Whimsical Dreams

wesleyvintonharney — Wed, 12 Aug 2009 05:08:31 +0000

skakespeare hates your emo poems!

Let the festivities begin!

wesleyvintonharney — Tue, 11 Aug 2009 23:50:14 +0000

Well as we can all imagine its a daring feat we must all embark upon. That which changes our lives forever, or leaves us limp and lifeless. Its quite a fine line. The main point of this blog has yet to be established and the mere fact that readers even exist or care is fantasy waiting to explode with fiery colors into my dreams much like fireworks into a jar…terrible analogy. So what we’re going to do is start with this-give me a book I will read it and then give you my opinion as disturbed as it may be. Or give send me videos or your own work, I love to read other people’s writing. Some of you just read these and do not understand that YOU to can write.

To get things out of the way. I’m working on reading a book by Oliver la Farge titled Laughing Boy. So far its is a decent portrayal of Native American life during the “colonization” of America. The main character Laughing Boy is a less modernized Native and that the point I have reached (three chapters in) he has just partied and got stood up. Not bad I guess for a start.

I have a tendency to begin a novel and not finish so unless you desire to torture another poor human being please make it one you actually like and not something that was so bad it made you cry and now you wish to release the same grueling experience another hapless soul.

So there you go, thats the plan.

Do aide my hapless soul in the twist in the bland fairy tale.

-wesleyvintonharney

Julie/Julia Movie Review

wesleyvintonharney — Wed, 12 Aug 2009 02:17:18 +0000

So to begin my movie review page I’m going to start with the one that is fresh in my mind. I just saw the film Julie/Julia this afternoon, I caught the 4 o’clock matinee. Dispite the fact that it was senior citizen discount day and I was outaged by about 35 years by nearly the entire room it was still an interesting movie experience.

It is the percise reason I started this blog, simply as something to do. The performance of Meryl Streep as a Julia Child was fantastic to say the least and Amy Adams as Julia Powell was not far behind. The film is a heart warming comparision of two different women and how one indiviuals life can and will dramatically change that of another. To think that my life could change that of someone much my junior in years to come is an image that has played over and over in my head since I left the theatre this afternoon. Seriously think about it, what if something you do today or tommorow or whenever has such an affect on a child in the future that it changes their life, that they begin to see you as such an influence upon them that every aspect of your life choices dictates the way they live. Creepy huh?

Though if I want to become pessimistic I can tell you that every celebrity you pay attention to does the same thing, or I could tell you that when you buy the new whatever you’re allowing someone else’s life to dictate yours, but I won’t because I want you to keep reading and not head over here and bash my face in repeatedly.

So all that to say. I give the film a thumbs up for acting ability and a second for making me think, not many films do that anymore. So go watch it!

-wesleyvintonharney

Coffee Shop Tragedy

wesleyvintonharney — Wed, 12 Aug 2009 01:48:51 +0000

my foolish friends and foolish friends
why don’t you heed the warning
the pipers gone and the children too
what once we thought trickery
we now see as wisdom
the fears becoming real and the
dragon dies by her little drop
of poision
and the dogs bow to her majesty
she walks freely among us
AMONGST US!
Pouring her words like sweet wine
down our thristy throats
and
BAM WHAM
her every whim we obey
no arguement is heard
not even the devil dares
dares counter her power
for even the devil is wrapped
around her pinkie
For in her hand is enough
feminine prowess to crush
CRUSH SMASH SHATTER
even the devil’s heart
In dusky dark barrooms she sits
the crooning deaf man growls
his wisdom,
playing out of tune on broken keys
and she cries
she cries
Forgotten in time, her beauty
wares, and new lionesess
prowl, new songs are sung
new wines poured
new poisons dripped
And each in time is forgotten
slowly lost and slowly
broken by brown hair and blue
eyes and irish accents
Each woman
each sorcerous turned angel
gives into the one who Loves
her most,
Though scared and frightened
she alows herself to be held
to be worshipped instead of feared
loved not dreaded
her heart given over not to
a “white knight”
or some large dumb twit
but to a different kind of man
one who fights with
words
and not brawn
who charms with poetry
and not useless feats of strength
her poison turned to honey
and her wine to warm milk,
And soul to soul each love tumbled
on through trial and time
And in shakespearian style
TRAGEDY!
In sweetest charm the
horror struck
stripping Love from weak arms
unalbe to fight the wars of men
our romeo passed
with poison from his juliette’s lips
romeo stumbled to roads end,
while large men then he
triumphed,
He crucified himself in Jesus Christ
Fashion
upon Love’s doorstep
Cobblestone dreams
and golden visions
Satan’s trombone rings
the woman finds herself in dusky dark
barrooms,
and blind magicians and deaf
crooner
console her raped soul
…..the ‘white knight’ rides away
to take some other angel’s
Love
in swift well practiced style

