What I learned from my unplanned, extended summer vacation

Dear esteemed Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury. As a practicing unemployed person, I am here today, simply, to recount for my time.  And what I have learned from my unplanned, extended summer vacation … I trust the evidence will be useful, to other unemployed practitioners of the art of seeking career fulfillment. Or, for those within our PC community they might affectionately refer to us as, ‘career challenged’.

So, I shall present my evidence. (Play along, the mythical judge just nodded and went back to sleep. Government counsel just sneered at me … yikes. I better get with it.)

“I love biographies, stories about the seemingly magic lives of now ubiquitous famous people. Warning, I am not entering into evidence any stories about realty television stars. I am presenting historical accounts about real human beings, who really existed, made a difference to our culture and had real brain matter connected to their cerebral cortex. At summation, I’ll return to this minor evidentiary point with respect reality television stars, but first I need to provide interesting famous examples to prosecute my case.” I paused.

“Okay,  if it will please the jury, I will offer three examples into evidence, Albert Einstein, Mark Twain and Julia Child. These are three of my favorite people from history. I’ll come back to the why. I expect the jury will keep an open mind, review the evidence, before passing judgment.” I grin with a hint of irony.

“First, a quick point about, Mr. Albert Einstein, better known as, Mister Energy equals Mass times the Speed of Light/squared. What seems to be glossed over about Mr. Einstein, in 1900, he earned a teaching diploma from Zurich Polytechnic. 21 years old, full of knowledge, then for 2 long years he searched and applied for a teaching position. He found, Albert = zero. For the juries pleasure, can you imagine that job interview?”

            “Hi, my name is Albert Einstein, I’d like to teach physics here.”

The HR manager, unaware that a genius was across the table might have said.

            “Well, Mr. Einstein, I’m sure you’re bright.”

            “Ya, ya,” a confused Albert might have said.

            “But relative to your competition, in general, you don’t quite measure up, I’m sorry, not sure you’d add much to our physics department.”

            “But, but wait, I have all these world changing ideas to share, about how light bends, wormholes, and I think time is relative.”

            “Oh, really? Can you prove that?”

            “No, not yet, but I will,” Albert said. “I’m doing the math.”

            The HR manager likely just sat back in her wooden chair and smirked over at young Albert. She had other interviews that day with better known candidates.

            “Sorry, we’ve several other candidates with better grades, better looking and with stronger references, you’ll need to spend your time elsewhere …  I’m sure you do well at the Patent Office, I’m afraid our physics department might be too challenging for you.”

Ouch, even Einstein had a hard time getting a paying gig. “What’s that?”

 “Objection, your honor, unemployed counsel is using an Einstein that was, 21 years old. Hardly worth considering what my opponent has learned this past summer.”

Okay, good point, a great point, I thought. “I’ll move on, so, how about my second candidate, Mark Twain, or let the evidence show, his legal name, Samuel Langhorne Clemens.”  I coughed, acted resolute and confident. “Samuel grew up in Hannibal, Missouri, no relation to Foghorn Leghorn, his name was spelled, Langhorne. At the wise old age of 18, he sauntered off from home to be a printers apprentice in big cities, did I mention he was all alone, he was 18? To educate himself, he studied at night at the local libraries. He ends up back in Missouri, ended up working the Mississippi on steamboats, got to be a captain, where he discovered his pen name, Mark Twain, (look that up, interesting factoid). To make him great evidence, he got his first literary success, the short story, The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County, published in 1865, he was already in his early 30’s. And in those days the life expectancy was not quit 60.”

“Objection, who cares, your honor, relevance?”

“Over ruled, hey unemployed dude, get with it … I’m getting hungry.”

“If the court pleases, I’ll move to my next example.” (Our mythical judge nods yes, crosses his black robed arms and closes his eyes).

“Not satisfied? I guessed as much. Okay, my personal favorite, Julie Child. Why? Because I loved her fearless butterfly-chuckle, and I love to cook. I learned to cook as a single young man reading her step by step cook books. So, I can sum up Julia quickly. Her 734 page cook book, Mastering the Art of French Cooking, after being initially rejected, was finally published – in 1961. Her now famous PBS television show, The French Chef debuted, February 11, 1963, Julia was born August 15, 1912. Julia’s career, her world defining career, did not get started, until she was almost 50!”

