Short poems

Muted expressions.

Muted expressions.
01/08/2018

You never pretended to be something you’re not.
I like that, I like that a lot.
I still think you’re lying.
To yourself, to the world.
Then I would, you’re preprogrammed.
One of them, you’re a girl.
There’s a reason they’re the start of this world.
Both within rumour (all bad I’m afraid)
and then within voice and a touch I should say.
More so always in trouble, the centre of drama.
Life is a B*tch but then so is Karma.

© G.P Williamson 2018

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Short poems

Daisy chain my name.

Daisy chain my name.
2/08/18

I don’t want a pocket full of poseys.
I want a heartbeat in a jar.
I don’t want you wearing my skin,
But I want you not too far.
I don’t want your love creamed like a lotion,
But I’ll have you swallow ocean after ocean.
I don’t want to lay claim to fame.
I want your daisy chain to write my name.
I don’t just want those intricate lips to lay me tender.
I want to have you surrender, surrender, surrender.

© G.P Williamson 2018

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Short poems, Tom Orrow

All lies in the eyes 1 & 2. (Tom Orrow)

All lies in the eyes.
12th July 2018

They shouldn’t lie about those indelible tears they cried.
These pages wet where memory’s hide all daily worries, Tom Orrow troubles, wide eyed sorrys, drowned sorrows & eclectic poems.
You just don’t go.
You’re Baileys with porridge.
The criminal hat trick.
The faces that fit can’t despise sh*t they might be a glove but you’re cross stitch.
Parables of unique ambiguity.
I’m used to the lone wolf.
My shadow of clarity.

© G.P Williamson 2018

All lies in the eyes 2.

Lone wolf writes letters home to a girl in his mind.
Mighty fine.
Auburn hair and brown eyes she wears the perfect disguise.
Mesmerised in memory,
Tantalised in touch.
luminescent beauty.
A world he….
One sharp turn of his head and she’s gone again.
Pulled under the covers of daylight and robbery.

© G.P Williamson 2018

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Short poems

Name that pill.

Name that pill.

28th June 2018

It took just one pill to understand the world in totality.
The mediocre conundrum of our own sanity.
The reasons we take woman for wife.
The reasons for love.
The meaning of live.
Progression to trust, society a must.
The very reason of universe from dust.
One solitary pill concoction made from the lips of a brown eyes goddess, a robin’s last breath,
A church bells chime at a quarter to nine.
The last suppers’ last drop of wine.
A murdered womans motherhood the hands of a bludgeoned father mixed within the salty seas of another tear filled daughter.
It took just one pull to understand the world in totality.

© G.P Williamson 2018

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Short poems

That story you wrote.

That story you wrote.

23/05/18

Those forgive me cries.

Those apologies you give off like fire crackers in dreams, all ripped seams and screams, I feel them.

You don’t know it seems.

How would you?

We’ve never met.

That story you wrote – I read it. It was great!

That course you said you would do – do it, it will suit you.

That song you want to sing, lets be honest you’re tone deaf but love yourself.

That’s what’s left.

© G.P Williamson 2018 <— Hit for my Instagram.

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poems

Loved to death.

Loved to death.

16/05/18

You fulfil me like a diary.

You keep all my secrets safe.

Naive to place them in a human, naive to trust so few!

How dare I scoff at reason when logic has no clue.

You protect me in your chains and chain me with your hopes.

I hold you with my fears and I wonder how you cope.

I love you with my soul.

It’s not possible with your mind?

They often do forget the two are quite entwined.

I’ll bring you second guesses but not without first thoughts.

I’ll drown you with affection and then smother you with my heart.

© G.P Williamson 2018

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Short poems

Oceancolournicklepulp

Oceancolournicklepulp

5/5/18

Since they don’t really care about us.

Since profit in peace nothing’s changed.

There is no ease.

Since the day we caught the train after Breakfast at Tiffany’s.

The world remained the same for common people.

If only we were aeroplanes, we’d fly as one,

When we stand together.

Otherwise, it’s time for a revolution.

© G.P Williamson 2018

 

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