Chris Whitenack, Writer
Suit Up, Show Up

We are not mystics with observational super powers.

Rather, we are blue collar, ink stained magicians
making something out of nothing our trade
or love-versus-loss statisticians; 
rainbows out of numbers lovingly made.

Nobility isn’t a dragon shrew’d mage of age
but a teenager with a pen and a promise
a bleeding out of ruptured dreams on page
spilling feelings not as a novice…

A skilled translator.

Lonely middle aged men. Bored, indecisive wives
scribbling snapshot artists, rockstar wannabe’s
secret lovers ignored, anonymous piecemeal lives
all plying our craft, a creative’s economy.

Be proud, you are a gift that shines mundane
into a patent leather saddle shoe; dancing insight.
In the end we simply suit up and show up
Writers, we. Only common in that we write.

Saturday Night Near Fruitville

Some guy I didn’t know named Bogdanovich

made a movie that only the swingset and

the popcorn riddled berms could have held

three times in a row; dreams and a happy

family at the drive-in, 1973.

.

The melody always stuck, and the crush faded

in a summer. She was a tomboy on the silver

screen’s scripted, scrumptious sanctity, only

second to the smell of salted satisfaction

in a paper tub, and paper straws…

.

all under a family night Paper Moon.

.

Watching the tips of my ked’s meet the brown

and white people, feeling the purple of the

lightening bug dusk telling me to head

back to the red and white Javelin

so mom won’t get mad, then dad.

.

Toys on the floor board ignored, the magic

spilling through tinny, heavy speakers

hanging in the windows, the only other sound

of adjustments of butts on leather and

crunching. Bliss for three bucks and a night.

whiteysplace:

Alightment Awakening
warming myself by the fire of my words
the music rolling through my soulspeak
high notes of notations flurry
I am the song
.
forms of chaos agents, alightment awakenings
a very literal asking to shine, light;
I am the flame within…
.
singing this song to awake and alive.
Chris Whitenack © 2014

whiteysplace:

Alightment Awakening

warming myself by the fire of my words

the music rolling through my soulspeak

high notes of notations flurry

I am the song

.

forms of chaos agents, alightment awakenings

a very literal asking to shine, light;

I am the flame within…

.

singing this song to awake and alive.

Chris Whitenack © 2014

What Light Shines

Out of my hand
flies a butterfly wing, it sings
songs that the rest of the
being doesn’t know, it shows
how parts are whole.

Her and I roll like that.
Beauty and unrestrained verse
pottery on a wheel, we steal
only from ourselves
when we don’t create, make.

Our little universe
are a sun and moon gravitating
on our own orbits, and
we kiss when close, her nose
but we shine more at a distance.

Singing butterfly wings
can disrupt entire world climates.
Ask any scientist.
Chaos is a form, formless
and perfect in it’s intent.

Like all of us.

Chris Whitenack © 2014

whiteysplace:

What’s New
You throw back the curtains, I the comforter
you know, that place that commingles scents
of our laughter and dreams.
.
Brubeck background bubbles waft in and out
of our coffee and tea, flavors of you and me
…. and let’s not forget about our cats.
.
Daily love ritual is new and not, but ours alone
to make fresh like the brew of life we sip
and Portland is a great idea, babe.
.
Chris Whitenack © 2014

whiteysplace:

What’s New

You throw back the curtains, I the comforter

you know, that place that commingles scents

of our laughter and dreams.

.

Brubeck background bubbles waft in and out

of our coffee and tea, flavors of you and me

…. and let’s not forget about our cats.

.

Daily love ritual is new and not, but ours alone

to make fresh like the brew of life we sip

and Portland is a great idea, babe.

.

Chris Whitenack © 2014

whiteysplace:

Today I’m ramping up more promotion of my brand name with a new article that has some of history in the last few years and the directions I am heading towards.
As I wish you all a fantastic day, I do hope you take the time and read a little about your local neighborhood Whitey!
Thanks, namaste.

whiteysplace:

Today I’m ramping up more promotion of my brand name with a new article that has some of history in the last few years and the directions I am heading towards.

As I wish you all a fantastic day, I do hope you take the time and read a little about your local neighborhood Whitey!

Thanks, namaste.

My Loss To Gain

I have released my wolf to live amongst his kind

those that would test, failed.

The hive has found that this system, this 

multiverse is beyond their abilities.

The enemy, isn’t.

.

To conquer myself has made this blue field of

less than honor a shadow past that only

serves want. I am learning, embracing

something called content.

She adds to, but is not “the reason”

.

I no longer believe the lie of Everything.

.

I don’t value being pieces anymore. I have fragments;

I am whole. And try though I may, I simply cannot

give that to any of you. Make your own choices,

and forgive mine, or not. 

No one can give you your own peace.

Imperfect Strangers

Relevant to each as unknowns less quantified

breathing sameness, living differences smile

we can glide by effortlessly as meteors adrift;

but even star travelers bump every few million miles

.

Soul scraped journey of eons wrapped in care

worn only as much as we ravage ideascapes

with ink and word ghosts of passing feeling

exposed for perhaps a second, exposed at our napes

.

Never diminishing returns unexpected, silver linings

woven into the fabric of existential knowing

the real surprise is finding how alike our composite

so many stories unravel, universal love shows, sings.

.

Through this revelation of cosmic breezethrough 

stuff of origin, of relevance of ideas passed

we are added to as we leave pieces behind

changed and new though older, 

.

Future, Present, Past.

Hi I was wondering if you can give me tips on writing poetry. I really like poetry but my writings suck...I know practice makes perfect but I've been trying to write for years and I havent made any progress. What's the problem?

Hi, Jamie. Ok, first things first. The whole notion of “my writing sucks”, throw that out, now. That headset is useless. Once you’ve done that, is simple- find a thing that moves you, fills you with emotion, or fascinates you(who or whatever that is) and try putting words to it. If you don’t like the words you’re using, find different ones that mean the same thing, ya know, metaphor.

Example: He(or she) looked at me like I was the most beautiful girl in the world.

Then: The windows reflection showed me a garden of delights that could only live in my heart, on my face, and when I opened it, petals blew in from your gentle breeze.

See? 

IMPORTANT: SAY IT THE WAY *YOU* NEED TO SAY IT, NOT THE WAY YOU WANT SOMEONE TO READ IT.

Hope these helped, looking forward to seeing your writes! :-D