Owed To a Barred poems in the rough they're hiding everywhere they're under every rock I turn, they're under every chair I find them in my bathtub, I find them in my bed but most of all I find them simply hiding in my head Cecil Williams 9-23-91 ******************************* TESS I remember thunder storms, and setting on my aunt Tess's lap at my grandpa's farm rocking to sleep in her arms, lightning flashed and thunder crashed all around it didn't scare me 'cause I was on the lap of an angel Cecil Williams 10/16/91 ************************* Dark-thirty Grandpa, what time is it? "It's dark-thirty". Grandpa! What? The sun's long gone, the chickens are roosted, the fireflies are energized. the nighttime is awakening in its glorious envelopment of rich and living darkness. "It's dark-thirty". Cecil Williams 9/20/91 *************************** Clovis, M.N. I remember bright, sunshiny days; a child and walking 4 blocks past the fire station to the post office with Grandma. Down wide cement sidewalks, holding hands across one avenue to the impressive, big stone building with many steps. She let me carry the mail back, and I felt important. Cecil Williams 2/03/93 ************************** Home Made Bread Grandma's home made bread sliced and buttered hot from the oven olfactory delight taste buds danced in anticipation of love that came in thick slices Cecil Williams 10/9/92 ************************ Grandma climbs into the car for the drive to the airport to fly home and we each hug her tight all 85 years worth of love and birthday cards with two-dollar bills and home-made bread, and as I whisper in her ear, my arms try to pull back the years and the words roll around inside my head like marbles in a breadpan till I realize it sounds so final; "Goodbye, Grandma..." Cecil Williams - 20 Aug 95 **************************** What do you think is the most amazing thing that's happened in the past 100 years? Advances in Medicine? Disposable diapers? Man on the moon? Nintendo games? Computers? When this question was asked of an Old Man, a Native American, one who's breathed the air of this planet every day of those 100 years; a man who has witnessed a century of civilization and technological progress, he replied: "Man's inhumanity to Man..." Cecil Williams 7/26/92 ************************ New Bike new bike today green & white city bike with a rack and two bags speedometer tire pump a spare tube cost a week's pay, but 21 gears to choose from Sunday, ride it to 31 flavors Monday, ride it to 40 hours labor Cecil Williams 9/29/91 **************************** In my mind's eye there are beautiful paintings and wonderful art forms begging for existence but my hands are blind. Cecil Williams 9/30/91 ************************** Rainbow My kids taught me to wear rainbows; because you see, we have a rather large fish tank, and as the early morning sun shines in, it makes a perfect prism; a huge rainbow forms, spanning the room. we all dance through it, and marvel at the colors, as they splash on our clothes and skin. we hold up favored toys, and awe at the changes wrought by the pure colors of light. Cecil Williams 10/01/91 **************************** china horse, setting on my mantle you cannot be ridden, from you I do not eat misplay, you are a misplay of words Cecil Williams 9-23-91 ******************************* chained men tottering with the weight of their binds seat themselves 'fore CRT's and code as if life itself were being defined Cecil Williams 9-23-91 ******************************* Clouds? clouds are the curtains that keep the martians from watching every single thing we do Cecil Williams 9-24-91 ******************************* Crowds of clouds clotting clods, sky banks of fog ascended. And a lily pond frog's eye view of the moon. Cecil Williams - 3/26/93 ************************** before I was, I was not Cecil Williams 9-24-91 ******************************* I shall go to the meeting of the bards, I shall place the words of my soul at their feet, and beg for mercy. Cecil Williams 9-24-91 ************************** I Like Being On Top... As a small child, I sat in a lot and piled up gravel. I wanted to be high as the clouds by lunch time; I could play on top of the clouds all afternoon, and be home for dinner. now I've grown up, and I frequently fly on top of the clouds, and I think to myself, there was never enough gravel, there was never enough time... optional ending: there was never enough gravel, there was never enough time... but there was always lunch and dinner. Thanks, Mom! The title's a tease, I admit with some pleasure, but the poem to me, is a bit of a treasure. (You didn't expect me to name it "clouds", did you?) Cecil Williams 9/28/91 *********************** Your soul is like a book; many pages, many words; To know yourself, open up, and read. Cecil Williams 9/28/91 ************************ Microscope I don't understand how people get by, without a microscope in their house. I keep mine right here, next to the computer. Cecil Williams 9/25/91 ************************* Air Collusion Where has this air been, that fills my lungs each breath? What past could this one breath reveal? Does it often climb to stratospheric currents, then back to ground as breath for another? Has this breath ever been a warm beach breeze under a pale moon sky in Havana, or a bitter Siberian mid-winter's gale? Has this air ever dashed round wildly riding the eye of a storm? Did Tutankamon or Jesus Christ or the Bhudda ever breathe this air, now mine for one moment? Whose breathe was it yesterday? Will it be your breath tomorrow? 