Tonight I fight
everyone and everyone
dies.
Death is difficult to
understand - a
ritual
everyone undergoes -
I insist
no one go after me.
K.J.W.
Oct. 2009
Sleepily I
answered the door;
nobody there.
Forever I
ran, in my dreams,
and got no where.
No one stopped me,
cautioned me,
insisted that I
switch course
cause no
one cared.
Come morning I'll
answer the door again.
K.J.W.
Oct. 2009
"Fear me."
insisted the
lion.
Monkeys laughed
madly and
answered,
"King Lion,
entertain us with a
rendition."
Aware of the set up,
nobly the lion
drew a deep breath and said,
"Suns have crossed our skies
over our heads and we,
under each crossing,
notice not their
deaths.
"Some day
time will stop,
united, we will
die together,
innocent victims of
other worldly wars."
Only the
wind made any
noise.
Everyone in the jungle
realized the lion was right."
K.J.W.
Oct 2009
God gives
epiphanies to
no one, especially officials.
Epiphanies come often to
students, curious for knowledge,
travelers, discovering vastness,
runners, reaching deep inside,
intellectuals, making relationships,
babies, sensing for the first time,
or the dying, who are doing so to
understand what it all means,
K.J.W.
Oct 2009
Shakespeare wrote of
everyone but himself.
Across the centuries we are
tortured by nothingness,
tortured by lack of
letters, references, or diaries -
epiphanies escape us.
What a treasure it would be,
at least to scholars, to
secure his
hidden grocery list.
K.J.W.
Oct 2009
No one thought Hamlet had
original thoughts.
Revenge is so old;
time and again
he pretended to
woo death until
epiphany
kissed his brain,
searched his soul and
told him to fight.
Maybe Hamlet
agonized too much,
gave too much thought,
an attribute which
zealots don't have.
Instead of action,
necessary measures weighed
equally the consequences.
Dying scared our young hero,
immobilized him to
stand still in the castle courtyard,
tree like, feeling the breeze.
Revenge is sweet, but
insecure - "will things
be better?"
Understand this:
tomorrow,
I will ask a favour,
no one else can help you;
give me your word.
Come at dusk and my
old ghost will greet you.
K.J.W.
Oct 2009
Late at night,
everyone's asleep,
evening's long dead.
Morning is days away,
only I lie awake,
only I mark the ticking
notches of the clock.
"Anyone out there?"
no one answers;
don't ask again.
Running though my mind,
old memories and
stresses new,
creeping over my brain,
odd people kick me
each moment I blink.
Killed by lack of sleep,
another disturbed
soul died,
stretched
across
midnight.
K.J.W.
Sept 2009
Who are you,
emerging from the darkness?
Who are you,
instantly appearing in my headlights,
so quickly, like a flash?
head on, we collide.
Tell me why you ran
head on into my truck,
across my path; you know you
need not have got
killed this evening.
Tell me why you ran
head on into my life,
emerging from nowhere to
steal my conscience and leave me
empty
Perhaps you wanted to die,
emerging in front of me
onto the road;
perhaps you selected me,
looked to me for help,
engaged me.
Forever will I be honored,
obviously humbled, to have helped,
rather than haunted by guilt.
Getting out and walking back,
entirely unsure of what happened but
needing to check on you, your
eyes stare, blanks,
remote, seeing nothing,
only shock, frozen - I
understand - I killed
someone - you.
All I can do is stare back;
soon you'll blink.
Soon?
I turn to go,
so helpless after the fact.
Tonight I hit someone
and killed with my truck.
No one can say it's alright.
Coyote emerges from the dark,
engaging me.
K.J.W.
Sept 2009
Armies march across my heart,
commandeering neural networks,
killing reasoning and compromise,
neutralizing feelings of love;
only hate do I now feel,
warrior strong and heartless.
Loyal to no one but myself;
enemy to all.
Destroyed are the memories of
good times, the fondness is
eradicated and the trust falters.
Macbeth's madness
envelopes me and
nothing stops my
tongue from
spouting hateful words.
K.J.W.
Sept 2009
Inscribed on my wrist
several numbers mark
big events
not worth remembering:
0 movies I have written.
8 trips I dreamed of.
2 train rides.
7 plane rides.
8 sunset romances.
0 movies I have directed.
2 appearances on TV.
1 interview on radio.
9 letters to the editor.
6 daydreams per hour.
K.J.W.
Sept 2009
Learning to let
injuries go can
be difficult, as
realized by divorce
anecdotes told and
remembered bitterly
yesterday.
Often suffered,
frequently scarred.
Count with me sufferings,
only don't count Saturday,
nor Sunday.
Go on, count;
remember each injury,
every word,
slung like a
spear at a broken heart.
Count my sad nights,
alerted moods,
terrified brooding,
and then
laugh at me,
oblivious to feelings,
gone already.
