Our story's beginnings are rather plain
Set in a town built on the mundane.
In this town, there lived a boy
Devoid of ambition, love, or joy.

He sleepwalked through his days
Aimless and alone.
Drowning in a melancholy haze
He longed for something lovely to call his own.

Now, I shan't tell you the young man's name
For fear he'd hang his head in shame
But his story you should know.
For it's not the name that marked this boy
But the places he would go.  

One day, an idea dawned
To take a day trip out of town.
The boy made a map
And a line was drawn
To the path he would walk down.

He followed the map with surprising ease
Over the hills and through the trees.
Though the boy was thrilled
He couldn't wrap his mind
Around the treasure
He would soon find.

The path came to an end
Without the map's warning
Causing the boy's plans to upend
Before it was even midmorning.
But the boy was in awe
Despite the offset.
He knew what he saw
He would not soon forget.
In the middle of the golden field
Stood a tall ivory castle.
His chronic disenchantment healed
The boy vowed to see inside
Whatever the hassle.

So he searched for a door
Until he could search no more.
He attempted to climb
With no regard for time.
He searched for a ****
Or a lock
Or a key.
Only when he was about to give up
Did the answer break free.

Against all reason
The castle began to glow.
When the transformation came to completion
A strange voice let him know.

"Come in," coaxed the disembodied voice
Honeyed and assured.
Feeling as if he had no choice
Inside, the boy was lured.

"My, you are a rude one," the voice began to chide.
"A lady invites you into her home, and without a word, you come inside?
I'm not expecting you to write me a sonnet, but at least have a bit of tact!
If we're being honest, boy, I believe your manners lack."

Sure this was some sort of stunt
The boy calmly shook his head.
"Forgive me, Miss, for being so blunt
But I believe the fault is yours instead.
You expect me to believe I was propositioned
By a castle that spoke?
I am certain one of my peers commissioned
Some sort of pricey joke.
I'm sorry, Castle Lady Dear
But I must be on my way.
I'm afraid I can't stay here
Perhaps we'll finish another day.
It's truly nothing personal
I simply have a hunch
That if I stick around for now
I'll miss my mother's lunch."

The boy turned on his heel
Not saying any more.
He soon let out a pitiful squeal
When he found there was no longer a door.

The Castle Lady countered his squeal
With a sinister cackle.
"Did you really believe you could leave me here
Without it becoming a debacle?
I'm sorry, dear
But for now
To this place, you are shackled."

Heart suddenly stricken with fear
The boy's eyes filled with tears
And he began to cry.
"Please let me go!" he cried out.
"I am far too young to die!"

Much to the boy's chagrin
The Castle Lady only laughed again.
"Goodness me, my dear!
You must be some sort of fool!
I do not plan to **** you here.
How could I ever be so cruel?"

Angered by the castle woman's taunts
The boy's eye began to twitch.
"If you won't **** me, what do you want?
Let me go, you witch!"

Unphased by his outburst
The Castle Lady simply tsked.
"Are you sure the witch is me
When you're the one being so mean?
I know what a statement this might be
But I believe you're the meanest boy I've seen.
But you can relax
For I've had my fun.
I simply have a favor to ask
Before you turn and run."

Against all logic
And stranger-danger talks
The notion of adventure
Overpowered his urge to balk.
"What is it?" he asked the Castle Lady
As curiosity struck.
When the Castle Lady responded
He could not believe his luck.

"Resting in one of my rooms
Is an awe-inspiring prize.
It holds power and beauty few men ever get to witness
With their own two eyes.
In fact, it holds too much power
So much that it's making me sick.
Only the brightest of young men can bear it
And you're the one I've picked."

The boy's heart raced.
For that prize, he yearned.
Still, he said:
"There must be some mistake.
Are you sure this is a prize I've earned?"

Overtaken by laughter
The Castle Lady began to roar.
"I am not that sick, dear boy!
Of course I am sure!
I can not make any mistake
No matter how small.
Didn't your mother teach you
That divine beings know all?
Now, you are an imaginative lad
With the charisma to match.
I'd dare say you are the best equipped child
Out of the local batch."

The boy couldn't help but crack a grin
Flattered by the Castle Lady's assessment.
"I suppose you must be right, then.
Now where do I get my present?"

"It is not a difficult journey at all," the Castle Lady replied.
"Just walk a bit down this here hall
And look to your left side."

Suddenly, the room filled with bright light
To help him find his way around.
In saying the journey was not difficult, the Castle Lady was right
As another glowing doorway
Was soon found.

"Very good, you clever boy!" the Castle Lady cried.
"Just give your fingers a quick snap
And take a step inside."

Proudly, the boy followed her advice.
The snap of his fingers reverberated
Sounding quite nice.
Secretly, the simple action
Gave him a small thrill
For he was the only child in his town
Who had such a skill.

Just as the lady promised
The door opened right away.
Thus, he took that fateful step inside
As she said he may.

Alas, it seemed the boy had been cheated by his wanderlust.
The only thing inside the room
Was a wooden box
Coated in dust.

All sense of wonder gone
The boy was certain it was a trick.
"You horrid con!
What in here is making you sick?"

Unamused, the Castle Lady sighed.
This was not the first time a child had thought she lied.
"You're jumping to conclusions, boy.
I'm not that sly a fox.
If you want to find the treasure
Look inside the box."

Begrudgingly, the boy obliged
Lifting up the top.
In the moment he saw what was inside
The whole world seemed to stop.

The boy's jaw dropped
As the box glowed
As if it contained all of heaven's rumored light.
It was true that he was unlikely
To ever again see such a wonderful sight.

"Well?" the Castle Lady inquired.
"Would you like to keep it?
You have all the qualities required
It's only fair that you reap it."