11/06/92 --------------------------------- Cecil Williams | Liz Haight Spokane, WA | Valley Falls, NY Driving through Lewiston, Idaho I spy a car-lady trunk-loading A big white bassinet thing; someone's had a baby, I think... but peripherally viewed as I drive past the store: "Funeral Supplies" Cecil Williams - 1/7/97 ************************* Cat Morning cat shiny black sitting up high on a roadside rock in the first sun washing down your fur and watching the 5:30 people driving, jogging, walking by. Cecil Williams 5/10/93 ************************* Crawdad Walkin' down a creek small, tippin' over rocks all, crawdads flick a tail fast, swish off like a wet flash. Quick grab, pick 'em up, watch the claws, they pinch real hard. Cecil Williams 2/25/93 ************************** Dog tail Wagging tongue hanging out smiling, walking non-apologetically, across the median. So oblivious... your guts are now splattered across three lanes of freeway I wonder if some child will cry themselves to sleep tonight over you. Cecil Williams 10/14/91 ******************************** Fish I have a friend named Oscar, a big red fish, who lives in my living room, and loves those wiggly worms. Yes he clearly loves them dearly, each and every one, that drops, wiggling and squirming from my hand... Cecil Williams - 4/30/92 ************************** OWL Don't you just hate it when you find a good perch up high where you can see all around to watch for mice and other delicious things, and you've used it for a couple weeks without problems, and suddenly one evening as you're swooping in to land your wing tips touch both wires at once... Daddy! What's that big thing hanging on top of the power pole? " Looks like fried owl to me..." Cecil Williams - 11/02/92 *************************** On my desk, among other interesting things I keep a small bottle of "Bossin's Home Remedy" "For Nuclear War" "Guaranteed to Prevent Nuclear War" "Or Your Money Refunded" It says this right on the bottle. Clearly this product works as advertised. Thats why we're all still here. Unfortunately, the stability of the product is not guaranteed forever. ***** *** * "If you want lunch, you make lunch. If you want peace, you make peace" -- Dr. Bossin "Just because you're saving the world, it doesn't mean you have to have a bad time" -- Dr. Bossin Cecil Williams 4/30/93 ************************ Each man distances Each chained man Each world his world argues makes men from the souls from within ... from within ... on his horizon he plumbs their souls he chooses the depths drawn in ink the depth of his soul, of his ink, they climb the horizons from the depths and he surrounds of his on chains life's circus surroundings, with whimsical chains... and bask and defines in the sweet light the width, of day and breadth, of his existence... Cecil Williams 9/91 *********************** Daily the yellow bus stops twice mid-hiway red lights flashing cars usually stop for it sometimes not The kids usually wait for the driver to wave them across the lanes like human bowling pins So far, no strikes... Cecil Williams 2/7/97 *********************** VERDE... I walked to work today for once in my life, and it was there in the road; still glistening with the wet of the night, fibered green, and with hair. I moved it, both of them actually, to the side of the road the big one, fresh and full, and the sibling runt, viable, but small. And at noon I biked home on my bike; left at work last night because I got a ride to the car shop after work but my car was not yet $2800 done.... And I biked home, and there it was, still on the side of the road in the high noon mid-day hot-ray cool air sun. And I stopped and picked it up. And placed it lovingly in my bag, both of them, since they must be siblings; the big one, the little one. Took them home to my house Where no car sits parked in the driveway because when I went to pick it up and I $2800 argued with them and they relented to $800, but tomorrow, not today... And I placed them side by side, on top of, on my aquarium, while I did other things, needful things, a lustful thing; they sat there quietly. And the fish stared, and wondered, probably; what are those green things with hair doing on the roof? And I returned to work on my bike; tomorrow maybe I'll have a car again, but not $800, but the green ones, fresh things from the side of the country road that I must traverse to get anywhere, go anywhere at all; the two green hairy ears, fallen from an early truck of fresh morning-picked corn, they remain as clouds to fish. Cecil Williams 8/26/93 ************************* Just a little something to tide you over... My stomach craves a cookie or some sweet morsel of chocolate. Dinner is yet a sizzle in the eye of the chef, and I cannot bridge the gap from now till then without pre- preprandial fortification. So digging deep through pockets jingle-lined, and counting coins with fingertips I find silver bullets sufficient to commence all out assault upon the nearest mechanical thief... Cecil Williams - 10/24/92 *************************** Tangential Inspiration Mr. big black crow, settin' on the telephone wire, watching the corn grow... My don't it grow nice! Mr. crow, why, what you don't know is, the whole world is burning and falling apart right inside that wire you're holding onto so tightly with them caw claws of you'rs. How can you set there so calmly? There's riots in lala land, cities gettin trashed, politicians running amok everywhere (except in this here corn field, maybe). You never know but what a war could break out again ANY MOMENT! This is a time for panic and hysteria! But old Mr. crow, he don't know nothin about all that, going on in that