Sandbox Babies

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Into the sandbox
Come the flappers and the seekers
Like puppets on strings
Dancing to their own childish whims
The profiler watches
As they think they sing
The poison in their stories a piercing ring
Like chess moves, piece by piece
Slowly
From a blank slate
We see the wrong turns inflicted at childhood
Them thinking they are so misunderstood

Sandbox babies
Making sandstorms
Proclamations of their righteousness
Even as they commit both big and petty sins
Narcissistic egos purchasing mirrors at IKEA
So they can stare at their own opinions
Locking their minds in the open mirrored box
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Casarah Nance

Date: 10/22/2016 8:25:00 PM

very interesting, I like people watching, and you capture the characters, we are all just grains of sand in the never ending sandbox, some grains get under the skin.

Jean Murray

Date: 10/16/2016 10:31:00 AM

I had to read the poem a second time to grasp the meaning, but the baby in the photo I loved immeditaly. A mix of Popeye and the periwinkles I ate as a child.

Richard Lamoureux

Date: 10/16/2016 7:45:00 AM

This is quite well expressed Arthur. A most interesting write.

Eve Roper

Date: 10/15/2016 4:37:00 PM

Your talent is amazing, Arthur .... Love it Hugs

Tim Smith

Date: 10/15/2016 4:04:00 PM

Wow....that last stanza hits it home

Charmaine Chircop

Date: 10/15/2016 3:03:00 PM

Its sad when we think so much of ourselves..We ignore to listen to others..Indeed we ll be looking into cheap mirrors..that make nothing of us but narcissits...Excellent ..Nice to see you posting Art.