(The jury was clearly impressed, the all gave me approving nods.)

“So, to my point about what is the common link between Einstein, Twain, Child and  reality television stars, and unemployment. Oh, and esteemed jury members, when I mention reality stars, I mean the ones that go on competitive reality television shows. Say what you like, I know some of you are smirking at about, now. But the common life thread, all these folks had and have, and I have, is the courage and audacity not to quit. It takes courage and audacity to be an ‘unknown singer’, and walk out in front of the Roman mob and prove you have talent.”  I smirked.

“I learned a few things from my unplanned, extended summer vacation. Create a routine, get up and go to bed at the same time. Work at staying physically, emotionally, and spiritually fit. Keep a flexible attitude, some days are better than others. And my last two concluding points before you pass judgment, do not quit. Life is for competing, my mother in law always told my wife, “Life is not fair.” And so it is not, but that is not an excuse to quit trying, just ask Albert, Mark and Julia. My final piece of evidence, that I think goes to the heart of our unemployed cause, remember to make yourself, SMILE. I recommend a paper note on your bathroom mirror. You will just have to trust me on this one, but smiles are magic, SMILE. In closing, I admit, I am guilty of trying. And never giving up.”

Eternal Night

Flickering dead stars, 
Black moon hearts,

Spectral milky smoke waves emerge,

Curl, twist,
Block out eternity,

Enraptured, 

No open door for me, 
No unlocked window for escape,

No elusions, 

For I have trapped myself - tonight,

Tumbling, turbulent clouds, 
Billow black as coal dust particles, 

Roll in with the foamy mists at high tide,

Within my room,
Total darkness of a blind man’s sight,

Foreboding Nephilim crush the beloved to clear his path,

Crickets, poisonous frogs, snakes crawl, sliver, disappear,

Hunter of the weak, 
Abandoned child, thumb sucking cherub,

Innocence killed, murdered, raped, total desolation,

An owl perched on a jagged oak branch, 
Hoots a warning,

As death Angels approach,

And within them, Lucifer floats,

A feast in his honor, 

     My spirit his appetizer,

My tears of regret, 

     His nectarous, salty, velvety wine,

My heartfelt, innocent love, 

     His debased gratification sauce,

My hopes and dreams, 

     His humiliation of me, 

          His all-time favorite entree, 

My aspirations, infection to hallucination, 

     His sweet digestif,

My desolate heart, 

     His rich, dark chocolate,

My-just-deserts,

I dare not close my eyes,
Though I cannot see, 

I dare note drift to sleep,
Though I am tired of living,

For my dreams, 

     Become his dreams,  

Whispers to my soul, 

     God does not exist,

Faith, 

     Nothing but a fool’s paradise lost,

I beg for mercy, 

I beg Satan not haunt me,

Demonic thief of children’s souls,

Fatherless-father,

     Seeds legions of hellion imps,

I crawl blindly to my knees,
Grope, pant,  

I suppliant my whole,

And Gabriel’s horn,
Pierces the clear celestial veil,

A simple prayer, 

A simple faith, 

As if I’m an innocent boy of eight,

No mother’s hug, 

No mother's kiss, 

No protective cloak from the sisters of fate,

As the devils deceit evaporates,

From darkness to light,

Through the windows of my soul,

Golden sun beams ignite life,

     A certainty I survived another night, 

     And the knowledge,

      I will seek to love,

     That I’ll be all right.

