.

Please fly with the angels and play with the daisy’s.

Goodnight baby.

© G.P Williamson 2018

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Short poems

Smarts

Smarts

15/04/18

I think it would be nice not to be smart just for a day.

Bumping from pillar to post without question, all smiles and appreciation.

Without a million questions and their escalation.

Just for one day.

For the calm lack of alarm, pacified sounds to temper the storm.

No rage quit bar tales about new loves and epic fails.

Just panther dances, cotton candy, my immediate vicinity and look….

….a cloud, see?

© G.P Williamson 2018

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poems, Short poems

I couldn’t see the sound of it.

I couldn’t see the sound of it.

10/03/2018

With every reflection, neglect, negative connection I grow stronger.

I’ve known these wrongs and lived the songs, sung the tune to broken heartstrings.

Still my sound rings clear and free. Audible for you all to see.

Visualise the creations manifest as the dark owl hunts at night and question.

“Why in fright do I seek delight?”

The whole circle of bagpipes is alight in flame and I wonder.

I wonder if deep within the embers you can feel my name.

© G.P Williamson 2018

 

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poems

Broken is such a dramatic word.

Broken is such a dramatic word.

19/02/18

It’s crazy the things you won’t expect.

The atom bomb the hint of neglect.

Murders and psychopaths the hidden desires of thoughtless acts.

Clouds that change shape as the planet rotates and your toe gets stuck in a sock for Christ’s sake.

Bubblegum flavours and dolly mixture amounts, prices go up as memories fade out.

Street games, forest runs. Mobile arcades and BB guns.

Xbox, Playstation, “Where’s the love?” and “Now who’s hatin?”

It’s crazy the things you won’t expect.

The hour glass of life has one hour left.

© G.P Williamson 2018

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