Unworthy Me
By Norman Williams
My American dreams,
My highest aspiration
I found empty, hollow — shallow
Droplets of the American dreams.
Droplets of the American dreams
Inside the American theme,
My American dreams sleepless
Inside my sorrow tomorrow.
Inside my sorrow tomorrow
I dream the American dreams
And find myself wide awake
Inside my American nightmare
Inside my American nightmares,
I’m injured with chronic poverty
And folded up inside a systematic ideal,
That mutilates my highest aspiration;
My American dreams — never meant for unworthy
Me.
The Constant State of Time
By Norman Williams
The constant state of motionless time,
Moving, but going nowhere. This endless
Stillness of frozen time — in slow motion.
Time in its constant state, like snowflakes
Falling from the sky, in its constant state.
A victim of hard time, that drag on and on
Way too long, like a prisoner of time.
Living on borrowed time, the same day,
The same way — the same week, the same month
And the same year after year the same way.
No life I’ve, but what vanished away;
When that which was and that which is,
Constantly slipping away, far — far away.
At times I felt like my world is in decay;
This constant state of time reality
Having me searching for something,
Anything, with some satisfaction, yet
I found nothing, but time in its constant state.
Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, no time out,
No end in sight, just a life in its stillborn state.
And this constant state of doing time;
With failing feet and days that hurt,
When time rotates in its constant state.
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