A teacher broke his left-handedness,
until the right reluctantly awoke.
His right hand turned
to inner paths.
They tried to rewire him,
he was too right handed now,
but he kept slipping out of their minds
The boy continued taking
unofficial routes.
Teachers gave up on him.
He drew his own mind maps
explored them.
Eventually, by chance,
he found his place
at the center
his two hands joined
to the logic of creative
prayers
You say, I’m too far,
towards the far side?
It’s a hazard of my left-handedness,
that I see the logic in abstraction.
Worlds lay within worlds
and colors bleed personality;
Oh, it may be distasteful
in the world of mathematics
to give a square five sides;
not in my world,
it’s a box with the lid open.
Into that box I pour
my imaginings,
things that only I can see
of which, some folks display
their jealousy;
they accuse me of being backwards,
of not following the rules.
In my world, rules are
shades of grey,
monotone
monotony,
my imagination
does not obey.
No one tells me that
a cow can’t be purple,
that clouds can’t speak
or that you can’t draw the
invisible realms.
Step into my guitar and dance,
it’s playing itself for you.
I’m an original, you see
and I travel in
imagination’s zone.
It was the most ferocious time of my life,
I was angry all the time.
Angry at breakfast.
Angry during lunch.
Angry at supper.
I was angry because my teacher had a pact with my mom.
I was to wear a mitt on my left hand for the year at school,
so I could not use that "wrong hand".
In the 50's that's how we "cured" left-handedness.
That was sixty years ago, and I still remember that
ugly gray mitt with the white strings that I could
not take off.
My mother made it, at
Miss Kneefriend's urging.
Miss Kneefriend indeed.
Let me show Miss Kneefriend a knee.
Anger takes away happy.
Anger takes away reason.
Anger takes away everything that makes a kid human.
And I was never a human child in the first place.
I was always ready to kill after first grade.
Because I remember, and I knew myself,
and I liked my left hand, and she was
angry too.
If my typing seems illegible some times
I tend slant it to the left or the right,
Forgive me if you cannot read it,
Let me know please don’t get up tight.
See I was born with this left-handedness,
And I am not to blame.
I take after by poor old dad,
Who suffered from it just the same.
It is all to do with how you place your key board,
I face mine left instead of straight in front of me.
This gives the letters a right hand slant,
Look closely at the screen and you will see.
So now if your eyes have gone all squint,
And you’ve read and done all I ask.
Then you just as insane as me,
For this insanity test you can give yourself a pass.
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