The Unborn Dreams of a Fertilization 1942a Long Journey a Long Lived Nightmare Part 1
The unborn dreams of a fertilization – 1942
A long journey – A long lived nightmare
The journey begins without knowledge, just passion.
Life emerges, fights against the prodding at childhood.
The nightmare begins with a stabbing at their creation,
by father, by mothers encouragement, to remove any traces
of their knowledge less innocence, their youthful passion.
Weapons of choice, – to destroy – ( depending ) a blue pill,
a steal coat hanger searching out the embryo that lays
in the semi darkness of its haunted , molested cave,
where its subconscious essence, its protective shell
has been tainted by experiencing constant intrusions
from an unwanted, swollen cylinder, of flesh and blood.
This life, red flowing through blue tubed has to negotiate
this tunnel of darkness, shades of black, clouds that shroud,
in hopes of sliding through this miracle mile, on its way
to feel, to see, to touch, to know the light of day
after a long, nine month troubled stay
in this place of unwanted, unwelcomed occupancy - GO AWAY.
A child’s nightmare, becomes the unwanted dreams of the man.
And now that a new kind of light surrounds this old soul,
the child begins to know another kind of nightmare – Fate.
As the child’s mind walks among the haunted trees,
– through the ghostly forests of life’s experiences -
nightmares, dreams, thoughts, questions abound.
Fate ?, Karma ?, life seems to, always be on the edge
as a fall, from seven feet -at two years of age – into the light,
straight down, head first, striking my head on the cement floor.
Fate ?, Karma ?, life seems to, always be on the edge
as my Grandfather, finds me drowning at the bottom of our well,
at two years of age, he pulls the baby from where he fell.
Fate ?, Karma ?, life seems to, always be on the edge
as my Grandmother, blood poison did know,
observed a red line from my belly down to my big toe.
Fate ?, Karma ?, life seems to, always be on the edge,
once again, this life saved so that it could grow
even as allergy to penicillin could not kill, and so,
Fate ?, Karma ?, life seems to, always be on the edge
as death was averted, once again, by hospital staff and doctor,
the journey goes on, the Grim Reaper cannot, yet, close the door.
Fate ?, Karma ?, life seems to, always be on the edge,
at fourteen, brother uncle, “ boy you are hot ” he said
as we lay side by side, under his fifty five Ford, head to head.
Fate ?, Karma ?, life seems to, always be on the edge
as he tells me to take my temperature – 106 – you are dead ?,
why are you still hear, with us instead.
Fate ?, Karma ?, life seems to, always be on the edge
as I – in my nineteenth year – roll over, twice, my fifty three
Mercury two door hard top that we left up against a tree.
Fate ?, Karma ?, life seems to, always be on the edge
as seven boys unhurt and me going out the door,
my feet on the door, pushes me back in as it rolls once more.
Fate ?, Karma ?, life seems to, always be on the edge
and who knows ?, which side one will end up on
as we all survived, unscathed, my Poor Mercury, gone !
Fate ?, Karma ?, life seems to, always be on the edge
and it is nineteen sixty nine, twenty seven light years
have slipped by in the blink of an eye, filled with tears.
Fate ?, Karma ?, life seems to, always be on the edge
and wonder ?, what coloured the this life’s forces,
what is behind the curtains ?, that direct my courses.
Fate ?, Karma ?, life seems to, always be on the edge
as a diesel engine comes out of the wilderness,
striking, destroying in early morning’s darkness.
Fate ?, Karma ?, life seems to, always be on the edge
as my sixty seven Mercury Comet convertible was killed,
leaving me to live on and my life, with adventures, to be filled
Fate ?, Karma ?, life seems to, always be on the edge
as the 3rd month, the 13th day, of 1973 did show.
For the powers that be, Fate ?, Karma ?, did not let me go.
Fate ?, Karma ?, life seems to, always be on the edge
as the fetus, the baby, the young man, now thirty one
finds that his journey upon this plane is not yet done.
Copyright © William J. Jr. Atfield | Year Posted 2014
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