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Timothy T. Willett shared a letter in the
Poetry group 8 months, 3 weeks ago
A word picture of my soul...
To start at the top from the beginning
My plan was to drop myself from this living
Moving over to the left you’ll see
The pot I grew and smoked at need
Moving down will sum up the whole page
Cuz this life sux so I found rage
Up to the left is 3 empty bottles of Jack
And with one left to go you know trouble will attack
And if you drink all of this bourbon
A migraine I think is what you’ll be burning
Up in the corner with the Marlboro cigarettes
Is a tipped bottle of vodka I’ll never forget
Cuz every morning on the way to school
With coffee and vodka I’d try to be cool
Manson up there to sing about the drugs
With heroin to share my two-timed love
And a Zippo I always collected
To cook on a spoon what I injected
AC/DC is music to my ears
And Budweiser is the king of beers
And if these beers are in your fridge
Then there is a killer in the kitchen in which you live
The cigarette butt shows the most
Of how the cigarettes I smoke are gross
With Rolling Rock beer and kinky games to play
And a bottle of crown Royal I’m King of the day
The long line of beautiful Fame
Are women goddesses who make me want to change
The colorful square of cartoons down there
Is it made up fantasy so life ain’t so bear
The clown is me the poem is mine
Jail is my box and life is my time
And the poem says: “Clown in a box”
(This clown broke down cornered in his room
Inside he found no escape from his Doom
He loves his clown inside the box
Let’s shoved back down under pressure and a lock
Cuz he alone is much the same
In his empty home he goes insane
But what’s not the same as the Jack in the box
Is that he feels pain from life’s hard knocks
And we all know when life has him down
Because he won’t show the true face of a real clown
It’s no big deal because life is a joke
But his pain is real and his heart is broke
Now over time his tears are dry
Through all the years he’s had to cry
So no longer can this clown show any pain
From the box he has found only himself to blame.)
The Harley-Davidson will be my next bike
It’s been a dream my entire life
The beautiful cheeks you see from the back
Represents the only good crack
As I saw the beautiful ass
My jaw dropped down and unwinded fast
America is the land of the free
But sex drugs and rock and roll is what it is to me
When you enter the center I’m a monster inside
A suffering rebel poet freak with no place to hide
The Christmas holiday is my worst
And Pantera will always be first
The watch on the side is there to remind
It’s time to change and not rewind
And with an Irish blessing added to the list
Art doesn’t get any more modern than this.I wrote this at Correctional Treatment Facility in the year 2000, Toledo Ohio
Drawing on top done by: Julia Speedy
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Timothy, your life sounds like it has been crazy! Throughout all that you have been through, you have maintained such a kind heart and stayed true to yourself. I admire that. You are so strong and I always enjoy reading your poems. Keep it up ♥
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Harper V,
Thank you so much, it is because of you and people like you that I keep on going. Keep being who you are, God did a great work on you ❤️❤️🩹❤️
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