"Of course I'd like to keep it," said the boy.
"But what should I do?
What power do I have
To take care of this box
Any better than you?"

"The box can do anything," said the Castle Lady.
"Perhaps that's why I can not have it.
Still, you need not engage in special care and keeping
Or develop any new habits.

The box can do whatever you wish
Cure disease and famine
Or make your family rich.
I can not tell you what to do
Just use your own discretion.
Besides, it wouldn't truly be yours to use
If you did so under my direction.
So simply take it home
And do with it what you will
But before you choose to roam
I have one more message for you still."

Holding the box to him
The boy lifted an ear
Regarding her as a friend.
"What is it, Castle Lady?
Please say what needs to be said!"

When she spoke again
The boy could swear her voice contained a smile.
"When you leave me, the castle will come to an end
And this part of me will be dead.
Though I'd love for you to stay a while
So we could become better acquainted
I'm afraid that would be against the rules
And the prophecy would be tainted.
So, clever boy
For now, I'll bid you adieu.
You deserve to be given joy
And I hope that is what the box will do."

No sooner than she spoke
Did the castle vanish
In a puff of smoke.
Once again, the boy stood in the field.
In his hands rested the box
The closed lid keeping its powers concealed.
Somewhere between satisfied and sad.

He gave her a eulogy
However unorthodox.
"Goodbye, Castle Lady Dear, I enjoyed our little talks.
Maybe we'll meet in another world...
Oh, and thank you for the box!"
Having said all he needed to say
The boy knew he should be leaving soon.
He turned to walk the other way.
Walking home, his fingers snapped a tune.

It wasn't long before the whole town
Knew about his treasured box.
The boy made sure all his friend knew.
In school, he stopped all of the clocks.

He provided his class with great delight.
As a school day
Melted away
Into a Friday night.
The grown-ups none the wiser
He pulled off the perfect crime.
Forever the improvisor
He also did away with bedtime.

He gave his family money
As the Castle Lady said he could.
Though his old bullies looked at him funny
His clothes had never looked so good.

He gave himself popularity
A Labrador puppy
A brand new bike.
The ones who teased him
Spoke apologetically
And there wasn't a single girl
By whom he wasn't liked.

It wasn't long, however
Before the fun began to fade.
As much power as he had, he never intended
To share his gift with his whole grade.

"Can you tell me
If my pet goldfish is really watching from above?"
"Can you please help me
Make my parents fall back in love?"
"Can you make it so that
My grandpa isn't sick anymore?"
"Can you invent a robot
To help me do my chores?"
"Can you make sure
That my family keeps our home?"
"Oh-- and while you're at it
Help me write my girlfriend a nice poem?"

Alas, the boy paid no mind
To their wants and needs.
He had left his charitable days behind
In favor of his newfound greed.
Though his box could do anything
It really wasn't his job.
No matter what happiness to others it might bring
Of his power, he'd feel robbed.

He didn't know that at night
His friends went home to cry
Asking their nonexistent treasured boxes
"If he can have something special
Why can't I?"

Life went on like this
Until one day, he was greeted by a bird.
It landed on his shoulder
And hissed,
"You'll never guess what I heard."

The boy was quite frightened
Both by the bird's familiar voice
And what it said.
Still, his eyes brightened
When he shouted
"Castle Lady?
I thought that you were dead!"

"Too bad," the bird crowed.
"For I'm very much alive.
And I figure you should know
I won't allow you to continue to connive."

At her choice of words
The boy sputtered.
"What do you mean, bird?"
He nervously stuttered.

The Bird Lady stared at him
With beady black eyes.
"I mean, I saw what you've done with your gift
And I was unpleasantly surprised.
You didn't disrupt any tradition.
I told you to do what you would.
It was just that I had the premonition
That you'd use your power for good.
You're no better than any of your classmates
You silly sap!
Did it ever occur to you
That you were only picked
Because you can snap?
When my last life came to an end
You thanked me for the box
And ran home to your mother.
My spirit would have been able to rest
If you had used the box to help others.
I am older than most earthly things
And some sights I've seen are hellish.
This in mind
It's beyond me
Why you'd choose to be so selfish.
See, this box was once mine
Changing owners as it does
And when it fell into my hands I wished
To be anything but the girl I was.
From then on, I've been trapped
In the form of many objects
And, whenever I try to go from this world to the next
Fate always interjects.
I'm the keeper of this box
Until it falls into the hands of someone good enough
And I'm here to say, dear boy
I'm afraid you must give it up."

Without warning
The boy broke down
Dropping to his knees.
For the first time since that fateful day
His sense of superiority ceased
And truth began to reign.
Head in his hands, he grieved
For those he had caused pain.

The Bird Lady remained by his side
Trying her hardest to soothe.
"Now, clever boy, you need not cry
But the box does need to move.
Now, I need you to calm down and listen to me
And let me make myself clear.
I need you to go to the sea
And that's the last wish you will make here."

Suddenly, the boy understood.
When it was far too late, he used his powers for good.
So he wished for the ocean, heeding the Bird Lady's advice.
The two of them were at the beach
Before he could think twice.

"Very good," the Bird Lady praised.
"All you have to do now is let go.
Don't worry, my dear boy
When the box finds its forever home
I'll be sure to let you know."

The boy nodded.
With shaking hands, he looked down.
Taking a deep breath, he dropped the box
And all his wrongdoings drowned.

"Thank you very much," the Bird Lady chirped.
"Now, relax, and let your conscience be cleared.
You can go home
And I'll take it from here.
One last thing
I should tell you, my friend.
All this can be fixed
If you just have an ear to lend.
No matter how heartfelt
Apologies only take you so far.
What you should do now
Is fix your regrets with actions
To show them what a lovely boy you are."

