2012 in Review

2012 has been one hell of a year full of craziness and a lot of i don't know what lol. But, it has been a year of great triumph! I was published four different times this year, one of them being a book i published on my own available here: http://www.lulu.com/shop/william-l-wright-jr/guardian-of-the-inkwell-a-collection-of-ramblings-of-the-poetic-persuasion/ebook/product-20548322.html and here: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/guardian-of-the-inkwell/id584542847?mt=11 .  Once again I owe a huge thank you to Brian Wrixon for making a lot of this happen.  He has featured my work in three of his anthologies; The Survivor's Guide to Bedlam (pages 396-397): http://www.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/3258738 , On the Words of Love (pages 300 -303): http://www.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/3531371 and  In Praise - In Memory - In Ink (pages 319 -322): http://www.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/3822960 . I went to  Vegas with both of my lovely sisters and my brother in law and i had an incredible time (from what i can still remember). I can only hope for great things in 2013. So, far this has been a decade of reinventing myself and innovation. Let us see what happens next. Happy New Year everyone!

Capsized

 No one saw her go
Wailing a somber goodnight
Capsized,to the ocean’s will

She did not flail
Not a shred of panic in her voice
As she inched to the depths
Clothed, only in acceptance

But i bore witness
As a nobody,
Helpless and weak
Offering my pristine words
Much to no avail

The murky waters gushed
Burrowing into her wounds
Claiming every inch of her worth
Until,she is kept and never again released

Coil

Let us take our time
And dip our toes,
In the decadent rush of desire

Let us hurry to ease
From the rude bustle of life
Hideaway in our steamy wants
And coil within one another

Let us savor the nights
And frittered the days
Shunning the weeks
Our ignorance of the piling months

Let us shut in
And revel among ourselves
Catering only, to ourselves alone

We have no room,
For toxic inquiry
The greater question, must die unanswered
We'll harbor our own
Till were fraying and breathless
Unkempt in appearance
Full from the plunder, of our sinful wanderlust



I was laying in bed fiddling with a safety pen for some odd reason, listening to Mellowdrone’s album “Box” and this is what i texted on my phone. I honestly do not know why i wrote it, but here it is now it exists! See, my “texting powers” can be used for good!

Like i always say; if you enjoyed my work here then please check out my book: “Guardian of the Inkwell: A Collection of Ramblings of the Poetic Persuasion” It is available for free on itunes or lulu.com

itunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/guardian-of-the-inkwell/id584542847?mt=11

lulu: http://www.lulu.com/shop/william-l-wright-jr/guardian-of-the-inkwell-a-collection-of-ramblings-of-the-poetic-persuasion/ebook/product-20548322.html 

We'll Be Fine

 In the morning
You will draw in sweet forgiveness
Ascend to the world
With a heart weighted by solace
Pulsating with the words
Of a lover’s whispered oath
And called upon, to rise
In the sureness of their touch

Give way to the tranquil noon
Painted in bliss
Teaming with peppered silence
Here and there,
Among the singing and fluttering fowls
To visit at their will
Resting with, and codling your tiresome frame

Twist and adhere
To the lonely and empty nights
Warm within your solitude
The embers, flickering docile and contained
Levitating, directionless
To commune with the hallow darkness
And peacefully dissipate, long before you rise

But there are no more words
Only room for visions of what solace was
And pristine visions, of what solace is destined to be

One Fine Day

One fine day, i’ll hold my own
I will shine the clearer
High noon or low evening
The world will share everlasting peace
Forever cleansed of worry and strife

Until that day
I will not tremble nor waver
But stand firm, for the many I hold dear
Through battered limbs
Bloodletting and bruising
My pulsating cause shall beckon eternity

Until that day
I will struggle for miles
Flock to the needy for them to follow
Follow to lead
Their legion of kin
The multitudes of greatness
True builders of eternity

We are
your living, breathing destiny

Who

Where will i rest
When my worldly thirsts consume me
When i’m clad in green
Both envious and wealthy
Catered to every whim, but my own

