Bio: Dr. Ernest Williamson III has published poetry and visual art in over 350 national and international online and print journals. His poetry has been nominated 3 times for the Best of the Net Anthology. View his artwork here: www.yessy.com/budicegenius __



____________________________________________________________________ The Nonsense of Love

in the midst of corsets
boring postures from fearless beasts
languor and lay
in mutilated stems of grass
leaves
limbs
be-trusted unto the
white
Asian
tigers
inside
I've found a sentence
a subject imbued with
articles
cloth and rotten verbs
follow
callow it be
said of me
a restless bore
waiting in the flowers
aside a Valentine's card
red and gray
rejections
posing while melting
froth of snow
inside and out
my jolting
crying
hands



______________________________________ Inside The Barrel


Old Nelly

was
a 330 pound world war 3 vet from Texas
one purple heart to his name
one shabby wheelchair holding him up
what a temper
i barely said hi to him last week
surely Old Nelly likes me
we use to smoke Cuban cigars together on his front porch
this guy never failed to let me know that I coughed too much
as i wondered why he never coughed
one thing is for sure though
Old Nelly is dead now
and i have 90 pounds and 3 light years of courage to gain
in order to outweigh my damn coughing
day in
day out...

________________________________________________________________ The Etymology of Please



can you stay here with me?
I've made peanut butter soup
lentil soup and broiled asp
to drink there is me and a bottle
of aged vodka
it is good
also I have a kiss waiting for your trouble
and money
lots of it
ready to fold and strain
in your pocket
I know you can stay here with me
even if I don't look as your desire requires
I can grant many of your wishes with haste
and locks from my head are
pleasant
real
free for you to admire
never mind my wet and salty face
I just know things before they happen
especially before they happen
to me


_____________________________________ The Joy Missing Wisdom Teeth


i don't know anything
any
thing
in the
wastelands
the cities as I
lament
and fray
and draw
along canisters of red
sauce
layers of muck
drab winds hush
with candle
light I fall
in the outer
spheres
of love's
conceit
but even
after the noon in
morning
I mourn for
death
life
in the crevices of trying to find
likeness
i don't know
anything
but as the water touches my feet as

the dew melds with codas from eardrum drumming humdrum
I fall

into your
hot
valley
peace
pieces
of silly sounds
letting me be wan but famous
though as i have said to you
Your Honour
i don't know any
thing
and yes,
I still love you