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Conney D. Williams is a Los Angeles based poet, actor and performance artist originally from Shreveport, Louisiana where he worked a radio personality. His latest poetry collection entitled “The Distance of Observation was released on World Stage Press in August 2021. He is also the co-founder of World Stage Press. He released two critically acclaimed cds (2015) of his poetry accompanied by music: “Unsettled Water” and “River&Moan." He has two previous poetry collections “Leaves of Spilled Spirit from an Untamed Poet (2002)” and “Blues Red Soul Falsetto (2012).” He’s been published in various journals, publications, and anthologies (Voices from Leimert & Voices from Leimert Redux, Writers Resist, Drumming between Us, and Wide Awake). He’s the former Artistic Director at the World Stage Performance Gallery where he facilitated the Anansi Writers Workshop. He is a community activist and has worked with youth for over 35 years; he was an ordained minister and Youth Pastor in the Church of God in Christ. He hosted a cable television show and recorded a gospel rap cd called L.I.F.E (1985). He was Poet’s Stage Coordinator for the first 10 years of the Leimert Park Village Book Fair; and also the Annual Leimert Park Village African Art & Music Festival for three years (2012-2014). He has performed his poetry on television, radio (KJLH, KPFK), universities (USC, UCLA, Claremont, CSLB, Antioch, CS-Northridge, and others), cultural events & organizations (Black Arts Festival, CAAM), for the City & County of Los Angeles, across the U.S., and he regularly curates poetry events in Los Angeles.
distance of observation:
These are the poems of an open man. He is dreaming. He is remembering. He is wise. He writes and lives with his whole heart. His heart is whole. He sees and he tells. Bravely and beautifully, he walks.
Imani Tolliver
Author, Runaway
If you aren’t “convert[ed]…like a fallen angel” by Conney Williams’ the distance of observation, you may want to check your pulse. In a crescendo of language that is both sublime and intoxicating, Williams’ lines propel the reader from ecstatic heights to inevitable despairs. It’s a journey that will keep you on its road for a long time.
Lynne Thompson – Los Angeles Poet Laureate
Author, Fretwork
Yes, it’s called distance of observation, but these poems lean more toward lived experience than detached observation. They involve more Bacchanalian pleasures, more lips, thighs and limbs, than distance. The richness rests not only in the language but in the complexities, the confessed contradictions within the speaker. It suits me fine that among Conney Williams’ many tribute poems are some that express anger at women and, indeed, himself. It suits me fine that it’s not all praise and self-affirmation. In that struggle, art is made. And all those elements trace through these poems–struggle, exultation, and grace.
Suzanne Lummis
Author, Open 24 Hours
The Distance of Observation
…is a journey of perspective. life/love are both what they are based upon the perspective of those so engaged. how we “view” love determines every relationship in which we participate. Williams is not afraid to display the vulnerability or the displeasure of his love perspective. yes, he generalizes, then he holds the magnifying glass upon himself; he is a veteran of past relationships, yet still on active duty. the distance of observation is 360 degrees and not just rear view. this poet has come to realize that there is still joy, even when your star doesn’t align. because this is real life and we see much better when we are open to its possibilities.
“Blues Red Soul Falsetto”
It has been 10 years Conney Williams released his first book of poetry, Leaves of Spilled Spirit From and Untamed Poet. This new volume of poetry finds Conney Williams exploring personal themes with courage, conviction, and sensitivity seldom found in today’s poetry. He is unabashed in confessing his love for children and family while also sharing his weakness, fears, and triumphs. This collection is not cowardly in its determination to tackle tough social issues and has a chapter dedicated to Katrina and its aftermath. These poems peel away the veneer that we sometimes hide behind as human being, but Williams disrobes himself before our eyes and stands naked for all see and examine. These poems will inspire and move you emotionally. Step deep into the “Bottoms” of this kaleidoscope of humanity and feel yourself melt beneath the written oratory of this preacher/poet. “Blues Red Soul Falsetto” is the truth. Conney Williams is the Artistic Director of The Word Stage Performance Gallery in historic Leimert Park Village.
this is what poetry looks like
with your eyes open
family is a place I’m hostage,
no ransom requested,
‘cept for blood congealed
‘round scars;
birthplace for opal irises, that
predict future molesters;
these are God’s handprints
strewn across my brow;
slaps hell out of
mother’s first born joy
cradled in Madear’s ashy arms;
on communion Sunday,
fresh sweet potato pie
cools stovetop,
I am written back bedroom
of 4821 long street, while
mystics funky Broadway;
discovery sits edge
of a box spring masquerading;
sleep comes
after dreams awaken;
life orbits scripted lovers and
domesticated violence,
my pen commits suicide
chronicled in frayed dungarees
and bare feet;
my body is a canvas of trust,
a receptacle of straps and switches,
the victim is always clueless;
mother’s infidelity
and daddy’s loathing
morphed into haiku’s and sonnets;
I have memorized my sleep,
these eyes have seen worlds
beyond the chicory darkness
only a sixth child could
be acquainted
“blues red soul falsetto”
the last flame
I
first breath like last flame
she formless like smoke
gristle & guilt are her altar
she the hard timber
sacrifice lives here
she lap my bark underbelly
incinerate me like god
indigo woman so weather-worn
her aftertaste is ginger sunrise
upon a tongue so bona fide
a clever open faced furnace
she glow incandescent 10,000 years
eyes dilate like lebanon summer
her words are truth and flint
when she conjure forest fires
all my prayers combust
she don’t leave me ember
or charred residue
ash abandoned like memory
she consume me spontaneous
like I am a desert bush
II
satisfaction require that I smolder
blaze bluer than a comet’s trail
sacrifice all that lumber
be engulfed by god
“the distance of observation”