Yes My Ear

September 9, 2017 WillLeave a comment

You never see the monster until there’s time to make the trip to that upper room but then again I’m probably going to Hell as often as I keep my head down. Yes My Ear, someone told me to play it by ear because to see what’s coming

I’m “Alive”!
Black or white, in living color, “Live!”
or so the heart appears
in the eyes, on the touch, in the beat of another
Always undercover
Ashamed, it remains unclear

if I am running or hiding
Do I have what it takes to keep surviving
Yes, my feet persevere
Only I can’t look down, I won’t look back
Because I don’t know if I could handle that
Whenever people come near

Am I a sheep
a lion, who’s roar I must keep
like any secret near and dear
Better to be a live chicken than a dead duck
Wanting to scream… what today I’m out of luck
as the fear

makes me into a Mime
I look at my watch thinking it’s time
To have a voice, like Shaka Zulu and his spear
So I have but a pen
with but to write every virtue and every sin
words that won’t disappear

Though if I were to write the future
there would be fewer
bombs, “Hurricanes”, Kamikazes here
And of Rocket 69?
Well I’m not blind
Suppose I should cheer

the fact I have not seen Elysium
entered Heaven at a premium
Oh to be like Katniss and volunteer
My tribute to courage, to live brave and best
Just say yes
Play it by ear

At The Age of Occasional Wellness

September 8, 2017 WillLeave a comment

What’s my age again, what’s my age again, the dog and I are old men without a doubt and I wonder what his life goals were, better his than mine, because he at least has a chance I suppose? “At The Age of Occasional Wellness”

What big I’s you got?
The better to see no one’s coming
but if you expected nothing…
At any time, you can stop
looking and maybe jot
this down to one more day of succumbing
to your greatest sin, becoming
more “hopeful” in your old age and that’s a lot

Because what big zeros you see
There aren’t a lot, quality over quantity
Honestly
know your place, keep your place and be
a shoe, and that’s not a big number, but geez
it beats your age and keeps out the laughter of this comedy
Walking away from your curiosity
Zero to hero, there’s the possibility

These words, these words, these words, big and small
might as well be on other planets
or thrown away by the force of habit
Maybe not even written at all
That is why there are so many places to fall
Oops, oh my, ow, tragic
There is no need to can it
I’d say if there were anyone to call

then what’s with all the holes
cause I got enemies, got a lot of enemies
my wishes, dreams, and quite a few deities
better known as girls, when I would rather sell my soul
for any margin of control
of my mental facilities
At the age of thirty-three
It was never a life goal

Only obeying, obtaining, obsessing over, obvious occasions occasionally okay

Placating My Sugar

September 6, 2017 WillLeave a comment

Rage, rage, against the dying of the light they say and I snuff it out willing, well not really haven’t had such an occasion in years, in probably a decade even but the wishes keep coming. “Placating My Sugar”, I try, another day would be easier

They tell me to hurry up
from since I was tied
to a grasshopper, but they insist.

Only I have been hushed
for so long, I don’t know if inside
it’s impossible, immoral, illegal, insane, a wish

As my poor heart was crushed,
But nowhere to run to baby, nowhere to hide
and I’m stuck with this

Just a word too much;
suicide it’s a suicide
waiting to blow, waiting for Miss?

What’s her name, what’s mine, in the mush
being melted damn near fried
by how many candles, day one ish

A touch of love, of death, or a girl at the sagebrush
Yet I am preoccupied
blowing out this yearly dish
One more sugar rush

How to Fireproof Happy

September 6, 2017 WillLeave a comment

Plenty of days I don’t think Happy even exist but why should I be happy on this particular day, shouldn’t I be happy every day or at least be allowed to look for it in my own way, even in my darkness. “How to Fireproof Happy” don’t expect any candles

A star, a wish, just the one
When I can’t even recognize my own name
So here comes the sun,
Only there is pain, there are flames
Can you make this day snappy?

How long was it until my parents were through?
They don’t even admit their mistake
Their wish didn’t come true
either, oh the heartbreak
with this day but mammy and pappy

can’t we all agree
to blame someone, anyone as the cake melts
because the last thing we need is me blowing
anything else, since I’m going to Hell
As I walk through the valley

of the shadow of death for
I know there is no other path and you know
the same. So on this day I ask for nothing more
not a candle, not a bulb, not an inferno
nothing as sappy

like the knowledge that I am still alive
This does not make me a liar
Just like five fingers don’t always mean goodbye
I didn’t start the fire
So maybe I can still see the happy

Bravely Lit

September 5, 2017 WillLeave a comment

It’s getting around that time and I’m sure I have my picture, my name, hell probably a police file, I can pretty much guarantee my name is in lights and will be but not in any flattering away and I am always chasing the light aren’t I. “Bravely Lit”.