When we will the words,
Finally fall from my finger tips
Draped in relevance
Honesty, impeccable and pure

How to rest
When the fear lingers within you
Is far beyond,what i earnestly wish to perceive
How to weep
When the answers seem fleeting
Eaten alive, from a caldron of cynicism
Hold firm to the soil you’ve designed
Unfazed by erosion, faithful and sure

Just thought id also let you know, that my book “Guardian of the Inkwell: A Collection of Ramblings of the Poetic Persuasion” is now available on itunes for free. https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/guardian-of-the-inkwell/id584542847?mt=11

A Matriarch's Greif

Far too soon
Their worlds fray and split
Their firm soil, given way to the mighty deep
As the bitterness of greif creeps within them
Nestled inside every nerve
Pulsating luminous, as the cruel remnants of sorrow

Far too soon
Their eyes fall crimson
Soaked in anguish, shuttering and cringing
Breathless and frozen
Their heartache suspends them
As they turn away, binding themselves
In exile from sufferage, and the surge of utter loss

Far too soon
Sons wither and falter
Their sisters consumed, with a volley of hellfire
Within a mother’s chambers, their faces cry vendetta
Yet her intuitions cry forgiveness
To mend the ever-growing chasm of despair

But far too soon
Our memories dissipate
Stolen by the trivial
Squandered on the greedy
And their mal intent

I wrote this back in July after the shooting at the movie theater in Colorado. I decided to post it in light of recent events. I hope everyone is doing well this evening, and if you should decide to go out tonight, then please stay safe.

https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/guardian-of-the-inkwell/id584542847?mt=11

Out of Reach

It is the quiet loft,
At the edge of the hall
Stocked with discoveries
Of my vast and distant travels

It is the verses of passion
That dwell on the cusp of my tongue
Permitting my heavenly serenade
For the living gem,at foot my of my bed

It is the vessel i've crafted
To conquer these illusions
Relinquish my soul,
and feed her, my transient mortality

Take me
To this well of reveries
Take me
And restore my exuberance
The child within,trusts in you

 This is just something i wrote, it isn't much at all. Not nearly enough to "Conquer these illusions". If you liked this poem, then check out my first book. Its available for free here: http://www.lulu.com/shop/william-l-wright-jr/guardian-of-the-inkwell-a-collection-of-ramblings-of-the-poetic-persuasion/ebook/product-20548322.html

The Widow in Fishnets

 Within earshot of her young
Frolicking among their innocence
Her skull tilts and falters,
captive in her right hand
As she cradles the poison in her left
A liquid prayer,to wash away past evils

She arose a staggering wreck
5'6, mascara and black fishnets
And into her decrepit peace
Stashed away in the worn cupboard
She guzzles the rest
Not relenting a drop
Not even for the rats
Their eyes sunken, in their soon swallowed escape

Within earshot of her young
She cursed and stumbled
Burdened them with hatred
Brewed in His frozen absence
"Little ones, he's homeward bound
Adorned with medals, sea bag and all"

And she evolved
Through the grueling winters
The harrowing springs
The summers flooded with anguish
She evolved, through the brooding autumn
With waning reverence, each fallen November

Within earshot of her young
She is reduced to shards
A final squeeze
And she slumped over billowing with smoke
The blood pools the same,
just as her love before her
Salted by the tears,
overflowing from the once empty glass

 This was sort of random, it just sort of materialized out of nowhere. I was listening this song by one of my favorite artists: St.Vincent http://youtu.be/ByBGgiacuCc and while i was listening to the song i opened Microsoft word and this is what i typed.