With that
The Bird Lady dove
Picking up the box with her magnificent beak.
The boy returned home
With redemption to seek.

All these years later
Our nameless boy is now a man.
He's ordinary, yes
But ordinary is good enough.
He doesn't look down on others
Or even try to act tough.
Though he's no longer a heartthrob
One girl remained by his side.
When she is there
He never has to hide.
When a friend has a problem
He is there to listen.
And, though he holds no glowing box
His eyes still glisten.


Meanwhile, our Lady's soul
Now rests within a spaniel dog.
Though the box still has no permanant owner
She doesn't think it will be long.
Though that might seem unlikely
Divine beings do know all
Though everyone makes mistakes
Both big and small.
She may chastise others
For poor choices and self-control
But in the end, she knows the box only needs one thing:
To be cared for by a beautiful soul.

Upon a hilltop deep in the woods, there lies an iron box. Red and rough. They say that all the worlds secrets lay in this iron box. But no one knows for sure. Many have tried to open this box, all have failed. Men and woman. Boy and girls. All have tried to open this box. There is nothing to show for it though. Not even the tiniest of scratches have been left on the box by all the tools that have been used to try to open it. Today there is yet another crowd surrounding the red rough box that lays on the hilltop deep within the woods. People with axes and crowbars try their luck. Still, the box remains whole. A young boy makes his way through the crowd and stands before the box. An older man chuckles at him and holds out his crowbar. "Want to try?" asks the man.
The boy shakes his head and steps closer to the box. Gently he lowers his hand on to the top of the box, his eyes flutter closed. The box glows under his hand. The soft yellow light flows over the box until the whole thing is glowing that soft yellow. A click sounds and the boy pushes the top of the box off. The whole crowd is silent as they watch the boy. How he opened the box with a gentle touch.
"How did you do that?" the man with the crowbar exclaims to the boy.
"I just asked the box to open." the boy responds before he slips his way back through the crowd away from the box.
Quickly the crowd pushes and shoves, trying to get closer to the box to see what is inside the box. What the world's secrets are. But when they get to the box all they see is a single white feather.

The man woke up.

He walked to his refrigerator hoping to find last nights left over veal, but he doesn't.
He thought maybe it's a sign veal is bad in the morning, so he made his coffee and sat down to watch the news.
Linda Sparoski was on talking about Gun rights.
"I kind've want a gun, but it probably wouldn't be the best idea."
He kept watching until he heard someone at the door.
Paranoid, he crept up to the peep hole.
Peering through he saw an elderly woman delivering what looked to be like a package.
"I wasn't expecting anything... **** it must **** to be her age"
He waited until the frail old woman made her way back to the UPS truck and drove away.
He went outside to pick up the box, only to find it very light. Much lighter than he expected.
On the outside scribbled in blue pen was "The man's name" so he knew it was for him.
He saw it was taped up pretty good, kind've how a child wraps a Christmas present.
He grabbed his kitchen knife.
"Scissors are like double knifes, except you don't need a cutting board."
He put the knife back and grabbed a pair of scissors.
"Scissors are ****** double knifes."
He put the scissors back and grabbed the knife.

When he returned to the box, he seemed to stare at the handwriting for quite some time.
He began to cut into the box.
On removal of the layers of scotch tape was a little note before the rest of the box could be open.
"Promise me?"
He was really confused now.
"I need more coffee"
Chugging his third cup, the man returns to the box.
Determined to open it.
He lifts the ***** keeping the pieces of cardboard box cube shaped, and begins to look inside.
The man sees photographs stacked on top of a few letters.
"Possibly something underneath."
As he dug through he saw a picture of himself dressed as Captain America on Halloween.
He tries remembering that Halloween but just can't quiet do it.
"I was never Cap.. "
He dug through more.
Found pictures of old beach houses he vaguely remembers, some pictures almost looked like a sonic drive through.
Stomach growl.
"Last nights quesadilla"
The man went to his fridge, with no luck of finding this cheesey goodness.
In fact his fridge was empty.
He doesn't remember it being empty.
He starts thinking about Halloween.
The man kicks the box under his coffee table, and stumbles to bed, even though it is only 6:47 pm.
Dreams of sand.
Dreams of sand.
Dreams of water.
Dreams of her.

The man woke up.

He heads to his coffee ***.
He has not made coffee yet.
He heads to his refrigerator to find last nights left over lasagna.
"When did I make that? 2 weeks-ago-ish?"
He does not find lasagna.
His coffee is done brewing.
He walks away without a cup to find the box.
The news was still on. Linda Sparracci was on talking about the man's town.
She said that the man's town was experiencing the worst drought since two thousand and sixteen.
"What year is it?"
The man tries to find a calendar but only finds twelve.
"So it could be 2025, 2026, 2028... Wait."
He deducted that it must be 2026, for this calendar had the most dates circled, and he has felt quite busy recently.
The man then fell.
When he came too he was on the couch.
It was snowing out.

Deciding it must be around December  time, he goes throughout his home looking for objects to wrap up and give to his family.
He finds a box.
The box has a note on the outside
"Promise me"
Without looking through the box, he wraps it up with what he can find.  
Thinking of where to send it, he thinks of the first address he can remember, presumably his parents house, and sends the box off.
"Captain America... "
The man decides to watch Duck Dynasty season 34 for the first time, without seeing the prior 33 seasons.
The man passes out.
Dreams of white.
Dreams of red.
Dreams of death.

The man woke up.

