My Heart motioned me to a large cushion on the
floor, where I plopped down without a word.
Setting down on another cushion across from me
She asked "Are you here to listen or to whine?"
My Heart never beats around this bush or that,
which is why I most likely spend so much time in
my cortex, ordering the words around.
"I'll hear every word you say." I said
My Heart leaned back and said
"No good. You could hear me fart too. Will you
actually listen to me."
His serious look told me much.
"I'll listen." I said
+++
"Your words have become stilted and tight.
Your passion seems to have been stuffed in
a closet with old mops, brooms and a mouse
nest in the corner. Your words have had it.
They are dying Tim. Dying! Do you understand
me?"
I nodded.
"Why are you killing them?" She asked bluntly.
"Because I am afraid of what I know lies within me.
Because I know my life is nearing a culmination.."
"Cut the crap!" Heart said.
"Change how you are! You have trapped yourself
in fat, fear, and intellectual striving long enough!
You know my words, but you are holding them
back. Why?"
"I really don't know." I say.
"Bullshit!"
I stare at my hands.
"Your words have lifted people, touched
their Hearts and even their souls! Why hold back?"
I burp. Heart raised her eyebrow.
"gas..."
Heart stood up and gave me one helluva
whack upside my head, knocking me
clean off the cushion.
"Jesus...ouch.."
"Leave deities, their Mothers and sons out of this!
Yoy know what you need to do. You know what flows
out of me! I have seen those you walk through
your cortex with, and I know how you feel.
Enough intellectual constructing of 'nice, pretty
poems!! Write Me Goddamnit!!"
I stood up rubbing my smarting ear.
"You are right. No excuses. You are right.
I will do it."
"Good." She smiled. "I'll be keeping tabs on
you. If you don't, I'll come looking for you,
and it will be your ass."
"Got it." I said and pushed the Up button
on the elevator. The door opened and I
got in, pushing the Brain shaped button.
+++
Arriving back at my cortex, I went to the door
and knocked. The small eye-level door slid open.
It was a verb. "What?" he said.
'Come on out we have work to do."
"He grinned and closed the little slot.
I heard chains rattling, locks opening, a bar lifting.
As they all came out I gathered them up in my arms
and..
+++
Today I rode my breath into the dawn, feeling the
coming Sun upon my face, the cool airs wrapping round
my body.
What song shall I sing?
What notes do I add to the morning
choir of colors, dews, and birdsong?
How do I weigh these winds or measure the drops
of dawnrain, splashed across these times and places
of my Being?
You Beloved, fill my memory with your smells,
your wetness, your laughter and your tears.
I would kiss this newday sun to show it the
passion with which I worship you.
I would embrace your feet and touch my
head to them in gratitude.
I love and am loved.
I would touch your naked beauty,
your hair falling down in your sleepy eyes.
I ride my breath, up to the Sun,
but I shall not fall like Icarus because I
am become Love and the Sun is
your very Heart, Oh Beloved.
Immortal Star.
+++
I tucked my words in, and turned out
the light.
MY phoned dinged that I had a text from Heart.
It was a big, grinning Heart.
+++
(C) TF 04MAY2011
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
"It's About Damned Time..."
These past few days have seen some strange
things on my personal horizons.
For the most part my words have been quite
recalcitrant, setting down on the floor with their arms
crossed like petulant three-year-olds.
They are all in on it this time,
verbs, nouns, adjectives, gerunds, pronouns,
even the usually quiet, compliant adverbs!
When the cuss words joined in I knew I was
in trouble.
++
So I have sat at this keyboard and made
a few efforts, squeezing out three or four poems,
you know, ones about Love and yearning,
about the Wine of the Beloved and the ensuing
drunken revels, but the words came reluctantly,
dragging their little punctuation marks along
on glitzy leashes, and then all those
little overwrought things did was bark
and crap on my rug.
++
So, today I asked my words just what this
was all about, why they were just
not being cooperative. They all just
stared at me. The spokesword, an old,
crusty verb said,
"You know. Figger it out."
The rest just nodded.
"Well for God's sake," I said,
"if I knew I wouldn't have asked now
would I?"
They all stared for a moment, before
turning and quietly stalking off,
back into my cortex, shutting the door
behind them. I heard the sound of
six deadbolts, two chains and and a bar
securing the door.
