studious skinny scruffy scribe

My utmost humblest apology
for inducing the following
cerebral calisthenics upon your cranium,
but the cost of friendship
with yours truly
(me – a foo fighting,
eagle eyed, beatle browed, beastie boy
christened Matthew Scott Harris)
doth newt come
like some hootie and the blowfish
super tramping
cheap trick linkedin to
wings at the reo speed wagon
spinning zz top soundcloud.

Sometimes I think poetry is
the time you first learned to skip
a rock across a glassy lake.
It touched the water five, maybe six times
before sinking below the surface.

You looked forever for the perfect one
to toss. Even though forever is where
the stone came from and returned to.

I don’t know for certain
all the places poetry can be found,
but if it lets me come back to these things
I’ll willingly continue the beautiful search.

You are a huge O mouth
Open and yawning like a sink hole
Yelling absurd answers to simple questions
Your breath a cloud of steam
That freezes in the night air
To those who talk but never think
An exhausting O mouth eating oxygen
Eating and eating
Emitting opinions

The tongue in perpetual motion
The jawbone still chattering
Your mouth can run marathons
Silenced into a stupor
I sit here and say nothing
Pretending to listen

Our leaders choose greed to gain power
Leading us astray by the hour
The lies that they spread
Fill us with fear and dread

Our friends, our bodies they want full control
But want AR 15’s continue to roll
Killings are part of our schools each day
A terrible price that we must pay

Members of our society were brought here from birth
Their requests for acceptance are greeted with mirth
Our Justices now serve those who appointed them
Not the constitution and laws from which their authority stem

you, Aborigine child, detached from your memory
so young - fairest blossom, waned in bloom
weaned from your maternal bonds
to wear a nation's wail
to sing the tribal songs in lyrics
dipped in pain

how self-deceit employed the minds
of those who hate.
how the zeal of those
meant to be skilled in lowliness
frustrated those who hate.

their concealed paganism
cries for blame to reveal
the disposition to fairness in their hearts...
so heartless!

Paris
Written by Kelly Ann Wilson

Have you lived a life that’s good?
Have you helped somebody?
Have you chased your dream?
Have you healed?
Have you fallen in love?
Have you rescued a dog?
Have you seen Paris?

For those who answered no, don’t fret.
If you’re reading this right now,
Then you still have the chance.

I hope you take it.

Written February 20, 2024
© 2024 Kelly Ann Wilson

I had a chat with Myself today, It was a most serious chat indeed. There was a question I needed to ask, And Myself could answer that need.

At Midnight tonight
As the clock clicks
Its another birthday
Another age shifts

It's been a hard year
Not ideal at best
The triumphs make
It worth the test

On a cold, snowy night
My life had only begun
Seventeen years have passed
Yet I'm nowhere near done

So here's to a year full of
Success and desires awoke
To a new year of happiness
To another barrier broke

(alternately titled GENESIS RESPLENDENT)

No matter the calendrical/official onset of vernal equinox takes places Tuesday, Mar 19, 2024 and transpires until Thursday, Jun 20, 2024, an intimation sensed (predicated on above average temperatures for February 21st, 2024) that season of blooming plants will override any assertion of Old Man Winter.

my life was
like an open wound
seeking healing from the pain...

my love was
septic, pure sewage
garbage down a drain...

my heart
recognized yours
as a beacon in the dark...

your soul,
fuel for fire
to lighten and spark...

your mouth,
the source of my truths
I will hang on every line...

your eyes,
speak in the softest tones
I praise the skies that you are mine!