wire, right there between his toes. He just sits, calmly watching the corn grow. (I don't know what it means, I just write what I see.) Cecil Williams - 5/8/92 ************************* CUP Glassy smooth skinned, gracefull lines give pleasure to my hands wrapped 'round your curvacious body. And when my lips are pressed close to, such liquid passion flows from you and warms me inside out. Dear coffee cup! Cecil Williams 12/22/92 ************************** Maelstrom Swirling Lipton, crystal brown, liquid vortex going down. Clockwise spinning in my cup, stainless teaspoon stirs it up. I pour in milk and watch the fun! A most intrigueing milky maelstrom, now begun. Cecil Williams 3/08/93 ************************* Dreams_1 Wide path in a green forest 3 tigers, 2 leopards and one huge grizzly bear heading straight for me on the dirt road. They look hungry... Tall old wood framed house flames shooting out top floor windows; I chase out adults, and carry out children, but they all keep running back in. The basement leads to an underground tunnel, mall style city, with a dangerous gang of thugs headed our way. Riding in the back of an old steam train through the woods, riders on horseback come storming up behind us and as they pass the train, one slugs me a hard blow. Two fan-tail pigeons, colorful males, strutting their stuff, each to outdo the other, trying to win over an unseen, unpresent female they are my pets. In mere seconds, my lover and I drive to the mall, and shop for clothes, trying things on, and finding nothing suitable, return home. A small kitchen knife chases me, stabbing and tormenting, cutting at my skin it acts alone; no one wields it against me. I'm flying a small plane, the red baron with 4 wings, it's also a kite and I crash, but that's ok, because I don't get hurt when a kite crashes in my flying dreams crashes are always caused by trying to fly underneath power lines lots and lots of power lines everywhere, even way up high, seemingly unavoidable. Upon rising in the morning, I discover that someone has left my propane torch lying underneath the refridgerator with the flame burning low a small blue conical flame my biggest worry is that this has wasted most of the gas. Elevator doors open, and I get in as they close I notice there are no buttons to push for floors selection, no alarm, no phone to call for help just four blank pastel green walls and the elevator starts randomly going up and down sometimes stopping always between floors and the doors open but I can't get out. I enter someone else's office and he has pictures of pussies beautiful pussies some hairy, some shaved all close-up photo's seductively posed, in color of the most beautiful pussies I've never seen. Cecil Williams 6/10/93 *********************** Virtual Duck Riot Two ducks alone on water's edge in the park down town. My son and I toss stale bread crumbs and they are happy to have them. And a nother duck swims over to see if there's more. We have a few bags full, and some more ducks are swimming quickly over to see if they can get in on the fun. Then the further away ducks notice the commotion and fly a bit and land slide in and are here quacking and grabbing the crumbs that we're tossing, and now the big geese flotilla is approaching like the Spanish Armada and honking in announcement and they dock, they're belligerent and they climb out of the water and get right in our faces and take the bread greedily from my hands. My son has run up the steps in a child's uncertainty about big geese that hiss and chase your bread hand. The seagulls are winging all around and making bombing runs after bread tosses and adding to the confusion. It's a virtual duck riot to which Alfred Hitchcock would jump for joy. And then we run out of bread... Cecil Williams 11/02/92 ************************** Like Mercury with winged feet I fly up stairways lightly on my toes, two at a time crisply and with flair. Others may trudge slowly with wheezing or big sighs, for some only the elevator will do to hoist their fleshy masses. But stairs are like to mountains for me, begging the climb... I once raced just for fun to the top floor of a hotel; the world's tallest, 75 flights of stairs at a pleasant all-out dead run. It was exhilarating! Almost as much fun as racing little brother up the stairs of the Washington Monument in DC so long ago, when they still allowed it. Alas, these days the monument stairs are broken or something, and closed; we pack into a putrid elevator like so many sardines in a tin. Lives dangling by a wire, and rising through the black central shaft like so much upchuck in the throat of a giraffe. I swear by the rings of Saturn, I'd rather take the stairs! Cecil Williams 9/26/92 ************************ Feeling the urgent need to write, but lacking inspirations, I threw open my dictionary to page 800 and found... nonsense... NOMEN DUBIUM Nodding noddy, no nom de plume. Nitty gritty nit-wit, nomadic noble. Noctambulist nomenclator of nomographic nomenclature. Nominal nominate, non nocuous nog of noetic noise. Noli me tangere. **************** Cecil Williams 09/03/92 *********************** > LOUIS STAVRIDES wrote: >I was wondering, are there any female poets out there??? Cecil Replies: I have just returned from "out there..." where I found huge carp, thumb-sized sunfish, whitecaped waves toads, cattails, a blue heron and juicy black berries. I skipped dinner, watched the sun set, found a piece of myself, saw poems drift by like floating tumbleweeds; but no, no female poets were out there. Cecil Williams - 7/27/95 ************************** Sugar Frenzy Like sharks that never stop, moving, circling