Remember him

Remember him


Remember the boy who couldn’t show sorrow.

Random acts of kindness his short life brought a nation.

Together sacrificed this love that’s God’s creation.

Remember the authorities did all they could to stop the flow of this angel’s blood.

Ormand street as it shall now be known, for the Great shall always forever have fallen.

Powerful elixirs all over the world.

He gave to our lives and education, highlighted poor morals and united the nations.

Squabbles held dear should forever become lose.

Shouldn’t this life at least highlight the true value of cost?

I’ll not speak his name for it’s more hallowed than faith.

In my country I’m humbled but tonight I’m disgraced.

These parents are legends and I’m filled with regret that their awful struggle is not over yet.

I’m broken all over and all open and wide, through the voice of our people who hold him dear inside.

We cry as a people.

We cry as a nation.

We cry as humanity.

He’s our salvation.

Highlight’s who we really are and the cruelty of our law.

No man is mothered by the court.

We are government from the womb.

Parental ties, one union, efficient etiquette.

No law can beat the love of man.

The war isn’t over yet.


© G.P Williamson 2017



Rose black.

Rose black.


I’ll sleep now with roses.

Red roses on a layer of black, solidarity on a foundation of midnight matt.

Silken sheen, dark petals between the mystifying hues of red and green.

You left my mind and a thorn kissed the pad of my finger.

I don’t need to explain the pain.

It was exquisite, devine, beautiful and romantic all at once,

Painful, sorrowful and sad.

You left me longing for more before we’d begun.

We’d not danced.

We’d not spoke.

We’d not had fun.

The thorn hurt too for a moment.

I stretched and the vibrations cascaded in a hieroglyphical hierachy of petals, top of petals.

Pyramids of comfort and wonder.

I was allergic and you were my cure.


© G.P Williamson 2017




Whisps of people

Whisps of people



The people dissappear like whisps of smoke.

Twirling lighter into nothingness as they rise.

High rise past the sky’s dye’s where the sun lies.


They were talking at the stage door.

Two stood out but not to each other.

Opposing gems, some weird metaphor.

She was talking about not having a brother.

No male figure for her to share todays life with,

Apocolyptic abundance, how being on the rob doesn’t make good sense.

Teenagers pushing barriers, tasting waters with trepidence.

She fears how far she could go with no example.

She never goes anywhere.

The people dissappear like whisps of smoke twirling lighter into nothingness as they rise.

High rise past the sky’s dye’s where the sun lies.


© G.P Williamson 2017


I can taste it.

I can taste it.


I can taste the blood in your memories.

It’s in the rough lines of your fingers, within the dirt beneath your nails.

Woven to the fabric of your clothes and embedded in your brain.


I can taste it through the quelch in the air of your tongue.

The rhyme of your times, the sound of your song.


Burn me with your lies as the bacon smell wears thin.

I know too much the reason from the darkness on your skin.

Boil up and over,  take with it your sin.


You’ve scorched her very essence, her beauty was divine,

So you can mark forever her the title that “You’re mine”


I can taste your memories.

I know all that you’ve done.

I can cure you for all time.

Just bring to me my gun.


© G.P Williamson 2017


Hair today gone tomorrow

Hair today gone tomorrow


She wore her hair down which would matter if I noticed, I hadn’t.

Her eyes drowned her other exquisite features.

Her perfect curves were unremarkable in comparison.

She was talking, her red lipstick was moving seductively against her teeth.

She’d bit her lip gently and I realised she was waiting for an answer.

Her teeth were snow white.

Her lips were rose red.

I uttered a noise as my voice failed in reply.

Her eyes left mine as she motioned a goodbye.


©G.P Williamson 2017


Fiery Angel

Fiery Angel


How you rise from my palm face up when I’m alarmed.

Concentrating on the pain, the endurance, again and again.

You rise, I feel the pop as your little legs leave my hand.

The tickle as your wings accidently caress my skin.

Then you heat, you glow.

The burning, oh the burning begins yellow,

then red then not quite white.

I can see softly the hover before a darting flight.

Firelight like a shooting star on it’s way to a target.

Locked on, control gone.

Once it’s released it’s bygone’s be bygone.

©G.P Williamson 2017