He walked to his refrigerator hoping to find last nights left over veal, but he doesn't.
He thought maybe it's a sign veal is bad in the morning, so he made his coffee and sat down to watch the news.
Linda Spurokik was on, talking about the new Captain America movie.
"I was Captain America once.."
The man gets up to feed his dog.
The man does not have a dog anymore.
The man sits down.
Halloween 3 comes on the television.
He remembers getting her roses, because she was mad he didn't want to go trick or treating.
They ending up going trick or treating anyway.
She didn't like the roses.
The man tries to imagine what Michael Meyers must've felt like.
Being cast so many times over because of his creepy plastic face.
"I bet it was really hard to find other work though..."
The man was unsettled with this thought and turned off the television.
With nothing to more to do, he crawls to bed, even though it is only 6:24 pm.
No dreams
Just blackness.

The man woke up.

He heard someone at the door.
Paranoid, he crept down the stairs to the window.
Peering through he saw a young man delivering what looked to be like a package.
"I wasn't expecting anything... **** it must **** to be that young in this day and age"
He waited until the man made his way back to the USPS truck and drove away.
He went outside to pick up the box, only to find it very light. Much lighter than he expected.
On the outside scribbled in blue pen was "The man's name" so he knew it was for him.
When he opens the box he finds a picture of himself dressed as Captain America and she was beside him.
"Even trying to look ugly she was beautiful."
The man begins to cry a bit.
Gently places the picture down, he digs through more.
He finds an old Valentine's Day card.
"Signed your's forever, love you so much"
The man puts the contents of the box back, and gently pushes it under the table.
He turns the television on and Linda Sadok is on talking about a fire.
"3 dead, 2 injured with 3rd degrees burns along 85% percent of their body"
The man states "****" and turns the television off.
"I'd rather be one of the three than one of the two"
The man grabs the last pack of tostitos he can find, and chows down for awhile.
The man dozes off.  

A few hours later the man awakes.
He house is quieter than normal, but he normally has all the washing machines running so he thinks "all good."
Walking to his refrigerator, he finds it filled with Mexican Taco Hot Pockets.
Not wanting to get fat, he rejects this refrigerator and demands a new one.
He does not get it.
Hot pocket.
He walks to his coffee table.
It is very long.
His box is gone.
Befuddled, he walks to his hallway to check under the door.
Upon opening the door, his house leads to another one of his houses.
It is the same house though, it's just his other one.
Walking to the refrigerator, he finds it filled with ingredients for fresh pesto and Texas toast.
Thinking maybe it would upset his stomach. He throws the fridge down his garbage disposal.
On returning to his living room, he sees a man.
This man is talking to the man about life.
Talking about how long could one go on for in the same space.  
This man tells the man, maybe you should **** yourself.
Get out.
The man has never liked suicide.
But given the preposterous conditions of his life, he thinks about it.
This man says a hand full of advil or a few too many sleeping pills could do it.
The man says no.
"I can't leave, I'm not done yet.
Then, this man asks what the man has not finished yet.
"I don't remember..."
This man tells the man, that he is not Captain America and disappears.
The man disagrees.
"Photo evidence"

The man wakes up.

He finds the contents of the box sprawled all over his chest.
He had fallen asleep on the couch.
He hears her say goodnight.
He says I love you.
There is no one there.
He crawls to bed, and it is 2:34 am.
He cannot sleep.
This man returns to him.
This man asks the man if he had finished what he wanted to finish.
The man says no.
This man asks why once more.
"She's still gone, i'm not letting go"
This man says the man already has.
The man rolls over in his bed.
This man says you've been done here for awhile.
The man pretends to be asleep,
motionless, yet awake for hours.

The sun never came up, because he didn't want it too.
The fridge was always empty, because he didn't want to eat.
The box would appear, because he wanted it too.
She was gone, because he knew she was gone.
He stayed, and kept resealing and opening that box. Day in day out.
Surviving healthy off of nothing at all.

He never left.

boxing
the guinea pig sleeps in a purple box
the artillery shells are stored in a brown box
the beer tins are chilled in a blue box
the false teeth are placed in a clear box
the nuclear reactor rests in a concrete box
the corpse rests in a wooden box
the ***** lives in a cardboard box
the black dog hides in an iron box
the laser gyro functions in a crystal box
the magician escapes in an iron box
the fire burns in an insulated box
the prisoner rots in a wire box
the alien hides in a plausible deniability box
the box is in a box in a box in a box in a...

Box
Boxes
-Not enough boxes
-Too many boxes

Small boxes
Medium boxes
Large boxes
-Moving

Cardboard box
Shipped boxes
-Delivery of
-Delivered boxes

Giving a box
To receive a box
A surprise box
-Gift(s)

Locked boxes
Po Box
-Post box
-Letterbox

Un marked box
Un claimed boxes
-From you
-By me


Boxed
To be boxed up
To box yourself in

Kickboxing
Boxing
Boxer
-Sports

Sandbox
Jack in the box
-Playtime

Chatterbox
-People

Jukebox
Boom box
-Music

Lunch box
Takeaway box
-Meals

Boxers
Shoebox
-Clothes

Gearbox
-Cars

Toolbox
-Const­ruction

Outbox
Inbox
-Microsoft

Corporate box
-Work

To think outside the box.

