Balance.  What a charged and pregnant word.

Balance.  Common in our daily vernacular
but void of it's innate and innermost meaning

Balance - what do you see?
The Golden scales of antiquity?

What a dichotomous lie
For Balance is multi-planar, multi-dimensional
Multitudes of exponential, fractal-like branches
Hanging from the largest trunk of the largest tree with the largest network of life-providing roots spreading in all directions at once like a wild-fire with unlimited fuel

Balance.  It's perfectly symmetrical reflection
Only distorted by the waters of our perception
Thrives and simultaneously strives for connection
Connection to the mirrors of eternity
The pristine, naked, flesh-covered bodies of pure vulnerability, set free to explore this spherical dream

Balance is a friend, but left unseen, reaching for our touch without so much of a glance towards it's arduous efforts to bond with the deep dwelling dreams of Souls,
Balance can be distorted, as the tree is, in the ripples of our confused and distracted minds.

Crack!  A branch breaks.
Balance falters, catches itself and picks up its severed limb - a sacrifice, for the greater good.  The only good.

Crack!  Another branch breaks.
Balance steps to redistribute it's misaligned weight
A sacrifice, for the greater good.  The only good.

A fitting mantra.

Crack!  Crack!  Crack!  Branches breaking back to back
Plummeting to the cold hard ground.
This sudden decay is too much to handle
The limbs of this great tree, the greatest amongst all cannot regrow at the speed at which the others wither

Ironically, balance is now imbalanced

Shaking, desperately grasping the ground with its roots  to stay upright, at the very least, to remain present, persistent, possible, but, most importantly, present
Present for those vulnerable naked bodies to one day glance past their distorted waters and into the depths of what truly is...

A force, so strong, so humble, so forgiving reaching out through it's remaining, fatigue-strewn branches in a dire need to make contact with the branches of our mortality

When branches unite, as they shall, as they always do from time to time,
Imbalance is washed away as waves wash the shore
And Balance emerges from the distorted waters, now retreating, pulled by the tide of self-awareness

Perfectly, our fingers fill the gaps of our grief-stricken but eternally determined ally and meet with it's tender stumps, the necessary wounds of time
A fusion of worlds meld the two together in a forge as hot as the sun but as nourishing as a mother's touch

Balance, in all it's glory, sewn to us through the channels of our consciousness is now, truly, and undeniably,

Balanced.


- Brian Patrick Williams
11/13/2013

Although it seems to be,
when it comes down to me,
I am not working seamlessly,
I am broken, I am defunct, indubitably!

Although the jitters ring true,
as I lay here next to you,
This isn't a cold, no fever, no flu
I am not helpless, I know what I must do

I must feel these pangs of doubt inside
I must not quiver, run away or hide
Instead, I'll give this wild wave a ride
Feel it fully, head up, with arms stretched out wide

It won't disperse right here and right now
But at least, deep down, I know I know how
To keep this darkness from furrowing my brow
I'll smile to myself, stand tall, breathe in and vow:

I am not broken, I am simply alive
I am not broken, with every tool to thrive
I am not broken, my journey has just begun
I am not broken because I can't see the sun

Darkness is only darkness because of the light
Waiting and watching right over the other side
I shall keep walking, as straight and as true
Repeating to myself, "I love you, I love you!"

I am not broken, the stars are shining above
I am not broken, just cultivating self-love
I am not broken, but I am starting to be
No, not broken, a stronger version of me!


- BPW

My God, your God, our God, no God
The bickering drones on and on for days
Despite the gruesome injustices repeated in time
We still fight, we still push and pull in all ways!

What good does it do to prove someone else wrong?
Does it make you more right?  Does it help us get along?
How can we call ourselves elite, evolved and free
When we can't let go of our choke holds and just let it all be?

Let it be.  Lennon had it right.  Live high.  Mraz did too.
And I didn't need a book or doctrines to develop this view.
No, these philosophies were communicated through song
Frequencies and vibrations that bypass all "right" and all "wrong."

We're all just doing our best
To stand tall and hold up our chest
To walk paths filled with smiles and sunny skies
And skip those filled with darkness and filthy lies

We just want to love,
though it sounds so cliche
Peace, happiness and acceptance for all
These drinks are on me, so, drink up, I say.

Drink 'til you're drunk on positive vibes
Let them shake your iron fist loose
Let go, for once, of your need to win
Otherwise we're just tightening this ridiculous noose.

I don't know about you, but I don't wish to hang
With guilt on my mind for persuading you to change
So I'll just stand back and offer peace of mind:
Follow your bliss, let it be, smile, and live high!


