Tent Cities – Poem by Jean Jones">Tent Cities – Poem by Jean Jones
Published November 18, 2009 | 
">Bruce WhealtonHere is a poem by Jean Jones that was written in response to my request for poetry relating to homelessness and poverty.
TENT CITIES BY JEAN JONES
I try to imagine living in a tent city, and I can’t.
I keep picturing the cold at night and in the morning but I can’t picture it.
I keep imagining what the sky would look like as it turned to dusk and darkness
how beautiful the sky would turn, from peach to orange to red but I can’t see it.
I keep thinking how it would be like with no toilets, no money, and trying to imagine
where to get food and where to go begging but I can’t conceive it
Every time a man says to me on the street, “Could you give money to a disabled vet,”
or a guy parks next to an intersection with a cardboard sign that says “Will work for food,”
I try to imagine where those guys go when it gets dark. I can’t.
I’ve been to the library when the janitor has had to clean up where a man has defecated on himself
at the library bathroom. I’ve looked for sleeping homeless men that I was told were sleeping drunk by the church and were defecating on the church lawn. I was told to call the police if they didn’t leave when I asked them to. I’ve tried to picture the lives of these men. I can’t.
This is taking place in our cities and counties every night, not in some third world country.
It is unbelievable and yet we accept it like finding dog shit on our shoes: we hate it, we wipe
it off our shoes by scraping our shoes on the sidewalk, and we move on.
UP A MOUNTAIN DEEP IN INDONESIA – POEM BY JEAN JONES">UP A MOUNTAIN DEEP IN INDONESIA – POEM BY JEAN JONES
Published September 14, 2009 | ">Bruce WhealtonUP A MOUNTAIN DEEP IN INDONESIA – POEM BY JEAN JONES
Up a mountain deep, in Indonesia in the island of Sumatra, deep in Indonesia where no one speaks English, where the only tourists are blonde-haired Dutch men & women & up the mountain that goes up in curves driving in weaves up a single road up a mountain where you find yourself at the top of a crater, the crater a huge lake & down the crater the lake stretches out for miles & from the top of the mountain it seems that life when viewed from a distance high above it stretches for miles its dimensions unfathomable its length & width unrecognizable its beauty insurmountable & before one descends back down into the thick of things into the crowds of people into the cars that weave around this life it seems that for an instant, for a second life like this lake is so beautiful an eye clear & pristine one could almost live in it swim in it w/joy on a hot blue June day deep in the hills of Indonesia where no one speaks English where the only tourists are blonde haired Dutch men & women for an instant you could touch it you could live it you could believe in it & for an instant I was glad to be alive to be there to be here on top of the lake whose dimensions are unrecognizable & before I descend I see this & I am smiling for I am alive I'm ere & I don't want to be anywhere else anywhere else anywhere else & I wish you were here in the sunlight w/me right here right now
Space Mountain – Poem by Bruce Whealton">Space Mountain – Poem by Bruce Whealton
Published February 22, 2009 | ">Bruce WhealtonI must have been 13
when my parents
first took us to Disney World.
Disney has had a rollercoaster
called “Space Mountain.”
I had seen other rollercoaster rides
but this one is all inside a big building
and it is dark in there.
I think that made it more frightening.
So, I was in line to get on the ride
and just before I got to the end,
to that last part of the line,
I turned and left
before getting on.
I was scared of something.
Two years later,
my parents took us to Disneyworld again.
I remember looking at that line,
at Space Mountain,
that filled the inside
and stretched outside…
people waiting 45 minutes,
maybe longer…
many, many people,
every day bringing many more people
to ride this ride.
This really made me think,
challenging what I had believed.
if there was something to fear
and if this was something to avoid,
why would so many people
wait so long to ride this ride
without turning around and leaving
at the last moment?
So, I decided to ride this rollercoaster.
Waiting in line,
with my sister,
I never mentioned
being scared or nervous.
And I didn’t turn away
at the end.
The ride was intense,
exciting and scary…
People were screaming.
I think those people must feel
those same feelings
that I’ve felt,
being both scared and excited,
as we wait to get on and ride
Space Mountain…
and it is intense and scary
and we do return to ride it
again, like I did during that
trip to Disney World.
Not only do we do this
despite the fear
but I think we want to be scared;
I think this fear can be exciting(!)
and the feeling intense.
What makes more sense?
to say that we do this despite the fear
and that maybe we find being afraid
to be fun and exciting?
or to try to tell ourselves
and others
that we are not afraid?
- Bruce Whealton Feb 2009
Posted in Bruce Whealton, poem, poetry by Bruce Whealton | 
disney world, fear, space mountain | 
Leave a commentWhen I learned that my cousin committed suicide – Poem by Bruce Whealton">When I learned that my cousin committed suicide – Poem by Bruce Whealton
Published February 22, 2009 | ">Bruce WhealtonI heard that my cousin committed suicide…
Death itself is the only true evil,
destroyer of all…
all that we know or can know
is here in what we call life.
Death is the dominion of the Devil.
It is this that the Gnostics got wrong,
when the claimed that Heaven was good
and this existence here,
this world, was ruled by an
evil god – making this place evil.
