"The Collection"

"The Collection" - (Index by Year)

"B R E W"

(This is the first poem I ever wrote)

He was a nice kid, a good kid,

an even smarter one, too.

Such a shame he drank so much brew.

Excelling in everything he did.

His challenge was drinking while he hid.

Of his problem, never spoke aloud.

For fear of being knocked off his cloud.

Handsome, built, loaded with charm.

Always a girl, under his arm.

Young, old, both respected him well.

Neither knew of his personal hell.

It seemed things were a piece of cake.

Until that one Summer fishing trip,

when he drowned in the lake.

-August 1986-

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"R O A D – d e n t"

It’s night.

Lights bright.

First sight.

Scamper—Scurry--Unknown danger.

In a hurry.

Got to go.

Can’t slow down.

Hear the blow.

It’s a tinny sound.

A skinny sound.

A bone-crunching smear.

It hurts a little--Sometimes a tear.

A couple of lights.

Maybe a store.

Pains all gone.

Don’t care anymore.

-August 1986-

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B O R N U G L Y

Why don’t you pick me?

BECAUSE YOU ARE UGLY!

Why is nothing free?

BECAUSE YOU ARE UGLY!

Does it really matter?

Some are thinner.

Some are fatter.

I am judged by flesh.

I watch the children scatter.

It’s plain and simple.

I’m born with a pimple,

and pain.

Instead of a dimple,

and gain.

Why?

BORN UGLY!

- September 1986 –

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Pop-Tarts, Lifesavers, Simon & Garfunkel

Light and sound bring great fear.

I AM BORN…

Helpless.

I was adopted.

I was not an accident.

I was chosen.

I never had to get sick to get attention.

I was never given twenty bucks to get lost.

8 YEARS LATER…

My mom hugs me.

She then tells me to hug myself.

An odd request, which I trust.

I sense that this will not be the last time.

Not that I trust, but that I hug myself…

Mark Simpson is a bully.

He said I sucked at kickball.

I tore off his shirt pocket.

Then he farted in my mouth.

We had to sit next to Miss Olgavery.

She has sumo gut and a jackhammer voice.

She’s supposed to have a giving heart.

The only thing she gives me is the creeps.

I raced Peanut to the mailbox.

I won.

My dad let me carry the mail.

He said he was going to drive me to school.

Tomorrow.

Cool.

Dad or mom, I have no preference.

It was just cool.

In the kitchen, I burned my palm.

On a maple Pop-Tart.

It didn’t hurt, it never does.

In the car, I picked the music.

I couldn’t decide, Simon? Garfunkel?

Or Simon & Garfunkel?

It’s always the same.

I love that.

As I exit the VW squareback, I kiss my dad.

I have no respect for those who watch.

Or the clucking hens.

Or the jackals for that matter.

The drive home brings a challenge.

A Lifesavers challenge.

Keep the mint in your mouth.

The champ does it the longest.

I cupped my tongue to keep it dry.

I lost.

11 YEARS LATER…

That was fast.

It’s time to leave.

They said they will be here for me.

That is exactly why I want to stay.

Their positive and negative influences…

Made me.

I seize my animalistic nature.

And exit.

In an instant, my childhood is gone.

In another instant, it’s a distant memory.

Locked in a cerebral vault.

Pop-Tarts, Lifesavers, Simon & Garfunkel.

NOW…

When things get bad,

I can always hug myself…

- November 1986 -

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Pre-parents

Everywhere I look.

Wasted egos.

And no shows.

But now you.

I was lucky and blessed.

Steadfast at your post.

Doing your duty.

Selfless and reserved.

One of patience.

Your hard work and discipline,

reaped no wages.

I hope my efforts decorate you.

Like a medal would.

This is to you.

Not about what I do,

but about all you are.

Above the rest.

Not by words,

but by acts.

To prepare me.

For the test.

- December 1986 -

"The Collection" - (Index by Year)

Email djs@furiouslove.com