You are the other half of my completeness
You are the half that makes me whole
You are the goodness that my heart will cherish
You are the mate to my now settled soul.

You are the peace within my breast
You are the essence of all that’s best
You are the one who brings the smile
You are the reason that I feel blessed.

You are the one I’ve loved these years
You are the one in my love-filled heart
You are the one who has shared my fears
You are the reason that I seem smart.

You are the one who has dried my tears
You have loved me with no hesitation
You are the reason that I breathe each day
And I love you without reservation.

©Joe Wilson – You 2014

You were in deep thought when I last saw you
You never see me looking, I’m a shadow
I always admire your quiet dignified way
I want so much to speak, I have things to say.

I watch and wait and then see you leave
So what did my reticence even slightly achieve
I stand as that shadow each and every day
Hoping for the courage to just simply say.

Hallo, how are you, may I join you for a while
And perhaps I’d receive your radiant smile
But I’m just not that brave whenever I stop and think
I’m actually invisible and we couldn’t share a drink.



©Joe Wilson – In the shadows 2014

two sides of the same coin, two parts of the same struggle, a heavier burden to juggle,
Ive seen trouble in the eyes of the children on the news,
visions of the glazed and un-phased, shuffling in ruin
as foreign investors appraise the worth of the people theyre *******
the one moral man looking in the mirror asks what are we doing?

Coffee and cocoa-beans,
oil and toil,
diamonds on the queens ears ripped from the soil,
these are the things for which we ****,
and people wonder why they can never get their fill,
why they feel morally ill?
perhaps paying taxes dosen't wipe the dirt from your fingers,

halfway around the world construction workers hurry the child to drop his dead mothers hand,
so they can bulldoze her home because the land is high in demand
for agricultural redevelopment, swine being brought in for re-settlement
people for pigs, the market is your master,
the dollar is your god, and your life is a disaster

the reason your life is a facade, is you cant turn false idols through ego worship into god
from a fake wife with fake *******
to fake kids with fake mental problems,  A.D.D.  generation and corrupt therapists to absolve them
to fake pastors, with fake ideals
this is what happens when one man profits from what another man steals,
and corporations re-define how love feels

and the rich try and justify why the poor have no food
why their own poor have no food, but why its more important to allocate funds to the protection of crude,
this is the slavery to which you have been raised
the hypocrisy of democracy can go on for days,

America, land of the thieves, where ideology is cheaper than bark on the trees
America, the land of the lie, where the children of the poor happily die
and yet America, the land where ideals meet reality, where the hopeful optimism of the middle class rightfully challenges the decadent edifices of the status quo
and where evil in the hearts and the minds of all of us has a chance to be laid to rest through the spirit of altruism,
America the ultimate battleground for truth to triumph over lies,
but where you stand, in the end, is the ultimate surprise.

I have travelled, many a weary step, so long, and for so long with baited breath,

ANXIOUS

ready to be relieved of the responsibilities of life
craving freedom from calamity and strife
frantic and frenzied
as though at some point i might find the answer
to an oft ignored question

i look up at the stars, as they look down at me
and bask in the glory of the past and present's symmetry
because there are so many of us...
all bound to humanity
now passed through the flame of mortality
the "others"
the ones who have asked themselves why they're here
the intellectuals warriors who have no need for fear
when they look into the veil of death
and sense the first vibrations on the pulse of life

when i used to dip my pen into the ink,
metaphorically, because my  computer helps me to think

i used to doubt engaging in the process of creation
it used to enrage
my self serving denomination

the sensation of never quite being able to express yourself as fluidly as option b
or the devilry that comes from hiding yourself within the layers of flesh referred to as anatomy

i use to cower by act three,
run from the stage before the audience saw through me,
never receiving my final bow

but now i realize,
that at the core of my existence
imbedded in my instincts
is the ability of my creator....

and I'm a fan

so now when i dip my pen to the paper
I'm a masked crusader
cool, liek darth vader
and i aint never going back
to that tired dusty beaten track
refered to, in passing, as memory lane

The bottomless abyss grows
As she craves the admiration and
attention
of every sunrise of the soul
that shelters and protects her
love ...

It is about hope and healing
for the passion of life and
dreams
all the adventures past and
present
that connects to her very
life ...

She feels like she is brave as she stands
alone
but fragile as life passes her by,
each word of smite, breaking
her heart
oblivious to her surroundings ...

As she hears the rustling of
love,
her blood boils from thoughts in her head
as it rages through
her body
her need starved to be fed ...

She is Woman!

Debbie Brooks 2014

I have witnessed poets clinging
onto life by the skin of their own words
and the finest novelists terrified
by the bullet tick of their typewriters,
in knowledge that each click is part of
a continuous countdown to “The End”.
The late night sound of their pens scratching
upon paper not made for emotions so raw
drives them insane, urges a hunt for something
that will hurt them more than who they write for did.
I have read poems that scream “save me”
when the voices of the composers silently echo
off cold walls from therapy offices and cracked paint
in chapels that forget each of their
empty confessions.

my strength lies beneath the skin
it's inside my bones
it's the sway of my hips
it's the smile in my *******
and it roots from my soul

I am woman, you know

the doctors tell me I'll never be
the nurses tell me I've never been
they say I'll never hear my baby cry
and then God says, "guess again"

I am woman, you know

the pain is a most definite promise
and as I grit my teeth I know
the promise is always unsure
and yet here I stand defeating odds
being what you told me
I could never ever be
who says there isn't any cure?

After all,
I am woman, you know