© By HF-Whisper
09/08/2022

Little Box talks back
With a new set of teeth
And pink gums
A fake nose and a wax mustache
She disguises her voice
To sound like Groucho
  
•

Little Box opens up
And cries to her psychiatrist
I don’t know why they hate me
I’m such a sweetheart
I volunteer at the zoo
And teach Mandarin
To their bratty children

•

Little Box is not happy to see you
So she closes herself up for months
Years, decades, and two millennia!
She tacks up a sign that says
Nirvana

•

Little Box is undead
She sleeps all day in a coffin
Hands over chest
At night she cruises the mall
For juicy victims

She prefers type A
But AB if she has to
What can you say
Vampires can’t be choosy
She likes your stupid brother

•

Little Box is on the psychiatry couch
Everybody hates me
Nobody loves me
Little Box lies on her side
And spills her guts

•

What’s in Little Box
A perfect orchid
A chocolate-covered strawberry
A new iPhone
With a glittery sleeve
Amber earrings from Pushkin

Keys to a new Porsche
A retro Chanel brooch
A Getty scion’s left ear
A Czar’s *****
Gifts so rare
Please don’t stare

•

What’s in Little Box
Rancid chow mein
A sliver of cold pizza
Last week’s hummus
You’re a starving orphan
From East Brooklyn
And you’ll eat it

•

So you want to **** Little Box
You want to know her secret
She won’t open up
She won’t give it up
And you are genuinely repelled
By her filthy ribbon

•

You want to DO the Little Box
You are a sorry story
You big creep
Why don’t you get off the couch and find
A real girlfriend!

•

Boss Box
White, square, and without a soul!

•

Please don’t analyze Little Box
She’s just cardboard clogging the landfill
Her mother Precious Jade Purse
Has been regifted

I'm in a closed box
With tape on the top
Don't have any scissors
Have to use my fingernails
Scratch Scratch Scratch
Doesn't work
****
Maybe I should shout?
Let me out?! Let me out!
No one is listening.
I look through the slit
Through the clear tape
I touch my hand to the top
Of my cardboard box
All I see is white outside
I go to curl up a bit
Moving my hand,
But I can't
It sticks
To the top of the box
And I tug & pull
But it doesn't come off
I let out a small sound
I prop my other hand
On the side
And then I realize
That it's now also attached
****
Panic creeps into
The back of my brain
I pull very hard
But to no avail
I start to scream and thrash
As my skin
Touches the box
It sticks
And now I'm still
Still as can be
The box is holding me
Prisoner
The more I tug
The more I feel
Myself getting tugged
Towards it's surface
What is it's purpose?
I put this box in
The back of my brain
Long ago
What was in it?
I really don't know
Or I just can't remember
I'm overly uncomfortable
Then I realize,
I'm in it
And it's trying to consume me
I shouldn't have done it
I put my, myself in this box
And I tossed it into
The back of my brain
I have to refrain
From screaming in pain
As the box let's go of
My skin
I hear the schick schick
Of the tape peeling off
The top of the box
Opens very quietly
I stand up and stretch
Afraid it'll happen
Again
And get out of the box
Before it changes it's mind
And I look around
It's all white
So, this is what the inside of
My head looks like
Boxes upon boxes
Are stacked up like skyscrapers
I see some scissors
Lying beside the now open
Box
I look around again
Then I grab the scissors &
A box,
Slash the tape
Hoping to find all of
Myself again

i know Like you
That I could put this all behind me
That I could pull it all up and stuff it into a tiny box and never let it out again
And go on with my life
And smile
And be a happy man
Successful
Waiting for whatever it is that will finally **** me
And then die.
I could do that.
And everyone would say how marvelous that he could overcome the things that were done to him
Or the things that he had to overcome
Or some such thing
Perhaps they could even write it on my tombstone
"He overcame so very much."
How proud they all would be
For a day
Maybe a day and a half
But there would still be the matter of the little box
I've had that little red box since I was a very little boy
And I stuffed things in it right along
Boy did I stuff that box as fast as I could
Sometimes it was all I could do to stay ahead of things
Nearly exhausted with the stuffing.
But eventually I won
I closed that box and locked it up
And carried it with me everywhere I went
And then came that day when it dropped
And broke open
And all of the things I had so carefully stuffed away burst out all at once
(Surrounding me with horrible truths
Such awful things
Things with which at last I had to deal
What awful times those were
What anguished times
And I could do that again
I could
I have repaired my box
And I could gather all the things
The awful things that still linger in the air
The things that have not run their course
Been understood
And stuff them back into the box
And have room left over for the new things that pop into my brain from time to time
New memories from here and there
And I could smile
And go happilly on my way
And everyone would feel much better
Everyone would see me smile
And I would not cry out at night
Or stare ahead silently
Or seem to not be listening
Or any of that
Only, I would still have my box
The one I started stuffing when I was a very little boy
That box
And I'm not willing to do that so other people will feel better
If I have to take my last breath one moment after my last flashback
One moment after my last tear
I will not ever shut the lid on that box again
I will not
Because the only place to store that box is in a tiny little mushroom house deep down inside the mind of an abused little boy
A place in which I spent 15 horrible years

Alone

And ain't nobody goin' to make me and my box go in there again.