Mister Middle-Aged Birthday Wish

I would climb a towering, ancient Oak, 

Seeking out a well-chosen jagged limb,

One that would appear thick enough,
For my middle-aged behind,

My legs would tremble,

My palms would sweat, 
But I'd be careful,

As I crept, no, scooted horsey style, 
Along, a barnacled branch,

Below, my golden furred, dogie friend - Sam,
Would hide under his paws, 
And grumble, 
And wonder, 
If I should take a tumble, 
There would be trouble,
Because he wanted to be fed,

I would remember too, 
“Don't look down ... 
 ... CRAP! I looked down,”
As I would stare down at death,

BUT, I'd suck in a deep breath,

As I'd grapple over the wobbly, bouncy branch,                      

I would carelessly swing upside down, 
APE style,

As translucent sweat drops would rain down 
toward the ground,
... off my pasty white forehead,

                    

I'd yell, “Hey kids – LOOK, NO HANDS!"

"Dude, be careful," one might say back. 

They’d all shrug, shake their heads, 
But pet Sam on the head,

As they strolled away from my dare devilish display,

Undaunted, I would run back home,
With a relieved, inward and outward, 
Sam, in dangled dog tow,

I would devour a huge bowl of brown beans, 
Sam, would sniff at them, backup and frown,

Then I would gestate for an hour or so, maybe more,

Some peoples colons work slower, but eventually,

I’d FART, audacious, odorous farts,

And shake my clenched fists in the air, 

I'd SCREAM… "YES! YES I CAN!!!"

And to my amazement, 
"Look, Sam, I exterminated a cockroach, 
without even using my jazz hands," 

Sam would sniff at my posterior, 
His brown eyes would start to drip tears,
As he wobbled away, to seek clear air,

  

Then, AS IF I'M SKIPPING SCHOOL, 

(Whisper this part with me …)

I’d prance naked about our empty house,

As if a land locked Manatee spouse,

And wiggle, giggle, swivel, And,

Scare away a trapped bumblebee,

Who buzzed accidentally inside,
Through an open window,

   

After,

I’d investigate our bathroom closets,

Wonderment, at all her smelly stuff?

EUREKA! 

I'd borrow (steal) some of my wife's,

Flowery scented bathtub soaps,

A large inventory, she would never notice,

I would, I really would, 
Fill the tub to the brim,

With wispy, frothy, sudsy clouds, 

Light one of her expensive candles, 

WHY you ask? 
Just because I could,
And I would, 
I really, really, would,
My dogie friend Sam, 
Would haunch back and stare at me,
And wonder what had happened to my me,
Curious if he could survive all day ...
... alone with me,

I'd Immerse myself like an Alligator,

Within a luxurious, steamy, nuclear reactor hot, 

Hot-Water wasting bath, 
Then,

POP a cork, and guzzle down a bottle... 

Of my wife’s favorite Champagne,
The bottle, 
She's been hiding for a special occasion,
"What better occasion, than my birthday?"

Then harkin' back to our honeymoon, 

As tiny, fragrant, sparkle bubbles bloomed,

From one of my wife's fancy, 
flooted lead crystal glass, 

And just like my hands-free brown bean trick,

My own personal bubbly versions would escape,

From the crack of my bulbous ...
middle-aged southern - exit only - address,


I'd CACKLE like I'm a thirteen year-old boy, 
As I'd hop out dripping wet, 
Wrap a towel around my head,
New Delhi style,
Because TODAY - my one day
I can try to act, sort of ... kind of ... COOL,              

I’d sing off-key a Jimmy B tune, 

In a loud annoying voice, prompting Sam,
To go hide in his dark den,

         

I would guzzle several pints more of my favorite brew, 

BELCH and burp as if a Bulbous Bullfrog, 
sleeping on the bottom,

Of a pale green algae infested pond,

Another region of my bits-and-parts, I'd,

FART to the extreme, 
And scream, "YES! SEE, I DID IT AGAIN!",
Sam would stare up at me,
From the safety of his dark den,
Thinking, "You won't trick me again."

                

Then, I would SCAMPER into the cold backyard, 
Whip out my sleeping, flaccid forgotten friend,

As I'd spell my name, onto the powdery virgin snow,

Using an age old artistic medium from childhood,

Streaming in cursive, with a moist, day-glow sputtering flow, 

To create instant environmental art, 
After,

I'd step back to admire the letters I wrote, 

As Sam would stare up at me, then sniff at my work,
Then lift his hind leg, 
And add what he thought,

And life would get BETTER!