I am left standing here staring into my
cortex like a hypnotized penguin
This is not good.
+++
If I smoked, I'd have a cigarette,
but I don't, so I just elect to
shuffle my feet and put my hands in
my pockets.
I head off down one of the deserted
streets in my brain to try and figure this
out. Papers swirl around my feet,
and the sound of a B-52's album drifts
out of a window on the second floor.
As I pass an alley I hear something,
"Psssst. Hey! You!"
I look into the gloomy passage.
"Take a picture why don'tcha?" the voice
says..
I strain to see, when two blue eyes,
blue as a summer sky, appear.
"Who are you?" I ask.
"It's Me. God."
"God!?!"
"Helll-oooh! Yes God!" the blue eyes said
"You want loaves and a couple fish, not that
you need more loaves, to prove it?"
"No..not really. What do you want?"
An arm snaked out of the dark and the
hand grabbed me by the shirt and pulled
me toward the voice, nose to Eyes.
"My advice: get the hell out of your brain and
go have a long talk with your heart."
Before I could even squeak,
God was gone, leaving a faint odor
of tabouli and roses.
+++
So, I went right over to the elevator and
pushed the down arrow. After a short
wait, the door scrolled open and I got in,
pushing the little button shaped like a
heart.
The elevator car stopped and once more
the door slid noiselessly open.
Stepping out in to well lit room I saw my
Heart setting at a desk writing. It looked
up. "I was told to come talk to you, to see
if you can help me out."
My Heart regarded me evenly before speaking.
"About damned time." was all Heart said,
"About damned time."
+++
(C) TF 03MAY2011
things on my personal horizons.
For the most part my words have been quite
recalcitrant, setting down on the floor with their arms
crossed like petulant three-year-olds.
They are all in on it this time,
verbs, nouns, adjectives, gerunds, pronouns,
even the usually quiet, compliant adverbs!
When the cuss words joined in I knew I was
in trouble.
++
So I have sat at this keyboard and made
a few efforts, squeezing out three or four poems,
you know, ones about Love and yearning,
about the Wine of the Beloved and the ensuing
drunken revels, but the words came reluctantly,
dragging their little punctuation marks along
on glitzy leashes, and then all those
little overwrought things did was bark
and crap on my rug.
++
So, today I asked my words just what this
was all about, why they were just
not being cooperative. They all just
stared at me. The spokesword, an old,
crusty verb said,
"You know. Figger it out."
The rest just nodded.
"Well for God's sake," I said,
"if I knew I wouldn't have asked now
would I?"
They all stared for a moment, before
turning and quietly stalking off,
back into my cortex, shutting the door
behind them. I heard the sound of
six deadbolts, two chains and and a bar
securing the door.
I am left standing here staring into my
cortex like a hypnotized penguin
This is not good.
+++
If I smoked, I'd have a cigarette,
but I don't, so I just elect to
shuffle my feet and put my hands in
my pockets.
I head off down one of the deserted
streets in my brain to try and figure this
out. Papers swirl around my feet,
and the sound of a B-52's album drifts
out of a window on the second floor.
As I pass an alley I hear something,
"Psssst. Hey! You!"
I look into the gloomy passage.
"Take a picture why don'tcha?" the voice
says..
I strain to see, when two blue eyes,
blue as a summer sky, appear.
"Who are you?" I ask.
"It's Me. God."
"God!?!"
"Helll-oooh! Yes God!" the blue eyes said
"You want loaves and a couple fish, not that
you need more loaves, to prove it?"
"No..not really. What do you want?"
An arm snaked out of the dark and the
hand grabbed me by the shirt and pulled
me toward the voice, nose to Eyes.
"My advice: get the hell out of your brain and
go have a long talk with your heart."
Before I could even squeak,
God was gone, leaving a faint odor
of tabouli and roses.
+++
So, I went right over to the elevator and
pushed the down arrow. After a short
wait, the door scrolled open and I got in,
pushing the little button shaped like a
heart.
The elevator car stopped and once more
the door slid noiselessly open.
Stepping out in to well lit room I saw my
Heart setting at a desk writing. It looked
up. "I was told to come talk to you, to see
if you can help me out."
My Heart regarded me evenly before speaking.
"About damned time." was all Heart said,
"About damned time."
+++
(C) TF 03MAY2011
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