"If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same..." From IF by R. Kipling
Viewing entries in
"poetry"
This is too powerful not to share. Why do we relate to the underdog? Because we have all been there...most of us powerfully so. Yet, out culture of youth (particularly in the educational environment) is one where we allow and support behavior of making ourselves feel better by belittling others. I double dog dare you to watch this Spoken Word poem...
pull the string, watch the dolls dance
blood runs from my finger tips
maybe this time it will change
calm my fears or ease my pain
see my marionettes take your stage
watch your laughter, feel your rage
safely sitting
program in hand
three cheers for the puppet man
pull the string, watch the dolls dance
blood runs from my finger tips
maybe this time it will change
calm my fears, ease my pain
i see your faces, swoons and frowns
watching fixed, puppet take puppet down
they 're not real, your thoughts remind
while i silently die standing behind
pull the string, watch the dolls dance
blood runs from my finger tips
maybe this time it will change
calm my fears, ease my pain
with human hate they dance for you
showing the worst the we can do
superb! delight! encore' you shout
so once more the toys come out
pull the string, watch the dolls dance
blood runs from my finger tips
maybe this time it will change
calm my fears, ease my pain
the lights are gone, empty isles now
i fall broken wondering how
these hands will heal, gather strength again
so, you can watch through my gift, friend
pull the string, watch the dolls dance
blood runs from my finger tips
maybe this time it will change
calm my fears, ease my pain
see my marionettes take your stage
watch your laughter, feel your rage
safely sitting program in hand
three cheers for the puppet man
-Kim E. Williams
Mind Trash
Trembling thoughts hold
Tenaciously
Dog-eared photos
Warped eyes search
Wandering
Among lost silhouettes
Recollection yields
Reluctantly
Finding memories lost
Piercing shards threaten
Precisely
This moment
-Kim E Williams
We were told to expect snow
Snow, again.
Greeted by crisp hope and freezing air
We waited…
Dogs sniffing the air and each other
Hawks sat and wrapped themselves in feather shawls
Discreet expectations
Anticipation of broken routines that might
Hold us captive to our homes
Caressed by comforting teas and cakes
It didn’t snow.
Still, we stayed home, held the dogs
Surrendering to self-imposed captivity
Saturday morning…me
-Kim E. Williams
She is Moonshine...
Harvest moon, radiant blast across the horizon
diminishing anything near the sound of her light
taunting us with the threat of reverting to a simple, normal
part of our world if we look too late or move too close.
She is Moonshine
Full moon, raising werewolves and iconic myths
making day of the darkness and drawing
florescent strokes across every able bodied pond
waving boldly coming too in due cycle
She is Moonshine...
Shiva moon, a promise and goodbye
deadly waxing and waning of war and peace
the confidently ignored reminder of our mortality
veiled carelessly by translucent clouds
She is Moonshine...
Day time moon, pale and out of place
whimsically demanding to be seen
unafraid of the brightest sun or the bluest mood
a broad daylight
She is Moonshine...
To drink, clear, forbidden and dangerous
Intoxicating, even in small portions
Promising to burn you from throat to belly
And warm your bowels through the coldest doubts
She is Moonshine...
and she needs light, bright hot
consuming fire to pour forth upon her
flares of character and promise to reach
out to her for her light is
in all its shapes and sessions
reflected from another one.
Amusing Awareness
Why do you remain
There
A brush by my world
Radiating
Passion against my senses
Leaving
Me longing for more?
Your voice sang today
Mournful
Lyrics of loss and hope
Ascending
Tones of fluttering union
Scattered
Eternally within my mind
Haunting.
The last cicada sings
Into the crisp fall air
A final call of
Fall’s end, winter’s era
Leaves cling
To branches high
Not one wants
To release and die
A father dreams
Of his son’s flight
But silence returns
From this season’s night
[Chorus]
Seasons change
Seasons go
Season remain
Ever so slow
Summer leaves
To find its fall
The stillness breaks
Upon us all
The last cicada sings
The final tear falls
We are cold
We are so small
A baby cries
Her first breath of life
Mother’s arms are gone
An women will live in strife
[Chorus]
Sometimes we must burrow
Deep into the earth
Waiting there, searching
For the matter of our birth
Remembering when we can
That as this begins
We can return as
The last cicada sings
[Chorus]
The last cicada sings
Into the crisp fall air
A final call of
Fall’s end, winter’s era
Leaves cling
To branches high
Not one wants
To release and die
NOTE: in the depths of a hike in SC, i heard a lone cicada. while only weeks before i had heard the deafening noise of their community screaming, only one remained. the words above come from that last cicada's song.
Eagles weep the dust of fury
Glory
droops in a breeze filled sky
Trumpets howl forth silence
Blind eyes
gaze on dust and pry
Paradox rains upon sweltering souls
Discordant
melodies find no harmonic tone
Sleeping giants fail to wake
Dreams of horror in daylight come
Restrained talons seek to rip
Flesh and
bone. Retribution wails
Bridled shouts from viper lips
Broken tongues speechless, still
Such foreign chaos, grief born questions
Here rests doubt,
fear rooting
Anger to pain beget rage
Tearing fabric, destroying the
shoot
A blast through heart’s cage
Cries,
screams and eternal rage
Why! Demands our soul
Why?
Defiant voices entreat
Into this realm of despair
Touching
sinew of exposed hope
Lifting corpse-like remains
Our Hope
stands, lifted hands
In a speechless voice the whisper comes
Gentle
words rock our perilous stance
Words carefully spoken, deeply heard
Faith,
Hope, Love the memory calls
Again, glorious birds will find their songs
Heavy
banners will lift in a gentle breeze
Clarion call of brass sounds, proclaims
Life has
come and still remains
September 12, 2001
 |
| Mind On Drift... |
Time in the yard.
Cooling down from Summer, and I can feel it in the air.
Eager leaves are already dancing to the ground, life's boldness is waning.
The stillness of the coming season settles into my mind.
iPod on shuffle.
Mind on drift.