I’d DEVOUR a thick, juicy 

(Medium rare - "thank you"),

Artery-clogging steak, 
Slide a few morsels over to Sam,
Who pawed a thank you at my leg,

Swig another pint of my favorite brew, 

Chomp down a HUGE baked potato, 

Slathered in butter and sour cream, 

And any other evil, forbidden,

Cholesterol inducing goodness I could find, 

     

But from within the unguarded refrigerator, 

I'd SNEER, as I would instantly flick away,

Noisy neighbor steamed vegetables,

Perched inside a cold plastic container,

They would STARE at me, 
Acting all health-a-lee Superior,      

"Who do they think they are?" I'd ask Sam,

Just for meanness, I'd chuckle ...

And threaten to feed them
to my golden haired co-conspirator … "woof!", 

Thanks to the vacuum hose my Doctor fished up my behind,

My impromptu feast, slithered down my overworked, 
Cancer free colon,

The goodness disappeared into my vast bowel of nothingness, 

I would enjoy a reflective nap with my fur covered friend,  

As I'd need energy for what comes next, 

From off my unedited dreamed up menu, of,  

HOPED for birthday treats and wishes,

In Mister Elmer J. Fudd esquire, speak ... 
Whisp-pa wit me now,

I’d berry, coolie, care-foolie, 

Twack down my 1-and-only, ba-ha-ride,

Because I'm not from You-taw, 

           

And I only hab dis temporary stiff mainsail,

From a limited time offer,

Thanks to a super secret pill box,

With a four-hour warranty window,

(Otherwise, I'd have to go to the hos-spital ...) 

                    

I'd woe-mantically give her a single wed wove, 

I'd kiss her hand, 

I'd whis-purr in her ear,

"I wuv you – my dear,",

AND THEN!

After I locked my golden fur covered friend, Sam, inside his den ...

We would naked wrestle until we scrambled our ba-rains,

(THE BEST … almost, but not quite, 3 minutes of the day!)

BUT ALAS ...

That is what I would DO ... IF, it were MY birthday … today …

BUT I'M NOT YOU!

So, today might be YOUR birthday?

My faceless middle-aged friend,

I care not your skin pigmentation,

Who you have affection for,

Or, the faith you adore,

My simple hope for you, on your birthday,

GO OUTSIDE, SEEK YOUR INNER CHILD!

MISBEHAVE!

DO SOMETHING CRAZY or WILD, 

DO WHATEVER YOUR HEART CRAVES,

BE BRAVE!  

Because ... oh well, truth be told, 

It can all end,

A snap of my fingers, 

The blink of a child's eyes,

A nano second being unaware,
Or, simply, being genetically unlucky ...

BUT! I would not despair,

Because, It’s not MY birthday today,

So, I’ll just go to work, 

And tonight I'll sit in a dark room,

I'll pet my needy golden-haired friend, Sam,

And I'll be quiet, just do as I'm told,
And try to behave, 
And try not to get caught releasing a silent, foggy fart,

BUT LATER TONIGHT,

AS I CLOSE MY EYES, 

I'LL DREAM,   

I'LL WHISPER IN MY MIND,

I have a birthday, too, the one day,

Every year, until I disappear, 

The one day, MY day ... to be ME,

The day I can act weirder than usual.

