Long Boy inside Poems
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I was born to be manipulated
Alone and unstimulated
Dragged through the early years kicking and screaming
Always knowing someone was scheming
Leading to a point where i got abused or abandoned
Never being quite able to understand
Play a mental game and I don’t know how to play
Can’t ever make a mistake or disobey
Life now it’s easy to fool me
Easier just to agree
Easy to blame for your mistake
A reaction easy to fake
Easy to convince and coerce
As I am nothing in the universe
I’m always looking for hidden meanings
Not trusting people on first meetings
Testing people’s true intentions
Searching for all dimensions
Looking for the truth on what you say
Being prepared to walk away
Not trusting people’s words
I’m the one that observes
Words are cheap
Could come across as the creep
Fifteen years no one to trust
Makes me think your sus
Always suspicious, Always paranoid
Cold and annoyed
I flinch at the thought of aggression
Still feeling the same oppression
Childhood still damages everyday
I fight my mind just to stay
Still hide from people of authority
Judged by their seniority
Still get nervous around other people
The small boy inside causing such upheaval
Always wanting to please instead of always being truthful
One day soon I maybe useful
I don’t know you
Like the back of my hand
But I’d like to think
I know a part of you
Not everyone does.
Like, I don’t know
Your favourite colour
But I think it should be blue
Because that’s the colour
Of the ocean
And in ways that represents you.
It’s the colour of the sky
On a cloudless day
Signifying the easygoing calm
That’s always on display.
Rain has no colour
But it’s water which is blue,
And is the spitting image
Of the serene that you bring.
It’s the clear sky
After the heavy storm
Has been chased away.
And though the moon is silver,
The sky is midnight blue
A perfect depiction of you
If you were something in nature,
With silver constellations
Like freckles across its being,
Signifying the very depths
That you are made of.
It’s the colour of blue bottles
Resting on the sand,
Something to be wary for
Otherwise it might sting,
Just like the facade
You so desperately try to bring.
Blue is your aura of isolated acceptance
And the tranquil sound of your vibrant laugh.
It is the warm brown of your eyes
And the calm melancholy of your soul.
Blue is the way you
Help others without thinking,
Even at the expense of yourself.
It’s the tears you never shed
Because you think its a sign of weakness
Or the emotions you’re afraid
Should never find the surface.
It’s the stretch of loneliness
When you’ve had a day.
It’s the little boy inside you,
Crying for your help.
It’s the warm bubbled laughter
When you finally let him out.
So I don’t know your favourite colour
But I think it should be blue
Because it’s the only colour
I think truly represents you.
a blue chevy impala basks in a suburban driveway
like a beached whale it oozes gases and black oils
its seeping white walls beg for rubber movements
little boy inside the house sits on a pleated couch
he watches the setting sun through a screen door
fat mother stirs pudding in a wall-papered kitchen
smoking father works a tv guide crossword puzzle
he flicks white hot dust into a crystal glass ashtray
the corner television set transmits black and white
cathode rays of a half-naked wrestler pinned down
the destroyer with mask on lifts his victorious arms
little boy hears calliope music in the green distance
the ice cream man comes with dry ice and cologne
still three blocks away he makes another long stop
fat mother fries bloody meats in a fiery blue skillet
she turns on boss radio to hear elvis sing the blues
little boy goes to the admiral and turns the channel
bishop sheen appears in black cursing the darkness
skipper frank implores the kids to brush after meals
tennessee tuxedo chases tiger tornado to megapolis
smoking father finishes a tv guide crossword puzzle
the ice cream man arrives with dry ice and cologne
Woke up in the dawn of a life that now is gone.
In a town where the neons never on.
The books been read and the pages turned.
Maybe tomorrow, I'll have left and learned.
Leaves me asking, just what's the story.
I've walked these streets my whole damn life.
By now I thought I'd have a wife.
But I guess some people's lives were meant for different glory.
The little boy inside a man, the one who lost his way and ran.
Looking for the past when life was just playing kick the can.
Who's heart is now bereft and burned.
Sweeping up the ashes of what's left and learned.
In the distance, the future waits.
It all depends on our choice of gates.
Whatever comes, we will have earned.
An accumulation of what's left and learned.
Off to school in morning dark,
Passing through the village park.
Caught the light at Hill and Main.
Crossed the tracks before the train.
Past the houses and the stores,
Up the hill and through the doors.
Sat in silence, row by row,
Watched the clock tick, slow by slow.
Heard the bell ring in the hall,
What I learned I can’t recall.
Made my way back down the hill.
Steps on sidewalk echo still.
If you step upon a crack,
Sure to break your mother’s back.
Turned the corner at our street,
Thoughts of learning in retreat.
Years have come and years have gone,
Boy inside me lingers on.
I saw a child playing in the park,
who seemed to be all alone;
I thought he looked a little too young
to be out here on his own.
I looked around for an adult
under whose care this boy might be;
But nowhere could I see anyone
accept this boy and me.
He was just playing so happily,
in the sandbox and on the swing;
Singing to himself a little song –
I just stood there listening.
