Poem for Friday, August 30, 2024

Saturday, April 13, 2024 Religion is no longer what it was at one time in my life. I am no longer trapped in the lies of the Cult of Denominations. What part of the strawberry is the straw? Long walk Sunny Day finding my way home again. I dream many dreams, nothing is as it seems, vivid dreams I dream after a long walk on a sunny day. I went to the museum this morning. I went by a place that gives out free lunch on the second Saturday of the month. I had to nap after eating because I had not been getting as much sleep the past few days. I had vivid dreams. I plan to go somewhere tomorrow. I was going there today but I was too tired to go today. https://www.patreon.com/jason29171⁠⁠ ⁠http://swellcast.com/jason29171⁠ Poems and Photography: ⁠https://a.co/d/bFYc1kO⁠ Words, Floating: Poetry And Photography: ⁠https://a.co/d/5htw2lz⁠ ⁠https://jason29171.substack.com/⁠ ⁠⁠http://Fjasonwhitakerwriter.com ⁠⁠ ⁠⁠https://medium.com/@jason29171⁠⁠ https://www.viewbug.com/membe...

Love Story (Part One)

- July 11, 2017

Steadily the rain pours in a rhythm that has me awake at this late hour. The small light beside my bed allows the canvas of stars outside my window to be seen while I read. I do not read now, my eyes skimming the page, absently I glance over the pages, and random words catch my attention while I recall the events that have brought me here. What moments of sorrow are these that keep me from dream and what times are these that make it difficult to look beyond these days? I look at his photo and wonder if our time spent together was no more than a facade. Those days shared now seem more like a dream enclosed within ironic truth. It began on one Friday morning and ended the same, a week later. The clouds drift in small patches across an otherwise blue sky. I sit in this lovely park on such a beautiful day. Some children play nearby, birds singing in the trees around me, and the daily press before me waiting to be read. The rest of the day open to many possibiliti...

Inspiration

- July 11, 2017

In the darkness of my room I search with a small flashlight. The small beam reminds me of the spotlights in the big city that pierce the night sky. I imagine, for a second, that my flashlight is a spotlight searching through the darkness of my room for some hidden truth. Toys come to life as the light flashes upon them, briefly, before I move the light to another space in my room. Outside a thunderstorm lights up the night sky with the occasional burst of lightning, the small beam from my flashlight vanishes whenever the sky lights up. I can hear my mom in the other room as she laughs at “Night Court”. The light coming from the rest of the house flickers and then all but my flashlight goes black. I can hear my mom begin to yell for me as though I would be lost in the dark. She comes into my room with a flashlight that is larger than the one I am using to look around my room. “Are you ok?” I look at her for a moment: the light pointing at me, blinding me for a moment, b...

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F. Jason Whitaker Writer