poems

Best ghosts ever

Best ghosts ever.

20/07/17

Interestingly she said don’t forget to be yourself, which is strange considering I was me or at least I presumed I was until she’d commented.

It was then I overthought her presence.

Fantasized about the situation and allowed my mind to run wild with unstoppable conclusions.

Illusions, falsities and make believe delusions.

Realities which could be if I believed and yet I didn’t believe.

I didn’t because I couldn’t remember who I was pretending to be.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

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poems

Tears for growth

Tears for growth

19/07/17

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

 

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poems

That’s not a man

That’s not a man

19/07/17

Bad mouthing – real mature.

Like the MCcoys man with a manicure and fake tan.

That’s not a real man.

That’s jelousy, I dare say it.

Admittance, that’s the stereotype of the person I wish I’d been,

Someone they’d seen, famous not just a ghost in the machine.

Write parrallels where truth’s smell and I can’t tell if I’m doing well as I slip deeper down one more step to hell.

No ego! Remove that voice.

It’s the curse that causes the hearse to reverse, back up and reverse again.

You should be the mature one.

There’s only memories of things you’ve done not photograph’s.

Each breath should be like your last.

Make it, make it last.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

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poems

That’s my law

That’s my law.

20/07/2017

My friends need to take a rest, all this coming back from the dead’s causing too much stress.

I feel them pushing at the curtain, swearing and hurting.

Persuasive with jelousy in a hierachy of unstable chemistry, hoping to metamorphose and bloom outside the kaboom.

The circle of infinity, circle of life, circle of trouble and strife ties knots around my brains heart like ringworm for my mind.

The doctors looked but couldn’t see, I didn’t want to find.

No reflection for myself no fear to face.

No punishment, no faith in place and I’m scared.

Scared to accept a taste of tranquility for losing too much before.

I fear love and that’s my law.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

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Scribblings and squabblings

What is Art?

What is art?

09/03/2015

An actual blog post…for a change.

I’ve been thinking a lot about art recently and synchronicity…but mainly art.

Synchronicity doesn’t take much thinking about really as it’s what we decide to make of it. It’s automatic like viewing a
scene in a book we don’t usually question what color the walls are in a scene with two lovers arguing we just see it. Synchronicity
is no different. We see a feather and interpret it as some kind of message or nothing at all. It’s automatic.

Yet art…what is it? Seriously I know zero about art and from all the people I speak to who know something about art it seems
the information goes right over my head or in fact that they don’t really know what it is either. Yet the one thing that crops up time
and time again is passion… I’ve heard several people this past week say some kind of variation to “I have to do it”, “It’s a part of me” or
“the painting wanted me to.”

I even found myself having written “It wasn’t supposed to be a sci fi short story but it’s the way the story wanted to go” in an E-Mail to my friend.

Looking back I knew exactly what I meant and yet trying to explain what I meant to someone else? almost impossible.

What brought me to this over balanced thought process?

I recently started a new job basically running warehouses again for a major supermarket. There’s a lot more to it than that of course but it’s basically
my old job jazzed up a bit with better pay and more benefits. The training is great and the team are functional. I’m enjoying the new learning curve and
the potential isn’t bad either.

However as soon as I told those close to me I heard “You’re an artist! why are you working again?”, “but, but…your books?”, “Gary…are you sure? I mean…what about
your writing?” and others which made me feel great and a little confused. An artist? *raises eyebrow*

If anyone reading this knows me you’ll know my writing isn’t planned. I don’t take notes and write out a poem and then edit it forty times before I blog it. I grab a pen
on the fly and throw on the page what enters my head and then carry on with whatever I’m doing. Later I type it up and put it online…usually a lot later. I have more than twenty
these past few days that never seem to hit a pc due to time.

I’m totally self assured in my passion for what I do. I give a hundred and ten percent to being a father, my job and my writing. Time seems to be against me on many fronts and I’m sure
loads of authors feel the same. I have an autobiography that’s ninety percent complete and just needs editing…don’t you just love editing?

Another two poetry books ready to hit the pc which haven’t been completely typed up yet, my supermarket job and my little girl who’s teething (yippee!! Teeth! coochy coo!) for about a week
until the sneezing and snotty nose starts and the worry kicks in and then the watery eye due to tooth pain. Then someone mentions meningitis and my brain explodes into fragments of “what if?”
travelling twice the speed of light in all directions until someone qualified says “she’s just teething. She’s fine” and my mind settles again into “why haven’t I finished that book yet?”

So an artist? Thank you. I am honored (I think..) However no…I’m a guy who jots down thoughts, tells stories, writes because he feels it, see’s it and yes I’ll admit…needs to write.
As much as I’d love to be of the kin that says “I write for you and all the people who love my work”….it’s not true. I write because I love it, the stroke of the pen, the sound of certain
words strung together, the release of feelings hitting the page and mesmerisingly – never knowing what is going to hit the page until I stop writing! That feeling is magical and if I didn’t have
the medium of the internet to share my notes. I’d write anyway.

