FOR MY BROTHER
My brother William died the first Monday night in June of 2007. He was born the afternoon that John F. Kennedy was assassinated. To some (including me) he was odd. Since he has been gone I have come to understand him better and have gotten to know him more. The first two poems listed, I found in my brother's bible the evening after we buried him. All week long I had passed it on the table in my mother's living room. It continually called out to me to pick it up but I ignored it. You see William had visited me since the night he died. Some may find that hard to believe but he worried me until I got him buried the way he wanted. The third poem is what he spoke to me in the middle of the night while I was planning his self orchestrated funeral. As I wept, my hand shakingly wrote out the lines. I hadn't written a poem in years--I put it in his program with his obituary. The last poem I wrote before his birthday that year, just because I missed him. They are not profound or abstract, just truth. Sometimes it is what it is--no matter how you say it. Whenever I think I can't be a designer or even a writer I think of him. Now the drawings, they are all his'. These are just what we have been able to find. He had moved away from family, living because he knew he was dying. His work from his apartment was long gone by the time we requested his belongings. Somewhere on the streets of Houston or even across the country his work roams. And when I opened this folder today, they came alive.
For Mom & Dad
"CAN'T RUN, CAN'T HIDE" My friend, why do you search for fun? You are still going to die, And having fun is great But at the end you might just cry Why are you lusting the flesh old pal? You are still going to die The flesh you lust so much Will one day say good-bye Oh, you gamble, drug and drink So sad, you are still going to die. And it all will come to an end someday And you are still wondering why You see, you can't run or hide Can't play 'til it's time to pay the price, So have a seat my friend Let me give some good advice Give up my friend, I tried just like you Lust, Gambled, and drank, yes I done it too So if you are scared of death, want to get to heaven Heed the good books words Revelation 22/11 By William L. Reed
He watches you Are you not ashamed of your evil wicked ways, Our journey is not a game As we approach the final days Who is that, standing over me Yet someone is burning my feet Who is it that is protecting me But who is turning up the heat Who is that sheading a tear But who is it laughing in my face The crying spirit I greatly fear Yet he has a heavenly place An evil dressed in the clothing of red Besides him stands a spirit of white The fiery red burns my soul Yet the white shines heavenly light When I feel the serpent is before me My soul will obey my commands From the serpent, my spirit, much flee Into God's open hands
L I F E IS M O R E Life is more than the clothes that you may wear and more than the car that you drive Life is more than the house that you may live in Life is more than what you drink, eat, or what you put on Life is more than meat and the body more than raiment Life is the soul that God puts in man, and the outward only cases the soul Man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart Life is more than the treasures that you may store upon this earth Life is the treasures laid up for you in HEAVEN.
For my major I am forced to stretch out and learn how to do things I thought were beyond me. Mainly I am speaking of drawing. The drawing element in this field of study is extensive; however, my abilities are not. So, I think about William a lot, and I ask for guidance and direction. He was very talented and mostly self taught. Sometimes I can sense him when I am working and stuck or frustrated and sometimes when I have success. William, I miss you! I hope you are proud, your sis Pam.
My Brother Did I tell you? My brother William died Did you read his obituary? They had a picture of him in there too A picture he took before alcohol claimed his body His eyes were big and bright His hair curly The telephone rang with the news Williams is on life support what shall we do? I calmly speak, oh momma I’m sorry to hear Give it forty-eight hours Let’s wait and see Let’s pray seek the Father He’ll tell us what to do Forty-eight hours pass He passed away almost to the minute Tears I can’t find- no not right away But I can sense his presence coming into the room I say, William I know you’re gone, for now, let’s all get some sleep The next morning I rise still no tears My heart is full of worry Worry for my mom and dad As I hurry to pack my clothes In the suitcase I find the tears Tears to help me grieve They come with a wail
And then a holler Yes, I cried that afternoon William’s gone I said I can’t believe it’s true I tell him I’m mad at him He left us here alone He was so young In the prime of his life His talents—gifts form God They all died too See William could draw, cook and think He knew things that waundered around in his head He didn’t care about houses and cars Just give him a can of beer—maybe his only friend The law he had little regard—he broke a time or two He gambled and ran scams A con man he was indeed Jailed so many times we all lost count He would talk his way through He’s dead—the nurse she told me When I called on the phone It’s hard to believe He almost died at least a dozen times before But this time it’s true—my brother is gone The life he lived No, I didn’t agree I wanted him to be normal If anyone knows what that means I would fuss and preach He would shrug and try to prove his point Yes William died—I planned his funeral A pretty black and white suit One like from his picture
A white casket dressed his lifeless body They sang songs and read scriptures We all said words His art work I put on display More than just a drunk I wanted everyone to know Yes, William is dead I say as they lowered Him into the ground Dead is dead—I began to realize (Maybe that’s why I started living) He was just about to make it His dreams about to unfold He lost his sight—blind all of a sudden Maybe that is what really killed him Maybe it wasn’t the alcohol like we all did think All he had left was to sketch and to draw What’s the use of living? If I can’t do what I love His talents they were many Poems too he did pen Are they dead and buried? No, I don’t think Too many nieces and nephews to live them through Science, math and art--He could even fix a car too. My brother died My father hollered My mother prayed I wrote a poem he gave me early one morning He came to see me every night for a week At first I was afraid But he wouldn’t leave Now I look for him He comes from time to time
I’ll say hello and ask him a question Then he’ll depart I miss my brother The one I told you that died
stranger in the park
stranger on the streets of houston
our brother Leverne
Leverne's wife Sheila and their sons below