Joseph Williams Poems

Hands are more than bones and tendon
They are servants of our ambitions
Tools of desire and means of destruction
It is our hands that we shape the world like clay
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We all must find our course in Life's flowing waters
Some days will be met with peaceful winds and joy
While others only the raging tempest's pain is found
And beyond the empty promise of Tomorrow's shore
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He was a devout and fiery anarchist
She worked as a Government official
He wore hoodies and joggers
She dressed in skirts prim and proper
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It was a peaceful June day when I spoke to him
Dressed in plain gardening clothes and sunshine
Listening to my youthful worries and woes in life
All while tending to his precious lilies and orchids
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As I rest beside the waters
I know death approaches soon
As the blade has struck deep
And the blood flows steadily like a river
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I remember your exuberant laughter that filled these walls
And an air of joviality so thick it cemented to everything you passed
You would find ways to pester and prod, always looking for me to break my poker face
Just to brush it off and laugh away my annoyance with you
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My uncle was a man who was rich in wealth but poor in management
With every meal on the house and and every free boarding house built
And every stranger that had one of his shirts on their backs
He died with no heirs or fortune to be inherited, penniless as a pauper
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In a life where only death is guaranteed, why fear the rising of tomorrow?
While mortal time slips through our desperate hands, why not enjoy the gift of now?
No matter where we exist, are we not granted the beauty of existence?
Fear not for the lands unseen beyond the winding roads and tribulations of life
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Haircuts are fickle things; they're a lot like life
Sometimes you wake up, look in the mirror, and like the way it looks
Sometimes? Not so much
Sometimes you wish your hair would part a little more neatly
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