Details |
William Rodriguez Poem
Buck off a twenty; should twenty
buckshots mean nineteen too many?
Extinguished abruptly,
with Godspeed so mighty,
effortlessly shattered,
sending molars afar.
So far they say a
shard was found in
the neighbor's yard.
Found someone at the bar.
Didn't want to get in the car.
Pray tell, that didn't get far.
I arrive at the walkway;
I push past a pause, just
I can't stand until
standing right side up,
I saw this rerun show.
Chest cavity. Ghost town captivity
to gesture from behind,
telling, "They were scared."
Startled, so too are we.
Starting up again, approached
closer with a tender voice.
Damn! Blasted fantasy poaching,
encroaching as the situation
abused the determination. In
determination abused, saw
and became amused.
Morals annihilate as
fury eradicates saving grace.
Roof off mouth demonstrates a
desperate need to escape.
Erupting out, fountain snatch;
flung, streamers are strung
about—it's raining.
However, it had ended
before
any ringing got started.
Destroy the annoyance so
they
can bury a face,
not only a body.
At least...
Copyright © William Rodriguez | Year Posted 2024
|
Details |
William Rodriguez Poem
Meant to say, "I miss you." No, it won't take long. The longing kept going and going; it's
gone.
Is there a reason I see you in song? The song remains the same except when stations
change.
Instances of tempted moments held in my head, forgot how it felt to roam on our old
homestead.
When thinking, sat sleeping for mere moments just to spend.
Up ahead, inside a booth, perhaps it'll contain you.
The day repeats; this place is the same.
To think that I'll see you again.
I have not before. Perhaps today's different; please
broaden my perspective.
I've been daydreaming of red lips and Cleopatra's eyes.
I plead to the god of romance, let me please spend me this time dreaming of red lips
and Cleopatra's eyes.
I ask for too much; this, yes, I know.
Happy and go-lucky, Independence freed.
Don't let this toll toil and dream of taking from me.
Written on Dec-1-2023
© William Paul-Eric Rodriguez
Copyright © William Rodriguez | Year Posted 2024
|
Details |
William Rodriguez Poem
In Loving Memory of David Padilla Jr.
Taken by the unforeseen.
I share my birth month with
(K)Crystal.
My Cousin must be
feeling phantom parameters and
missing links.
Zoom.
Thumbing through everything
from past to present.
I miss your presence.
Life that filled the room
with laughter so loud.
A love stretched out.
So proud I known you.
I'd never change you.
Home real quiet, the silence
keep me company.
Love lonely too.
I wait even though
spirituality was never my
directive.
Id never dream of
losing a sought after
perspective.
My Father broke the silence.
He told me that you had to go.
That you're already gone.
I hear the air whistle blow.
The distance, it's everywhere
and haunts me with its stretch
expansive, blaring with
warbling trill.
Into my ears, attentively
listening because
the call cannot wait.
I refuse to miss the call.
I'll react before
August hesitates
again.
Shall not lose faith in the realm
of the railed express ways.
I sometimes believe when the whistle
blares, you encompass the path I need.
In the fever pitch I soak in
the noisy roaming careless
Intersection.
I miss you.
Never forget you.
I'm not baptized so if you see me
show me.
I'll reach up to you.
That's better than living,
knowing that gladly I take
My dastardly beating.
My friend.
My dawg.
My missing month.
Feb, 15, 1977
to
Aug, 9, 2023
All the love I received,
All the love for me.
I sent to the memory.
Rest easy Padilla..
Copyright © William Rodriguez | Year Posted 2024
|
Details |
William Rodriguez Poem
Florid banshees recoiled, neck and hankering sneer.
A succinctly exuberant suggestion when selective.
Came on, fell flat with laconic ornamentation.
A miniature jaunt, interment; glove comparted.
Pin-striped foxtails attuned tune maddening clairvoyants.
Precisely predisposed, wine-flavored latten tobaccos.
A wooden-tipped juxtaposition, stilling waisted.
Bygone midge nonguarded, slunk olive drabbing on bayou.
Thicken handkerchief lightly dabbing brow.
Darkness entrapment, fiat practice gymnastics.
Money management, coinage magnet, honored in mathematics.
Backflipping,
Backtracking,
Backpacking.
Super-Soaker moisture, quickie; quickly, socks on prickly.
Sloped incline, inside Mount Saint Helens' Slip 'n Slide.
Copyright © William Rodriguez | Year Posted 2024
|
Details |
William Rodriguez Poem
If I should get punctured, laying leaking Crimson Tide,
call me Deacon Blues as I slowly start to die.
If they miss me, take it easy.
All is as it should be.
It's best to cut losses, cut ties, change your name, skip town, and grow a beard.. Like To-day, act now before patience sells out in turn I act out of character, and when I leave this is all that you'll talk about.
Our natural satellite departs slow.
Binds of the parasitic plant; first love ties.
The pulse on your neck is chattering, It's slurring its words.
Downtrodden, ragged, in rags soaking drenched and sitting comfortable in combustible liquid stenches.
Oblivious even in the question, oddly aggressively asking,
a straggly demand, expectant to be handed the light to smoke himself a real 'Death Sentence' cigarette.
The late moon is stunning, floating, acting like you're here and really you're staying, we all know that you're leaving.
What are we even thinking?
The only finger on the pulse plays to the beat of a night that reminds me of older days.
Guarded adversaries; imagine that.
The Heart Elapse.
Collapse.
Old and Grey or Rob the cradle to the grave.
