Thursday, December 13, 2012

Ravenous by Stephen Jarrell Williams

Father of blood-red fields,
you must be weary.

Haven't you enough of the dead?

There's certainly enough wounded...

Is your thirst unending?

It must be.
Here comes the silver jets.
The black bombers.

Your will is solid.
Constant.  Ravenous.

Could you at least consider
the women and children
huddled in their homes?

You're ruthless, aren't you?

The explosions are your laughter.
The fires are your long fingertips
probing the corpse.

Published in The Dark Fiction Spotlight- January 2011

Published in Mirror Dance- June 2009

Published in Black Book Press *

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

Sister Revolution by Stephen Jarrell Williams


They killed my sister.

Hung her
on the side of the road.

An example
not to tell,
when you see
how they pull our strings
from birth to premature death.

She was a good girl.

Changed her clothes behind the door
leading the revolution.

She's still alive in spirit.

Her voice sweet
as a lioness at their throats.


Published in Deuce Coupe- February 2010

Monday, September 3, 2012

In The Morning by Stephen Jarrell Williams

We walk in a quiet march
under heavy clouds,

mist falling

mini pearls clinging to our coats.

The singing has ended for the night,

the song still in our minds,

our throats swore

by the meaning of the words.

Tomorrow we will be in the City of Cities,
all the world will hear.

We are some of the many

millions wanting

change in the kingdoms of government...

We move on,

our numbers blurring the sight of us...

Thunder rumbling in the distance,

countries beginning to bow.

Not enough bullets, or fire, or depravity

can weigh us down like the old days lying,

lying, so much lying...

We are no longer meek.

Our strength is our will

pushing down the walls with our flood of flesh.

In the mourning we will sing.  We will sing.
And they will listen.

Published in The Camel Saloon- January 2011

Friday, August 3, 2012

Back to the Beginning by Stephen Jarrell Williams


We're in a slow tumble,

The whole country a quack,
paying now and forever.

They say it's our fault.
Maybe it is...

Thinking of the kids...
We deserve to be stepped on.

But I believe
we can shake ourselves out of this.

Changing those at the top
to the bottom.

Going back to the beginning,
common sense and hard work...

A friend to earth and sky and self.


Published in Word Catalyst Magazine- February 2010

Thursday, July 12, 2012

Lost In Iraq by Stephen Jarrell Williams

Never free
in the arms of the ice queen,

mopping the floor
with the back of your head,

you're grinning in ecstasy and pain,
humming that tomorrow will stay away.

You're flawed
with the war in your dreams,

your old outpost still
in the mountains of the penniless,

falling forever
into her eyes,

she keeps your stick swinging,
fingers cold,

multicolored in the spin of your room,

your uniforms in the closet
hanging above the sniffing rats,

they snuck in
nestled in her purse,

as she steals your nobility,
snuffs out your fire.

Published in Counterexample Poetics- 2009

Thursday, June 28, 2012

In A Dark Time by Stephen Jarrell Williams

In a dark time
within us and here,

we smooth ourselves over

with oil and gossip.

Beating our heels into the floor music,

paying more with less


Whistling old songs

like they'll save us.

Give us that shot,

vaccine against swine

boiled in the underworld.

There's not enough

lighthouses to cast light over the dying sea.

The fires are burning California.

Where's the great Kennedy from yesterday?

Only Dylan still has a spark to share.

We should march for something...

We're in a vacuum of overpopulation,

soulless mass,


in a dark time.

Published in September 2009

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Ego by Stephen Jarrell Williams


None of us
what the world was coming to

we had ideas and even visions
nothing like the slap and roar of the end

children no longer born
women no longer loved
sea and sky no longer blue

earth, wood, and stone
on every man so full of himself.

Published in December 24, 2011

Wednesday, May 23, 2012

Throne Sitters by Stephen Jarrell Williams



the downward

of the elite's fat asses.

Published in February 2011

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

No Man's Land by Stephen Jarrell Williams

You're shaking,
mumbling on

barren plain of smoldering


distant city

smoking ruins,

river full

boiling ash,

burnt boots,

hanging rags,

coughing hoarse,

chewing blood,

you survived the blast,

doomsday bomb,

searching mile after mile,

no woman to touch,

no holy house,

no sacred word.

Published in October 2009

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Down And Out by Stephen Jarrell Williams

on the rim

of the spinning city,

at home in my dizzy whirl,

licking my computer screen,

dust of many,

buzz of more, more, more...

All the toxic leaders

soaking in mega tubs,

my lifeblood keeping them afloat

with my fractured family

and bent self.

Southland weather promising fire

sticks burning like pretzels,

salt of the earth leaving a slight stain

down the middle of the street,

shame, shame, shame...

I don't want to die just yet,

wanting to squeeze it before the crash.

I wanted what others wanted,

lost sight of the everyday glow.

The system corrupting.

My toes in the stir.

Round and round,

we all fall


Published in Shoots And Vines- December 2009

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

American Destiny by Stephen Jarrell Williams

Half the night listening to them
licking their fingers of barbecued chicken,

out my window they cover the earth

rolling their joints out of Bible pages

unafraid of dying,

a thousand tribes mingled and massed,

no remorse

America splitting,

tipping into two seas,

tearing down the middle: land, cities, people...

She made me tie her to the hood of my car,

naked and posing and laughing with speed

80 mph down the freeway

busting through tollbooths,

wind howling

going off the cliff believing she'll sprout wings.

Published in Rusty Truck- October 2009

Monday, January 9, 2012

Chaotic World by Stephen Jarrell Williams

a piece of the pain,
fraction of the frustration,
dipping of the down

Getting out
on the streets to scream,
banners to burn,
rocks to fly,
and maybe a change

But the girl with a bullet in her head
weeps in our memory,
a million candles lit,
a dark night
blazing on the hillside that never sees the sun.

Published in Dark Chaos- September 2011