Tattooing Biscuit coloured
Backs with haphazardly soul
sunken prints, feet bars getting
kissed by rolling rushing turquoise
waves with white foamy caps.

Its froth briny toungue pushing
out jellyfish and crab cones
Weightless driftwood surfing
aimlessly, sheets of golden

light rebounded off the sluggish
warm highway sea.

THE BULLY

Being a bully is a state of mind
Not always physical you’ll find
Nor even aggressive behaviour
I wonder, who needs a saviour
And who’s the real victim here
Bullies are bullied it may appear

Yet is this all psychological fluff
Those affected have had enough
Not long before one might snap
And react with more than a slap
To pursue a permanent solution
Finally ending all the persecution

When I'm in a depressive phase
the whole world gets duller
like everything is muted and grey

music no longer sends chills up my spine

I can't concentrate on anything
long enough to satisfy my senses

I can't read or watch TV
or even write...

I just lie in bed
existing
waiting
for the voices to quiet enough
that I can sleep

Logs crossed to meet
their fiery destiny.
Twigs added
to aid the match.
Failing, the logs
are bathed in fluid
to make their future
come in the form of light
and the scent of smoke.
People ring the bonfire
with marshmallows
on metallic sticks to be wed
with chocolate and
graham crackers.

For the cloak of spontaneity,
Is often born of impropriety,
Lest...
A heart withers to form a wisecrack in character.

True to the core.

Once there was a man
Who wrote beautiful music
He wrote the music because he was sad
He was sad because he was all alone

But he was noticed for his music
He ended up being loved for it
And in being loved
He lost his sadness
And his music soon after

What you don’t like,
Being confronted?
What are you scared of?
People that call you out,
Or do you prefer
Passengers
On your plane that
Never takes off?

Did I hit a soft spot?
Am I making you doubt?
Oh, are you realizing
You are just a disorder
That walks around
Like Zeus on Olympus?

Oh, fear, introduce
Yourself to the
Souls you fooled
Into accepting you
Like the bad check you are.

Unkind
Written by Kelly Ann Wilson

When I find this world to be
Unaccepting,
Unjust,
Unanchored,
And unkind,
All hope is not lost.

I can
Be accepting,
Be just,
Be anchored,
And be kind.

And we all know the fable
Of what happens
When the butterfly flaps its wings…

Written August 6, 2024
© 2024 Kelly Ann Wilson

Streamers of wet whispy curled fingers and
wraith-like tails of fog, curling pools round
Soldier still lamp posts, and pouring a misty
Milky soup, swallowing, swings, slides and
humans .

eating away light with its lazy toungue
Ghostly grey strands of gauze drifting
Cocooning, slithering shapes, a mystery
of threads of swirling fingers and darkness
choking cataracting light.

Somebody asked me
Why do I carry on?
I replied, to let
Darkness know—
A light in my soul
Is plugged into a generator
Running on hope.

He asked, Where do you find faith?
I replied, it’s not something
You hold—
It’s like the sky,
Always there,
Waiting for when
It's needed.

He asked, How do you know
The storm will pass?
I answered,
I do.
Every morning,
The sun rises
As the storm
Retreats to its quarters.