- BPW
12/25/2013

Stepping forward, I curl my toes over the edge.
Gazing down, I breathe in the expanse that lay before me.
Limitless – almost frightening because there is no end.

I feel it calling deep within my being.
I hear it in my blood.
The peak of my inhale.
The void of my exhale.
It lives.  It breathes.  It bleeds.

In my dream, I lean farther forward and fall.
The rushing wind encompassing my body
With a million tiny fingers holding me tight.
I feel safe in this embrace and close my eyes.
Oh, what a lover the wind is…

Awake, I recoil at the limitless expanse before me.
It's too big, too large for words and thus too much to take.
I am so tiny compared to this world of worlds out there;
It will consume me, no questions asked.
Better to thrive in a limited existence
then to perish among greatness never attained.

So around I go, placing my back to the eager wind
and the edge of imminent destruction
And into the warmth that now lay before me.
Ah, my familiar friend, your rays soothe my soul
as my mother's soft hands did so long ago.
If only you could sing me to sleep,
into a dream of sweet possibilities.


I could soar through that rushing wind
with my arms outstretched as wide as my smile
surrendering to the invisible currents of afar.
I could reach peaks so incredibly vast
where even the clouds bowed below
and the warmth of mother sun is so strong
that I would never again go hungry for song.

Instead I lay stranded in this purgatorial wasteland
Afraid of what's right and discontent with what's left.
Which would be fine if what's right here and right now
was even near to the perfection I crave.

Ha, perfection, what a sweetly packaged lie
Served on a platter plated with gold, made from mold
And crafted with tears from countless, unfounded but treacherous fears
driving even the insane to redefine the limits of insanity, it's crazy
how something that does not exist can drive us so mad.

You know what's also crazy?
Standing here with my arms outstretched as wide
as my mesmerized, sunburned and dehydrated eyes.
What does this stagnation prove?
What do I gain from this over exposure of familiar muck
besides a cancerous vocabulary and an ill-fated mind?

No, this warmth is best felt on the move.
Running, jumping, dancing through trees
and high-fiving leaves with my face
focused fiercely forward towards
that limitless expanse
I so fervently feared before.

Well, these idled hands
have had enough twiddling thumbs for this lifetime.
They were made, instead, to soar beyond
the greatest and most distant horizon ever seen.
It is time I set aside this melancholic diatribe
and rise from these two dimensional sewers.
I do not thrive on a sheet of paper
constricted to one direction or the other
void of the peripheral magnitude that actual life affords.
I am a 3D, no 4D, no Unlimited-D Being
And I will settle for NO leash.

So around I go, placing my back to
this victim-clad paradigm of "I can't" and "they won't"
(I've should enough on myself for one day)
and into the rushing wind that now lay before me once again.
A smile creeps upon my face as I realize the
Eager wind that was once my foe is not taunting me
But cheering me on, promising the secret of everlasting flight.

With the warmth caressing my now sun-kissed back,
I step forward and curl my toes over the edge.
Gazing out, in all directions at once,
I breathe in the unlimited expanse unfolding before me,
Outstretch my arms even wider than my smile,

And I Fall.


- BPW

Inventor Sam invented a life
Full of bright and sunny days
With clouds in the sky, peacefully passing on by,
And beautiful birds singing in all sorts of nice ways.

Inventor Sam, with a wave of his little right hand,
Invented mountains that reached up towards the stars
And with a wave and a flick, in an instant, quite quick,
He made rivers and valleys stretched out afar.

Inventor Sam, what a grand little man,
Invented some animals too
He called them Zebras, Giraffes, and Orangutans
Even people like me and like you

Inventor Sam then sat back to enjoy all that he made
But he noticed that something was missing
Not apples, nor reindeer, nor trees and their cool shade
Not eagles, nor bananas, nor snakes and their hissing

Inventor Sam looked closely at the animals that stuck out
Those on two legs, with little hair and one tiny snout,
They walked aimlessly around with no purpose at all
Stiff legged and hollow like fragile china dolls

Inventor Sam then sat up with a smile on his face
For he knew what would be his very last application
With a wave of both arms, and lightning for effect
He made people Inventors with their very own imagination.

-BPW  12/27/2013

Oh midnight muse of mine,
The clock ticks by, yet, seems frozen in time
Your gentle breath whispering thoughts of grand design
Pulsating softly, smoothly, and sanctuously in rhyme
"I think you can, I know you can, feel yourself shine
I think you can, I know you can, allow your dreams to align."

Just as the day's about to break my spiritual back
And I lay down to obsess about all that I lack,
We deeply connect through channels unknown
My inner self ignites, burning deep down to the bone
I feel a warmth entangle every inner part of me,
Those that said there is nothing I can have, do or be,
And when it grabs hold of these negativities,
They sieze and melt instantaneously.

