Overwhelmed

by Rick Williams


My mind swings wildly to and fro;
sometimes yes and sometimes no.

Oppressive thoughts may cloud my day,
and taint the things that people say.

A morning, bad, that turns to worse,
makes me wonder why I'm cursed.

Sometimes it just seems to be
that the universe is taunting me.

"What can you stand before you break?"
"Is your mental health at stake?"

There are times I've closed my eyes
and tipped my face toward the skies.

"I give up," I said, "I'm not this tough."
"Take me now. I've had enough."

Of course, nothing happens, I'm still here.
Living day to day, unclear.

Let Me Be Me

by Rick Williams


It's fair to say that I repress
to shy from confrontation.
A lot of things I'd like to say
I don't in resignation.

Can men not wear upon their heads
more than one hat in life?
Can we not be multifaceted
or complex to our wife?

I'm just as guilty with my ways

and my lack of willingness;

I like to lag and do my thing

and socially regress.

I think of things I'd like to do
And shrug a mental sigh.
What's the use when outcomes are
"a waste" in others' eye?

If I like to do some things manually
like chopping foods by hand;
should I be made to feel I'm weird
and have my actions panned?

People, like snowflakes: no two the same
and I think it's just as well.
If we held a party and everyone showed,
"Which one is me?" So hard to tell.

Count the things we have in common
and embrace the things we share.
Don't put our differences on a list
and use it to compare.

I will never be like you
nor will you be like me.
So go ahead and roll your eyes
and let me please be me.

Hobbled by Insomnia

by Rick Williams

A beautiful woman, Ms. Cruz
is stricken with non-sleeping blues.
She tries everything
that the pharmacists bring,
but still lies non-sleeping, confused.

"Why me?" She must ask when she tries
to get sleep but instead only cries.
"What did I do
that causes me to
lie awake every night with closed eyes?"

There must be some way she can fight
this curse that she faces each night.
She only wants sleep
and not fleeting, but deep.
In such a person as she it's not right.

I've known her almost all of my years
since our kindergarten naps and paint smears
so to trade places with her
every other night, I'd endure
At least on some nights to sleep she'd adhere.

Sips of Kauai

by Rick Williams


Land of beaches, water warm
of ocean waves and rainy storms.

Blowing breezes, sometimes cool;
where flip-flops and bikinis rule.

Chickens, wild, roam everywhere
no predators, and not a care.

Surfboards strapped to cars of rust
the search for perfect waves: a must.

Kauai is best in in little sips.
Romance the thought of annual trips.

See, things are different when it's home;
the lack of seasons, not far to roam.

Things of steel cry in despair
in constant moist and salty air.

The growth rate of the native plants
makes maintenance a full-time dance.

It's paradise in almost every way
and, like most, you'll probably want to stay.

But, enjoy your time, leave wanting more
and you'll never tire of the Kauai shore.

Titanium Class

by Rick Williams

[I went to a free work-sponsored day-long class today at Southcenter. The following is a result of my experience:]


I went to a class on titanium
a bit much for my diminutive cranium
Some of it: good
most not understood
Even though they tried hard to explainium.

A Tiny Life Goes Dark

by Rick Williams


The other day I stood helplessly
as a fragile life drained dry.
Once it was a bird we watched
as it would feed, then fly.

The kitty had no anger towards
the birds she watched each day
it's just a fascination
that, to felines, is like play.

She probably couldn't help it
when the bird got close to her
knowing cats, it happened fast
and to the finch: a blaze of fur.

I found the frail and dying bird
on the floor when I came in
the cat was near but didn't care
much to my chagrin.

Cats are very proud of kills
as their trophies they bestow;
but all I had was sadness
as I watched the birds life go.

Irish Limericks

by Rick Williams


There once was a leprechaun named Sam
who drank Guinness all day by the dram.
His thimble he'd tip
and take a large sip
and he'd say, "What a drunkard I am!"

The flaming red hair of a lass
who is Irish--in blood and in sass
always catches my eye
It's a weakness that I
am cursed with, and I doubt it will pass.

Tinnitis

By Rick Williams


The constant hissing in my ears
is it from all those music years?

The walls of sound I hurled their way;
I never dreamed they would decay.

Admonished time and time again
to "Turn it down!" during the din.

Natural loss? Yeah, it could be
I am getting old as you can see.

It's a never-changing monotone
a hiss that always seems to drone.

It makes an auditory wall
that slows the sound waves to a crawl.

Because of it I talk too loud
and find it hard to hear in crowds.

I wonder sometimes if it will
cause me to snap and want to kill.

I wish there was some way I could
turn off this hissing noise for good.

Retiring Jim

by Rick Williams

[Once again someone at work retired and I was inspired with a couple verses of limerick to jot down for the occasion.  FYI: Jim has a side business raising Tilapia.]


A Boeing employee named Jim
is leaving--perhaps on a whim.
Instead of him here
he'll sit home with a beer
and watch his Tilapia swim.

I really don't know him that well
but he's an awful nice guy--I can tell.
But no more can we blame
him when something goes lame;
Now there's one less plan checker to yell.

We wish you the best days ahead
as you lie there uncaring in bed
no alarm clock to scream
you can lay there and dream
or do what your wife says instead.

Depression

By Rick Williams


When depression rears its ugly head
gone is her will to climb from bed.

Helplessness as I stand near.
If I speak, what will she hear?

The best intentions, oft misread
make me wish I'd different, said.

I want to be her supportive rock
but how do I know when not to talk?

Actions, or lack thereof, lead me
to think that quiet is how I should be.

But if I'm wrong and don't say a thing
I'm called indifferent and feel her sting.

Sometimes it's like, every time
I say a thing I've committed a crime.

If it happens while we're in the car
I try conversation but don't get far.

Eventually I sigh and switch to mute
because no words came forth en route.

Turn music on? No, I don't dare
because that means that I don't care.

To play it safe I'm better off to be
completely quiet, as is she.

I can not begin to understand
the woe she feels and must withstand.

I only hope that one day soon
we can put her back in tune.