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"hwilliams" poems
HWilliams Foot to sidewalk, cement to shoe step to song beats or give beats to silence. Step with feet tired from too much tread, guess I'll walk on hands instead. beat to song, gust to mast sound of travel, its own song. Foot to sidestep pitfalls or potholes, skip steps get applause for pratfalls. Step to pulse and make hearts skip beats. Take bow, step outside, sidewalk to feet. Door to frame button to lock ignition to key motor noise, engine block. Radio, radiator, radius, ulna cylinders under hood cylinders filled with soda serpentine belt squeaks, fix it you should. The car is no Chevelle, but Chevelle's in my speakers keep pace with traffic well "learn to choose to breathe." Stuck behind brake lights as soon as headway is made. Sigh as loud as music plays click volume arrow upright. Anger builds when traffic fills. Stomp throttle or else you'll throttle someone. Throw insults like a mime in summer, lip service they might see in mirrors. Can't point at points A or B trace stress to line that traces in between Between the 2 spaces where my car parks mile markers, tail-gaiters, nail biters. Foot to sidewalk, cement to shoe step to song beats or give beats to silence. Step with feet tired from too much tread, guess I'll walk on hands instead. Foot to sidestep pitfalls or potholes, skip steps get applause for pratfalls. Step to pulse and make hearts skip beats. Take bow, step outside, sidewalk to feet.
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Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 4:29 AM UTC
hwilliams
Foot to Sidewalk
HWilliams Foot to sidewalk, cement to shoe step to song beats or give beats to silence. Step with feet tired from too much tread, guess I'll walk on hands instead. beat to song, gust to mast sound of travel, its own song. Foot to sidestep pitfalls or potholes, skip steps get applause for pratfalls. Step to pulse and make hearts skip beats. Take bow, step outside, sidewalk to feet. Door to frame button to lock ignition to key motor noise, engine block. Radio, radiator, radius, ulna cylinders under hood cylinders filled with soda serpentine belt squeaks, fix it you should. The car is no Chevelle, but Chevelle's in my speakers keep pace with traffic well "learn to choose to breathe." Stuck behind brake lights as soon as headway is made. Sigh as loud as music plays click volume arrow upright. Anger builds when traffic fills. Stomp throttle or else you'll throttle someone. Throw insults like a mime in summer, lip service they might see in mirrors. Can't point at points A or B trace stress to line that traces in between Between the 2 spaces where my car parks mile markers, tail-gaiters, nail biters. Foot to sidewalk, cement to shoe step to song beats or give beats to silence. Step with feet tired from too much tread, guess I'll walk on hands instead. Foot to sidestep pitfalls or potholes, skip steps get applause for pratfalls. Step to pulse and make hearts skip beats. Take bow, step outside, sidewalk to feet.
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HWilliams 12/12 We wait for the moments, but mostly, they wait for us... to take notice. I notice. And I'm wayward in this sea search, drowning around seaweeds, dizzy with the thought that these seeds, over the course of these years, soaked by my rain puddle of Alice tears grew to an ocean, now home to schools of strengthened species who will never ever ever have to cry, to breathe through weakness or to bleed through pain, instead-- We dance-- tread in slow motion sound thread through the song I am, we are, slave to the drown. We weep with the waves of sound, they sweep us away, way down then up, a shift of weight while weightless, we wait for the moments, but mostly, they wait for us... to take notice to become to live through to live through fully to feel the weight of being carried by the sound on waves of sound we seek to astound all who see, all who hear to make them see what we hear, to make them feel what we feel who we are what we can be. I weave through this sea of weeds, is seas of sound, and I think I start to see me.
0
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 5:01 AM UTC
hwilliams
In Seas of Sound See Sound
HWilliams 12/12 We wait for the moments, but mostly, they wait for us... to take notice. I notice. And I'm wayward in this sea search, drowning around seaweeds, dizzy with the thought that these seeds, over the course of these years, soaked by my rain puddle of Alice tears grew to an ocean, now home to schools of strengthened species who will never ever ever have to cry, to breathe through weakness or to bleed through pain, instead-- We dance-- tread in slow motion sound thread through the song I am, we are, slave to the drown. We weep with the waves of sound, they sweep us away, way down then up, a shift of weight while weightless, we wait for the moments, but mostly, they wait for us... to take notice to become to live through to live through fully to feel the weight of being carried by the sound on waves of sound we seek to astound all who see, all who hear to make them see what we hear, to make them feel what we feel who we are what we can be. I weave through this sea of weeds, is seas of sound, and I think I start to see me.
Continue reading...
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