The stream (all workshops)
He moves in placid silence.
lotus blossoms bloom
beneath his holy feet
the Buddah walks alone
down an ancient city street
the plight of man is deafening
the cries of man repeat
He walks in quiet dignity to search infinity
and sometimes in the evening
He slips into a trance
meditating on the chakra
to find a missing key
and bring relief from suffering
to all humanity
The End of the World
Written by Kelly Ann Wilson
You can try to comfort me
With how the moon prevails and pulls the tides
The wheat still turns golden brown
From the sun which still shines
And maybe it’s true the rivers run on
Between the ever-growing pines
You can say it’s not the end of the world
Oh, but it is the end of mine
Written January 13, 2024
© 2024 Kelly Ann Wilson
To the happy couple,
I'd like to wish you well,
but alas can only hope
both rot in hell.
To her and her alone,
you don't know me,
but saw it fit, to lie and trick.
May you choke on his d***!
And as for him, where to start.
This pain feels like someone
ripped out my heart, stabbing me
in the back with a poison dart.
Karma is a dish best served cold,
I wish you all you deserve.
While I'm out living life,
and you're chasing something stale and old.
Unexplained whispers
creaking in the floors
Ghostly sighs and rattles
of the knobs upon the doors
Could it be the house is weary?
All these lives it's had to bear
from dancing in the bedroom
to shrieking, pulling hair
I think that I can hear them,
thoughts telling me to listen
I've heard them many nights
alone, out in the kitchen
The 'fridge' grumbles to itself
as I shut the open door
"I just want a sandwich,
that and nothing more"
The funny thing about aging is that you never really feel your age.
When i was 11 i felt 42 and when i was 15 i felt 9.
Now I’m 18, swimming in a world of possibilities, and I feel like every age except my own.
2714 Girard Ave. N. Ghost Tales #3
The Unwanted Kiss
Sour lips pressed to mine in the night
breath the like of which to peel paint !
Push hard against the weight on my chest
harder still, I'm ready to faint
How can a ghost exert such willing
dominance over the living ?
Sitting up sharply I catch my wind
He's taking what I'm not 'giving'
Pray the ebony night stays
So I don't look at faces
I prefer silhouettes shaded
distracted by the bite hug
Cold. My tone isn't strong
it's weak and my tongue
held my body closed distance
heading to my destination as
quickly as you can greet me
bravery who am I to saying that I know what bravery is
Even though I'm stronger than more people then I know
bravery to me it's a stand up and accept what it is to be free
even though I tend to find myself looking below
mainly because I'm still learning how to grow
no more of a s*** show but look out cuz I'm ready to blow
I never really understood what it meant to have full bravery until I learned about the famous James Avery
Early in October
balloons began to disappear.
We took a slow loft into heaven
to watch the glorious sunset
from the troposphere.
The breezes filled our senses
with the autumn leaves below.
The orange and blue horizon
displayed the sunset all aglow.
The city streets were shining
as cars passed slowly down below.
The wonder of the colored balloons
had given us a show.
Winter is in full force today, temperature in the teens.
Seems colder since you left.
On the frosted window sill, a small bird just made its landing,
probably wondering where you went.
Coffee simmering on the stove, a solitary cup waiting patiently
where two cups ought to be.
Perhaps there is sun where you are and you are happy once again.
Here, the wind whispers your name.
I could have begged you to stay but winter's not that lonesome.
Maybe solitude is what we needed.
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