Copyright © William Rodriguez | Year Posted 2024
|
Details |
William Rodriguez Poem
It's a question of what you can do.
Well, I can work.
That's what I can do.
Yet, I can't be with people or be friendly.
I just don't have it within me.
That's why I'm outside.
For this, I remain on my hill, on my descent.
It's a crescent just for you and me.
Just think, it's a fact, and that's just the way it is.
Can we agree now that this 'it' has always been?
This way been it, and this way will be it.
The way in the future.
In the way of our kids.
Yes, I can work.
That's what I can do.
Everybody else knows how to play ball.
I've never learned how to play ball.
So the ball don't play me too.
Copyright © William Rodriguez | Year Posted 2024
|
Details |
William Rodriguez Poem
Anointed in Kerosene to confer in agony with ignited desecration of mortal flesh to bone, seared by melting anguish writhe blistering contortions through a suppressed discomfort in furious continual thresh heshers pernicious by physical immolation.
Written on Apr/27/2024
Copyright © William Rodriguez | Year Posted 2024
|
Details |
William Rodriguez Poem
The peak of the spire left me wanting.
I welcome it all no matter how haunting.
Take in my Plagues.
Taken by Plagues.
Pathogens are airborne and live bloodborne.
Vector-borne injected, infected, will forever
remain undetected.
Foodborne now room warm can wait until
Those desperate dudes need food.
No matter the percentage of the Tithe.
No matter the amount of zeros provided.
No matter the cost it adapts too fast.
No Matter the God that is called upon.
omnivore.
carnivore.
herbivore.
They will all be gone.
Scared they froth and choke upon tongue.
Cling to life, for high hills they will run.
Death.
Famine.
War.
Pestilence.
Reshapen the globe, despite what remains.
A flash of lightning blinds let us say bye-bye.
No matter its shape.
No matter its size.
Everything is smitten, yet everything dies.
I know you fear death.
For what?
If not for us then not for it.
There won't be horns or a loving parade.
Only in black, can we make our escape.
Only in nothing void of space.
Expectations: Grandiose and oh-so-great.
Deformation: Displeasure principle waits.
Wake up, sleep heavy, in the cold unshaken.
At the human expense, rip out the page
no more would be written.
Nothing is nothing and all is decay.
Here is a tomb on Earth, it happened
Again.
Copyright © William Rodriguez | Year Posted 2024
|
Details |
William Rodriguez Poem
If a time and place is different
for them to fire off their weaponry,
to lie and win against a significant.
What keeps a similarity in liability,
to lie and win in a predicament
where skill is an absolute necessity?
Bold and without a last abatement,
I see through the lies of industry.
Bold and without a past abashment,
wouldn't be paid a cent currency.
Seen by gross pure aggrandizement,
violent potent a cologne adversary.
Laughably, an obvious despondent.
Is there no end to one so lairy?
A stone thrown, I notice your salient.
I won't resemble the tuning veeries.
Even no pruning, losing an assailant.
The truth is tied up in flimflammery.
Path set by the trying time rodent.
Cocky, peacocking varies ostentatiously.
Read past the first half constituent.
Go pass-through a proof for checkery.
Auction of nonsense falsified Rembrandt.
Author a snow cipher meeting misery.
Copyright © William Rodriguez | Year Posted 2024
|
Details |
William Rodriguez Poem
Seems my handwriting will never improve,
Yearlong efforts, letters still oblong.
Not quite right, but we pretend it’s not all bad,
I fixate on each line, a prerequisite approach.
So next and then that line and its spacing, proper
striving for excellence, sentence, cursed to find
some semblance, a distant echo. Earshot.
Eardrum. POP!
Outward rang disdain, my reality indifferent,
Marks resembling a bell curve in chicken sketch,
It distorts my outlook, tarnishes self-image.
I try with practice sheets laid out,
Only to be reminded of the horrors I scrawl within.
Devastating, humiliating,
Suppressing nausea,
Sick of this, hating my own thoughts,
Ruining half-decent poems or ideas.
Regardless of merit or talent shown,
sent into the fire.
scribe on restroom walls
its contrived and
makes me writhe.
I discard writing tools,
My creative well runs dry, deceased,
Gone, past tense, already done in.
Progress slower than a snail,
with kidney failures
Skull soon exposed.
I’ll tear at my scalp,
Writing used to be fun.
You'll say, 'shut my trap'.
The torment I hold towards
every pen, pencil, or marker on any shelf.
Chasing after graphite,
specific utensils, lead grade, ink, acrylic,
I want them gone, obliterated,
Every trace, every hint.
EXTINGUISHED EVERY PEICE OF
. . .
Sorry, I get carried away...
This heretic! The disappointment,
Frail and brittle behind every attempt.
All result in zero, void, null, nil.
Here I sit, head in hands,
My task forever incomplete,
More setbacks, my drive
and desire to compete.
Now I understand why progress is elusive, unseen.
Hard-scoped when each step shown seems hopeless
rooted in the waste of regression.
I would be remiss if my speech lacked spirit.
Results: Inconclusive
Next topic: I digress,
I relinquish anima,
Lay to rest a thousand eyes’ constraints,
Seeking arrangements through attainment.
If there's space to graze, then seize the day.
Something bountiful in the invisible,
Nature's beauty in the winds of change,
Wrinkles on sheets of belief,
A moment for molecules deem insignificant,
Nested in the fabric of space-time,
An embarrassment that's all mine,
It is really all fine.
Signed, A construct for mortality.
Copyright © William Rodriguez | Year Posted 2024
|