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feeding willow trees

December 20, 2011 //
0

at this point my eyes are wide open. too far maybe. and i see that cabin in the dark, the one surrounded by black mossy trees with boarded windows – charred & rusty. the grey path glows under toe.

maybe this metaphor is my mind’s way of projecting where i’ve been living the past two months into my consciousness and out here for display. or maybe it’s just a dream.
–

the kings stand there
stalemate
interpolate
un-emasculate
avoid probate
create a mistake

for just a few days
i’ll be back in someone else’s dreams
dust rolls around on the floor
creeps through the beams
down to jungle streams
feeding willow trees

if you believe
you may perceive
no intent to deceive
but if you want me to, i’ll leave
in the end
what we get is what we need

soft lips
certain shapes of hips
late night trips
a little thrill in the mix
call it my favorite fix

well i see more faces & butterflies
roots that go on for miles
sun dials dialing up trials
mascara and fingernail files
matthews, marks, lukes & lyles

garden wall or mountain tall
waterfall & tenant law
i put my knee in his paw
the long line of his jaw
could you see what i saw?
it doesn’t melt my heart
but it helps the chill to thaw

for just a few days
i’ll be back in someone else’s dreams
dust rolls around on the floor
creeps through the beams
down to jungle streams
feeding willow trees

if you believe
you may perceive
no intent to deceive
but if you want me to, i’ll leave
in the end
what we get is what we need
—

“here we are both half-starved…”

by JTW
©2011 JTW “jtwhitaker.com” All rights reserved.

artwork courtesy of bly.

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Categories lyrics, narrative, poetry

forever love

May 3, 2011 //
6

i don’t remember exactly when or where it happened. looking back it seems like i just woke up one day and it was gone. i doubt anyone could have expected that, i sure didn’t.

maybe i find it so easy to joke about now because to me it is just that: a cruel joke. i’d say it was fleeting cynicism, but that’s not true. you’d probably say i was just burned too bad, too many times. but i’d laugh that off with self-deprecating humor and call myself a hopeless un-romantic. that may, in fact, be true.
–

at what point does pragmatism become sadism? and at what point should i bend reality and let a little fantasy write these stories? and why do i so badly not want to do that?

there aren’t too many things i hold as precious and dear anymore. and even with those few things i constantly find myself glancing at sabotage. but i don’t. not that the opportunity doesn’t present itself on a regular basis. but i choose love, for what love is, to me, now.
–

he passes a mirror as he makes his way to bed. the reflection has aged, but the heart is the same, if not more at peace. when he lays down to sleep, he knows they’re with him. when he closes his eyes he sees their faces. he remembers their scent and the way they moved. he recalls who came and who went. and he drifts off with his forever love held tight in his arms.
—

“whatever it is…what you believe it is…”

by JTW
©2011 JTW “jtwhitaker.com” All rights reserved.

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Categories narrative

grasp

March 5, 2011 //
5

perfect movie
perfect wine
couldn’t change anything
couldn’t stop time
so he washes the glasses
presses rewind
another story
another vine
-

reaches in
touches a weathered scrap of shell
remembers that day on the beach
squeezes it tight, fighting to grasp the memories
like waves
-

no rehearsal could prepare him
for the pounding of the rain
consecutive drops of joy & pain
his heart no longer numb
–

if it didn’t hurt so bad, if this pause weren’t just so real & apparent, there’s no way i’d believe in it.

but i didn’t even make it to the stop sign. then i just came home & crashed.

the residue will linger, reminding me of what lit here. it will torment me in the most beautiful way for what will seem like eternity. but at least now i know i’m still alive, even on the inside.
-

think about the moment when the most loving words you’ve ever heard were told to you. did the person have any idea how much they meant? maybe you should tell them now…

they could be gone tomorrow.
—

“can’t let go of what’s in front of me…”

by JTW
©2011 JTW “jtwhitaker.com” All rights reserved.

Tags , , , , , , , ,
Categories narrative, poetry
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