Obituary of love.

Obituary of love.


They pine for the obituary of love in circles of secret untruths where lies buried memories in ribbons of incense.

Where the smells are pure and the girls are not.

Where the future’s bright but the predictions rot.

A circle of salt where she stretches her legs, breaking the power she screams and she begs.

Tears in her eyes from the men with their kegs.

Stale ale breath takes her back to the south where the men slapped real strong but were worse with their mouth.

She awakes to an angel of blonde long locks. “Come join us my dear spread your wings to our flock”

She rose and she landed like her body disbanded.

A soul for forgiveness like fate had just planned this.

They pine for the obituary of love in circles of secret untruths. Where lies bury memories in ribbons and incense.

© G.P Williamson 2018


The strongest woman

The strongest woman


There was a fluid world in her tears.

He watched them fall and splash to smithereens like dinosaurs obliterated in a world of screams.

Each tear held sand, molecules and elastic bands.

Things that hold and give and vanishes, broken plans.

Dreams since childhood, stood up loves. Pure doves and strength beyond love.

Strength so strong the knuckles white as the body shakes with frustration.

In a tear, solitary, like a nation.

Stamping in unison, clapping, waving their arms and raving, rioting like a bad equation.

It doesn’t add up.

Voices raised until the screams crescendo into a seizure of bliss as another tear falls but hurts too much to miss.


© 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


Graphic, poems

She cries when I laugh

She cries when I laugh


She cries when I laugh but doesn’t hear my screams.

Torments all my demons without knowing what I’ve seen.

I hear her cackles fill the night from underneath my bed.

I whisper “Is that you?” to the emptiness inside my head.

The rocking chair sways empty, idly back and forth.

She turns to face me smiling and I’m hit with another curse.

My blood doesn’t curdle, it’s thicker than that and yet I still don’t know how to react.

The hairs on my neck march to their own band to wage war on a foe nobody had planned.

The Cobwebs on my face write of hope and glory.

The tears I hold back tell a different story.

She rattles her glass and out pops an eye as the moon falls on down when I say goodbye.


Copyright G.P Williamson 2017


You’re my bad joke. (playing with words)

You’re my bad joke.

You laugh at my bad jokes.
My bad jokes laugh at you.
Laugh at my bad jokes you.
At you, jokes laugh. My bad.
Jokes laugh.
At my bad.

I am sorry I wasn’t enough.
Enough sorry I wasn’t! I am.
I sorry, enough, am I wasn’t?
I wasn’t sorry. I am enough.
Wasn’t I enough?
I am.

Tonight you cry for me.
For you cry me tonight.
Me cry for you tonight.
You cry tonight for me.
Cry for tonight.

Copyright G.P Williamson.