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Willie Wright Poem
For Laura
She suffered in silence from the years of abuse
If not for the violence she felt of no use
She denied that her soul was addicted to pain
Inside she felt cold so her blue eyes would rain
She had beautiful dreams somewhere in her youth
Of being a queen then she discovered the truth
That love can go wrong if left up to a man
It will not be strong if it’s not part of God’s plan
Hope painted a picture with colors of laughter
Of missus and mister happily ever after
When he used to kiss her it encouraged her faith
The times he would hit her she didn’t feel safe
Through all the trouble she had time to conceive
Despite the struggle she just couldn’t leave
She knew in her heart things would only get worse
She accepted the dark blaming God for the curse
If not for her kids she’d give it all back
Thinking time won’t forgive what’s been done in the past
I wish I knew her before she was broken by man
To give these words to her so she’d understand
That a woman’s heart has one unique chance
She must use all her smarts when choosing a man
Not all of us can wear shiny armor
Some men you can’t trust they’d only harm her
But not to give up time can be a friend
You may have the Lord’s luck the next corner you bend
There is time for love you are still that queen
Ask the Father above and you’ll see what I mean
The beauty with in you will never fade
God has always been with you; He’s never delayed
I must remind you; you are His greatest gift
Don’t look behind and the pain won’t exist
Copyright © Willie Wright | Year Posted 2012
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Willie Wright Poem
I chose
I could’ve been
A homebound hermit,
Hypnotized by the hum
And hue,
Of a high-tech
HD computer screen.
A slave
To the
Rhythmic rap
Of
Clicking keys;
Depriving me
Of much
Needed rest.
I’d Search
For Love
And friendship
In a network
Of strangers,
Oblivious to
The world
Outside.
I would’ve
Made a great
Defense lawyer.
With my
Appetite to argue.
I’d rescue
Common crooks,
Convicted of crimes;
From the
Confinements
Of a cell.
I’d lobby
For leniency
With lavish
Litigation laws.
Dedicating myself
To Dissembling
The Death penalty
I should’ve
Joined
The army,
A proud patriot,
Surpassing
My peers
Through promotion;
From a potato peeling private,
To a more
Prominent position.
Pushing my
Paratroopers out
Of a plane.
Parading my men
On the field
Of battle.
I’d receive
A war
Winning wound,
Perhaps a
Purple Heart.
I could’ve
Been a detective.
Cleverly cracking
Cold cases-
CSI style,
Coercing confessions
From criminals
And Con-men.
Collecting a
Cheap watch,
As compensation
For my commitment
To the precinct.
I should’ve
Been a doctor.
Devoting my life
To curing
The incurable,
Letting long hours
Deprive me
From family.
Always
At the
Beckon call,
Of work
Provided beeper.
Carrying out
Curative procedures,
On clients
That are
Scarcely clinging
To life.
I would’ve
Made a
Terrific teacher.
Choosing to
Live my life
Through the
Youthfulness of
My students.
Teaching them
To take on
The world
With caution
And Confidence.
Lecturing them
With lessons
Of longevity.
Disguising
My desire-
Jealous of
Their youth.
My choice,
Was not to
Focus on
One aspect
Of life,
But to
Experience
Them all.
With the stroke
Of a pen,
I walk
All paths.
I chose
All destinies.
I could’ve
Been this,
Or been that…
I should’ve
Done this,
Or done that…
I would’ve
Made this
Or made that…
Instead,
I chose to write.
Copyright © Willie Wright | Year Posted 2012
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Willie Wright Poem
A Beautiful Death
High on a hill hidden by shrubs
I am embraced by the branches of trees
I am worshiped by nature
I hide from the exhaustion of humanity’s harassment
I am safe from the horrendous appetite of others
Here comes a high-priced counselor hollering about an inheritance bequeath by my ancestors
He does not pay homage to the harmonic hum of creation
He swats at the harmless honeybees hovering in non-threating swarms
He fails to hear the healing hymns shared by my Father
He has hunted me down to handover hundreds and thousands worth of useless currency
How did he find me?
He is horrified when I asked him to keep his check
Instead…give me what the Spartans called “A beautiful death.”
When moments of melancholy manipulate my mind
I remain in my imagination
Where merry memories as a minor make me remember mere minutes of mirth
Immediately I am reminded of how miserable my millennium has become
My emotions seem meaningless
My time on Mother Earth, a mistake
Remarkably my mood mutates
And I ask My Lord for mercy;
Remove me from this realm
And give me what the Spartans call “A beautiful death.”
Quietly in my coffin—tricked into wearing a tux
A comical smirk marks my mask
I could have collapsed on a corner
Countless wouldn’t have noticed
One more cigarette would have been nice—
Because cancer did not caress my corpse
So-called companions circle my casket
Consoling each other with questions
They are all concerned… “Suicide?” they asked
They sincerely think they could have rescued me
From the epic conclusion of my existence
Their cold-hearts in chaos—they are infected with karma
Could The Creator resurrect me back to collect compensation for their cruelty?
I would decline
Let me relax in peace
And keep what the Spartans call “A beautiful death.”