Childish Dreams

I dreamed I won the Olympic marathon,

Man, after 26 miles, I ran into this big stadium,

Everybody cheered my name,
Bright lights, Television cameras aimed at me,

I’m standing on the top stair,

And I’m sweating like I just took a hot shower,

Gold Medal dangled down about mid-chest,

It felt heavier than I’d guessed,

They played my country’s fight song,

It could happen, maybe, someday, you never know,

But when I opened my eyes, It was dark …
And I was all alone,

I dreamed I cured cancer,

I did in an afternoon,
It seemed so simple, dreaming up a solution,

Just after school, but before my favorite television show,

I saved the bald headed kid from certain death,
I guessed,

Then I played video games until my fingers were numb,

It could happen, maybe, someday, you never know,

But when I opened my eyes, It was dark …
And I was all alone,

I dream a lot it seems,

Dreaming I’m, dreaming ... I’m someone else,

Being anybody else ... but me ... I do not want to be me,

Dreaming someone would listen to me,
Maybe notice me,

But my dreams, they grow inside my head,

Some dreams seem small, even quiet,

Some dreams scare me ... I stay away from those dreams,

But I love most of my dreams,
Big or small,

Even the ones I can hardly remember,

My dreams are my special place ... a place I go to hide,

Because my dreams always welcome me inside,

Within my dreams – I’m safe, I’m smart, I’m pretty,

And my dreams never touch me, tease me, or scream at me,

My dreams always give me a hug,

My dreams tell me I’m loved,

My dreams could come true, maybe, someday, you never know,

But when I open my eyes, It’s dark …
And I'm all alone,

But I’ll keep dreaming, you know …

My heart promised me, If I dreamed big enough,
Maybe my dreams will come true,
Maybe, someday, you never know,
I'll open my eyes,
And I'll be ...

Sally McNally

There once was a girl named Sally McNally,

She had fire engine red hair,

And lots of little curly curl, curls,

But most of all,
Sally McNally - was a happy little girl,

Sally McNally was playing in the park under the smiling summer sun,

Jumping rope, and having lots and lots and lots of fun,

She was blowing ginormous, pink bubble gum bubbles,

Bubbles so big, she could almost float away,

As she almost floated away, Sally McNally saw my unhappy heart,

Huddled with a tiny red haired girl, named, Sparky Clark,

But, before I tell you about, Sparky Clark,

And why she was huddled with my unhappy heart,

I have to admit,
It was all my fault,

 

My hot temper had gotten the best of me,

I’d had a bad day, said some ugly things to my friends,

My happy heart was not happy with me,

Because I was only thinking of - me,

So my happy heart shrank to the size of a bumblebee,

And flew out of my chest,

It flew far away, and hid under an empty wooden park bench,

And that is where, my now unhappy heart, met, Sparky Clark,

Bamboozled, Ramshackled, Hambangled, I was!

Wondering where-o-where had my happy heart buzzed off,

I was hopelessly lost, 

 

As Sparky Clark and my now unhappy heart,

Shivered together under a wooden park bench,

Alone without any happy words, happy hugs, or happy friends,

They felt small, and so they got smaller and smaller and smaller,

Until they were only the size of a tiny flea,
They were so small, they were hard for anyone to see,

But Sally McNally could see,
You see?
Because Sally McNally was happy,
So, she stopped jumping her rope, 

And crawled up to my unhappy heart,

And giggled over at Sparky Clark,

“Hi! I’m Sally McNally, I can see you two playing hide and seek,”

But my unhappy heart and Sparky Clark,

Backed away from Sally McNally into the shadowy dark,

“I'm normally a happy heart and this is Sparky Clark, we're not playing hide and seek here in the park,”  said my unhappy heart,
And Sparky Clark only stared at Sally McNally,
She did not move or make any sounds,
Sparky Clark was so still, it was as if she wanted to appear almost invisible,

 

But Sally McNally beamed a big toothy smile,

“I’ll be your friend Mister Happy Heart!”

“I’ll be your friend too, Sparky Clark, let’s all go play in the park!”

And my unhappy heart thumped, and grinned, and bounced, and twirled,

Thump, thump, thump, - THUMP went my happier heart,

Thumpity, Humpity, Bumbity beats!

“I’ll play with you in the park,” said my happier heart,

But my happier heart frowned over at Sparky Clark,

As Sparky Clark slid behind my now growing happier heart,

“But I don’t want to leave my new friend - Sparky Clark,”

 

“Why are you so sad?” Sally McNally asked.

As she reached over, and gently held Sparky Clark's shivering hands,

“I’m just like you, I have red hair, too, we should be happy friends,
me and you, we're like twins!”

