Guns, Rifles, Bombs, and Knives
Have taken away countless lives,

but all those mighty weapons cannot compete
with the one weapon, the true hurtful defeat.

Words.

Sharper than any knife.
So hurtful, that they may cause one to intentionally end their life

Because the worst kind of death is not that within the grave,
the worst kind of death is dying while still being alive

When you pray during every suicide attempt that you wont survive.

That, is when you know that you are already dead.

And that....

is the worst kind of death.

On the West Side of a flagpole,
In December's later breaths,
The wind whipped Winter's white quilt
Burnishing words, words, words,
From the ***** metal monument.
Knives and pens had etched
Their love into malleable matrimony
Beneath the flicker of that flag,
But the etchings became wishes
Of Winter's White Wedding.
My fingers grazed the forgetful frost
As muscle memory recalled
A pair of initials and an addition sign.
Fresh drops of condensed ice
Hung within the ridges
Of our four lettered addition problem.
I exhaled a condensed breath
Which sifted towards the pole
then dissipated.  
I glanced over as the moths
Attacked the only streetlight
Causing flickers of light
In the starless night sky.
A half second stare
Was a half second too long;
I looked back at the iron pole,
And the letters were gone.
A white wash of frost
Mixed with my exhale,
Covered the West Side of the flagpole.
Pockets of wind snapped in the flag.
I peered up at the streaks of crimson
And field of blue whipping in misery.
The seams of the flag's fabric
Became weathered and torn,
As I walked away from the flagpole—
Tired of dreaming in the stars.

Within that magical moment
The world is at one and at ease
Everyone is loving their neighbour
And we have control of disease.

But it doesn't last, it cannot last
It will all go back as before
To the dying from hunger and violence
To man’s unending desire for war.

One man plants a crop for food
But another man reaps the gain
The one making life from the profit
While another’s reward is just pain.

That man is black, or yellow, who cares!
His blood like yours is red
The bullets or knives that pierce your skins
Would make you both as dead.

A man gets beaten in the street
His crime was being gay
Who gave those others the right to judge
Will prejudice never go away?

The ones with strength to dominate
Should nonetheless take heed
When they themselves are wanting help
Who’ll stay to fill that need.

I hear the ever-growing rains
They flood the town and field
Where hardship’s felt so gravely
Where man is forced to yield.

Perhaps we brought it on ourselves
We feel the need for so much
But there are so many more with nothing
Who’d benefit from a gentle touch.

Back to that magical moment
It’s the one just before I awake
Where the next moment comes and it’s over
And it can’t be put right with a shake.



©Joe Wilson – A Magical Moment…and then it’s gone! 2014

Honeyed icing-sugar
sun melts the snow caps
on the mountains
hair and grates the tough
green, soft

In Caramel pastures,
In sunken hills,
Under the seaweed,
Cowslips grow,
With rubied spotted
Ladies crawling up blades,
And the bumbles rumbled
buzz, a continuous growl,
Sways the floating gold.

The dark spider darts
Spearing crumpled
Flies in its silken steel
Thread. Thread which sparkles
amid the Bronze knives 
which spear it too.

Do you ever just,
Get a dark empty feeling?
Like nobody cares anymore?
Like if tommorow morning,
Your dead,
Nobody would care?
The only people,
You once cared for,
Dont care anymore?
Lately, I havent been caring.

We used to be in love,
You used to perfer me over anyone.
We used to be close,
We used to always be together.
But now,
You dont talk to me.
But now,
Your not the person you once were.
Your a killer,
Those butterflys i once had?
Yeah.
You killed them.
But truth is,
After everything,
After all this,
I still love you.

I can't see you,
but I know. I know
that you're still there.
Right where I left you,
Where nobody will look.
Nestled in like a fledgling,
My little secret, my Nick.
You've been in my thoughts
a lot lately, and I know why,
Your temptation is growing-
Or maybe my resistance
is simply fading...
I want to give in.
I'm curious, so Nick-
Bite me