round their prey in bits and pieces on the floor where all is spread eagle out. Occasionally they swoop in to grab a chunk of something good and rip the wrapper off and gobble it down, never to miss a beat. They just keep circling round their candied treasures, those sharks, those wired children in a post trick or treating feasting sugared frenzy. Cecil Williams - 11/2/92 ************************** Dreamwind Breezes Funky blue turtle walk my brain on a leash taking oats to a pony so the court jester can resist burping up your queen of hearts. Cecil Williams 9/23/92 ********************** Sheila wants to talk about grass I wonder if it's greener in her mind and is it always greener on the other side of tomorrow In my mind I went to Brigadoon, and walked in heather through the gloaming, and I wanted so to stay, because the grass was oh so green there. Cecil Williams ************** Green Green money bought the seed that grows green grass in my yard, that I mow with my green lawnboy, that she brought home in our green VW rabbit, the day that Mt. St. Helens blew its green forested slopes all to hell. Cecil Williams 10/22/91 **************************** It's easy when it's hard playing solo avoid the sheets face the stars feel the warmth shower hard easy clean up Cecil 16/Aug/93 *************** Softly raining Monday morning's gentle feelings whispering life's song weaving an intricate web of emotions on a backdrop of solid grey skies Cecil Williams ************** Snow crept down the hills last night, closer towards us valley dwellers, shivering in our beds. Like that messy white sugar powder on boxed doughnuts, a fine dusting settled on the mountain trees. Much lower than yesterday, but not yet here. Any day now it will land in my yard, on my walk, on my car. The toys of summer still clog my garage, and the car sits out in the inclements, dripping with cold, surrounded by a world soggy with the night's nearly snow. Cecil Williams - 11/09/92 *************************** I like the very first softly falling snowflakes on a calm, driftless morning, when there's no work to go to, and the coffee's hot, and the newspaper's fresh on the table... Cecil Williams ************** FirstHeat Crisp cool blue mornings, early sunsets. Darkness increasing daily, summer a fading memory. Ice cream wagons gone, replaced by big yellow buses filled with noisy happy cherubs. The frost will arrive anyday now; down from the far north, where it summers over. Soon it will be time. Time to advance the thermostat, time to feel and smell that first heat of fall. Cecil Williams 8/27/92 ************************ Foggy morning pales the light dim darkness lingers for still a while no sun will break the clouds set thickly upon us in the night damp heavy air all things dew covered and I am coated now against the cold though yesterday the sun was hot today it's naught Cecil Williams 10/5/92 ************************ Yesterday Fog. Car lights lights lights lights... Today Frost. Window scrape scrape scrape scrape... Cecil Williams - 10/6/92 ************************** (Jennifer Crystal Fang-Chien) writes: > > i'm tired of living for other people, > and there's not enough of me to live for. Cecil replies: JC, JC, say it ain't so! You're our favorite west coast Jennifer, Crystal delight, Fang-hyphenated-Chien poetess of some repute! Try this on for size: i'm living tired for other people but of me there's not enough to live for yet... Now, run to the nearest mirror, and give yourself a big slobbery kiss! Cecil 19/Aug/93 *************** I want to fly a hundred kites upon a single line, and in a swirling breeze they'll gigue with tails that wag so fine. I'll make them from the colors bright red, yellow, green, and blue, and float them up into an arc those kites of rainbow hue... Cecil Williams - 10/17/92 *************************** (Ralph Cherubini) writes: > > Turtles > >Turtles, >life >carrying white ovals >within >depositing generations >in sandy nests >until I awaken >once more. Cecil Replies: Turtles? Since you're touting Turtles, I will tell you about the turtle I saw, last week, I saw a turtle playing the oboe, yes I saw Mr. Turtle, actually, playing the oboe in the pit, the orchestra pit OK, Mr. Turtle is a man, but he was playing the oboe, and he was in a pit, and on the stage, when the curtains parted, the fog flowed down from the valley, and Brigadoon appeared, it was the day, and Brigadoon appeared for a day. And the heather grew fine on the hill, and the grass was green in the dale, and I'm sure I saw the Sheila, in a daliance with a dalesman, frolicking in the far away. Cecil Williams - 6/12/92 ************************** They Were White Lilacs Flowers, beautiful white lilacs of magnificent fragrance; a freshly broken branch from someone unknown. Maybe a neighbor's child? Left on my doorstep before I got home from work. Cecil Williams 5/21/93 ************************ Maim and kill your fellow humans, blow them all away; on TV this is daily fare, no problem, it's OK. On movie screens it's blood and gore that make a picture sell, Chase 'em down and shoot 'em up; send bad guys straight to hell. But if it's love you wish to see a man and woman share, the beauty of two bodies lying naked, fully bare... In joyous motion, two as one together in love's embrace, doing what comes naturally while lying face to face... You'll have to rent a porno flick and sneak it to your home, and watch it on your VCR, most often all alone. It seems that sex is thought most foul; a dirty, evil deed. We mustn't see a man erect, delivering his seed. Or womankind in lustful passion, moaning soft and low, then rising