poems

He jokes

He jokes

18/07/17

I like the way he jokes the days away.

Odd bit of banter a lighter delay.

Delay on progression, personal growth.

Delay on my future, less days by the coast.

Delay on the workload.

Delay with his lies.

Delay by design.

Delay with your eyes.

Train a team to analyze, to memorise the peoples tide.

Growth to overcome, to populate.

To delegate a team,

Create.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

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poems

Praise the team

Praise the team

12/06/2017

Raise your glass to praise the team.

Once painted red he painted them green.

Tumbletrack turns were gone and lost.

He sacrificed people at the company’s cost.

Airbag inflations, financial reactions.

Faigning processes, painful distractions.

She asked me seven questions.

I could only answer fair. “I don’t know what you mean”

Let’s raise our glass right now and praise the bloody team.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

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poems

Earth unrumbles.

Earth unrumbles

01/06/2017

Do you think this lifestyle enough?

This walking run of departing energy in motion.

The content fighting, to be awake, sustain a beat, enduring unnatural feat after unnatural feat.

Do you feel complete?

Should you survive another bone shaking, hip rattling roller coaster ride you can jog home.

A marathon where enthusiasm hides.

The sun beats a line of cosmic rays through a worn and tattered running shell.

Shouting to be heard in an ever increasing larger world.

Rude people, indignitaries, carelessness,

Causing good business to go bust like dawn meets a new morning.

Playing second fiddle to second nature.

Trying to catch up to a carrot string,

If the earth unrumbles will the birds still sing?

…. I don’t hear anything.

©G.P Williamson 2017

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poems

How far….

Plastic Toy Soldiers Photo from ebay.com

How far I’ve come…
07/05/2017

There’s a legend on the horizon and I see the shape more clearly now.
Previously harsh sunlight, too bright, It hurt.
Loss of things I couldn’t hold tight, couldn’t fight. It hurt.
Today distinct representations of internal diagrams.
Not horsefly or moth but emotional constructs.
Desire, loyalty, self respect and attitude.
Lots of things combined it’s hard to understand what I feel – multitude.
Like steroid enchanced muscles but with a natural remedy.
That cure being who I’ve become today.
Self respect has been here everyday.
But my ego needs some time to layaway.

My achievements are far, wide, tall and short.
But the height of it isn’t what’s in my mind it’s what’s in my heart.
I’d forsaken a part of me I’d not realised.
The sociable, habitual conversationalist I’d just stigmatised.

I allowed myself to grow dark.
Park with the battery on but nobody home.
An open car with a hidden dictaphone.
I took the answers but didn’t speak the truth.
Trust became an issue I’d doused in rust.
Left it renegade, such that I couldn’t help myself.
Spade.

Was it my hand in the glove?
I couldn’t sense my wrong doing but knew my undoing.
wronged myself with internal flaws.
Self deprecating analogy’s which just built more walls.
Fingertips to lips, spasmatic fits, adrenaline fueled quips I’d shoot from the hip.
I wasn’t upto it.

I didn’t want it.
I realised when I found out as I didn’t discover.
It was another attention seeking falacy that wasn’t to do with my mother.
Anyone can be an A**hole it doesn’t take much thought.
But to let people in, damn….. that takes a heart.

I didn’t buy it at first and mostly still don’t.
But I know I’ll let it pan out and stand up if it won’t.
Previously I’d of bitten and punched through the fear.
Then turn around and find nobody’s near.

Don’t dramatise my reality it’s fictionally sane.
It’s justifiably accurate if not badly mundane.
Although the excitements for real the emotion might not be.
I’m in here somewhere or maybe I’m not me.

They seem to want the same personal awareness.
integrate business without a life of stress.
I can’t promise perfection but awareness is progress.
No code of practice but I can wear my own dress.

Copyright G.P Williamson 2017.

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poems

Let me explain…

Let me explain…

26/07/2015

Your expectations do not justify a reaction.

I am not a

chit-chat

talk behind your back,

mad as a hatter

who framed him for that?

Kinda character.

I won’t rephrase

your paraphrasing.

Dance to the tune

of your centre staging.

Share my voice with your out of tune ilk

or take the mick over a drink.

I can’t stoop to bother to single out

if he’s better than her or his brother.

It’s not worth the cost of my own humanity,

my moral sense or alter fine reality.

My word is my bond.

My facts show the lines,

Alterations to reason

transform business to crimes.

Paint a picture that’s flawed

and dealt out with begrudges.

It’s set up to fail

with clear visible smudges.

Map out a new story

and I’ll praise your fiction.

I won’t question why I

am your favourite addiction.

I sleep soundly at night.

I’m proud of what I’ve done.

Just lay down your cards and let’s see who’s won.

I understand chess.

I’ve won medals – there’s plenty.

Static wooden figures,

It’s just a game – they’re empty.

I don’t play with people.

I have self respect as a man.

so let me explain,

you do what you can.

It’s not worth the cost of my own humanity,

My moral sense or alter fine reality.

My word is my bond.

My facts show the lines.

Alterations to reason

turn business to crimes.

Copyright G.P Williamson 2015.

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