“Twinkle, twinkle, little star”,
in a voice so tiny and sweet;
He looked up and gave me a smile
when our eyes finally did meet.
“Is there anyone here watching you?”
I asked the little boy;
“Hey Mister, want to play with me,
in the sandbox with my toy?”
I stepped a little closer,
took off my socks and shoes;
“Isn’t there anyone nearby here
keeping a watch out over you?”
“Hey Mister I’m not really here,
I’m just the little boy inside your heart;
But you can still play in the sandbox,
I just wanted to help you get a start.”
I looked around in a state of confusion,
wondering if I’d lost my sanity;
Then I started making a sand castle
satisfied there was nobody else around but me.
After about a half an hour,
I brushed the sand off my suit pants;
Put back on my socks and shoes,
so happy I could do a dance;
My lunch hour was over,
back to the office I must go;
I heard the little boy say, “Goodbye”,
“I’m here every day, don’t you know”.
I'll never forget you.
I'm still a boy inside and sometimes I still need to cry.
If this makes me not a man, then I don't mind.
I'm supposed to be strong for you,
For you have no strength left to fight.
But I'm simply too beaten,
To stop the tears pouring from my eyes.
I thought you'd always be there, if ever I got in trouble;
But you’re slowly and painfully bursting that bubble.
My protection is going; I can't do this without you.
Please try to keep your eyes open;
To delay my heart from being broken.
I hope you know I'll always love you
And I hope this finally ends your pain.
For you never did anything to deserve this;
I'll think of you each times it rains.
Because the dark clouds brought us down,
Whilst the sunshine made us happy.
So I'll never forget your last words,
Or the fact you gave me a family.
Or the fact you loved me when no-one else would have;
I'll never forget those times, you and I laughed.
I'll never forget those times, I made you cry.
Please forgive me, I never meant to hurt you;
I was just a silly child.
Who made mistakes, just as adults do;
But I'll always know that you'll love me, whatever I do.
And I'll always love you, for you gave me my life
And you never did, judge my choice of Wife.
You were always there, for us and our child
And you'd always make us happy;
Just being with you made us all smile.
So I thank you Mom, for everything you've done for me
And all those times, you lent me money
And every time, you were there for me.
I'll never forget you Mom
And when you’re gone, I hope you never forget me.
(C)2006 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Form:
One thought of her and your heart skips a beat
Which prompts the little boy inside to squirm
That sends a tingling feeling to your feet
You feel as clumsy as a pachyderm
The stomach starts to tumble like a weed
You're breath is labored like you ran a mile
The loneliness begins to feel the need
If that ain't love, then why that silly smile
And yet you tell yourself,"I'm not in love"
"I do not want this happening to me"
You never thought you'd find the one dreamed of
In all those dreams that end so happily
How quickly one forgets love causes pain
Love feels so good it short circuits the brain
July 16 2017
by Daniel Turner
In the capital of Norway, Oslo, lies a public park called Frognerparken. In the park lies the Vigeland installation. It features 212 bronze and granite statues. One of the statues is called «the angry young boy» or «Sinnataggen» in Norwegian.
This is his story
It was a cold summer night; rain pouring down
A night, a long time ago, in Frognerparken
I was wearing a warm jacket
A young woman was walking behind me
A young woman was walking, far, behind me
I didn’t know where she had been
I didn’t know where she was going
I didn’t know where she wanted to go
I knew where I wanted her to go
I let her close the distance
She might have been most attracted to the jacket
The jacket I let her walk into
It was a cold summer night; rain pouring down
There were two of us; thinking; why not?
She followed me home
She stayed the weekend
I remember the second night
We talked about the angry boy.
Intermission talk; in bed
We weren’t angry; in bed
I remember that we talked about the angry boy
I remembered that today
Cancer. Life and death.
Surgery and radiotherapy.
I feel angry
I feel afraid
I wanna hit the walls
Hit them hard!
Knocking on heavens door
The angry boy asks; does it help?
No!
Answers the angry boy; inside me
No!
No!
Sometimes a moment of silence is impossible to achieve;
Especially with all these voices screaming inside of me.
Even with the TV off and my wife and son in bed,
I cannot silence the cacophony of sounds inside my head.
“We’re wasting our time just sitting here”, says the energetic boy inside of me;
While my artistic soul starts to complain, “Silence is boring, turn on the symphony.”
“I can’t hear the silence,” complains my ogre, “there’s too much arguing inside of
here.”
“We’ll never hear the silence, if you don’t shut up,” to my Id it’s perfectly clear.
“Come on gang, let’s have some peace, Joe is trying to meditate,”
Says the mediator inside my head that the others all passionately hate.
Then a bang comes from the room above where my boy should be asleep,
And everyone stops to take a pause, and on the sound our focus we keep.
And then there it is, just for a second, after the bumping noise,
Not a peep out of any one and complete silence we enjoy.
Followed soon by the little voice, coming from atop of the stairs;
“Dad, I fell out of bed,” and silence no more for another year.