At the last minute of Valentines
I got my honey
A bunch of roses so she won't **** me
At the last minute of Valentines
I got my honey
2 box of chocolates
A bunch of roses
So my honey won't **** me
At the last minute of Valentines
I got my honey
3 diamond rings
2 box of chocolates
A bunch of roses
So my honey won't **** me
At the last minute of Valentines
I got my honey
4 sets of earrings
3 diamond rings
2 box of chocolates
A bunch of roses
So my honey won't **** me
At the last minute of Valentines
I got my honey
5 mercedes benz
4 sets of earrings
3 diamond rings
2 box of chocolates
A bunch of roses
So my honey won't **** me
At the last minute of Valentines
I got my honey
6 roundtrip vacations
5 mercedes benz
4 sets of earrings
3 diamond rings
2 box of chocolates
A bunch of roses
So my honey won't **** me
At the last minute of Valentines
I got my honey
7 maids a waiting
6 roundtrip vacations
5 mercedes benz
4 sets of earrings
3 diamond rings
2 box of chocolates
A bunch of roses
So my honey won't **** me
At the last minute of Valentines
I got my honey
8 new yachts
7 maids a waiting
6 roundtrip vacations
5 mercedes benz
4 sets of earrings
3 diamond rings
2 box of chocolates
A bunch of roses
So my honey won't **** me
At the last minute of Valentines
I got my honey
9 airplanes flying
8 new yachts
7 maids a waiting
6 roundtrip vacations
5 mercedes benz
4 sets of earrings
3 diamond rings
2 box of chocolates
A bunch of roses
So my honey won't **** me
At the last minute of Valentines
I got my honey
10,000 dollars
9 new airplanes
8 new yachts
7 maids a waiting
6 roundtrip vacations
5 mercedes benz
4 sets of earrings
3 diamond rings
2 box of chocolates
A bunch of flowers
So my honey won't **** me
At the last minute of Valentines
I got my honey
11 new purses
10,000 dollars
9 airplanes flying
8 new yachts
7 maids a waiting
6 roundtrip vacations
5 mercedes benz
4 sets of earrings
3 diamond rings
2 box of chocolates
A bunch of roses
So my honey won't **** me
The last thing I got that truly broke me
12 different houses
11 new purses
10,000 dollars
9 airplanes flying
8 new yachts
7 maids a waiting
6 roundtrip vacations
5 mercedes benz
4 sets of earrings
3 diamond rings
2 box of chocolates
A bunch of roses
After this she better marry me

Box Off
The black box that tells of approaching enemy missiles is turned off
The black box that jams enemy missiles it turned off
The black box that dispenses radar jamming chaff is turned off
The black box that launches infra-red flares is turned off
The black box that gives out false position locations is turned off
The black box that plots enemy defence locations is turned off
The black box that steers a course round enemy radars is turned off
The black box that sees enemy anti-aircraft guns is turned off
The black box that should save our jet and our lives is turned off
We are now dead and our warplane is now destroyed
The black box should’ve been turned on

There's a box, a relatively old and beaten down piece of cardboard.
It's been rained on, ****** on, thrown up in.
This box is weak around the edges, it's barely holding up.
This box is one reality is threatening to crush.
It's the one people put you in,
so that in the next minute they can write you off.

I know this person they want to fit in that worn old box,
it's the same box I fit in.
They're not different.
I tore up my box,
I realized I wanted several things,
and the box, with it's weakening walls and ideals,
wanted to shame me for it.

I stomped and tore up that box,
because it said things I didn't agree with.
It complicated simple delights, like love, pain, hurt, anger and regret.
It hurt my soul and entire being.
When being in the box, is
more harmful than helpful,
crush that **** up.
Lay it flat,
and wall all over it's weak walls.
Feel it compress and bend to your will.
Free yourself of the **** and *****.
It's the only way to live,
Outside the box.

A paper box filled with crumpled newspapers
Carrying death notes, attempted ****** stories
And the failed political agendas
(Failed I say for I personally see no difference).
Neatly stacked they would take
Only the bottom half of the box,
But since the papers were to be rid off,
And the papers carried blood,
Shoved were they like ***** secrets
In that plain paper box.
That action somehow now
Turned the box into a closet
Filled with dusty winter coats
From a life past,
The clothes might fit your body
But they won't fit your soul.
O' my friend added today
How she hasn't seen me in black
Since the last time I returned,
She said it as a fact,
But somehow that hurt and
It felt like fear- my mumbled ignorance.

The box lay in the middle of the room,
The room itself empty,
Sold were each artifact
Over the past few months,
To get back
What they had stolen in the first place.
I no longer fought when
My favourite tin can was taken,
It too had rattled the pockets,
It bled for our tummy.
The box lay out of place
Like all of us,
Trying relentlessly to fit in,
The balled up papers
Sticking out the *****,
A triangle there and a lonely strip here.
I could read few words of different stories
And create a new lie,
But the lies seemed silly even for me,
I needed something else.
You might ask why not burn them,
Why not shred them,
But even fire creates smoke
And secrets never really die,
We always, always hide them,
Paint over them with lies.

So the box,
Now being there long enough,
Wasn't kicked over
Like the many times before,
It lay there, carefully maneuvered
By the liars and the sinners
Of the house.
But their breath stopped
Every time they walked into the room.
Like they didn't wish to inhale the dust
And the stories of the box,
Like their lungs would be infected
The same way their hearts were.
But the shameful box had secrets
Staining red over time, dripping blood
And spilling black soot of lies,
Flies buzzed around now and yet
Why did we not discard it,
I thought.
What was so special about our lies,
Our sins
That we keep the box around
And not hide it but be ashamed of it?
Why do we keep it in our homes still
If all it does is poison us?

Why do we keep our old loves
Alive in our memories?

Two cats were sitting in a box
One sitting next to the other
One said to the other, “What is behind this wall, brother?”
And the other said, “You’ll just have to see.”
The first cat said, “I can’t go alone, brother.”
And he replied, “You’re not alone, you’re with me.”

Two cats were sitting in a box
One was blind and the other could see.
One said, “What is behind this wall, brother?”
And his brother said, “Just follow me.”
One said, “What is behind this wall, brother?”
But it was the other brother who couldn’t see.

Two cats were sitting a box
One was blind and the other could see.
One brother was afraid of the world,
And the other had no reason to be.
Everything that could have scared him,
Was as black as the faraway sea.

Two cats were sitting in a box,
And both of them wanted to see.
One said, “I can’t go alone, brother.”
And the other said, “You’re with me.”
But only one brother jumped,
And guess which one was he.

One cat was sitting in a box
And his brother was sitting alone.
The cat who could see sitting inside
And the blind cat outside on his own.
The blind cat said, “Brother, you coming?”
And the other said, “I want to stay home.”