Fruitful Endurance

 It is fruitful endurance
Speeding for its wrath and comfort
Stripping us bare
Down to our inner workings

It coddles us with contempt
Caressing our skin
Then turns to nip at our throats
In lustful spite

It is too simplistic,
Falling into her radiant grace
So simple,
To falter beneath his might
There are no lines
No straight and narrow paths
For it curves and sways
Genuflecting before no alter

What we all crave
Is to tread this wilderness whole
Bound in unison
Done away with earthly fortunes

What we all crave
Is the rising sea of anguish!
Terror of the quiet earth
Beloved, relic of man

Treasure this warmth
Well into its misty suffrage
When torment comes to pass
And cradles you to a lonely fate

 This poem was featured in my first anthology entitled "Guardian of the Inkwell: A Collection of Ramblings of the Poetic Persuasion".  It is available for free here on lulu.com: http://www.lulu.com/shop/william-l-wright-jr/guardian-of-the-inkwell-a-collection-of-ramblings-of-the-poetic-persuasion/ebook/product-20548322.html If you enjoy this anthology then please be sure to share it with friends  and family members who also enjoy reading poetry.

Shattered Glass

 How the sun treads along the iron rails
Within the glistening pair
Ever pursuant, through this gilded morn

How the danger lurks inside me
Peppered with anxiousness
Only to be resurrected
As the darkness, seeps into the day
A faltering of day, to drive our countrymen into drunken madness
Reveling amongst their own
Reveling in the crumbling of their hated other

How the songs  flair and resonate
Buzzing inside my softened earlobes
Then spills, into my tingling hair follicles

How the frigid air dissipates
In the warmth of my now coveted strangers
Unfazed, by the deafening and bombastic chatter
Of sickly patriots,turncoats and radicals

May they rest the same tomorrow
As they did in the turbulent night before
With a solemn goodnight from our mystic victors
And a warm salutation, in the cradle of daybreak

Man of the Heart

 Through the broadened day
He wanes
Defiled by downward gazes
Seemingly high
But, lowly in the sharp eyes of truth

Even in its hateful midst
The heart of him,toils onward
Feasting upon the treasures
That gracefully trickle out of his mind

He is the prisoner of sensation
Shrouded in relief
And elated in its presence
He is the scholar of the mad
Searing beneath his bones
With a motive of deathly erosion

But one fine day
He will brandish victory
Buried beneath his arm
And carted to the soil he has dubbed home

Fit in his own form
He'll display his spectrum of emotion
For he is the man of the heart
Detested by many
And treasured by far too few

Shades of Sound

He lives!
Loyal to every twisted perception
Sliding and swaying
Through the confines of earlobes
Morphed to his comfort, with a lone shed of melody
He is the heartbeat beneath each stanza
Breathing sweet rhythm into every verse
The glistening fiber of poetry
Harbored, in the blessing of tone and pitch

She Consumes
The reverent prayers of day lit wanderers
Chided, by the chilled wind of skeptics
Told to hold back, in the warmth of rearing promise
Mistress of life, death, hatred, and affection
The fabrics of our design
Taken in by her girth
Only to be scattered in a cosmic array
Our ills now shrouded in beauty
Gracefully, cascading into our minds
And every so slightly, down every tender cheek

He scoffs
At meek hearts of gluttony
The exploiting, of his most cherished offspring
Wrapped in an instant, manufactured norm
All for the starved masses
Waning in their once cast-iron belief

Once her tempo surges
And the tide of romance, conquers the speakers
Know, it is the collective of battered minds
Fueled in their desperate reach for the unknown

Stay mindful, that he clings to no doctrine
No single man made truth
No creed forged by hand
And no race forged in thought
For it is the human condition
Born in us all, at the dawn of ages

To My Battered Love

“Illegitimi non carborundum” (Don’t let the bastards grind you down)


To my battered love
And him alone
Only you, truly know your strife

I will not spew falsehood
Nor will I reminisce
On nights set aflame
Vendetta for Our fallen King

I shall not reminisce
On the stench of prejudice
That burned away at the skin of my fathers

Only you, truly know
What it means to chastised
Shunned away and despised
I only shed, the purest of empathy
To the best of my craft
As swift as I pen

I’ll sing your praises
When all war is won
My allegiance to you
My weapon to your whim

 To my battered love
And her alone
Fallen at the hands
Of our honored hatred

Your blood will stream
Your blood will pool
Drained beside me
My lacerations as deep

Tragedy
Will cart us off the same
Bound in cause
For the better of our followers
But may the onlookers
Learn of you most
For only you
Truly know the psalm of toil