Copyright © Willie Wright | Year Posted 2012
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Willie Wright Poem
The Writer
Inspired by darkness he writes only at night;
Studying stanzas—seducing spellchecks
With the stroke of a pen he is anyone or anything
His great works are subjected to sabotage—prone to plagiarism
His ideas far exceed his lifespan
He will take them with him so that they remain unforgotten
There are times when he is repulsed by his own thoughts
Ashamed that his open-mindedness is so brave— so brazen
He must be careful with his words
Disguising them to avoid unwanted attention
He masters this skill by the memorizing
His important blueprints: a dictionary and thesaurus
The only two books worthy to his cause
He is a word hunter; silently stalking his prey
Snatching them from songs
Taking them from television
Scavenging from scripts
He fishes them out in an ocean of conversations—inspecting his catch cautiously
Releasing the insignificant
Filleting the essential
He doesn’t waste words by packing them into passages
He displays them attractively on a canvas of possibilities
He raises them from lonely letters to surprising syllables
He rescues them from reckless writers—saving them from abuse
His message is vivid and clear, he refuses to practice the art of confusion
Without writing he is nothing; another drone in a misguided world
With it, he is unstoppable
Creating creative carnage
Amongst freethinkers and immortalizing injustices…in print
He sees he world in rich detail; analyzing the outline of all creation
Nothing is missed— from the tiniest atom to the utmost wonder
His memory is impeccable—photographic and precise
Every element, since childhood, is engraved in his mind
He has a fetish for fountain pens—collecting them like trophies
Never using them, only worshiping their power, it is mightier than any sword
Writing is his purpose
Even though he will never be satisfied
Every draft s a rough one— susceptible to alterations
It is his weakness
He is forever troubled by the idea of revision
Copyright © Willie Wright | Year Posted 2012
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Willie Wright Poem
My mind
My mind is a prison
Overpopulated with remorse
Incarcerated by images of sin
My mind refuses rehabilitation
It cowers in a concrete corner
Face in hands; protesting parole
My mind punishes me with guilt
Terrorizing my thoughts
A reoccurring rape of recidivism
My mind is unforgiving
It confiscates my hope
Segregates my dreams in isolated darkness
Allowing occasional one hour visits of promise.
My mind is a complicated collage of convicting confessions
Callously castrating my continuing calls for clemency
My mind mocks mercy
It Mimics moments of misery In a mental mirror
Molesting my mild memories in a riot of regrets
My mind wants no truce
It gladly guards my goals behind gilded gates of grief
Giving me a life sentence of worry
My mind is a prison that I cannot escape
Every night I am summoned from my dim-lit cell
And violently beaten into submission
Here, I repent
I pray for a pardon
And although the Almighty has given me a reprieve
My mind assures me that death is my only release
Copyright © Willie Wright | Year Posted 2012
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Willie Wright Poem
The Sermon
You must be mistaken has it slipped your mind
Allow me to explain it to you one more time
I’ll never leave God…again I say never
Even though your temptation is relentless and clever
Your invites will cease if you only listen
There is no pact between demons and Christians
No treaties of peace where white flags are waved
No praying for pagans so they can be saved
No contract with Satan that I will be signing
There can be no truce between hyenas and lions
Don’t think I don’t notice with my screening eyes
That your spirit is wicked and you mouth’s full of lies
How you offer false hope with silver and gold
All of the things that poisons men souls
I thought I made it clear and you understood
That there is no alliance between evil and good
I have no interest in any unholy
I’ll restate my case for those who don’t know me
In the book by my Father—the bible, it’s written
There is no forgiveness for demons by Christians
Say what you want; call me a liar
And I’ll watch you from Heaven while you dance in the fire
You have been warned of your sinful desires
Stripped of your wealth you worked hard to acquire
Thought you were so smart and you could sneak through
But God knows your heart…He’s watching you
In the depths of your mind even you know
There is only one place where you’re destined to go
Below the crust where the heathens hold mass
In a fiery blast off sulfur and gas
In Revelations there is a vision
All demons will lose the war fought by Christians
So you read the bible; the devil does too
You can recite the scriptures; so can a fool
All the earth’s sinners are welcome to church
All the pretenders live under the dirt
Don’t ruin your future by blaming your past
God will forgive you; all you need do is ask
He will expose the true you inside
And all your intentions that you desperately hide
You talk the talk but your walk isn’t straight
The hour is near and you’re running late
May God have mercy on you
Copyright © Willie Wright | Year Posted 2012
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Willie Wright Poem
She Simply Said
I'm no model...
I do have my moments,
When the mid-day sun
Compliments my masculine mask—marvelously
And my mug is admired
So when I asked her
What does she sees in me?
She simply said, "It's the way that you kiss me."
I'm not a "snazzy dresser,"
Jeans, T-shirt and Nike's
Are my trademark attire
I do appreciate the comfort
Of a hooded sweatshirt
With an inside pocket
To safeguard my American Sprits-
Yes I smoke...casually.
