Posted in Stephen Jarrell Williams, tagged poetry on October 27, 2010| 3 Comments »
God is that you
waiting in the middle of all my loved ones?
Thanks for the gathering
but
why did I have to spend that past life
unseeing whatever I saw?
I’m afraid
I’m upset
You didn’t explain
that hell of a process breaking me down
when I didn’t know which way was up.
Okay
I was a big fathead
wearing a hat too tight
strutting around in my own mind-squeeze
but
couldn’t You have given us a few more burning bushes?
Posted in Stephen Jarrell Williams, tagged poetry on August 18, 2010| 1 Comment »
I WANNA GO HOME
I wanna go home…
sweet Texas
hot
on my lips,
horny toads
shooting blood
through their eyes,
dust rising
behind my old truck
spinning down dirt roads,
my Yellow Rose
waiting on the front porch,
her dress unbuttoned…
thunderstorm bathing
in the backyard.
________________________
HALF DRUNK
The months go by like flaming moths in my room.
Darkness lit only for moments by their flickering
dives to the floor. My bare feet absorbing their crashes.
I am a giant of loneliness. Hacking away at words.
All my plans have followed the world mood to be
in the action, center of interest, doer of the deed.
On my bed I collapse, pulling my captured clouds
over as blankets. My dreams meshing with everyone
born of this age. We are losers…
Oh God, are you there?
Unravel me. Pat me on the butt. Set me free
to try again, win your favor, understand this step
before hell…
Could you do that to us?
Make a place to fry our bones?
I don’t want to go there.
Please, lead me to a paradise
where I can start over.
But give me a head-start this time…
Tell me what it’s all about.
And don’t let Eve be so sneaky.
Or give me a little more brains.
Posted in Stephen Jarrell Williams, tagged poetry on June 4, 2010| 2 Comments »
Our poems exploding
on the smooth glass of perfection,
finger-triggers
bleeding
on the computer keys
screaming and sighing
we will be buried
alone
not remembered
by anyone
in this world
all of us on our bellies
in the end earth
spinning slower
weight of all our dying bodies
striving, striving
for what?
Please wail with me
this moment
having something left to say,
whimper of electricity,
a flash of a poem
squeezed
from a peppering of holes in our heavy heads
Posted in Stephen Jarrell Williams, tagged poetry on April 20, 2010| 1 Comment »
A single howl
Across my backyard,
Evening approaching,
An old song in my head.
Where are you now?
Has the sea swept you away?
At some distant shore do you await?
Your face cold?
I am here forever,
Too worn to move on.
Forgive me
For not understanding…
When we were young
And believing
The end always ends well.
Posted in Stephen Jarrell Williams, tagged poetry on April 5, 2010| 1 Comment »
The clouds are opening,
Those that gave the rain.
The grass wet and clean,
A stillness waiting…
Open the door,
Take my hand…
Glide with me
Over the land.
The wind singing
Its magic hum…
All the living intertwined
with the passing away…
Death is a doorway
To the essence of being
More than we know.
Posted in Stephen Jarrell Williams, tagged poetry on February 25, 2010| 2 Comments »
They killed my sister.
Hung her
on the side of the road.
An example
not to tell,
when you see
how they pull our strings
from birth to premature death.
She was a good girl.
Changed her clothes behind the door
leading the revolution.
She’s still alive in spirit.
Her voice sweet
as a lioness at their throats.
Posted in Stephen Jarrell Williams, tagged poetry on November 8, 2009| 1 Comment »
Somewhere out in the dark
spiked sand-traps waiting
fingers made of frayed metal
ready to grab under the ground
face of Iraq
chewing
wanting to tear our flesh and snap bones
our truckloads rumbling into a town of huts
impossible to glide over their bulging veins
bomb blast
jerks the underworld
into our rubber tires
careening off the dirt road
we check our boots and balls
filing out into the hollow blackness
we take position
pointing weapons at whatever moves
but nothing moves in the now stillness
not even the breath of their buried mouths
we are civilized and chew gum
into the morning glare
our sunglasses peering across the gap of worlds
we spit and create storms
choking them with our dust.
deuce coupe 