Count my errors,
and subtract
recent curses and
deny me excuses.
No one was counting
until it hurt
more than it did
before; not
even I cared to
remember the good after that:
7 days are a painful week.
2 days are a sobering weekend.
-
9 years of marriage.
7 since I was last happy.
4 lanes of traffic.
5 minutes until my birthday.
3 steps to the edge.
K.J.W.
Sept 2009
Apples fall softly,
laughing as they
land free of the tree.
Rivers creep
into the sea,
getting immersed,
hugging the shore,
tearing away,
sinking out of sight.
Running to get
everywhere I
suffer, going nowhere
except to
realize my
vanity will
envelope and
destroy me.
K.J.W.
Sept 2009
1 day I spent crying.
9 days i spent wondering.
7 days I spent angry.
3 days I spent hoping.
By the time you read this,
years will have passed.
Just when you thought
only I suffered, the
anger will hit you and
no one will care.
Vengeance will be mine,
avenged by the
lasting, nagging feeling only
death brings out of
everyone: what if?
Suffer you will.
After you read this
no one will care how my
death left you wondering.
Just when you thought
everyone moves on
a flicker of doubt,
nagging at your heart,
nagging at your soul,
eats you anew.
Cry for days;
revenge in mine,
only I'm dead, so
who wins?
K.J.W>
Sept 2009
Darkness befalls
another day;
night creeps into bed.
Join me and we'll
orgy together while
heaven watches;
naked, we'll
stalk each other and then
observe together the
new day.
K.J.W.
Sept. 2009
Always laugh,
reflect, and laugh more -
tomorrow you won't.
Dying is a lot of work:
increasing aches and pains
ravage our bodies,
energy level drops,
cancer spreads, as does
tartar and wrinkles.
Only yesterday I
remember laughing at my strength.
K.J.W.
Sept 2009
Ready child?
Are you enjoying
life? Are you
playing?
Have you dirty hands?
Maybe you should get
away, find yourself,
play like a child -
spontaneously, because
organized play and controlled interactions
numbs you for life.
K.J.W.
Sept 2009
I am ready, for
long ago, before this Age,
long before the first human, a
universal law was decreed,
stating that for each of us, a
time, a moment, will come; when our action or
reaction, would determine the world's fate in
Ages forward. Whether you are ready for your
time, your moment, your calling, is
individually determined. No
other can act on your fated moment,
no one else can be ready for you.
So, are you ready?
K.J.W.
Sept 2009
July and August are gone,
underway now is the slow
death of nature where green becomes
yellow and red and orange.
October and November knock us
low and only after the darkest
season of the year do we
observe any rejoicing or celebrating of
new hope; the new season, spring.
K.J.W.
Sept 2009
Darn bugs!
every
summer
insects
gnaw
nonchalantly.
K.J.W.
Sept 2009
Observe the roll of the dice,
hidden fate unfolded by the roll of
innocent blocks of wood;
observe, I roll a
4 - move and land on a red square.
5 - now I'm on a ladder-up, I climb.
4 - now I can buy a railroad.
3 - now I can go to college.
9 - now I conquer Greenland.
K.J.W.
Sept 2009
Dreams activate minds,
actions seduce bodies,
yearning awakens plots,
turning reveals worlds,
observing realizes blindness,
nothing awakens everything.
K.J.W.
Sept 2009
2 people died.
2 people cried.
8 people dreamed.
5 people schemed.
An innocent person,
robbed of life
by a conspirator,
observed by witnesses
running for their lives.
By Saturday
others were aware,
unraveling plots
linked politicians and business,
everyone
read it,
voices said it,
actions called for
reactions, reality
denying, denied.
K.J.W.
Sept 2009
Success
tries to
access my soul,
not because I
deny it, but because
another fate
robs me of my
destiny.
K.J.W.
Sept 2009
Part not from
friends, nor deny
loved ones, when
angry, for only they
understand what
moves you.
K.J.W.
Sept 2009
Jeanne, the princess of
everything, ruled my heart
and asked me,
not for love,
nor for loyalty, but to
entertain her.
Cautiously I sang,
ran, jumped, and swam,
only to be dismissed because I
wasn't funny enough.
K.J.W.
Sept 2009
Journeying through life,
or in other words, growing up,
as a child through to adult,
need not be so challenging.
Vocalizing feelings was not
a strong suit; instead
little hints
dropped into conversation
endeavored to
steer me.
K.J.W.
Sept 2009
Time ticks away,
heavens circle the sky, and
everyone ages.
Maybe at the
end it will all stop
dead, pause, and then
instantly start running backwards:
aging in reverse.
Who would adapt?
Odd world it would be,
running backwards
knowing less and less by the
second.
K.J.W.
Sept. 2009