The Strange One

A boy asked God for a blue sky one night. Only the moon shone. The next day he felt lonely and disappointed. So he took his father's broken phone and tried to call God, nobody answered. So he went to play, when he went to put the broken phone back where it was he saw a text message which read: "Last week I gave you red sunset but you were sleeping. Last month I sent you a blue sky but you were watching television. Yesterday I tried to talk to you but you were listening to music. I had sent a bird to sing you the loveliest song but you were busy caught up in music and missed my orchestral fusion. Right now you are aspiring to be the heights of the infinite horizons, the beauty and depth of the seas. But what you miss is that refuge begins at heart's delight and at home with your family is the place right."

The boy quickly rushed to show his father but then the phone switched off. His parents didn't believe him. He was scolded and told to go to his room... 45 minutes later he saw a blue sky and a hollow opening with red and yellow bright streams... After this awe, stars were aligned in a way that showed pictures, the boy could see distant suns dancing in one motion. What followed was a thunder and whirlwind which brought music unimaginable, see this music he didn't hear with his ears, but the energy field which is his mind and by his crystalline-light-glass soul body . The boy grew up and became a healer and fortune teller and brought much happiness to his community.

I'm halfway to
A hundred
And I still don't
Know
Why
My soul was
Wound So
Tightly

Wound
Ed
Ted
Ted!
My teacher fought
Against the forces
Imagined, imagination-
-AL
Forces that swept the
Thin gossamer web-
Strand of
FOCUS!
Away.
I jerked awake to
Laughter, the
Unsatisfying kind of
Snickers,
Guffaws,
Kids just trying to survive
Childhood.
"I'm sorry,"
I half-sobbed,
"Would you please
Repeat the question?
I wasn't paying
Attention."
Kindness, sometimes, from
The beetled-brow
Of the series of
Stressed-out adults
Who had the distinct pleasure
Of having Teddy Scheck
Way down there on their
Class list.
Most often it was stern
Consternation. Irritation.
Sometimes, anger.
Shame is anything that
Makes you feel smaller
Than you really are.

Classrooms are battlefields.
Bullies are armies,
And I was at their un-
Mercy.

And time, which seemed to
Hold the infinite expanse
Of its boundless breath,
Exhaled slowly, the squeaky-
Balloon hiss of air escaping
A too-tight orifice.

And I'm swimming in the
Miasma of confusion, self-
Loathing, desperation, and
The incredibly strong urge
To dig for green gold
In my own nose.
Yep.
Welcome to my childhood.

Meanwhile,
OUT IN THE HALL...
Water/bathroom break.
Alphabetically, having "S"
Put me toward the end of the line,
But not "Zemichael" or
"Young, Rachel,"
or "David Woods"
And Dave Woods, whose
Eyes wandered behind
Coke-bottle glasses, and
Who whistled when he said
His 'Ws' was a kid
I could really relate to.
He got bullied 4th.
I was 3rd-most.
Two effeminate boys,
Scott and Mike,
Who played with dolls
With the girls, twirled
Jump ropes and chanted
Chants and had
High voices, and couldn't
Kick at all,
They got picked on an
Unfathomable measure
More than I did,
Although, strangely, they
Seemed much better equipped
To deal with it, or
Ignore it, or
(I don't know)
(And this killed me,
It really did)
When,
I took it all in my heart,
And head, and stomach,
And elbows, and picked
Nose, and bitten-off
Warts in 1st grade, and countless
Accidents and injuries and
Scrapes and bruises
By the plethora,
So that by 9:00 that night,
I was sobbing beneath
My pillow, trying
Not to make noise
In a household of 10.
And Mom, my sweet
Mom, would take me in
Her arms, and say
The most confusingly
Comforting words in
The whole wide world.
"I'm sorry, Teddy,"
She would cry, holding
Me so tightly I knew that
If lightning struck, or
A tornado blew in from
Kansas, no force on
Earth would seperate me
From my Mom's loving
Embrace.
"My sweet, wonderful,
Imaginative, creative,
Funny child,"
She would whisper, the
Only balm to sooth
The cuts from prissy girls'
Tongues that made
Me bunch my fists and
Run away in anger,
Or sometimes lash out
In fury;
The knuckle-rubs from
That asshole Randy, the
Class jock and class
Bully.
Mom's words of
Affirmation healed
The slashes and punctures
And lashes from the
Tongues and eyes and lips
And patience and compassion
Run dry like a well that
Has died of thirst.

But boy, did I have a
Whopping
Imagination.
I went to where
My dreams were stored
During the day.
And put them on
Like phantasmagorical
Clothes.

I rode my bike
Everywhere.
I took off my clothes
And swam in farm ponds.
I chased leopard frogs,
Ate questionable foods/plants;
And swung higher on
The swing than anybody
Else.
I was happy at times.
I could imitate just
About any sound
(Real or imagined).
I did the voices
From cartoons.
(And I STILL do 'em)
My sisters adored me.
I made people laugh
(Often by accident)
I occasionally sat
Still in church, taking in
Pictures stained colorfully
In glass frescoes.
I had a younger
Brother whom I was
Immensely proud of
And who loved me back
As best a brother
Could.

I had a roof, food,
Clean water, safety
From harm, freedom
To pray and worship,
Questionable bathing habits...
Birthday money
(For about an hour, anyway)
And love.
Wow.
I had more as a child
Than about 95% of
The entire world.

Maybe everything that
Happened to me
Brought me to this
Very
Point
In time.
Soul, wounded over time;
Creates a poem that,
Perhaps,
Can help some
Other wounded
Soul.

On the other side of the phone
I don’t feel the pain
A slow start to my collapse
Stretched over miles of tears
…Always thinking of you
I’m not sure why it persists
A linger
And the longing for smaller skin
Through a pinhole camera
I only see part of who you are
The glare of distance envelops your breaths
Are there any words
Which won’t numb?
The sun leaves tiny scars from days ago
As if at a later moment you will
Disappear into rain soaked thoughts
That gives shape to form
Are you still there?