poems

Stupid enough to be smart.

Stupid enough to be smart.

10/11/17

I knew a man a year just under.

He was just stupid enough to be smart, really smart.

The kind that knows no danger apart from that he can afford to beat.

The man who knows no limits or how to forfeit.

He didn’t have the answers, hell he barely understood the question, but one thing he was filled with is endless amounts of direction.

He made it through with his lotions, with his all never ending quotes.

He made it with his silence as though only he would know the joke.

Under all the fabrication he was actually a decent bloke.

He tried it with his brain but he succeeded with his heart.

He was just stupid enough to be smart, really smart.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

 

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poems

Mine alone.

Mine alone.

05/11/17

It’s a sad day when you have to give up what you love because another’s actions are cruel and unjust.

Even perceiving them in a different way wouldn’t work.

Fate’s way of saying move on is strong.

Albeit briefly I concern myself with am I leaving the rightest of wrongs or the wrongest of rights?

We shall see another night.

This evening you’re mine and mine alone.

It was her birthday when it started and a new works.

An ironic circumstance in a place I freely gave meaning to and beyond because of a date.

The year was right but they were not, I once forgave but I cannot.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

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poems, Short poems

Phantom Writer

Phantom Writer.

14/10/17

Thankyou guys who helped me most.

phantoms, spirits, long dead ghosts.

Write through me I am the host.

Visible scars, invisible delusions.

I see through it all with disastrous conclusions.

That envelope will come,

all pristine and clear.

A rejection of detection year after year.

If I’m ninety-six when the cheque comes through the post.

My job will be complete and that I will then toast.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

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poems

Coffee Addiction

Coffee Addiction

04/09/2017

How your antics kept me on my toes.

Blue eyes down with a red nose.

Burgundy in nature.

Thick liquid warm and premature.

If I’d known you were getting drunk I may have called before.

Don’t open that door.

Pint glasses smash in reaction to high fives and underclassed sociolites with no humour who can’t fight.

Wow, a slanging match with no insight.

How morally indignant, using your childs first aid to get better treatment.

Swearing at me for keeping them safe.

You’re lucky you’re nine years too late, you’d be wearing that “f**k” on the other side of your face.

I hold the record for how many times I can smile a “have a nice day” but don’t be decieved, there’s always another way.

There may be chocolate sprinkles on your coffee, but I’m still coffee and you will be addicted.

Without warning you’ll wake up to me every morning.

Strong, sweet, indiscreet.

A better plus one you never could meet.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

 

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poems

Can you sign this?

Can you sign this?

02/09/2017

Here’s to the middle finger is often betrothed yet the pact of allience had somehow bestowed.

Can you sign this?

The pact of allegiance that signature signed.

The statement supporting.

The lines are the facts.

The ghosts and the demons continue to act.

Devilish warfare of which none can contain.

Hire a manager so these can refrain.

Refrain from abundance.

Refrain from just lazy.

Refrain from inadequate.

Refrain from no training.

I helped slice the cake, I divided all the pieces equally so you could see them for yourself more than once.

You changed nothing, simply added another layer upon another layer of cheap icing in a feeble attempt to cover the rotten interior.

Remember twofold. Firstly that right now this can be fixed but it won’t be this way forever, it’s almost gone too far.

Secondly – the last cut is always the deepest. Some wounds we won’t heal from.

It will be upto you where that force of gravity lies.

To the sky’s? Beneath the tides?

It’s almost time for you to choose a side.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

 

 

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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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