So one cat stayed inside the box
And the other explored everything.
Then, one day he returned to the box,
To tell his brother everywhere he had been,
But he had no sight to see the world
So he couldn’t explain what he’d seen.

One cat was inside a box
The box was the only thing he’d seen
And one cat was outside of the box
But couldn’t see anywhere he had been.
Said the inside cat, “What is behind this wall, brother?”
And his brother said, “Don’t listen to me.”

“You’d know what is outside the box, brother.
If only you’d just come and see.”
But his brother stayed inside the box.
Too afraid of leaving was he.
So one stayed inside and the other outside,
And the great world remained a mystery.

My fathers love ended up in a box, in a large cold room.
Strange you might think,
That the confectionaries in this dissapointing wooden container
Would be a relic of love to a small boy.
But there it was...
In that large cold room, in that large cold house,
In that large cold school,
Was this box.
And in this box was all sorts of sweets, crisps and so on
And that was what I had of my father.
The box was mysteriously called a "tuck box".
There were other boxes like it, lining the outside of this large room.
But this one was mine.

Each box had a small lock, some had stickers.
Mine had a sticker, neatly aligned in the rear left corner.
The room rarely had any visitors and aside from the boxes, it had a solitary ping-pong table.
There were no batts or *****, just a green table with a net sitting awkwardly in the centre of the echoey room.
If it could speak it would say "What the **** am I doing here"
and I think thats how we all felt... all us boys.
I had no wish to play table tennis.

I did wish for my fathers love though.
Before term he would take me to the shops.
I would be able to buy whatever sweets I liked, but I felt bad, like it must be costing him a lot of money... all those sweets that is...
Not the boarding school or plane journey away from home.

So armed with these sweets packed away in my bag,
I would get on a plane and go to that cold place,
Where this box of treats would remind me that my father wasn't there.
I would rarely share or trade my sweets with other boys.
It felt somehow disloyal to my father.
Like i was trading away his love for some small favour.
But really these trophies were too precious for me to give away.

So years later, I think my fathers love may somehow still be in that box.
In that cold lonely room.
The box is now in my parents attic, full of photos and other memories.
The tie my 'friends' signed on the day I left that school, almost 9 years later.
But I wonder how to reclaim the love locked in that box.
Or reclaim the heart of the lonely, sad boy who only had those sweets to reassure him.
That his father still loved him... wanted him... that even though he was a plane ride away from home...
He still had a home...
Which was...
Where did he live?
Where was his home?
Because it felt like he lived in that cold school,
Filled with the shouts of angry men and wild boys...
While his home was somewhere he no longer lived...
It was somewhere he went to for "holidays"!
In that far away country
Which was safe, and warm but somehow
No longer... home.


And all these years later the gap between me and my father remains
Questions hang in the air like icicles
Ready to fall...
Where were you,
For all those years?
Why didn't you come and get me?
How did you think i would survive without your presence as I grew up, without your love, your advice, your guidance
The safety of being at home...

Let me tell you I managed
I packed my pain away in that box.
And I survived.
I endured the passing of the years,
the bullying, fear, neglect, shame and embarrassment
I didn't so much find a way through. I found a way out.
to a place the world couldn't hurt me.
A place within where i can say **** the world. **** this place and
******* all.
And in that place i felt relatively safe
It was tolerably intolerably

But now as a man.
As i approach my fiftieth year
I can count the cost of this 'safety'
A cost in joy, a cost in love, a cost in family, a cost in life!
Because the part of me hidden in that box isn't living.
It's existing.
And life has needed more from me than I've had to give.
I have needed the colours locked away safely in that box.
I've needed the range of emotion only they could afford
I've needed the courage in there
The joy, the willingness to meet life
And I've not had these things to hand.
They have been locked away... safe
But unused.
As the years toiled on
And life has ebbed away.
I have survived
But not really lived

So here i am at this threshhold of my life
No longer satisfied with the half life of limited pallette.

and I choose life
Choose Colour
Choose expression
Choose Presence
Choose love
Choose pain
Choose tears
Choose loss
l Choose heartbreak.
And i want to let this messy path carry me forward
To a place I do not recognise
And to a life where I can find an experience which
Feel warm enough, safe enough, fun enough, alive enough, where I feel loved enough, where I love enough to dare to dance enough with life to dare to belong enough to call that place
home.

And let me tell you brothers and sisters I wish you to meet me there With your colour, with your joy, your heartbreak, your life and the wisdom trawled from the depths of your despair .
(let us share what we're learned  in a place
where we can join hands and find union in each others souls.
find home in each other
find belonging in each others arms , in each others hearts.
lets rise together, lets heal together, lets **** together and lets love together, walk together, cry together, dance together, marry together , win lose and, die together
we can walk together towards the dawn of our next life  as we part this one full
full of Love of lifes experience, with laughter lines etched across our faces as we tell the stories of our ancestors to our children children.
lets us dance live love and die in glorious presence together with life.
let us be , let us learn , let us live lets live lets draw on the ******* walls and wear our pants on our heads. Let's call ******* on ******* just live our glourds bueauitful lives together in messy harmony.
lets belong together lets home together
lets world together lets joy together
lets  sit together in a puddle of our own tears
and call that place home
where we love our life enough to be broken by its despair
as our blood and tears mix together and we become the earth beneath us.
become the air around us
the fire in our hearts
the love in our bones.

In my travels, I happened to find this little box. It has no key, and has no locks. So, sit back, sip a cup of coffee, or favorite drink, relax for a little while,  and hopefully, enjoy the ride:

On the table, the box it sits-
All six sides of equal fit-
What is the mystery inside-?
What are the secrets that it hides?
This little box--
That has no key--and has no locks.

The Oracles of Delphi-the hermits on the peak-
Claimed to see the future-but in truth they did not seek-
The power of this little box-
That has no key ----- and has no locks.