to a higher pitch, orgasmic in her glow. No, this would be too much it seems, for gentle eyes to see; It's better far to watch them main and kill with rabid glee, than to see them making love upon the big screen or TV. Cecil Williams - Riyadh, Saudi Arabia - 10/17/92 **************************************************** What if someone took the moon into their house? my six year old daughter asks, with a giggle. Cecil Williams - Andrea Williams 9/26/92 ******************************************* Words Words like children, running, hiding, with smile, or frown. they cry for me, laugh with me, and remind me about things goneby. Sun rays, moon beams, a passing cloud's shadow, all bring to me, Words, flowing free. Whistling winds, babbling brooks, and trembling trees, whisper unspoken Words, to my yearning ears Words, sing to me in my sleep, a sweet lullaby, of love, mothers, teddy bears, and kisses. a peaceful music of colored balloons, circus buffoons, and starry nights. Surround me with a sweet dream, Words, I am yours. Cecil Williams 10/1/91 **************************** Bright yellow Gruman Ag-Cat bi-plane crop duster one man in a farmer's sky, Flies slow and low a big yellow butterfly beebopping over the Palouse wheat hills of Eastern Washington Grey Navy A6 jet fighterplane and two sailors in the sky flies so fast and low, a heavy metal war brick streaking over the Palouse wheat hills of Eastern Washington Look out, Ag-Cat! Navy owns the sky, got the right of way even when the ocean below ripples in waves of wheat, even when the Navy flys high speed up your tail like a brick through a window. A day time fire ball, low sky, a flying metal war brick cratered 30 million dollars down, into the dirt two silken Navy parachutes sink softly down to emerald waves of grain where a broken yellow butterfly burns. Cecil Williams 4/15/93 ************************** Broken noodles lasagna in a box dry and stiff needing attention but with supreme potential. Cecil Williams 9/23/92 ************************** Nothing1 Sometimes nothing is enough Cecil Williams - 8/23/93 ************************** >> (TONY ROSE) writes: >> >************************************************************************** >> >* * >> >* OBOE FOR SALE !! * >> >* * >> >* - Bundy/Selmer Student Oboe * >> >* PRICE = $250 * >> >* * >> >************************************************************************** >> >> To which Cecil replies: >> >> If a hobo >> plays the oboe, >> as he sashays down the street, >> will he make new friends >> where'ere he goes? >> will they throw money >> at his feet? >> >> If a hobo >> plays the oboe, >> as he's riding on a train, >> the other good ole boys, >> will they like his noise? >> or will they think >> he is a pain? >> > To which Tom Wachtel replies: > > If a fellow > plays a cello > as he bows and turns to greet > friendly faces making aces > nose to nose > will they throw oboes > at his toes? > > If a strumpet > plays her trumpet > as she plays her waiting game > the other boys, all noise, > will turn to toys > and childish dreams > of trains and gold again To which Cecil replies: it's a bummer if the drummer as he's marching with the band, making sounds so much like thunder, falls and breaks his major hand. and those freshmen playing frenchorns, several of them in a row, making oogle eyes and gopher cheeks, they blow and blow and blow. now the piccolo is pretty, 'haps the flute is fairer still, but the oboe is the instrument that Tony's here to sell. Cecil Williams cecilw@int20.isc-br.com *************************************** OLD Wrinkled old body, so weary tonight, I lie down in bed, feeling no fright. My time has come, bright shines the guide light... While the world sleeps, I'm ready for flight. Now I lay me down to die, off drifts my soul into the sky. My vesperous being, ebbing oddly from my sallow, cooling body. This date with destiny I'll keep, and soon shall know a lasting sleep. But first a journey I must make, a voyage on to deeper space. So outward bound into the void of starlight, dust and cosmic glow Left earth behind, I'm on the fly I know not where I go, nor why. A darker place I come to now, of floating circumfluent warmth. I think I'll stop and rest a bit This space is nice I must admit. Perhaps I've slept for just a while, but now I'm wakened with a start, A strange sensation all around, I feel constriction pushing down, a crushing wave upon my crown. It's time to journey onward, so my being, what now is of me, into a darkened tunnel flows. headfirst in that direction goes. Ahead a muted light appears I hear strange muffled sounds so near but I am being pushed and smooshed and feel some trepidatious fears. The portal's small, but I'm pulled through, I feel so small and helpless now emerging in a bright lit room of giants dressed in green and white. One giant holds me near to him he has at once a tear and grin, Then carries round and lays me down upon a brand-new mother's breast she coo's to me and says to rest... I sleep. Cecil Williams 9/14/92 *********************** >knowl17@ursa.calvin.edu writes: > >To this world I send my call >Find my words and we shall > begin, perhaps, a lifetime >of messages, or > an afternoon of passwords > >Nevertheless, I await in response for >a soul to correspond > Write to me! Got it! And we'll talk about anything >from dancing to poetry, from art to French. Cecil Replies: It's Thursday, noon is past, and more; Three hours till I'm out the door. Your words I stumbled on by chance, And thought to answer with a prance of rhyming phrase-eology. Just what pray-tell you hope to gain, by posting a pen-pal refrain, requesting