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Eric N Whittier Jan 2011
Let us blow away
Gently, With the falling leaves
Autumn's fire alive
Copyright Eric Whittier, Jan 2011
Eric N Whittier Jan 2011
This current and present moment,
A Singularity of time.

What a simple label no?
Used to describe the totality of me.

The base unit,
Of travel on foot.

The distinct movement,
From one space to another.

Copyright Eric Whittier, January 2011
Eric N Whittier Oct 2010
Why do lover’s lips linger?
Slowly they pull apart and,
Quickly they return,
For just one more.
Me one last time.
Because maybe,
It will be the last time.
Twould be a shame to waste,
That which might never come again.
Twould be a shame to waste,
This last kiss.
No wait,
just one more.
Eric N Whittier Oct 2010
I don't really like teenagers
They sort of
******* ****
Eric N Whittier Oct 2010
.           think about free expression
                    |          |                   \
 ­                   |          |                  must it have
                    |          |                            ­  |
                    |            \                          f­orm(?)
                    |              -----Does it-----/        \
                    |                      /                      (or rather instill)
                    |                    allow          ­      /
                  blanketed            |                  |
    ­                                          |-------------- meaning in---------------birdsong
                                       ­       |                                \                        ­|
                                              \                ­                |        and long lost dreams
                                                ---------­--------------  US

                                      Find your muse in the autumn air
                                                        And fly
Copyright Eric Whittier Oct 2010
Eric N Whittier Oct 2010
Sometimes I need to put a table on my head
And think back to childhood
And cry all alone under a blanket
The world is full of terrors
Darkness knows no bounds
I wish it would all go away
But the tears feel
so good to be alive
So good to not feel nothing
What had happened?
When did everything fall away?
Dont tell me my love isnt real.
Sacred in my solitude
Maybe you just dont know
Havent learned how to feel this good
Maybe I havent been able to hold onto    
Maybes thats where my dreams went
But there is more than that
So long I tried to run
Because like nothing else love is scary and it hurts

More than anything
Heart           r
           in              g

So now here I am
Alone again
Wishing I held you
There is this ache within me
That longs to hold you again
And its that which keeps me up all night
Although I guess the coffee helps
Copyright Eric Whittier Oct 2010
Eric N Whittier Oct 2010
The ways in which things fall apart.

like sandcastles,
and snowmen.
melting away,
in the rays of the sun,
the soft gentle waves.

like the way fire takes apart,
a paper plane.
one final blaze of glory.

like your words,
eating away all of my dreams.

Never more,
never more.

We fall into the stars.
silent and holy,
alone in the cathedral,
waiting to feel,
the presence of nothing.

That which tucks us in,
and tells us,
that the monsters,
are just illusions.

Is that what dreams are?

In the dark,
out of reach,
intangible and fragile,
waiting to flee when the lights come on,
slipping away,
to the corners of our mind.

So what is this feeling then?
is it the presence,
of a state of heartbreak?
is it the absence,
of the dreams we shared?
does it haunt you too?

are you not afraid,
of monsters anymore?

Perhaps this is when,
we forget how to be children.

Stuck in a world,
of the finite and real.
alone and cold,
because we forgot about love,
and our dreams.

We took on their dreams.
the ones they forced down our throats.

Day after day,
year after year,
it only gets worse...

Once we lose the the bliss,
of endless possibilities.

Once we discover,
that we cannot be an astronaut.

Once we learn,
to accept our given fates.

We are lost.

Nothing can escape,
the winds of change.

Why then,
do we run?
and hide,
pulling the covers up over our head.

Why not embrace the inevitable?
open the window,
fly away,
and never come back.

We allow ourselves to be chained,
firmly to the ground.

We are responsible,
for our wont of love.
having pushed it out,
to the fringes of existence.

A hermit,
so profoundly alone.

He takes solace in his infinite wisdom,
and grace.
small comforts.

Wishing for just one companion.
one person,
to help conquer the dark.
with which,
they can brave returning to the cave.

But this other is elusive,
and cannot be found.
rather they must find,
their own way out.

That secret path,
hidden in the shadows,
along with our dreams.

Society tries,
to obscure all hope.
if we do not play along,
with this self imposed torture.
everyone will turn against us.

They are so lost,
that they cannot see,
cannot even fathom,
their poor and tortured lives.

They do not know,
why they cannot be happy.
why they cannot be free.
what being free would even mean.

To be truly free,
from that subjugating will.
which is itself a fiction.

They have created the overlord,
the one who sits atop the mountain ruling supreme.
they pay their homage to him,
dominating themselves.

We however,
cannot be dominated.
we will not allow ourselves,
that easy way out.

We alone can be held accountable.
for this pain we feel,
is of our own creation.

Our own monster,
roaming in the night.

Yet still,
the joy we know is transcendent.
freeing us,
from our own traps.

We see the overlord for what he is,
a monster,
an illusion,
a dream,
a sandcastle.
Copyright Eric Whittier October 2010

— The End —