It doesn't eat! It doesn't breath!!
But oft it can, and will, relieve
Your fears of the fiercest days ahead--
All within this little box-
That has no key---------and has no locks.

When clouds gather, dark and drea'r--
Eyes swell, and start to tear--
It's not a curse! nor a pox!
Just pick up the little box--
That has no key---------------and has no locks.

So, with great ferocity--
Quench your thirst of curiosity!
Discover the secrets held within!!
Feel the power again, and again!!!
Learn the mystery of the box--
That has no key--------------------and has no locks

(YOU MAY NOW OPEN THE BOX)
                                                            ­                                      
Put together with guise and guile--
With hopes that it will make you smile-
So, now you know the mystery--
And the secret of the box-
There never was a need -- for keys and locks!!!       
           
Copyright r.riddle-August 17, 2010

i miss having an old
plastic box at the
foot of my bed

i miss having
motivation
inspiration

i miss
me

(i'm sorry
okay?)

the only thing
that makes sense
at all anymore
is music

all the black and
white patterns
crawling up and
around my legs

and i lost hundreds of pieces
of transparent music
just left myself
some lead sheets
wrinkled from
artificial humidity.

it just feels
wrong
okay?

i feel wrong
okay?

i discovered
the hard way
the truth

that i like people
on an individual
basis and hate
established institutions

(i'm
sorry
okay?
i'm
actually
really
sorry
okay?)­

i also discovered that
many people actually
like me and somehow i
misunderstood their intentions

(which were undeniably
good but you know
what i've always said
about good intentions.)

regret
regret
flashing neon
regret
guilt
guilt
strangling black
guilt

a plastic box viewed
by me is not a
plastic box viewed
by you

and i want my
plastic box back

the plastic box
i remember
the me
i remember

i want my
plastic box back

i was tripping over it
kicking it for probably
about six years

the yellowed
broken handles
dust in the bottom
it's more than just
a box and more like a coffin
of the last forty years and my past

i remember giving it up
sliding it right under our
old mailbox and handing
over the laptop that was

never mine but always
felt like it and then
walking down the
stairs and out into
the blazing parking lot
like i wasn't a new person.

today i put a laundry
basket full of blankets
where it used to sit
and every time i turn
around i think it's
there again

i'm having
flashbacks of
some stupid
plastic box

(like when somebody
dies or leaves your life and for
awhile it keeps hitting you that
they're just not around anymore)

God and mark
(probably sharons
and kate too)
only know where it is

but i know where
it is not
it's not in my kitchen
it's not in my room

**and i want my
*******
plastic box back.

This box
This box where I sit is like a prison
This box where I am at is a prison
Even thought I could leave when ever I want
Come and go as freely as I want
My freedom is never free
The person I am and the accomplishments I do has no significant value here
In this box ..
This box
This box isn't my home but my prison
This box is my prison not in a physical way but mental
This box will confide me til there no more and I become a living a zombie
This box keeps ..
Will confide everyone
This box...

There's a box down in my basement
It's not hidden far away
It's a box that's full of history
things from, well....another day
It sits there like a statue
Never opened, all forlorn
Holding pictures and their secrets
from a time when I weren't born
It's blue with brass side stapping
It takes up two cubic feet
It just sits there in the corner
Yelling...OPEN ME....but, be discreet
Love letters and photos
unfinished projects from the past
Newspaper announcements
Lots of things you want to last
It's a box that is worth sharing
Stories living in a box
It sits there closed and oh, forgotten
It sits there closed, there are no locks
There's few around who've seen the contents
Even less who know the names
Of people in all the pictures
It's not just sad, it is a shame
The box is full of untold stories
A love story that should be heard
It's written in two lovers writing
No need to translate, not a word
It is the tale of two fine people
Parents of my wife, they say
This box tells of Margaret and Charlie
They both are gone, before this day
It's musty when you smell it
But, isn't that how things should be
There's school reports and lockets
A father lost when she was three
I think of them when I look at it
Artifacts stored for none to see
I never met them, but I miss them
They'd be proud of who she came to be
this box is Megan's life force
It helped make her strong and proud
It shows she is an Edwards
The contents scream it really loud
there is a box down in my basement
It' a box of writing, reams and reams
I look forward to our meeting
One quiet night inside my dreams
The people who filled up the inside
Are my family, though we've not met
I'd like to take this chance to tell them
Their girl is safe, they need not fret.

In my travels, I happened to find this little box. It has no key, and has no locks. So, sit back, sip a cup of coffee, or favorite drink, relax for a little while,  and hopefully, enjoy the ride:

On the table, the box it sits-
All six sides of equal fit-
What is the mystery inside-?
What are the secrets that it hides?
This little box--
That has no key--and has no locks.

The Oracles of Delphi-the hermits on the peak-
Claimed to see the future-but in truth they did not seek-
The power of this little box-
That has no key ----- and has no locks.

It doesn't eat! It doesn't breath!!
But oft it can, and will, relieve
Your fears of the fiercest days ahead--
All within this little box-
That has no key---------and has no locks.

When clouds gather, dark and drea'r--
Eyes swell, and start to tear--
It's not a curse! nor a pox!
Just pick up the little box--
That has no key---------------and has no locks.

So, with great ferocity--
Quench your thirst of curiosity!
Discover the secrets held within!!
Feel the power again, and again!!!
Learn the mystery of the box--
That has no key--------------------and has no locks

(YOU MAY NOW OPEN THE BOX)
                                                            ­­                                      
Put together with guise and guile--
With hopes that it will make you smile-
So, now you know the mystery--
And the secret of the box-
There never was a need -- for keys and locks!!!      
          
Copyright r.riddle-August 17, 2010