writing souls respond so you can talk about "le monde", The world from A to Z... I have no time to do this thing requested in your short refrain my boss is lurking shortly near with periscope and great big ear To see to what I'm up... Ciao Chaou Chow! Cecil Williams ************** (Scott Campbell Mfg QIE 4-6778) writes: > >I need help, and don't know if this is the group to ask or not >If there is a better place to post let me know. >I am looking for old pirate poems >ditys or songs. If anyone can point toward a source or send me >the words, I would appreciate it. Thanks Cecil Replies: Old Pirates rusty cannon balls fractured frigates are found at the bottom of the sea. Their poems scribbled hastily and corked into rum emptied bottles wash up on distant island shores in the black of the night. Cecil Williams - 8/27/92 ************************** greebie@chebucto.ns.ca wrote... > > Porpoises >____________________________________________ > > > Boat motivation, > goading on their handicapped cousins, > they capture a haddock gleefully in their snouts > while fishermen can't grab enough > to sell for their taxes. > >Ryan Deschamps Cecil Replies: Purposes _____________________________________________ Bent motivation, guiding on there, handicapped cousins the capture so gleeful, a handful of snout fishers of men, they can't grub enough and sell out for their taxes Cecil Williams ************** Rata-tat tata-tat Rata-tat tat... What is that sound, like jack-hammer on tin!? It woke me up yesterday, and now today again! At the crack of dawn this noise begins, Rata-tat tata-tat Rata-tat tat! I spring from my bed, to my window to see, who in the hell is bothering me! At 5:00 in the morning, two days in a row, Rata-tat tata-tat Rata-tat tat!! My neighbor, truckdriver, could it be he?! With a new jackhammer, and a vengence for me? But a glance at his shop, and all's quiet I see, Rata-tat tata-tat Rata-tat tat!!! The sweet-singing meadowlark, perched on the barn, with a voice from heaven, did he learned a new tune, has he become friends with the devil? Could it be he? No. And still, Rata-tat tata-tat Rata-tat tat!!!! So I threw on a robe, and ran out the front door, to see who was the cause of this fiendish uproar! Who at five in the morning, with apparent great glee, makes this terrible noise, and awakens me. Rata-tat tata-tat Rata-tat tat!!!!! There! again I hear it! From up on my roof! What mad-man, what vandal, What manner of thug could this be? There he is now! He peers down at me... With small beady eyes, A birdbrain for certain, On top of my chimney, tin topped it is, he's a crazy woodpecker! And he's pecking away, at the tin on the lid, The sound is impressive, heard round for miles, no doubt spreading awe amoung his fine feathery friends! Cecil Williams ************** The Reading It was Tuesday night dark; my main squeeze and I left the monthly open poetry reading, started the long drive home, in silence broken by random short bursts of chatter. The coldly diffuse moon rose softly from the eastern horizon, two/thirds full and slowly visible behind a thin veil of haze and strange black clouds, night clouds, small dancing shadows blowing about the sky. As we rolled near to home, now out of the city into dark countryside those dark shadowy clouds, eerie apparitions, took on clearer form; 'twas a herd of black unicorns, prancing in the face of the late summer moon. Cecil Williams 9/16/92 ************************ Red White & Yellow Winterblues Dog-Days of cold winterblues here and staying for a spell I muse as I drive through the white tapestry of plowed fields with icing. A dark speck sitting in a distant field moves on the white drawn closer it looks like reddish walking; now closer still it hops and wags a tail of increasing recognition towards the big yellow that is us, winter rural school bus on an early sundown afternoon. Here's your three kids, Mr. Irish Setter. Cecil Williams 1/27/97 ************************ sltwc@cc.usu.edu writes: > > if the world runs on AA bateries > isn't about time someone > replaced them with a fesh pair > > -MOrry SlymE Cecil Replies: My world runs on Nike, Addidas, and Reebok, And its remote control Operates on AA batteries. And like a surgeon with a fresh pair of hands, I replace them casually, whenever they are on the brink of death... I am someone. Chekov's Seagull? Cecil Williams - 4/27/92 ************************** same same same same same Different diFFerent differnt Cecil Williams ************** (Leon Hsu) writes: > (Crystal) writes: >> (Cecil Williams) writes: >>>> crystal writes: >>>>> Jennifer Crystal Chien writes: Jenn Crystal Chien Writes: >>>>> I have nothing to say. >>>>> The hours have worn like >>>>> grinding stones. >>>>> They do not speak. >>>>> Neither do I. Crystal Writes: >>>>I have nothing to say >>>>The moments pass >>>>Like falling leaves >>>>That drift silently >>>>And so do I. Cecil Writes: >>>What can I say? >>>The moments passed, >>>and the hours, old >>>as fallen leaves that >>>drift across worn stones, >>>speak silently, >>>and so do I. Crytal Writes: >>What more can be said? >>Moments pass into hours; >>Dried leaves grind to dust >>Worn lives drift by silently, >>Turning to age-old stone, >>And so do I. Leon Hsu Writes: >What am I to say? >That hour has become a day >And a day becomes a week. >The stones of silence >built into a wall, >They cannot speak, >Nor can I. Cecil Writes: This is what I say! That moment has become stone frozen forever, an unblinking page in eternity. It screams from the past, and I shout from the future. Cecil Williams - 6/17/92 ************************** daffy wind-blown seed spins