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Jack R Fehlmann Nov 2013
Everything about him,
suggests that he is lonely,
he is misunderstood and lost inside.
Yet even at distance
you know so much about him,
the way that he walks,
hands in his pockets and head hung low,
slinking around like a dog,
waiting for a home

    Little Boy Lost.  
       Little Boy Lost.

When he talks he stammers,
then pauses uncertain.
of what should be said.
And when he listens,
he seems filled with endless energy
restless he stretches, looks around
leaning and pacing,
Like a small boy, impatient with elders voices

    Little Boy Lost
        Little Boy Lost

He has the awkwardness of adolescence
blurting out tremendous questions crudely.
On occasion he smiles, unaccountably
as if told a dark joke known only to himself
You can sense it, the badness inside
but you like him,...

    Little Boy Lost
Jack R Fehlmann Nov 2013
it isn't right the way you tease me
much about and inside me isn't right
and I believe that you can see why
You must see right through my  body
to the downward destinations inside
Where I hide exactly what is felt
And when my heart is caught
is the trap then forgotten
On the contrary, the ordinary,
the less than savory,
The nothing special as the ignorant laugh
And as they do, the wise understand
this in itself cannot be easy
What is there yet that may be coming
So much wrong beneath
Some beyond, buried, unlikely
Other pieces are much less deep
These are mine, my secrets,
My own unlikable qualities, proud moments
Terrible wants, disturbing fantasies
Awful enough that they must stay down
Down is where demons go,
But I think you've seen them
Jack R Fehlmann Nov 2013
I wish to speak now child,
unto the ears of the sheep
Words are not for you.
You, I give my artwork
framed, pieces of my darkest works
deep like the hours that go on for days
Cycling, cycling, always the same
Every morning grows to day
Identically predictable
Just as was the day before
as it was days, and days since past
I am aware that each breath
is one less that we get to take,
What is off is that it doesn't bother me
I don't worry how I waste each one
Watching the leaves of fall start falling
dried, cracked, severed, falling
the leaves resemble yesterday
floating, and falling on the winds
from far above and out of reach
to the forest floor, the earth,
to feed the soil and dirt.
Jack R Fehlmann Nov 2013
there is always "maybe"
the lighter side of "never"
"Alright" equals "Open"
"Open" doesn't suit Me.
I don't do "Open"
It is, there is always,
"maybe" one day,...
What I do, I create,
and I shelve away "what if's"
"Hello", and, "Goodbye"... "Maybe".
This is okay, but inside denial.
more and more hollow,
Hopes that feed dreams and needs
To tell the world how it is for me
All of the things that can hurt
But if they ever do is it just words
The way it is to see or feel
Or love and want what cannot be
I write because I need to
This is a flaw in how I am made.
I am an Alpha,
of another breed,
but alpha all the same.
A better man would admit defeat
Jack R Fehlmann Nov 2013
Brave Face
see me now,
Look at my brave face
I can be a charmer
Saying such nice things
Meant to disarm you
See me
I can be a liar
Saying the things
The real me cannot say
See my brave face
So patient and understanding
Hides the real me
I can be so unforgiving
Because I see now
I am not worthy
I am though
I am worthy of forgetting
Jack R Fehlmann Nov 2013
maybe it's the simple ways?..
like a wink of one eye
or the suitableness in a smile
the type that comes in secret
shared by only we two
as if we are our own reasons
we are above the rest,
beyond the average everyday types
there is a bond, a connection
words shared with no verbalization
we are special, you and I
set apart, made unique, different
and the way we are together
we should hold on to this
what ever it is, it is
and it is enough, it is worth it.
labels are for those that can't see
or pick out one from the next
we need no such thing,
a thousand miles distant,
a lifetime apart,
I'd know you in an instant,
like rivers know the direction
of the land, it's hills and bends
the very very start of the journey
the ocean at its end
what you and I share is...
what it is,.. so long as we believe it
i am willing, if you are too.
Jack R Fehlmann Nov 2013
In the end there is always Me
That man that stokes a dwindling flame
huddled over, in sheets of water
The end is always the same
I am that man against,
Tending steadfast
Stoking the lost cause
To keep a fire in the rain.
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