missing the pacific northwest

chadwickchadwick Posts: 21,157
edited September 2013 in Poetry, Prose, Music & Art
(part I)...

the delicate ferns spread out like a virgin's heart
green not bloody red but the same in heart
earth's miracle
one of them anyway
and as mighty as a thousand swords compressed into tall trees each one
the ocean blue green
a dance floor for sea-life

a native people worshipped orcas carving masks & totems
literally a fog of mist carrying intelligence & beauty
damply rubbing down from mountaintop to driftwood littered beaches to nowhere vacant of magnificence

the air a pure taste of paradise if paradise could ever be as clean
all emeralds stop here & set up camp
all diamonds shine down when a rare sun is out
for the most perfect warmer months i've ever known in my life
now a cornfield yet again
for poetry through the ceiling. ISBN: 1 4241 8840 7

"Hear me, my chiefs!
I am tired; my heart is
sick and sad. From where
the sun stands I will fight
no more forever."

Chief Joseph - Nez Perce
Post edited by Unknown User on

Comments

  • justamjustam Posts: 21,410
    I like your northwest visions. They have colors and plants in them. :)
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  • chadwickchadwick Posts: 21,157
    i miss the fact that i lived within 100+ miles of pearl jam
    for poetry through the ceiling. ISBN: 1 4241 8840 7

    "Hear me, my chiefs!
    I am tired; my heart is
    sick and sad. From where
    the sun stands I will fight
    no more forever."

    Chief Joseph - Nez Perce
  • chadwickchadwick Posts: 21,157
    she asked with her eyes
    her mouth motionless
    no vibrations out to be heard

    do you see our moon
    sure i do
    far off seperate lands
    above yellow-orange our sky lake splashes home
    every crater on her gives down believing
    a faith deeper than water
    fresher than new tears

    tonight her candles lit themselves
    somehow this sky invited herself down here into our love
    together all cry
    from the northwest across
    forests dream

    or die
    for poetry through the ceiling. ISBN: 1 4241 8840 7

    "Hear me, my chiefs!
    I am tired; my heart is
    sick and sad. From where
    the sun stands I will fight
    no more forever."

    Chief Joseph - Nez Perce
  • Jason78Jason78 Posts: 400
    Awesome.

    Sidenote: Have you ever eaten young ferns? They're delish. They look like shrimp to me and the crazy thing is they taste of the sea. Nice vegan sub.
  • rollingsrollings Posts: 7,124
    chadwick wrote:
    she asked with her eyes
    her mouth motionless
    no vibrations out to be heard

    do you see our moon
    sure i do
    far off seperate lands
    above yellow-orange our sky lake splashes home
    every crater on her gives down believing
    a faith deeper than water
    fresher than new tears

    tonight her candles lit themselves
    somehow this sky invited herself down here into our love
    together all cry
    from the northwest across
    forests dream

    or die

    nice! 8775616196_d742879826_s.jpg
  • chadwickchadwick Posts: 21,157
    Jason78 wrote:
    Awesome.

    Sidenote: Have you ever eaten young ferns? They're delish. They look like shrimp to me and the crazy thing is they taste of the sea. Nice vegan sub.
    never ate ferns, but i have eaten that gray ass moss... old man's beard/lichen (usnea)
    for poetry through the ceiling. ISBN: 1 4241 8840 7

    "Hear me, my chiefs!
    I am tired; my heart is
    sick and sad. From where
    the sun stands I will fight
    no more forever."

    Chief Joseph - Nez Perce
  • chadwickchadwick Posts: 21,157
    leaving for forever
    down this path
    torn, broken, lost & strung along
    i have taken my own self away with teasing fallacies

    with invalid living
    my road never sheds or has been cleaned
    i have not chased down my own time
    but fought alone
    the wall clocks all struggle against my body & mind
    i am hung up alongside bleeding out
    in lapse not renewed

    my expiration tells of my shoes
    no more decency
    feeling within death arriving with me
    all wildflowers sail juan de fuca
    for poetry through the ceiling. ISBN: 1 4241 8840 7

    "Hear me, my chiefs!
    I am tired; my heart is
    sick and sad. From where
    the sun stands I will fight
    no more forever."