 

“People do mean things to me, even people in my family,”
Sparky Clark whispered to Sally McNally,
"So I ran away, but now I don't know where to go, I'm all alone,"

But Sally McNally gently hugged Sparky Clark,

“I'm sorry” Sally McNally said. "Come with us, we'll be your friend, you're not alone anymore,"

Meanwhile, I was still in the park, searching for my missing happy heart,

That's when I saw something happy from across the rolling bluegrass park,

 As I spied my happy heart, with my sea captains telescope,

My happy heart was with a happy red haired little girl, with curly curl, curls,

And a tiny red haired girl who was almost invisible,

They were running and jumping around Mister Weeping Willow tree,

My happy heart was a happy heart - I could finally see, 

And my happy heart no longer was the size of a tiny flea,

My heart was now even bigger - than me,

So I skampered over to my happy heart,
Happy I found my happy heart before it got dark in the park,

Then my happy heart introduced me to Sally McNally and Sparky Clark,

“They’re my new friends,” said my happier heart, my happier heart frowned at me,

“We’re going to make Mister Willow tree happy, too,” Sally McNally said.

And Mister Willow tree spread out his long willowy branches, 

“I do feel much happier now that Sally McNally stopped by to play,” Mister Willow Tree said.
“It’s fun to be around happy, being happy, having happy fun, under the happy summer sun,"

 

But Sparky Clark had not said anything to me,

And she did not want to play with me,

As she hid within Mister Willow tree’s protective shadow,

She carefully watched me, staring at me,

She was so still, it was as if, she was almost invisible,

 

Sally McNally, and my happy heart, sprang over to hug Sparky Clark,

“People have been mean to Sparky Clark,” said my now huge heart,

“People have not protected her, and let her be, as a little girl should be, so you better listen to me,” said my happy heart, “it’s not all about you, now we have to help Sparky Clark!"

           

“I’m sorry I was mean,” I said to my huge happy heart, “And I'm glad to meet you, Sparky Clark,”

My huge happy heart looked down at me, and smiled at me,

And my happy heart thumped, a little, itty bitty happy thump,   

And then my happy heart shrank down to my normal size,

And leaped back inside my chest,
And said from within my happy hearts proper place,

“It's not right to be mean to me, or anybody, now you can see?"

“I'm sorry,” I said to my happy heart. "I promise not to be mean, and think only of me,”

“Can we be friends?” I asked Sally McNally and Sparky Clark,

“We can be friends,” said Sally McNally as she held Sparky Clark's hand, “but you have to promise to help us protect, Sparky Clark?"
"I promise," I said, sorry that I had been only thinking of me,
But now I could clearly see Sparky Clark,

And my heart thumped,  happy thumps,  and my heart said,
“I love you, and I'm proud of you, that you can see,”

And I said, “I love you, too,"

And we played the rest of the day,

Until Mister Summer Sun got sleepy and waved goodnight,

And then we said hello to Misses Silvery Moon,

She glowed over us as we walked home, she said,

“Good night dear friends, I’ll watch over you all though the night.”

And we got to my families home,

And we went inside to find my family,
I introduced my new friends Sally McNally and Sparky Clark and asked,

“Can Spark Clark stay we us? She needs a safe place to sleep, tonight,”

And my family hugged me, 
They told me they were proud of me,
And that I had learned to see - to love one another,
And think only of me, 

So we all promised, we’d help, Sparky Clark.

And this is the end of this tale,
The day we all promised to help Sparky Clark,

All becaue of Sally McNally,
She had fire engine red hair,

And she had lots of little curly curl, curls,
But most of all, because Sally McNally was happy.

