Tipping point

Tipping Point.


Oh my macho inadequate friend.

Your confidence overpowers rationality, although it’s pretend.

You’ve always done better, earned bigger, won to no end.

My dear fabrication your stitches are weak.

The light shows clear through.

They unwind as you speak.

You’ve trained more than everyone.

You’re simply top notch.

I can’t bear to listen.

I can’t stand to watch.

It will last for a moment your pyramid of cards.

Beautiful in time, for a second at large.

Then like getting stacked because you played the wrong hand.

They’ll tumble like you, straight down to the ground.


© G.P Williamson 2017


Tears for growth

Tears for growth


Forgive my stupid mouth.

The atrocities are worse than war.

Your tears could sooth a thousand armies,

Should they experiance what you’ve shed them for.

I’m sorry, words I never say and seldom feel.

Experiance as I don’t know what to say nor why at all I’m real.

Forgive my stupid mouth and with forgiveness may you heal.

My opinion is a sour crust beside the pizza top of life.

Any facts I may have spoken come with a spread of lies.


© G.P Williamson 2017



That’s not a man

That’s not a man


Bad mouthing – real mature.

Like the MCcoys man with a manicure and fake tan.

That’s not a real man.

That’s jelousy, I dare say it.

Admittance, that’s the stereotype of the person I wish I’d been,

Someone they’d seen, famous not just a ghost in the machine.

Write parrallels where truth’s smell and I can’t tell if I’m doing well as I slip deeper down one more step to hell.

No ego! Remove that voice.

It’s the curse that causes the hearse to reverse, back up and reverse again.

You should be the mature one.

There’s only memories of things you’ve done not photograph’s.

Each breath should be like your last.

Make it, make it last.


© G.P Williamson 2017