    Chief Joseph - Nez Perce
  • mikalinamikalina Posts: 7,206
    The past 2 weeks have been very cool and more rain than usual for this time of year ( August )...
    Very much like the pacific northwest you talk about and miss greatly...
    ********************************************************************************************* image
  • chadwickchadwick Posts: 21,157
    love rain & fog
    cooler weather systems
    breezes heavily high
    mild & crawling
    still blue they are
    or black as a cat's eyes

    i will call the pacific northwest home again one day

    fuck a bunch of i-five
    traveling logging roads
    thank you very much
    for poetry through the ceiling. ISBN: 1 4241 8840 7

    "Hear me, my chiefs!
    I am tired; my heart is
    sick and sad. From where
    the sun stands I will fight
    no more forever."

    Chief Joseph - Nez Perce
  • chadwickchadwick Posts: 21,157
    they would be peddling small hash bricks
    tight & golden like a sometimes sunsky

    i would relinquish all my pennies
    run to the woods
    find my favorite trees (which is everyone like a queen)
    indoor grown feminine fruits
    a tea party for me
    sprinkle my life with gold satin
    glossy eyes form with wine grapes as soon as clouds exhale their slower beauty

    at sundown all stops open sins
    sprinkle another amount
    the fraction of living would be even if death were as open as the sun to the dark

    sometimes in my room
    as small as dust mites
    my imagination moves like a man this taken away
    ferns my carpet as silky as owls reliving dreams up high
    scraping starbelts with their pains for humanity
    they do touch us when winning against felled timbers
    and in goodness speeding orcas blast the pipe home
    they creep in
    devouring my smoke
    a single hit stolen
    then cries from ancient spirits
    the rain just pours down misplacing & rearranging thoughts
    scattered across the floor like a tipped over file cabinet
    while smoldering bone marrow
    designs weapons against our own selves
    this is earth cancer

    and sometimes it is a shame
    sometimes it is our songs
    every move made is placed in her deep lungs underground
    spinning & twisting with all of this (arms open wide) (eyes closed forever & soft)

    can we get better

    (part I)

    i would allow myself to lay back
    bring into a cup my ownness
    hot tea would take in my rubbing fingers
    as i drizzle fine golden satin
    into nearly boiled liquid
    something like a desert's fantasy
    full color thriving inside balloons

    the greatest tea party ever partied out
    spinning vinyl up against fungus up against decaying conifers
    gordon lightfoot humming the air
    as if a great pacific wind
    crossed & traveled forever just for us
    but it's just the ceiling fan chain clanking about

    & in this room
    all red lights glow growing against our skin
    again so tiny
    the ashtray an endless land charred by losing every battle
    while crows outside fade into pleasantness feeling no pain
    this is when bones split hard
    bones crack fast & last unlike fireflies thrown down into this ocean's vast expanse

    here,
    wide moves are slowed down
    each slug the forest creates
    balances our steps
    our hearing
    & our loves & dislikes
    in this treehole sometimes shame is mine
    other times this treehole gives rebirth
    where we can have flight against this large canopy spreading out before our (feet &) mouths

    this is where i taste
    where my very own waterfalls build our home
    when she is near all hummingbirds take care
    where she falls our foliage catches her beautiful & shadow
    her lips create massage
    under mine are my finger tips squeezing for goddess curves on poetics

    she leans in & down
    all lights low themselves slow
    with sailors sharing vision skies
    these same clouds pass over giving us their stories

    she is better than my pain
    her's is rainbow silver
    with a golden throat of hash

    (part II)
    for poetry through the ceiling. ISBN: 1 4241 8840 7

    "Hear me, my chiefs!
    I am tired; my heart is
    sick and sad. From where
    the sun stands I will fight
    no more forever."

    Chief Joseph - Nez Perce
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