Short poems

Holiday eyes.

Holiday eyes.

Rubber lips and tricks.
Fake masks and forest sticks.
Click, unreal relationships.
All predominant features and no kiss.
Hide behind holiday eyes like this.
How I ruin the blood.
Sores from curmudgeon pores of your body on mine.
How our soul’s designed.
I was your play time.
Smile and dance by happenstance your spark meets mine!
Kaboom romance!

© G.P Williamson 2018

Short poems


There’s a piece of robust glass in my chest where you used to live all see through clearly and sweetly.
It juts out obviously and none discreetly.
Like how you filled me.
Cut deeply and all briefly.
It’s strange this optical illusion of my reflected expression.
I wish I could taste the whisky to dull the pain which resides in like fragmented lies.
Fermented rope and throated side lines.
Love doesn’t burn.
It hides.
In the memory of your shadow I wait for the night to pass.
Until then, I nurse this robust glass.

© G.P Williamson 2018 <– hit for Instagram!

Short poems

Sport and Sport 2.

9th August 2018

I can feel you shake as the lightning flashes in anticipation for the earth shaking as I control the movement of your hips.
I feel your apprehension at the stagnation of the calm before the storm.
I feel the cold tears and warm rain on your soul.
I feel your heartbeat.
I feel it all.
How your presence manifests the shattered remnants I haven’t swallowed yet.
Black and red,
and wet.

© G.P Williamson 2018

Sport 2

All forked tongues and master.
You wonder why I chain bind and whip rough lustre.
Spit polish, humiliate and find it disgusting.
Talk to me about a lack of trusting.
Rough tussling to crescendo tears and gushing.
Stop, don’t stop.
Keep pushing.

© G.P Williamson 2018

Short poems

Over complicate.

8th August 2018

It’s amazing how we over complicate matters.
By we I mean me not I or us but a whole, a complete mess of riddles and atoms and cells that wiggle and jiggle whilst everything vibrates and moves as a conscious entity, a living breathing, pulsating society.
A multiverse, universe, planetary cycle.

A membrane with a brain we can’t recycle.
It’s amazing how we over complicate matters or matter.
How hopes and dreams shatter, collide and combust grow wings and earn trust.
It’s most overcomplicated for what amounts to “us”.

© G.P Williamson 2018


A jibe at hipocrisy.

A jibe at hypocrisy.

Oh the hilarity at your calamity.
Belly laughs jovially like jelly beans tipped over me.
It’s only you that fails to see, you’ll wait for eternity.
I’d like to sing a different song.
I’d love to think I’d once be wrong,
but again you’ll have to fight and still you’ll sleep alone at night.
He never gives you any rights and so will never hold you like,
the way he sure does hold his wife.
When he looks up in her eyes and fills her with a thousand lies.
One day she will realise with years of unbridled hate that he caused such a bad state,
Because you chose to lie in wait.
Then wait then if you really must but don’t do it in the name of love.
Neither of you are worthy of the hands of time that turn to dust.

© G.P Williamson 2018






Short poems

Pillow talk.

Pillow talk.

Pillow talk on flower beds.
Greens, orange, crimson, reds.
Flowers talk on pillow beds.
Cotton clouds, feather threads.
Crimson threads and lining clouds.
Filled with wished, lived with doubts.

Orange, crimson, reds and green.
Half awake when life’s a dream.
Satin sheets and purple themes.
Don’t we make the perfect team?
On pillow beds, flowers talk.
Petals, thorns, spikes and storks.
Pillow talk on flower beds.
Greens, orange, crimson, reds.

© G.P Williamson 2018