Don’t sing, don’t wish, don’t say
because I have, on all the stars
but they still seem so far
and the cake is melting.
Were you trying to compete with the sun
I’m on the run

fam with every reason to stay
and that’s why I get high.
Those neon lights are in my sight,
only I want “Easy Street”
where I spread my love and fly
to know that I’m alive

I’ll make some days, always
From “how does that look daddy”
I’ll sing let’s see
while the police fingerprint me
I won’t lie about this
No not to my kids

when under fluorescent lights I’ll lay
with doctor’s asking what’s my age again.
The lights from where I been
don’t follow me six feet
So today, teach me to be brave
blow out the candles, a few more to the grave

Rut On Earth

September 4, 2017 WillLeave a comment

Every day is exactly the same as the song goes but that isn’t always a bad thing, especially when you’re living with anxiety, you know just how much energy you’re going to need, you can put one foot in front of the other “Rut On Earth”

The sun can only dig so far
while the other stars play big wigs
Having so many promises to renege
upon they say what they are,
job creators, they are those kings, czars
giving me this full-time gig
asking me why I never studied trig.
How bizarre

that it doesn’t hurt
I suppose Atlas is used to the abuse
Walking, running, these combat boots
Don’t run in the grass, or play in the dirt
and if you see a pretty girl in a skirt
pretend I was one of those deaf-mutes
though the point is probably moot
Nowadays it’s a concert,

left, right, repeat, but what
if there was a way not to be a slave
to the rhythm to live brave,
nut up or shut up
Only the ground has become a slut
for punishment and how depraved
is it for me to dig my own grave
one day and a time, a rut?

My Tea, Mighty, Will

September 3, 2017 WillLeave a comment

I suppose coffee drinkers might feel something like this to a degree, know plenty of people that don’t think at all until they have a cup but as for myself, I’m learning to enjoy Tea Time, remind me not to watch Cathouse on HBO “My Tea, Mighty, Will”

My tea, mine and not yours
iced and sweet maybe
going in mugs all fancy, see
how I had this craving, and you’re just one more
today or tomorrow, the day after
Yearning to be more than a chapter

My, my, the stories, driven by testosterone’s
imagination, and a lifetime of biology
God’s prayers, wishes, a bit of astrology
have men wishing they were grown
to be whatever this world needs.
You believe

my cross, my sacrifice, no not a lowercase t
Is all about… regret, blame, insane, shame
Going to have me singing “You’re so vain”
Haven’t you heard I’m completely
totally… and wow this good
You want some, you should

While it’s still hot, basking in the sunshine
it’s the best part of waking up
learning not to think of a… I said what, what?
Lord give me my tea time

One’s Cent Able Pants

September 2, 2017 WillLeave a comment

What do you get when you cross, the “owner of a lonely heart”, a sagebrush ranch temptress, and the movie “They Live” and should I also mention “Fiddler On the Roof” perhaps? One’s Cent Able Pants, well it beats the pants Negan was talking about

Wearing out my poor heart
only to let it break
Making it restart
and to be some woman’s mistake
No, yes, maybe, which is

going to be, every word
I would ever care to utter
Really there’s a lot of pretty girls,
ladies somewhere or another
Snitches

believe it or not these eyes of mine
always saying baby, baby oh, “babe”
behave cause the gods are crazy, and the stars are blind
everyday
So it seems I’ll be needing stitches

cause some chicks drive a man crazy
However, did I figure that out?
If only I could be Jay Z,
could I be rich, out and about?
Kardashian style riches

Dare I dream “If I Were a Rich Man”
All to get lucky, quickie, some
Maybe it wouldn’t matter who I am
even if it were one million, one thousand, one hundred, but one’s
sensible pants and a Dame’s games can be a real bit… hehe wallets in my britches

Match Point

September 1, 2017September 1, 2017 WillLeave a comment

Matches and some bombs use to be so aerodynamic, not so much anymore though we still have plenty to go around; it is beliefs now, words that are burning the world a new era of Fahrenheit 451, we don’t just look at the books burning. Match Point

Was a match enough?

to set Rome to burn?
Learning in the darkness
regardless of rhyme or reason
Treason not to fight

Write the answer to where is the love?
Above, my lord do we not reach out
shout out with our bombs, missiles, rockets
stop it, my words, your words, his words

urge us not to rage but puff,
snuff out the last of the light

Kid Rocks

August 31, 2017 WillLeave a comment

What’s my age again, what’s my age again, wait that isn’t heavy metal but all people have it in them literally, or on them, and I suppose I’m only getting heavier at my age. Kid Rocks, because am I growing up, I wanted to be an astronaut, help Atlas.

Stoned, however, it’s known
as heavy metal plays on my phone
I know I must be a pain

for Atlas carrying the Earth
Perhaps a sapphire is to blame

Because all that glitters is not gold
or silver, diamonds, and I was told
It doesn’t matter what’s in a name

A stone will crush us all the same

Will’s Writings, Witticisms, & Wisdom

And be a simple kind of man

Tag: Poetry

Yes My Ear

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At The Age of Occasional Wellness

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Placating My Sugar

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How to Fireproof Happy

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Bravely Lit

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Rut On Earth

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My Tea, Mighty, Will

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One’s Cent Able Pants

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Match Point

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Kid Rocks

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