Disco Moonbeams

wesleyvintonharney — Wed, 12 Aug 2009 01:46:27 +0000

Disco Moonbeams ride the
Waves of the fleeing sun,
She waltzes with stars
And The Big Dipper is jealous,

Scorpio weeps through the
Night and Disco Moonbeams
Dance with Orion
And Zeus laughs heartily

Ares spreads his warmth
Peace comes to the world
And Disco Moonbeams tap
Dance to the rhythm
And coffee shop blues

The pouring rain is God’s
Tears washing away the grime
Of foolhardy living while
Disco Moonbeams do the salsa
Across the midnight sky
Lighting up my dark room
And everything’s ok, everything’s
Just fine, just dandy
As disco moonbeams dance
Away with the night

Orion rapped sweetly
Around her glowing fingers
And The Big Dipper is jealous
Scorpio wipes his tears and
Takes her in hand in his

Zeus laughs heartily
As Ares puts daisies in his
Hair, and lay quietly
Listen to the rain hit the tin
Roof, and fall asleep in my
Arms,

I’ll keep you safe and in
The morning holloween orange
We’ll dance like Disco Moonbeams
In the midnight sparkling sky_

The Ferryman

wesleyvintonharney — Wed, 12 Aug 2009 01:43:52 +0000

I beat my head against a wall because I can’t get the words out of my head
And no matter how much I write and diminsh the white pages to dripping ink
I still can’t get them out and they plague my every waking moment
And the ones where I’m asleep as well, its driving me crazy and no one but
Me knows, at least I think that’s the way it is because I don’t actually know anyone
Which could be a the solution to my problem, or rather one of the age old problems,
But still as my mind bashes out stanza after stanza I loose control and
Deep in my dark mind somewhere there is a place that has all the answers to the worlds questions, I just can’t get there, because the ferry man is stingy and
I never have enough money to pay him to let me cross,
I think he wants that place all to himself, if only he knew how it hurts me so
To lay awake at night with life boxing at your head like a golden glove hero
With no mercy at all in his large padded fists, demolishing all sense of wisdom
I once saw that place, it was colorful and beautiful and there were angels
Playing in the sun, at least I think it was sun, I’ve never really seen the sun
And dancing, OH HOW THEY DANCED, like well, angels, and it was smooth
And fluid and they never missed a beat or a step, they played and they laughed
Once again I can only guess because in my mind I haven’t heard laughter in so so long,
I tried to swim across to them but it was to far and I grew weary
My arms cursed me for trying and my heart deserted me saying I was fool
For dreaming for things I knew I would never gain,
But I will one day make it to that place and when I do, I will dance and sing
With the angels and the ferryman will join us and we can laugh and drink together
Like old friends who haven’t seen eachother in so long and finally meet in paradise,
But right now I don’t feel that way toward him, I want bash his big round ugly head
Into the pavement and gleefully chuckle as the three headed dogs in my mind
Pee on his face, I want break his legs into tiny tiny pieces and watch him rithe in pain,
I want so much for him to feel what it is I feel when my mind is locked up with words
That beg so badly to escape but I can’t find a suitable home for,
AH! I just want to live a life that lets me breathe and eat and sleep
Without coming up with something else to say, but then again I wouldn’t be me
And the world be dull and empty and cruel and I’d find no amusement in causing
Undue harm to people’s psyche, laughing at their failures and their stupidity,
But that is cruel and foolish and I should stab myself in the eye with a dull pencil
For such thoughts, I am no better then the ferryman,
I am no better then the ferryman.

the mobster

wesleyvintonharney — Wed, 12 Aug 2009 00:50:02 +0000

A friends dropped by today I watched him roll up in his new car and step out in his cool suit and italian shoes. At first glance he looks like some sort of mobster, problem is he is so short that you’d miss him in a crowd, the only feature that draws you to him is that smile that never stops always drawing in your emotions but not today. Today his smile is gone and in the five years i’ve known him i’ve never seen him that way, I almost don’t recognize him because I can’t find myself and its like i’m watching someone else’s life from behind their eyes. I looks at me and tries but it only comes across as deeply disturbed, like when you try to be polite with that one customer who just seems to forget you’re a person to and you try to care but really you’re only puking in your mouth. I cross the drive and hold out my hand to shake but he won’t let me and instead a tear drips from the corner of his brown eyes and he moves slowly out for hug but makes that awkward mid motion disicion thats not ok and I catch him by surprise and pull him for a long hard not gay hug, because even though I know he needs the hug I need one every now and then to.

