Biography of William Webb
One of the rare ones: a genuine Florida Cracker! Sebring High School, University of Kentucky, and College of Life.
Been a lifeguard, commercial pilot, cop, executive chauffeur, addiction counselor, and was for many years a drunk myself. Love Florida, and just about every thing in it, if you don't count the immigrant Northerners who have spoiled it so badly.
Been writing one thing and another for most of my life, mostly technical writing for various journals. Now doing it for fun.
William Webb Poems
Is It Acid Indigestion, Or Acrid Indigna...
Not even in an onion pizza dream could I contrive Deceit, conceit and hubris (and buffoonery) like I’ve Borne witness to in Washington o’er these two thousand days And more, since NeoCons and George the Second got their ways.
I've never really understood why anyone would want to live in a condominium Except for power freaks who are excited about being on the board and running their own dominion And folks from abusive families and relationships who are so accustomed to being doormats That they'll put up with just about any kind of intrusive bullcrap about how they should live in their own flats.
In Retrospect, And Forward
I thought the day I saw the towers fall While I ate marmalade, and drank my tea, This brave — yes brave — unnerving enemy, Who looks forward to death, and gives his all,
It Isn'T Easy Bein' Black
It isn't easy bein' black And that is just a natural fact. 'Cause blackness makes you stand right out. In any crowd there'll be a shout
Well, I could spin you tales of troughs aloft How masses move between the poles and doldrums Regale you with the intricacies of The Polar High, La Niña and El Niño
Flights Of Fancy
I'd love to write a poem about the air, About the thrills and freedom that I found Those many thousand feet above the ground Away from Earth and all my problems there.
Oh no! My God! Is that a bug? A lizard scoots across the rug And panicked snowbirds get the spray Or call the bug-man up and say
It must have seemed good sense to drain the swamps, The marshes, sloughs, and other secret places. For surely they appeared to be land wasted On snakes, sawgrass, and other useless things.
Flights Of Fancy
I'd love to write a poem about the air,
About the thrills and freedom that I found
Those many thousand feet above the ground
Away from Earth and all my problems there.
But how can I do justice to a thought
St. Exupery, and John McGee and those
Like Gann and Yeats, in poetry and prose
Pursued as well, and well and truly caught?