What a wonder it is to watch your flame burn
Who knew, that by watching, I, too, would yearn
To fervently learn. A hunger for more begins to stir
Driving me, forcing me, inspiring these words.

Oh midnight muse of mine,
you release me from this box we call time
and, in this eternal and bliss-filled stasis,
Creativity, gratitude, and love are my basis
What a foundation to build upon, so strong and so true
On which I will build a bridge beaming towards you.

Though my eye lids flutter with ever increasing weight
I am gently pulled forward by the energy you eminate
Into a world where I am absolutely free
No shackles or lack pulls or binds this new me

Goodnight, midnight muse of mine
Shall we meet again?  Same place?  Same time?
I need not hear an answer for I feel it so loud
I will join you now behind this familiar dark shroud

My gentle breath whispering thoughts of grand design
Pulsating softly, smoothly, and sanctuously in rhyme
"I think I can, I know I can, feel myself shine
I think I can, I know I can, thanks to you, midnight muse of mine."

- BPW  12/24/2013

Ever eluding formless form,
An ephemeral enigma, expressed.
Gone with joy, gone with doubt,
No future, no end, no past.

Streaming streams, weaving tears,
An absolute, borderless, unimaginable Void.
Blackness so bright it dulls distinction;
The ethereal haze returns home.

Unspoken mysteries perplex, but why?
Beyond the patina, cracked to the core,
To the everlasting end, lies an answer.
Because.

Holding on to threads once torn,
Grasping the buzz that fills the warmth,
Tying up wind with seasonal chains,
Setting it free then pulling the reins.
Adorning its crown with ribbons of gold,
Running with fear when tones turn cold,
Remembering love as melodies soften,
Ceasing to Be - a self-inflicted coffin.

It is.
It shall.
It can.
It will.

Go forth and phonate silence,
With stillness prevailing all.
Go forth and leave no trail behind,
Trekking far with no reward.

A label-less label deserves one of its own:
Vibratory Substantiality,
The silent spectre of my dreams.

Safe and sound and nearly drowned
That's where I prefer to be
Deep, deep down is where I must go
As the storm picks up fast and I want slow

Nearly drowned is not fully drowned but instead a good thing
Exasperating perhaps, exhausting for sure but yet I still breathe and sing
This substance that I have sunk deep amongst to the stillness down below
Is organic, power-infused, and passes, effortlessly, in and out of my nose.

I breathe and gaze upwards, up, up, up towards the choppy and hell-bent sea
And as I sink lower, the importance of this egg-shell picks up it's bags and flees
It's insignificance glows bright and I smile in the light, inhaling the rainbow of colors
I am safe and sound, and although nearly drowned, I am much more alive than others.

-BPW

Tick tock.
The shock of glancing at the clock
realizing 10 years have come and gone
without adding so much as one lyric to your song.

It’s not as if you haven’t tried,
Haven’t mulled over thousands of words to scribe
Haven’t heard the melody, so soft and so sweet,
Driven towards insanity as it infinitely repeats.

How does one materialize the immaterial?
****** the spectre from the world of ethereal?
Add substance to air without choking to death,
and learn to take a different kind of breath?

Perhaps you need a second hard slap,
waking you, once more, from your aqueous nap.
If only you could emerge from this dark
free as a bird, with the voice of a Lark.

The creation of an emanation of the purest vibration
is all you would need for your divine transformation.
So what is preventing these sacred sound waves,
and forcing you down into this deep, dark cave?

There is a way out
or haven’t you heard?
Just open your mouth
and speak one, true word.

As long as it bounces around in your head,
hidden, secret, and not to be read,
you’ll forever be waiting for your time to come,
the day you’ll break free and bask in the sun.

Take a deep breath and walk up to the ledge
Place your back to the wind and repeat this pledge:

"I am a true artist, right now and right here
I give up my doubt and release all my fear.

With this I am free, I am boundless, and great
I have what it takes to express and create.

And when I sing true, aligned with my heart,
nothing can stop me from playing my part.

For I have a role, and it’s perfectly unique,
I harness my strength and empower the weak.

I give all that I am with joy and with ease
And surrender myself to life’s gentle breeze.

I am ready to jump, to leap into the air,
confront the unknown, and love and to share.

I pledge my allegiance to all that’s inside
to give it a voice and never to hide.

Now all that’s left is for me to say this:
I am a true artist, I will follow my bliss!"

Turn around, inhale, and reach your arms up tall.
Step forward and exhale as you begin to fall.

