poems, Short poems

Phantom Writer

Phantom Writer.


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


Coffee Addiction

Coffee Addiction


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



Can you sign this?

Can you sign this?


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




He jokes

He jokes


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,



© G.P Williamson 2017


Praise the team

Praise the team


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


Earth unrumbles.

Earth unrumbles


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


How far….

Plastic Toy Soldiers Photo from ebay.com

How far I’ve come…

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.

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.