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Being conversant lacks creativity…

A mind that is conversant has little to say.

Not quite, what I would acknowledge as true,

some of us have little to do.

Being conversant is to offer knowledge,

Being conversant is to share.

I have nothing more to say.

Copyright 2011 by Genebrother

A Word

A word spoken,

Its journey not defined.

A word passed,

to hear and see.

Enjoyment, anger, direction

given… without fear.

For what I say is what I intended

what I intended is what I say.

Clearly given explicitly, not a doubt

of what my meaning would be.

I have no idea…

Why are you mad at me?

Copyright 2011 by Genebrother

You are my brother – I am your son,
given and of the gene as one.

Time, distances endless are we,
spirit, mind, body, all three.

Brothers yet to be, what can I do for thee?

What weighs heavy on my path,
brothers of the past, what have you done to me?
As you were, you are now in me.

Strengths are many, weaknesses’ few,
paranoia fell by the way for me, its ugliness
born what is yet to be.

You are my brother, I am your son,
distance cannot keep us from being one,
brothers that were and yet to come.

Brothers gave what is strong,
eyes that see, glazed as they are,
eyes that view our thoughts, see me,
touch me, a vapor strength possessed.

Know our light as our light knows you,
peace misunderstood, the lightness views,
brothers fear the world, the sickness
embraced, I will not touch or taste.

Impressed not to care so the ugly sickness
must be there.

What we want for you is what we want for me,
brothers of the past, brothers now and yet to be,
peace is given, peace embraced, hate far removed,
brothers heed our words as torment is not for thee.

Copyright 2011 by Genebrother


I went to my wardrobe, to dress my skin.

I went to my wardrobe, to wrap yet again.

Six linear feet, is there for me,

Reds and blues… colors flourish,

Solids and stripes… no need to nourish.

I was with my wardrobe; it was always variety.

It was full by those who love me.

I stare to select what is good for today,

I stare to select what will wrap yet again.

I find old faithful, tattered and thin

Oh yes I am quite comfortable with it next to my skin.

Copyright 2011 by Genebrother

A mind born, clear, clean, free without
restriction, obligation, responsibility.

A mind nourished, taught what it will surely be,
taught of my environments, my person,
my personalities and is molded, a duplicate of me.

Along life’s way. a happening, a melding
comes knocking at the door of the mind
that is clear, clean, free, no restrictions,
obligation, responsibility, that is a duplicate of me.

It is here a loss is reached,
as my pure nourishment is breached,
with what was lurking not far away.

Some will express a merging is for the better,
I have doubts, as weakened I will be.
I have doubts, as I will be less than I am,
merged with environments, person, personalities
mine will be contaminated, my creation,
no longer pure.

Along the way from birth to hence no more,
I, gone to rest and the mind that was clear,
free, with no restriction or obligation or responsibility.

What was born of me has taken a new…

As I, born clean…as I, born free,
I had no obligation or responsibility.
weakened… strengthened…

I wait the merging

Copyright 2011 by Genebrother



Driving along on a bright, cold winter day, I made a decision to alter my way, to take a trip air a place I remember, that was a part of me.

I progressed along and doubt came within, I wasn’t sure … how do I return to that place?  The road was cold and a breeze was upon.

I spied an old man standing by the way of my journey, the journey to that place I remembered.  I slowed my approach to ask of him if he could assist and he said, I remember it well, I would be happy to give directions to that place that was part of me as well.

You follow this road to the intersection of Ninly Road… I know it well as it used to be, old Route 9 and yes it was also mine.

You then turn right and go a short distance, and you will find the place you remembered. I restarted my trip and was soon aware I had forgotten what was given from the old man by the road, was it Ninly or old Route 9…  Oh my… I will stop by a phone booth and call my Dad… He will know and he lives just beyond Ninly on this same road, and he introduced me to that place that was part of me.

“Hello Dad… Do you remember Ninly Road?” Or maybe it was called Old route 9.  I have lost my way and I want to return to that place I remembered, if just for the day.  Sure I remember ole Ninly and now 9.  We will get you there and you will be just fine, I also have returned there, as you must remember…  It was also a place of mine.

Just follow the road and ole Ninly will soon be upon you, Just follow the directions I am about to give. They will take you back to that place that you remember. I know you are coming toward me, I can see you clearly in my mind.  As you approach ole Ninely just make a left as I see your approach, a left as you approach me and you will soon be there at ole Ninly.

I drove as directed by that old man, and then I drove as directed by my Dad. I drove as directed… sadly, not found.

I made another phone call to Dad but he never answered. It was 6:32 at the break of day; my dear Dad had passed, just moments before, my Dad had passed away.

I will always remember those last words to me….  Just make a left, you will be just fine.  He was right as he was most often, but not this time.

Both the old man and Dad were directing, as they were to see, going and coming directions were different to me, as we were one, as we were three… that old man, Dad and me.

Just past Ninly and 9 was soon to be found…

Copyright  Wilbert Webb 2019



Looking at the clearest water,
clarity with a depth of person.

The longer I watch its beauty pure,
I see what time has lanced.

The closer I travel with my road,
I understand its epoch.

Looking at the clearest water,
Its clarity has begun to muddle.

The longer I epoch,
I see little of what once was.

Copyright 2011 by Genebrother

Today as any day,
No more, No less.
Programmed obliqueness.

Shower to clean,
Breakfast to un-fast.

PC and Poetry, for the mind,
Wal-Mart to refurbish,
Then we dine.

PC and Poetry,
Card game and munch.

Then, bedtime.

Today as any day,
No more, No less,
Scheduled obliqueness.

Silently, more or less.

Copyright 2011 by Genebrother

Wide are eyes that weep in silence.
My spirit stolen, my opinion veiled,
fettered harmony at hand…
Wide are eyes that weep in silence.

Character stolen,
My will the same,
Peace gained without comment,
Logic eludes rationale.

Chained as I am,
Shackled in time,
My feelings oblique,
More than one I am.

Fault given,
Quickly I realize,
Chained, you are too.
Chained you are.

To your goodness,
To your God,
Chained, and you are glorious,
Chained, you are sublime

Living out of the ordinary,
Shrouded in righteousness,
You judge…
You see…

Parting only by promise,
Committed am I,
Only then will my chains unbend…
Wide are eyes that weep in silence.

Copyright 2011 by Genebrother