You’re free as a bird now, ready to fly,
ready to sing, and soar through the sky.
Free from the burden of stagnant “what-ifs”
Free to spread out all your wonderful gifts.

You’ll no longer feel that sharp, stagnant, shock
Because you’re finally free from that sound:

Tick Tock.

-BPW
5/12/2014

Cake, the meat of culinary delights;
Icing, the sauce.

Cake, the main entree, the special of the night;
Icing, the decorative garnish.

Without Cake, Icing has no purpose
A clump, a blob, of meaningless goop.

1 spoonful of Icing alone and you're done.
Spread out amongst the firm surface of Cake though,
Icing becomes much more interesting, and much more fun.

I am the Cake.
You are the Icing.
Without me, the base, the entree, the meat
You, the sauce, the garnish and blob, don't matter

You can be the Icing to your own Cake or to another
But without me, you'll do nothing but rot teeth and smother

So, to enjoy you, Icing, to the absolute fullest
I must, first, combine the ingredients, stir and bake
Because it is vital, if one is to appreciate your sweet taste,
To properly prepare my foundation, the meat, your Cake.

- BPW

Can peanuts breathe within their shell?
When they’re eaten, might they go to hell?
Or are they, truly, lifeless nuts
No sadness, madness, or stagnant ruts

Perhaps the peanut has a king
A mighty ruler that makes the law
Or perhaps the peanut has a queen
A tender mother without flaw

Who knows, the peanut could be grand
With magical tales of Peanut land
Castles, Wizards and Warrior hunts
Pursuing their foes, Macadamia Nuts!

Galloping upon their steeds
Peanut’s charge! Peanuts Breathe!
Screams so loud the birds doth fall
Pulverizing the enemy’s wall

Now the Peanuts have an “in”
They focus their gaze upon the ****
Hoarding together & funneling thru
Macadamia nuts receiving a chill

Piercing shells for 3 long days
Injured Peanuts in gruesome ways
Mournful moans of agony
Numbers declined, so tragically

Is this the end of Peanut land?
Why couldn’t the Peanut still be grand?
“Get up I say and finish your quest!”
The Peanuts did and fought their best

Above the smoke, white flags flew
The Peanuts emerged victorious!
Striding thru familiar front gates
Returning home, so glorious!

Perhaps, in fact, this story is true
That Peanuts breathe like me and you
But one might wonder of Peanut land…
How Peanuts ride with no hands

And if you truly wish to know
How Peanuts talk and Peanuts grow
Open your ears and do come hither
“Duh! The Peanuts have a Wizard!”

Oh, the tales and jokes they tell
One day, they’ll be on TV
Perhaps in films known by all
Like, “Harry Peanut,” aired by BBC

Or, maybe they are just meant for our bars
And smashed and spread upon your bread…
But next time you eat this salt sprinkled treat,
Ponder, “am I sure this Peanut is dead?”

- BPW

Big ships, small ships, yachts and dingeys
Floating across the mighty sea
Carving their way, displacing their weight
To keep afloat the Captain and First mate.

Old ships, new ships, schooners and cruise liners
Have crossed paths throughout the ages old
Once to explore, make claim, pirate and fight
Now to wine and dine on a luxurious bite

Salted beef, rock hard bread and weevil-friendly biscuits
A 3 course meal fit for Old Salts alike
Weevils & worms and bugs of all kind
Along with sparse portions of meat, you might find

French wine, filet mignon, sushi and pastries
Buffets and fine dining, variety is key
All you can eat, whenever you'd like
No chores, no work, just eating all night'

What a contrast exists between these two worlds
Only 2 to 300 hundred years apart
Once grimy, risky, arduous and fraught
Now fancy, lazy, and much to be bought

What if the Old Salts could teleport to today
And live aboard our floating hotels?
With no masts to climb or sheets to tend
Would they break or would they bend?

I suppose that switch would be easy enough
But send us back to Pirate-ridden waters
You'd be sure never to hear from us again
Swabbing the deck would **** us alone
Not to mention the food and disease of back when.

- BPW 
Dec. 11, 2013

Take one step back
into the space behind
the busy street filled with tears,
filled with mirrors, and all mine.

Stand, or sit, or lay and be there
with Eyes listening, Ears watching,
and no-thing between here and now,
and a time with words - then and how.

Can you taste the sounds of random melody?
Eighth notes galloping across the wild plains
forced to abdicate their very nature
and, instead, liquify to pure impurity...

Sense is chucked and the tin lid slammed.
Reverberation echoes with concentric chaos.
The end of life is strung tight
and bound and tuned with nothing but sweet loss.

The prelude, which this proves to be,
is forever without a name.
Buzzing with streams of liquid dreams,
transparent with eyes all the same.