helicopter wildly out of mother's shade Cecil Williams - 10/2/92 ************************** We're soaring through life's skies, like so many sailplanes; soaring along on the winds... We rise and sink on thermal currents, interacting with others. Friendship and love lift us up, synergetic in the warm rise of clouds. Negatives and loneliness bring us down, like a downdraft, a downpour, and sometimes in a suprise wind shear we crash with suddeness, a futile ending. Cecil Williams 2/09/93 ********************** (in reply to Pimento Loaf's lament...) Dearest Pimento Loaf, I've watched you from afar, and I must say, you're not silly at all! Don't be sad, my pimento pretty, in your icy ivory palace! You're ravishing in fleshly pink, with speckled red adornments. The cleavage between your slices makes me weak; oh how I long to nibble at your bits! I'd like to take you on a french roll, or maybe strumming though sliced rye; or dare I ask, can you do the pumpernickel? But, alas... You are cool, a high class refrigerated loafer; and I am but a lowly, back shelf canned good. Perhaps we will picnic together someday, if only I can key away these surly bonds of tin confinement! Yours in Distant Admiration, Spam Cecil Williams, King of Spam... ******************************* Mr. Write writes: > What should I do? > Drive my car off a cliff or wait and see if I die this Friday? > >More than ever the .sig file still applies .... >================================================================\ >There is no Santa Claus, || Mr. Write || >There is no Easter Bunny, || ap.5979@layout.Berkeley.EDU || >And there are no happy endings. || Looking for love, REAL love || Cecil Replies: Dear Mr Write, I've pictures of me n'Santa, that proves he's real and all, and I saw the Easter Bunny just today, down at the Mall. He was pink, and six feet tall! No matter how a story ends, another one always begins; And if you want your story to be happy, Then simply be your own best friend. As for the Love you look for, there's a truth that you should know, If you wish for love to reap, then it's love that you must sow. jus'me... Cecil Williams - 4/4/92 ************************* >(Ralph Cherubini) writes: > Sudden > It would be > sudden > if this were all there was to this poem. Cecil Replies: It would be sudden if someone pulled the plug on the gravity generator and we all fell off the earth. Cecil Williams - 9/11/92 ************************** Tetris Dreams Colored blocks, falling, falling, in my mind... Squares, longs, triads; my fingers twitch, [][][] the blocks spin 'round. Shift left! no, right! [][] Line up, dammit! [] [][] Yes!! and the base [] [] sinks one more level... [] Losing the game [][] [] starts the next. [][] All night long, busy, no rest. I'm so weary. [][] [][][][][] But the blocks [] [] [] [][] keep on falling... [][] [][][][][] Cecil Williams - 10/25/91 *************************** T I M E Time, that fourth dimension. Time is a concept, an agreed upon set of rules to explain the movement of everything from the infinity behind us into the infinity ahead, by way of the now. Time is non corporeal, without beginning or end. But distance between any two points in time is precisely measurable in units of time. Finite units of the infinite... Like the other three dimensions, length, width, and depth, time has no mass. The concepts of length, width, depth, and time are not bent by gravity nor altered by the speed of light. Time is no more tied to the speed of light than to the speed of sound. Some once said the sound barrier couldn't be broken. It's now broken every day. Time doesn't speed up or slow down, although it is possible to speed (relatively) through space and catch up with old light from earlier times... The concept of time is deliciously independent of the existence of anything - us, our planet, or the current configuration of the universe. No matter how big the bang, it didn't impact time. Time is, after all, only a concept. Time is conceivable, and linearly so, before, after, and outside the boundaries of, an expanding universe. Everywhere that is, time is there. Anywhere in space, more space surrounds. Anywhere in time, more time surrounds. And however much time it took to get there, it could have taken longer. Time after time, there will always be more time. Cecil Williams - 10/10/92 *************************** space is nothing time is nothing space occupies time. hand in hand, together in their nothingness they have always been, and will always be. Cecil Williams ************** Tragedy? What would life be without tragedy? A shapeless marshmallow; without substance, without form, and sweet, always, sickly sweet... It's the river of blood from those who die that float the boats of the living. Take up your oar, and set a course; for live or die, your blood flows. Cecil Williams 9/01/93 ************************ On the death of singer Roger Miller: "Trailers for Sale or Rent" A new star appeared in the skies last night. Cecil Williams - 10/26/92 *************************** If I were the Volvo of the universe, I'd forget everything, and take a little trip. I'd drive to the deserts of Mars, and the stormy Red Sea of Jupiter, and on to Saturn to see what those funny rings are all about. I'd skip Uranus, (I've heard it stinks) and go on to Pluto, the plucky little planet. On the way back, I'd spend the night on the dark side of the moon. Cecil Williams - 9/18/92 ************************** David Koresh Waco Jesus, come on out! You've got the whole world in your hands. Put down your double 00, double barrel, double-edged plowshares, and beat a path to your door. Like those bible men who