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He doesn’t like it here
It scares him Doesn't smell familiar There is dust And debris It is foreign Screams and tears make it clear That he doesn’t want us to stay No where else to go We must make it work Must make the best Of a situation that Is really Not so very bad Why do you keep crying child? Yes we stress Get hairs going gr ay As we think maybe today The work will be done Plaster Electric Plumbing and wood Fixed More time will pass It doesn't track our needs The powerlessness That's what bothers me Yet we'll keep coming back Despite his protestations Little choice we have now This is home
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In the first place there
Was a place where I went as a child who Never grew up But that wasn’t the problem See I always wanted to be an adult Like a reverse Peter Pan The pirates seemed to have More While most people bask in The ignorance we call Innocence of childhood Where people lie because they Are too weak to tell the truth That was never my fairy dust I wanted dirt and grime and rust And real I wanted to feel I wanted able to hold space and get My voice heard As a child it was not possible My mother was on a Mission with us as the tools To be a beacon of judaism In a place that just wanted Me to just shut up They simply closed their ears Their hearts offered no solace So I learned to be ok in silence Learned to hold space in gaze But that was a lonely place In that face a big fella by the name of Donny Presented his dick to a young me In exchange for friendship No just the tip But that was a long time ago Now I thank all I know That I grew up Because now People listen Sick son
Crying loud He’s in pain Skin on fire with welts and blisters I am powerless While tears fall for help Cuddles and lullabies The only medicine I can manifest Calpol and nurofen are a gift from the scientists I’m gratefully receive He can smile now No fear but the doctor Waits for us Waits for him Sick son Crying loud Helpless in the face of his pain Illness takes hold We are lucky This too shall pass But sick sucks In the wee hours of morning the wizard slept
Alone in his tower Protected by spells Full of power His magic emerged young Path pre-chosen He dreamed of being normal My mirror me stares back and sees the unknown
He lives in an alternate reality Timed perfectly But everything has changed Left is right Run is fight Like a scroll rolling closed from the wrong direction He starts old and goes through life getting younger More energetic Full of wonder Is it the same with a selfie? A third party in the cloud Where I doubt That humanity’s wings can last Mirror me just laughs So do I Our opposite selves separated by silence Mouths move but don’t speak Just apertures made the wrong way Not just my mirror self My body drifts into unconsciousness Where my gestures cease I hope he enjoys his body I’m loving growing old Gray haired face staring back Creaky joints that complain I have an excuse to move slowly Mirror me concedes our vanity as we continue to stare I promise I’ll remember you Deliver me from evil
I’ve got Prime Give me the right to turn away as jobs decay I need that next day! Shipped by slaves Over packaged items left on my secure front porch This paper is recycled So my guilt can be pulped and re-used Passed down to those without proper facilities I don’t want to think about where my item came from I’ve got Prime That’s OPP (Other People’s Problems) If they wanted a better life, they should have been better at life They should’ve subscribed to Prime It’s the first past the post Who sends letters these days anyway? Post office death can be pre office payday Long as I get my bonus The other’s shoulda got Prime It’s the best cut 1000% pure grass fed ex-rainforest convenience Delivered from who cares where to your plate Oh, is it wasteful not to consume the whole animals? Don’t worry I’ve got Prime It’s all white meat chicken breast White is pure don’t you know Brown boxes are easier to dispose of Especially when you’ve got Prime It’s a members only club where all you have to do is look the other way and pay Let them be evil for me I’m a good person |
Douglas Karson
I love poetry. Archives
January 2020
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