Death is the great enigma,
hidden in complete secrecy,
shrouded in mystery,
the place where no one,
no one in existence now,
has ever gone.
Having not gone there,
having never seen death personally,
it has always just seemed like
an illusion…
something not real or possible.
Perhaps this is just a coping mechanism,
for dealing with the unspeakable,
pretending that Death
itself, does not exist.
When I heard that my cousin
had committed suicide,
last year,
I had to know how -
she hanged herself -
because that would be the only way
to make sense of what I was being told.
I wanted to say “No!”
or ask my sister,
if she was sure.
But I didn’t say anything.
I don’t think she really was thinking
about how permanent were her actions
or where she was going,
metaphorically speaking.
I think she must have wanted
to go away,
in her mind,
to escape, or retreat,
to some place of her creation;
But where did she get the idea
that suicide would get her there?
Death offers no hope,
no answers,
no meaning,
no comfort…
only pain,
suffering.
Death is the Devil’s domain…
the enemy of everything
we’ve ever known,
of everything we’ve ever loved,
of everything that’s ever mattered -
mattered to us.
I still don’t understand,
how my cousin could have thought
she’d get where she wanted to go
by committing suicide.
Bruce Whealton February, 2009
Memories and Wishes – Poem by Bruce Whealton">Memories and Wishes – Poem by Bruce Whealton
Published January 18, 2009 | ">Bruce WhealtonMemories and Wishes
What do these memories mean?
How can I know that my memories are true
and real?
Sometimes it seems
that these are just
the stories that I tell,
(the stories that I tell myself
so I won’t forget)
about what was
and what I’ve lost
and what I desire back
from the past -
I don’t know if
anyone cares or listens
The characters in some of these stories
are gone – some dead now.
So, I alone tell my stories
without anyone to verify their truth.
Was it real?
My brother, once for a while
like a best friend
now I don’t even have a brother.
If dreams are a form of wish fulfillment,
as Freud said,
then perhaps ,
in that state of mind,
when and where I write
my poems,
is a road to my unconscious.
Then in another memory
Grandma says, “don’t hurt Bruce.”
“But I’m bad,” the 10-year-old
Bruce thought.
It’s unfortunate that she is
but a memory.
How I miss that love!
How I miss her!
- Bruce Whealton 2009
Note on above: Freud called dreams the “Royal Road To The Unconscious.” Healing and health came from gaining awareness of unconscious, repressed thoughts or desires. In some of my poems it seems that I am letting the Muse speak to freely and offer insights or increased awareness of things that were hidden.
Winter Haiku #1 – 1/18/09 – Poem by Bruce Whealton">Winter Haiku #1 – 1/18/09 – Poem by Bruce Whealton
Published January 17, 2009 | ">Bruce WhealtonFeeling numb -
my face where
tears have frozen
Posted in Bruce Whealton, Online Poetry, poem | Haiku, Online Poetry, poem, poetry by Bruce Whealton | Leave a commentVarious Haiku on 1/13/09 – By Bruce Whealton">Various Haiku on 1/13/09 – By Bruce Whealton
Published January 13, 2009 | ">Bruce WhealtonIn the cold, quiet, darkness
silent deer crossing.
I wish I had a camera.
Bare trees on a silent night
like my memories of her
and love itself.
It’s so cold.
My cat runs outside
wearing the same coat as months before.
Posted in Bruce Whealton, poem | Bruce Whealton, Haiku, Online Poetry, poetry by Bruce Whealton | Leave a commentIf I could do it again… Dream insights #1 – Poem by Bruce Whealton">If I could do it again… Dream insights #1 – Poem by Bruce Whealton
Published January 13, 2009 | ">Bruce WhealtonHere is a poem that is part of a series that I just started. Hopefully it will be insightful, if subtle.
If I could do it again… Dream insights #1
I’ve dreamed this so many times…
sometimes there is a part of me,
that ventures back in time,
to warn me of what would happen…
what life would be like if I follow a certain
path.
Other times, it seems that clear that indeed
a dream is a form of wish fulfillment…
and so hard it is to awaken from this dream.
Freud claimed that this was wish fulfillment, but
what purpose can this serve, only
to disappoint upon waking -
to find that the miracle that I so wanted
was just a dream.
It seemed so much like it would be
possible to change things,
set things right again.
Some say hope is dangerous
others that it is necessary and important.
I want to see God – Poem by Bruce Whealton">I want to see God – Poem by Bruce Whealton
Published January 13, 2009 | ">Bruce WhealtonI want to see God.
It seems just like yesterday…
I can’t be more than 5 years old…
I have to reach up to touch
the handrail.
Looking down,
I see the Church crowd below…
and a man is speaking,
(since then, I learned,
that was our priest)
then it’s quiet
And looking down in awe
I ask “Is that God?”
People turn to me,
looking up from below
Mom and Dad are laughing
at me.
I was usually so quiet.
I remember that.
They pull me back to my seat,
saying “sh”
but they didn’t answer me.
I just wanted to see God
but I was afraid to get up.
2009 – Bruce Whealton
Recent Comments