Walt Whitman Homage

Rachel Forbes

 

Enamored am I of the profundity of these lines, the ease with which they flow
Freely, gladly, unobtrusively from the loins of a seasoned, weathered heart.

 

O that I could idly loafe and leap through the licentious hoops of life
while languidly licking the tip of the phallic lollipop that lingers and leers
in the depths of my oversexed libido, my thrust-thirsty flower of the white oleander type—
Pure pale perverse little pussy with a milky-white exterior concealing the poison contained within.

 

I behold the soupy swamp—the pussy willows wafting and waltzing around its murky edges
Playfully beckoning the beastly bachelor’s buttons to rise and fall with the wind’s expectations.
     
Lying in the Earthly meadow endlessly, lazily counting the leaves of grass descended from
the weeping willow that has its roots in the labyrinthian maze of my otherworldly brain,
I ponder the cycle of life—birth, death, rebirth—and its perpetual movement, its endlessness.
Awe overcomes me in my solitude as a space for the afterlife between death and rebirth appears
before my very eyes—expressive eyes that reveal the complexity of matters of the heart and soul.

 

The interrelatedness of earth, air, fire, water, animal, human, and spirit—
everything possessing an element of the divine within the intimate conglomerate of nature.
A subtle influence likened to the eternal ebb and flow of the moon-pulled tide
criss-crosses, curls, and ties everything together—a pristine package tautly fastened with an invisible bow, which over time, has come to be known as the all-encompassing Oversoul.

 

The soul of all souls—mine, his, hers, and yours. We all come together in this planetary orb
working, soul-searching to find a deeper meaning for our purpose in this unpredictable world—
I have yet to procure an answer after ceaseless reflection and my mind grows flummoxed.

 

Seeking relief, I allow my thoughts to stray to my lover, latently fantasizing about his tongue betwixt my lips Stifling a sexy smile, I speak with the bees who willingly trace his handsome face for me out of pollen
Those lovely locks of dew-smelling hair falling gingerly over those honest shimmering eyes.
I dream of his fingers dancing the expanse of my naked body, tracing my beauty marks like stars in the sky. His tender voice whispering, “Worry not my love, for invincible we are, this moment shall forever be ours.” It is his very existence that gives me hope.

   

Hope that I can find it within me to love unconditionally both myself and all else in nature,
that I too may soar above material nonsense and realize the magnificence of my own Earthly being—
that we may find the strength to exterminate the constraints placed upon us by the throes of oppressive society! Let us transcend the bonds that hold us captive within our rubbish-ridden minds and instead
act as sponges soaking, internalizing the innate unity, the wholeness of humanity and nature.

 

We must take the hands of one another in search of truth, willingly traversing paths unknown,
traveling into new realms of thought where life is ever-changing with the capriciousness of Mother Nature.

 

Treading the waters of the opaque ocean, I have hopes of the liquid pervading my pores,
quenching an insatiable bodily thirst that keeps me parched even in a month of monsoons.
But I tread to no avail, tiring and wishing for a ship to set sail and transport me to a blesséd place

 

A sacred temple of Mother Earth hidden deep within the forest amongst a gathering of Dryads
Whispering whimsically of the Old ways, their fragile voices lost in the bellowing whipping wind.
O that I could recount the gorgeous trees I see forming an alcove, an umbrella of leaves:
Catalpa, Honeylocust, Elder, Willow,  Maple, Ash, Beech, Sweetgum, Sycamore, Sumac—
A plethora indeed. I marvel at the selflessness, the radiance of these intricate, life-sustaining trees.

 

Westward ho! The birds migrate in a conglomerate V fixating on a retreat most divine and sweet
But my mouth, it makes a perfect O when preparing for the entry of a much-anticipated fleshy pole
and when undulating in waves of intense sensual pleasure, my back often resembles a lowercase letter...n.

 

Mortality with a capital M does not frighten me nor phase me in the least, for I am well aware that this
is to be my Earthly destiny. Death has betaken me many a time before, but unalarmed I stand
for ’tis simply a part of the life cycle, which has a tendency to repeat itself time and again—
a fact of life to be embraced, for it defies logic to fear and deny what is only a matter of time and besides,
rest assured that at least you will finally learn whether the grass is indeed greener on the other side of the dirt.
 

 

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