c.1995
-Phildog40

I Guess This Means More Therapy


Break his bones and cut his skin.
Do what you will. You can’t hurt him.
Call him child and pray he dies.
Steal his will and gouge his eyes.
Give him money for his time.
Tell him that it was his crime.
Take from him and never give.
Rob him of his will to live.
Isolate him from his peers.
Prey on all his hopes and fears.
Make him feel he’s less than dirt.
Walk on him until he hurts.
Then one last step to do him in.
Do what you will. You can’t hurt him.

For he is powerful and true.
And he could make quick work of you.
But you, I doubt, are worth his time.
You selfish, jealous, household grime.
You seep into the tile and grout.
And dare him to come scrub you out.

Dig inside until he bleeds.
Pay no attention to his needs.
Leave him in a lonely place.
Can’t stand the sight of his own face.
The dark and cold his closest friends.
Committer of immortal sins.
Lay him down upon the sand.
Make him fear the human hand.
Rape him till he has no soul.
It hurts him less if he is cold.
Bury him down deep inside.
Make him wish that he had died.
Fix it so he can’t fit in.
Do what you will. You can’t hurt him.

For even if he dies today.
Your sickness never goes away.
A curse on you until the end.
You stinking, rotten, lying friend.

How sad and weak to hurt a child.
To rob him of his inner wild.
To steal the sparkling, joyous light.
God damn you! It’s not fucking right!
Your death will come as no surprise.
I’m planning it before your eyes.
In retribution for my friend.
Who is too pure to dream of sin.
Do what you will. You can’t hurt him.

Phildog40

Thank you for expressing my own emotions so eloquently.

Allen

pufferfish

Wow, "little Jimmy" appreciated this poem. Thanks.

I really like this poem

Thanks for sharing

Marvin

My heart actually cried reading this. Thank you so much for sharing it.

My heart cried writing it. But my heart needs to cry. A lot.

That's OK. Just go ahead and let it all come out!

Allen

pufferfish

whoa! powerful phil!

That's a great poem, Phil. Thanks for sharing it with us. I lingered over every line.

Much love,
Larry

Thanks for the kind words everyone. Here is another from around the same time in my life...

Sucks To Be A Bug

Behind the scenes lurk many things
Under a bed the shadows thrive
Breeding in the darkness
Hidden below a carefully loosened slat
A picture box of beatings
and painful celebration
A sampling of shards of reflections

Crispy cricket leg embalmed in my corner
The day that cricket died…
The day the picture box was closed
All this time--sitting in the darkness--
in a box
under a floorboard
under a bed

Trapped with a box of memories
Must be awful for even the disembodied
insects of this world
Much more for a cricket that once
hopped freely
A dried-up old limping cricket
whose freedom is trapped
in a picture box of memories

Sucks to be a bug

Little boys always tearing off your appendages
and saving them for rainy days

Sucks to sit in a box of memories

under the shadow
of a bed
under a floorboard slat

...waiting for

the rain.