timwhalen.net

Walt’s folly

Jul
28

I fell into these riches
Sharp and green
As I roll and wonder
At the sky
I rolled over
I stared
For ages
At this one blade
And questioned
The sky
Why so blue
How so green
Yellow bees
Assaulting me
Brown bark
Shielding those
Naked trees
Away from me
For naked plants
I do not care
But look at me now
And I know
You’ll stare
Howling thunder
Is what we’ll call it
Dragging your mind
As fast as
You can haul it
How’d you get here
How fast did you do it
Ants are being antsy
Almost blew it
Bending back
Thrusting knees
Swift motion to stand
Just in time
To watch you pass
Frolic
Breathe the meadow air
That one blade of grass
Was but
Imaginary
Wistful like glass
Stained
with nicotine
yellowed but
still clear

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ordered

Jul
28

alcoholic allegory
is
bullshittery bewildering
but
cautionary caucasians
can’t
decipher democracy
and
enigmatic elegies
won’t
fertilize fruition
but
godly gifts
can’t
help hollandaise

indicative indignations
jokingly jibe
while
kooky kings
lose
malevolent miscreants

never negotiate
opulent obfuscations
perplexing pussycats
questioning quixotically
redundant resuscitations

silent solitude
tames turmoil
under uvula undulations
voracious vagrancy

when will we
Xerox xerophytes?
You yawn
Zealously.

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self loathing avoidance

Jul
28

Rough life spent in a languid void
Meandering through existence
       using loved ones as props
A lean-to shanty of a ramshackle body
Convalesced in wistfully fleeting promises of improvement
Empty-headed morose reflections,
lashed out in loosely lashed-in rafts
Only momentarily staying afloat
on rising & sinking tides of false self-penance
Flippant offerings of apologetic notecards
Discarded and gently floating down
       upon tumultuous battlegrounds
Leaves fallen from the towering tree
       silently descending and coming to rest
               on the deceased and muddy ground below

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Words

Jul
28

Words
Words. Mean. Everything.
Though some say they don’t
Some value the beauty of every consonant and vowel
Words, at some point in time mean everything to someone
Simple assemblies of strings of sentences
Complex cacophonies of verbose paragraphs
Some words can strike you down and make you feel worthless
Some can uplift you to ultimate heights and make you feel as though you can soar through the heavens
        using your interpretations as wings
Some people hold words in their heads
Many let loose their own hounds of hell in vocabulary form
Words are never meaningless
Though you can spout off random and non-sensical bullshit
        all of it has meaning to someone at some time
Everyone interprets words, it cannot be stopped
Be constantly aware that your words could be the molotov cocktail that incinerates someone’s innocence
Be ever vigilant that each inflection and context you lavish upon your words
        could be the very molecules of air that strike at someone’s eardrums and enlightens their soul
                could be the fuel that keeps them on their journey through this life
Do not fear words and do not fear using words
Even in some weird, staccato rhythm and broken intentions, your words must be released into the world
Words must be allowed to evolve and take shape and mature like the finest of wines
Your words are beautiful

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In amongst the trees

Jul
22

I ventured forth in the month of May
Into a forest, dull and gray

No voices, few noises entered my ears
As I breathed with the trees and eased all their fears
At first they were frightened, standing tall and straight
But as a wind swelled up they bore a graceful gait

Some wept for their fallen limbs
While others cordially tipped their green brims
Even more stood proudly, stretching up high
Reaching desperately at a cloud-filled sky

The penumbral puffy blanket overhead
Melted then moistened the cool forest bed
Thunder echoed and jolted the peace
Just moments later the light rainfall ceased
My newfound companions hadn’t let me get wet
Under their protective canopy, I was glad that we’d met

My boots were then caked with the dead skin cells of leaves
That had fallen days before from the towering eaves
I was lost in my travels when daylight faded
I couldn’t recall the path I had braided
Throughout this dimly lit wood
I needed to leave, but didn’t feel that I could

I stopped and leaned against a soaring oak tree
Then noticed a low branch pointing away from me
I let nature be my guide and soon found my way out
I trusted the timber and let go of all doubt
Once out in a clearing awash in the moon’s twilight shine
Quietly humbled, I thanked the trees for their time

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My Desert

Jul
22

Skin boiling
Chest heaving
Eyes dried, shriveled
Clothes torn, disheveled
Journey through desert
Quest for meaning
Shoes full of hot sand
Every step painful
Oasis in the distance
Never grows near
A mirage?
A hallucination?

Falling, now crawling
Scratching, clawing
At the desert floor
Hands bloodied
Still cannot reach sanctuary
Peace and refuge floating away
Face down on a rock

My desert
Your mirage
A blurry vision in the roadway
Your love
My water

Arms under shoulders
Carrying, resuscitating
Refreshing, renewing
Healthy now
Atop the mountain
Perched with the hawks
Howling with the wolves
Energized by those who cared
And pale blue light of the stars

Peering down the cliffs
I see you there
You’ve found your desert
Eyes blurred with tears
Your pain mine
Your struggle, ours
Lifting you from the sand
Aloft and flying to safety
Safe sanctity of the mountains

We’re there together
Peering down
Readying for the rescue
Of another
Who’s found their desert…

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Memory

Jul
19

Never say “happy” memorial day.
A somber remembrance of those hearty, hardened souls should be the way
The air you breathe now could be part of the very last vapors that crossed their paling lips on the fields of battle then
The fields of battle, often a distant vision for most
Terrifying visions of dismay and hell for those brave enough to serve this country of ours
Trudging head-long and steadfast in a unique resolve, heroism a distant vacant thought
Helmets and worn boots and vests and blood & tear-soaked shirts are too often all that remain
Memorials to fallen hearts in foreign lands
Under the peace and solitude of a starry night
Our brave knights stare at the same far-off blinking lights in the vast darkness of a night sky
As you look up, don’t crave freedom, don’t crave admiration
Think about those that chose to fight and exasperate themselves
Think about gratitude and being humble and fighting to never let them be forgotten

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Heroes of Our Youth

Jul
18

The heroes of our youth
Are not long for this world
They live life at an entirely accelerated pace
And exist in constant demand from strangers
Expressions on stage are taken as either falsities or inspirations
Their true meaning held deep within
Some successes, some failures
Some gleeful projections of their heightened inspirations
Some doleful representations of inner turmoil
Some take you with them through the depths of despair
          only to help you emerge on the other side
                  on a plateau of jubilation
Express gratitude for your heroes while they’re here
For some, it is a daily battle
For some, it is a final lonely failure in a winter of fear
As a true fan, hold no wanton disregard for success but make your admiration known
These knights that forge a path through the insanity of this world for the delight of others
Present themselves but for a moment to be enjoyed
When they leave us there is such deep sorrow,
But also a joy that they have evolved beyond us to a higher plane
And then we’re left making left turns on a right turn road
No u-turns possible
No re-visitation of history possible, but in our hearts and memories
Then falling apart as we fall asunder

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