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Monday, December 30, 2013

AFTER FALTER, BEFORE CORRECTION



Holidays are the enemy--they mark the passing of the years. 
This time you've defied the bastards
by sleeping straight through midnight on New Years Eve.

The runaway train of time keeps gaining speed--
summer...fall...winter...spring
summer fall winter spring
summerfallwinterspring
seasons never pausing
only waving like excited tourists passing through.

Most of the time, sleep comes grudgingly.
You lie in bed and think about old lovers,
inspecting the shards of shattered dreams.
One in particular keeps coming back.
A dusky young girl who said: I don't want to sleep with you
because I'm afraid I will fall in love with you. 
Ever the reassuring one, you replied: No you won't.

After falter, before correction
is the moment of truth
when a man must admit
that he's turned his life to shit
before setting about the business
of rising from the mire.

While driving to work you pass a service station
where a man in camouflage fatigues
wields the gas pump nozzle
as if it were a weapon.
Or a phallus. 
The car in front of you sports a bumper sticker
that says: Never deprive someone of hope--
it may be the only thing they have left.

After falter...before correction. 
The man who seeks to make connection
discovers that the days of infinite possibility are gone--
but only because a world turned deaf and blind has deemed it so.
The ego, in its fatal attraction to the body, must always lose. 

The poet with too much time to think
teeters on the brink
of disaster.

Sleep comes reluctantly,
but sometimes,
in that kaleidoscopic moment between
consciousness and dream
an apparition in white appears. 
A lovely vision
in her gossamer gown
through which the mounds 
of her breasts are clearly visible.

She reveals  herself as Aphrodite, no less
(who sometimes intervenes on behalf of mere mortals)
and her first appearance ends abruptly
when you find yourself oafishly
reaching for those twin globes.
(Not the first woman you've known
to retreat under like circumstances.)

But she returns the following eve
and on your best behavior
you listen intently to all she has to say--
resolving to pass it along
to anyone who will listen.

She says that every day is a clean slate,
waiting for the touch of the master.
And if you've ever doubted that
you create the world
lie in any meadow and check out the sky.
The elephant in the clouds does not exist without you.

Let your mind become the wind
and it will carry you as far as you want to go. 
And if you don't look at everyone you meet and see yourself,
then you've got a cheapass mirror
you bought at Woolworth's on the day
they turned the freedom riders away,

Laugh like a madman.
You are, you know.

Ask forgiveness like someone who has hurt
everyone he ever loved.
You are, you know.

Fight like that hero
who will stand for what's right.
You are, you know.

Dance the dance of a lover
who is drunk with dreams.
You are, you know. 

Pray that you may have one more day
and possess the clarity of mind to use it well.

Understand that living doesn't happen to you
but that you ARE the living.

Trust in the innate goodness of the universe
for if life is indeed a joke
then we will all share it someday
just as we are doing it now
with our poker faces--
too practiced in the art to let on.

The flame of youthful desire burns undiminished,
even as the seasons grow cold.

The child never dies...
he lives inside the heart of the 90 year-old
just as surely as darkness affirms the sunrise.

As certain as winter implies spring. 




21 comments:

  1. Dance the dance of a lover
    who is drunk with dreams... made me smile... some cool wisdom in this.. and it's so good that the child never dies... by the way.. i never fell in love with someone cause i was sleeping with him...either i was before... or never..smiles...happy new year tim!

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  2. the second half of this really takes off...the empowering statements...if only more let those thoughts settle in their hearts a bit....and they let that kid out to play a bit....a little scared of the dude weilding the gas tank though...

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  3. One of your very best, my friend. "You are, you know." Yes, we are. All of those things. A beautiful summing-up end-of-the-year kind of poem.

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  4. oohhhhhh, Timo, this is purely epic, i LOVE it. i wanna chase away this nasty year with a bang and float on your verses. yes, please. let's go

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  5. CLAUDIA: I know what you mean. Then again, if you saw me back then, you'd know what she meant...ha ha!

    BRIAN: Gotta let him out...so true.

    SHERRY: Glad you enjoyed. Stocked up on eggnog?

    MARIAN: Here...we...GO!

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  6. The first part of this poem is a wonderful mish mash of half digested happenings and then the feelings level out into a philosophic zone which sparkles with a touch of impish wisdom - just so it's not too heavy and serious. Adore it.

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  7. Back for another read, Timo. It is even better second time around. (Didnt somebody already say that, sometime?) Sigh. I so relate to this poem. Love it!

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  8. It's been a while, Tim and this poem is perfectly introspective for the start of a new year - all the old concerns must give way to new uncertainties.

    Peace, brother, and Happy New Year.

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  9. Love this, Tim! A resolution to live life to the fullest even as you see it marching by!

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  10. I read your work, and then, I want to read it again...and again...and again. Each time I find new lines that speak to me. Wonderful, Tim. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

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  11. VANDANA: Thanks for stopping by!

    GEMMA: I like your assessment...thanks!

    SHERRY: Come back as many times as you like...this is an "all you can eat" blog!

    KERRY: Flashing you the peace sign, sistah!

    JENNY: What an insightful comment. Thanks so much!

    KELLY: You are my best PR person. Love it!!!

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    Replies
    1. You cover a lot of ground with this poem. Yes, time seems to have an accelerator pedal that's stuck. Yes, I want doesn't get and softly, softly catchee monkey!

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  12. O Isure get the inner terrain here, drying up, giving out, wondering how to get to what' inside the resolution list. What a blessing the Venus returns on her half-shell, so voluptuous under gossamer veils. ...To bad we have to earn that Eros is always what comes after the nipples, how to become intimate with the life and her various liaisons. Winter does imply spring, no matter how desolate and frozen the turf gets. Yes.

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  13. The poet with too much time to think
    teeters on the brink
    of disaster.

    I know that feeling all too well... I love your dedication to detail in this. The man wielding the gaspump like a weapon, the bumper sticker... little details like that make this poem stand out to me. Very strong piece.

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  14. "The elephant in the clouds does not exist without you." That is excellent!

    No one thinks and writes quite like you. I always get the feeling you thoroughly enjoy the writing process… :)

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  15. Well..Timteo..long time no see..it's been harder and longer reaching 50..with living in the real world again...

    All your words ring true here..pearls of living experience and wisdom..that not all who live gain..to live as one with ONE IS wh@i like best..

    As no one can take that love...

    away from me! and happy !2014! to ya2!

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  16. This one really caught me - I love the knowing humanity in this and terrifically well sustained, without being over sentimental... Rings true for sure Timoteo With Best Wishes Scott www.scotthastie.com

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  17. Well you have really done it this time! Simply breathtaking!

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  18. Oh, and I should add, brilliant!

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