strolled through flames, but didn't burn, surely you can walk through the valley of the shadow of death without fear of the posse, because your god will save you from gunsmoke, lead, and your own bullshit? Cecil Williams 4/15/93 *********************** "Shootout at the Waco Corral" Waco, Texas April 19, 1993 Now I lay us down to die go light the flames to cleanse this sty. "Jesus loves us, this we know, for David Jesus tells us so" Go tell the children not to fear, don't cry out when the smoke and heat of death is near. Our final earthly moments will be a blaze of glory long remembered as the story of Jesus David and his band of christians persecuted in their Waco homeland. And if anyone decides to run, put a bullet in their head with your gun. Praise the lord. Just a gut-level reaction in passing, Cecil Williams 4/20/93 ************************* Water, like poetry, essential, fundamental, distillable from nearly everything. Cecil Williams 5/24/93 *********************** I'm sailing uncharted waters, navigating without a map. It's exhilarating, but where am I going? Cecil Williams ************** Licensed to Kill Eat worms and die, I think to myself; as the red&white bobber slaps the surface and the poor worm with a #4 hook shoved up his ass till it pokes out his face splashes down with a satisfying splunk. A fishy dozen took the proffered annelidans. At home I heat the oil in black cast iron, after washing guts from hands that learned this ichthycidal game quite young. Cecil Williams 7/16/93 ************************ Jennifer Crystal Chien writes: > > Yet Another Poem > >This is yet another poem >written about some woman, >or some event, >or some realization, >or some something, >that came to me while reading r.a.p. >or better yet >while drinking black coffee >late at night >wondering what else to write about. Cecil Replies: Another Poem Yet This is another with a poem yet written about some woman and an event that has no realization, or any something, that came to me while reading your Y.A.P. on R.A.P. and better the yet, I'm drinking orange cappuchino with Baileys and the sun is up because the black night already passed by as I sat here wondering what to write about... Cecil Williams - 6/6/92 ************************* FLOWERS I don't know, They're nice to give, nice to get. I don't, enough of either. Some man sent flowers to my wife, so she left me and married him. Now I sit and reflect on flowers; some I've sent, some I've received, and some I didn't send and now regret. A desperate woman friend once sent a dozen red roses, bought with her welfare check, then told me she'd say "YES" if only I would ask "THE" question; but I never did... Another woman friend sent a bouquet on a bad day to show she cared, and the lights came back on for a while. I sent my oldest daughter a dozen pink roses for her 16th birthday and a mushy letter; every girl should get something nice in writing, from her dad when turning sweet 16. I haven't heard from her yet, but she's very busy. I wonder which she liked best; the card, the letter, the flowers, or the money? Cecil Williams 18 Sept. 1995 ******************************* Why not pick up a single red rose on your way home tonight? (They're generally $1-2 ea. at any of the finergrocery retailers) When you walk in the door, instead of asking what's for dinner, or bitching about this or that, hand the rose to someone you love, and say "I've been thinking about you, all day..." Nursery Tales Peter Piper picked a peck of penny-whistle pie, while 4 and 20 black birds pecked the pickled-pepper guy. And what of Jack Horner, who sat in a corner, eating some Curds&Whey? Well along came a spider to sip on his cider and weave him a brand new toupee. Little Bo Peep, come blow your horn; the sheep that you lost are trampling the corn; There's a cow in the meadow she's really gone loon; she says she's about to jump over the moon! Little Miss Muppet Blew Little Boy Blue, and old Lady Hubbard's Cupboard in two. So where is that boy who pulled out a plume? He's under the dishwater, surfing the spume. Ba Ba, black sheep; Have you any crewel? Yes sir yes sir, at a cost of one family jewel! And they all lived, happily. Ever After, Cezil de Rima (Cecil Williams) - 6/5/96 ***************************************************** If god really existed he would have written a much better handbook to guide all human endeavor. What evilness it is to claim that humans have souls and dolphins, whales, elephants or good dogs don't? Cecil Williams ************** Rabbits flattened on the road greasy pancakes gotten mowed down by truck, and bus and car as they ran, hare-brained bizarre. "C. Elmer Fudd" (Cecil) 7-29-97 ********************************** "Latte a la Tierra" A pint-sized puddle of brown the color of coffee with milk running out in fluid legs rivulets from the obvious point of impact A few feet from the coffee shop door. Cecil Williams / 4-28-98 ************************** A Mother Knows "You know why they're here" The woman on TV says; In their crisp clean uniforms And shiny black shoes Carrying Official looking papers And walking slowly, stiffly, up the sidewalk to your door. A mother knows why they're here, before the knock on the door; in her heart she already knows. When it's your son or daughter off in a foreign land fighting a war against the forces of evil, or for the politics of oil; and a government car pulls up to the curb in front of your house; when the officers get out to come to your door, a mother knows already why they're here; before they hand over the telegram. A mother knows... Cecil Williams - 02/25/98 ******************************