Under A Kind Willow Tree

Hugs and Kisses, Kisses and Hugs,

A far away wintertime Sunday afternoon,

Underneath typeset ink,

A faint snore, from a gray haired,

Grownup ... little boy,

As his sanity unwinds along a red leather couch,

Curled over his sock feet,

His protective Golden Retriever sleeps,

Warmth from the hearth blazes,

As his childhood memories,

Crackle, Spark, Pop,

And dark, fragile memory shards,

Float, Fly, Hang-glide, 

From within his minds eye,

A sunshine waterfall of frothy golden beams,  

Cascade, Pierce through his souls black windows,

A pattern trapped within a Kaleidoscope of reflections,

To illuminate a broken heart prison,

To entrance him - 

TO DARE HIM,

To sleep ... To dream ... To be a little boy again,

To when he was, 

Innocent, Perfect and Pristine,

              

And the little boy emerges,

From behind the foamy mists of his perceptions,

To face humiliation ... To face sorrow ... To face shame,

          

Ragged his blue jeans skinned at the knees,

Barefoot, clutching a wooden fishing pole,

Dangling, dirty, a lonely pale spirit,

Over the cool running water,

Of his shallow life stream, 

As he fishes his mind,

The newspaper pup tent disappears,

A fresh cotton blanket hugs him,

An understanding hand brushes back his hair,

A kiss on the forehead, unconditional love,

"Love always," whispered from Heaven above,

Problems, 

A mans work, 

Written nomenclature gobbledygook,

Vaporize, 

As he drifts ... he helplessly drifts,

Within the tempest current of dark matter, 

On his homemade raft ... lashed together, 

With scenes of his childhood disaster,

And the barefoot little boy’s bare feet splash,

Into his existence creek, stocked with,

Pebbles, Goldfish and Water Dogs,

Balanced with stones and rocks,

Smoothed over by the wisdom,

Earned from tragic experience,

The little boy patiently fishes,

His remembrance depths, 

he hooks, 

On his invisible Moirae thread,

A transcendental Goldfish,

Curious why, 

The Pisces welcomes his catch,

The little boy giggles with joy, 

Pink skin, 

Tender as cotton, 

Smooth as Chinese silk,

Safe, 

Clean, 

Without the cloak of regret,

He lives here ... He fishes here,

Inside this slumbering head,

But, Sadness slithers from sallow depths,

The forked tongue serpent,

Dagger bites his flesh,

Within his hands, the fish turns necrotic - Amethyst Black,

He drops his nightmare, 

Awake in his dream,

He screams ... He tosses ... He twists,

Enraged, Naked, Raped of his dignity,

Dead, Toxic see food,

Molted scales pollute his reality past,

Degradation, 

A little boy seduced,

Pulverized innocence, Evil tricks,

The little boy’s heart frozen in time,

His burnt skin, 

Forever glazed with an acid fire,

A little boy’s silent scream,

Behind the eyes of him,

So he forges his bare body, 

Back across the celestial stream,

Diving through liquid time, 

To where the little boy hides,

He camps here ... Isolated - Alone, 

"Please leave me alone!" He begs,     

                  

Under the canopy shade of a kind Willow tree,

Where he can,

Laugh ... Play - Be - As a little boy should be,

But, hold fast my little forever frozen friend,

For gentle is God's breath whispers,

To glide, twist, sooth, seek,

Through the Willow forests leaves and branches,

The pure white cloud enraptures the little boy, 

And the kind Willow trees ... all accept the little boy,

And the kind Willow trees ... all protect the little boy,

From the Black Raven clouds of cruel fate,

He kneels at the muddy bank,

His translucent tears, His lost innocence, 

Flood the shallow depths of his life stream, 

As plentiful Koi, feast to nibble away his pain,

A green leaf limb brushes back his reflection,

To wash, to cleanse ... this childhood victim, 

And near the kind Willows tree trunk, 

For the little boy to sleep,

A safe, soft, Daisy, Sunflower, Lotus peddle bed,

He begs,

The kind Willow tree, 

For mercy, For peace, For forgiveness,

He whispers, "Please stop the nightmarish images ..."

And under a Sanguine Moon,

Safe from the shadows of childhood death,

The quiet ... grownup ... gray haired little boy, 

Camped all through the night,

Near the hearths cooling embers,

With dreams of magic,

Of fire flies, Of roasted marshmallows,

Of flying fish, Of pirate ships,

And of adventures yet to be,

Hidden within the protective canopy,

Of the kind Willow, tree forest,

And as the grownup little boy slept,

                      The kind Willow trees wept.