The Children Always Know

wesleyvintonharney — Wed, 12 Aug 2009 00:40:16 +0000

It was love at first sight, at least for him. He never really knew in the end if she loved him first or if she just got used to him. But either way it didn’t matter because it was ok , because life stopped when he was in her presence and he tried to let her know the only way he knew how, he wrote poems in the sky he used the stars for punctuation and the moon for a title. He danced under the moonlight and played in the shadows of the noon day sun slipping in and out of trees and walls, he just moved in hopes that she’d see and like what she saw. He made songs that only he knew the words to but wouldn’t mind telling her, but she just laughed and the silly boy with the funny smile and quirky walk. He started getting into things, he’d stop pressing hard on the younger kids and instead of treating them as he used to he taught the to write how to open their hearts and to release the caged birds in the soul, he showed them that love was real and that if you tried hard enough you really could hear the wind speak. That it told stories of other children in far off places listening to their stories and wondering if such a hero was real. He taught them and they taught him, they taught him how laugh again how to play again, how to just enjoy being alive because they knew just as well as he that it wouldn’t always last. So in sweet newfound child hood innocence he trekked forth on his quest for love, he fought dragons and dueled with knights he drank with robin hood and ate with prince Caspian he slept in Joan of arcs camp and played cards with da Vinci. And still he didn’t know if love had found it fit to gaze her eyes upon his. He imagined himself as a proud man walking tall and gallantly toward his bride and in one smooth motion or hero was small and he stammered when he spoke and he looked down at his feet then away past her to the distance and said under his breath that which plagued him most. With a laugh and toss of her beautiful brown hair she turned and walked away. The crying child looked up at the crying man, took his hand in hers and smiled.

The old man and love

wesleyvintonharney — Wed, 12 Aug 2009 00:38:22 +0000

Its always like this banging feeling the heart that no one seems to have the ability to stop. I mean how does one do this to someone else. Love. How or why would anyone allow someone else to fall in love? Its the demonic style of man to bring his own down into the lowest point of life and somehow cause him to believe that it is the best time of his slow and dull life. At least thats how the old man down the hall sees it. But I secretly believed that way back when he was my age he was unfortunate enough to lose his own love in some array of fireworks and colors and maybe even hint of Shakespearean tragedy. I mean that would make a story. So needless to say when the situation arose again as I passed by the old man’s home with a saddened down hardened look. If you must know I’d just fallen for the most incredible creature to ever grace my eyes. I say creature because there is no way in hell she was human. No human has such grace or move so smoothly or make birds sing when she speaks. However, even though my overactive imagination allowed us to fall in love and dance beautifully in the fields outside of the city and pick flowers until dark and come skipping back home with no care in the world. So when passing the old man’s home with a look that screamed “THIS FOOL IS IN LOVE”.

:You ain’t going to get her boy!” The sharp voice jolted me out of my day dream. “and why not” ? I said. Cuz you just ain’t. There ain’t no way on the green earth that a boy like you could get a girl like her. Shes above you and you ain’t got no know how as it happens. As what happens? The man laughed and simply said thats why. Thats why. Look sir I may not get her but I can always dream. ..DREAM? Naw boy you can’t cuz no amount of dreamin of love will bring you love. Thats the way of the world. Its shows you what could be and then slaps you in the face with reality. Love is not real son. Sir what happened to you? Huh? The hell you mean boy? What happened. You always tell me love ain’t real and…cuz it aint. And I think something happened. Who was she? What was she like? Did you marry her? Tell me.

Boy love ain’t real because there was no such woman. Never was and never will be. Love just don’t exist. And now stop bothering me with your imagination it ain’t worth a no good thing. And with that he went back inside and I stumbled on home wondering if he was right. And I asked momma when I got home. And she simply nodded and looked sadly away. Which to a boy like me means something DID happen. And I was bound to find out. I slipped down stairs and started writing stories about how it happen. And what it was. I thought of romeo and Juliet only with a twist…romeo lived. I thought how maybe he fell in love went to war and came home to find she died and he lived. Or that he married and she ran away with some European to France or Italy or someplace romantic like that. Or maybe that he was right, at least for him. Love doesn’t exist because he never took the time to find out, or because he wanted to but like all men was frail and afraid. This, this is true knowledge.