Every once in awhile,
I'm forced to wear a tux-
And my oh my do I look fabulous
So when I asked her
Is it the way that I dressed,
She simply said, "It's the way that you kiss me."
I'm no millionaire,
Though I do welcome wealth,
I am not fascinated with temptation
I prefer to live comfortably
I do not indulge
In unnecessary needs
I accept what The Lord allows me to have
I take pleasure in struggle and its results that brings strength
I have had my share of riches
A vehicle that advertised vanity
Eating expensive entrees
While sipping red wine-"pinky-out."
A hair dresser to tease my hair,
Therapeutically conditioning and combing
Then creating thin-lines of "corn-rows."
So when I told her
I don't know what she sees in me,
She simply said, "It's the way that you kiss me."
Even though I crave
An intense love-making session,
I'm no xxx-movie star
I have had my moments of longevity
When my mind was altered with enhancers
I don't like to disappoint,
So I give fantastic fore-play
And I am serious about my service
Providing the premium package
Although,
There have been times when
I have been known to exceed my limits—
It's rare but it happens
And strange sounds are sung
So when I hinted to her
I know that's what she sees in me,
She simply said, “It’s the way that you kiss me."
I am a clown,
I find laughter
In the worst situations
I giggle at accidents
Make fun of the miserable
I am a jester
Playing practical jokes
On unsuspecting people
I embarrass my
Women in public—because I love them
I do act my age sometimes
Transforming into a decent citizen
Who’s courteous and respectful
But mostly,
My personality is outspoken and careless
So when I told her
I don't know how she puts up with me,
She simply said, “It’s the way that you kiss me."
This poem was written by Willie Wright
Copyright © Willie Wright | Year Posted 2012
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Willie Wright Poem
Mixed Fruit
From the brutality of birth a baby is born
A unique combination of heritage is created
By two who were star-crossed
Ferocious in spirit; she kicks and screams
Announcing her inherited suffering
With cries from ancient spirits
Her almond eyes are those of my ancestors: calm and curious.
Her thick curly and untamed hair radiates with strength and confidence
Every strand delicate as the leaves of her native Bonsai
Her Facial features are sculpted from genes from the Far East
Graceful are her hands that search the air for security
Dancing delicately in a world of dreams
Her soul is encased by a fragile film of flesh—smooth as oriental silk
It is a beautiful bamboo brown achievable only through nature
Elegance stalks her all the way to womanhood
She is naturally seductive; with an appetite for lust
Her body demands pleasure.
In the dark her movements are those of my ancestors
A rhythmic rock that cannot be duplicated
She is dedicated to her performance
Pleasing her prince with perfected positions
Creating climatic conclusions to her sexual expression
She is an Asian cuisine with the African roots from those of my ancestors
Copyright © Willie Wright | Year Posted 2012
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Willie Wright Poem
Nothing More
There is nothing more precious
Than the creation of woman;
She is the mother of all life.
God truly has made the perfect blend
Of mind, body, and soul.
There is nothing more splendid
Than a woman's spirit;
She is the matriarch of hope.
Instinctively, she elevates
The morale of others.
There is nothing more powerful
Than a woman's will;
No obstacle to rigid, no dream unimaginable.
All things are possible in her domain.
There is nothing more harassing
Than a woman's beauty;
She is a desired distraction; a living Goddess.
No artist can replicate her sweet silhouette.
There is nothing more rewarding
Than pleasing a woman;
She surrenders herself to love and romance,
In exchange for a confident glow.
There is nothing more pleasant
Than the company of a woman;
Her gentle words of peace,
Together with her soothing touch,
Are sensitive and inspiring.
There is nothing more comforting
Than the love of a woman,
Nothing more
Nothing more
Nothing more.
Copyright © Willie Wright | Year Posted 2012
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Willie Wright Poem
My Darling Nicky
Most other men
Would just make good friends
With their habits of leaving
Deceiving and cheating
But not me my love, I am not here by chance
I have only two needs; love and romance
My darling Nicky the day will soon come
When your days of pain are finally done
On your delicate face will be thousands of smiles
You'll stop doubting your beauty and wear it in style
I am surprised that we weren't connected by fate
Maybe this is the date that will make us soul mates
I want to take you to dinner and feed you by hand
With long lovely nights and walks on the sand
I'd draw you a bath, when you're having "One of those days"
Light candles and oils to bring you positive waves
You might not like your feet, but baby I do
And I'd massage them with pleasure and then take all of you
Breakfast in bed, if we have the time
Because I'd rather go hungry and continue to grind
You'd be late for work every day that you wake-up
Wait...you don't work, I buy all your clothes and make-up
We'll think of baby names, while I rub your tummy
My strong sexual hunger, you bet' not run from me
I'd do your hair, even though I can't braid
You'd wear it pride, any style that I made
I'd start a war with the world for just one of your tears
That's not from my joy, but pain or fear.
Your body is mine, to others it's toxic
I love when it moves, so sleek and erotic
I've studied it well, like I was in school
Every dimple, freckle, and bad girl tattoos
But dear it's your eyes that always get me
And they can have me forever my darling Nicky.
Copyright © Willie Wright | Year Posted 2012
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