With this update given I owe a couple of you apologies..and these guys….these guys are artists.

sixmonthsbenadams

Ben Adams – I haven’t had time to read it yet! I’ve come accross a million and one reviews online about your book and the second I get a spare moment I’ll be throwing myself into the amazing world I
know you’ve created. I know because I’ve read all the extracts I can find online but not risked taking the book in the bath yet! I will say whoever wrote the review “2 stars because I don’t like the way
he refers to his ex wife as “my ex” throughout the book” was a legend though….and probably your ex wife. Had me laughing almost as much as your “sanctimonious self help book” line.

Find out what all the fuss is about here – www.benadamsauthor.com

nigeldorics

Nigel I said I wouldn’t embaress you by putting this picture of you and I online…. I lied. So for that I’m also sorry….kinda.

Another reason art kept cropping up for me recently was because I was lucky enough to have an amazing art therapist as a child. A man who enabled me through the medium of art to speak about things which ought not be spoken about (no…not Voldemort)..
He allowed me the freedom to express lots of emotions in a perfect environment when at home I was for whatever reason surrounded by people who thought children shouldn’t have freedom of expression and their
emotions weren’t worth listening to. By the end of our sessions I was still a messed up kid but a messed up older, wiser kid with a can do attitude instead of a “I’m not worth it” attitude. This guy enabled me to find self worth or rather – his use of art did.

It was twenty years later my wife showed me a link she’d found online http://www.awol-studios.co.uk/residents/nigel-patrick-mottram and to be fair I was gobsmacked. One because I looked for him a few years ago simply to say thank you for all the work he did and couldn’t find him anywhere and two because he replied to my mail and we had a chat on the phone…a few months later we were sat in The Doric Arch enjoying a beer and reminiscing over old times. Turns out he’s an artist and in my artistically uneducated opinion, a damn good one.

carolnigelpic

His studio is open more times than not and
a simple hello will often prompt a four hour conversation on anything and everything from symbolism in religious studies to the potential of alternate realities. If you’ve not been to see his work – It’s worth a visit if you’re in the area and if you have a “Nigel” story to tell – feel free to comment.
His adventures always entertain me. Perhaps you’re an old client? a superior survivor or just someone who’s had the good fortune of a brief chat in passing. His interactions are always unique.

Finally amongst the many changes that have recently occured in my life albeit all great and positive, have for one reason or another meant less time writing. Has been the new (ish) communication with my siblings. New communication with siblings? sounds very formal Gary…that’s not right.
You’re quite right… it’s not right. However it has worked out perfectly. We were split up years ago (see more in my autobiography)… and didn’t get back in touch for around eighteen years. We had a lot to catch up on.. how had he coped with all we had to go through? What challenges had he met?
Well quite ironically he’s also become an artist..of the mind. He currently helps people via videoblog whilst also running his cleaning business. He aims to become a therapist. You can see what he has to say about the world right here.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=jwVu0kLs674

jjjjjj

what is art? I have no idea.

However with my love of the written word I couldn’t not put an excerpt from one of my favourite authors.

“May you have the courage to listen to the voice of desire. That disturbs you when you have settled for something safe” – Benedictus by John O’Donohue. http://www.johnodonohue.com/

My scribblings…they are my voice of desire. forever challenging, changing and growing.

Gareth Williamson.

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poems

Sharing a secret

Sharing a secret
2/12/14

I just shared with you a secret.
Please let it unwind,
When it comes to pass today
Do keep this post in mind.
I just shared with you a secret.
You felt it just a little.
The light behind your eyes
Was changed within a riddle.

I just shared with you a secret.
I ask nothing for this gift.
You can keep it with you always
For the times you start to drift.

I just shared with you a secret.
It will come out in your dreams
At a time it’s most important,
But it isn’t what it seems.

I just shared with you a secret.
Yet there are many forms of magic.
Listen very carefully.
“I think you are fantastic!”

I just shared with you a secret.
You read this in a certain voice.
Every time you hear it.
You’ve made another choice.

Copyright G.P Williamson 2014

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poems

Everything

Everything, every – thing, ever-y-thing.

1/12/14

Perspective is everything.
There’s no depression here.
Can you hear the bell ringing?
A death or Christmas cheer?

Figure out the signs.
Bring on a bit of luck.
Smile at adversary
Create your own good book.

You may as well be happy.
What is the other choice?
Do you insist on listening to that ever present voice?

Perspective is everything.
Figure out the signs.
You may as well be happy.
Don’t analyze, it’s fine.

Copyright G.P Williamson 2014

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