Because even rag dolls need love…

A complicated boy watches breast through a gauze of temporary sensation – which is itself a feeling that wants to go on and on, and not be replaced by the embrace of severity of a hot night; when wild anger is beating a child in the apartment next door, or a girl is saying, I never invited the old mans touch and he touched me like a display – all in the family of the abuser are like rag dolls dancing to the music of a grandfathers treason.

A square moans, trying to fit itself into the warmth of a circle (hands are held at a prayer meeting – at the life juncture, just before the last road stop) and empties its sound into an eternity of desert; where all the green things are swallowed by a genie whose only purpose is walking through sand looking for grains to fill hourglasses. So the family, that reasonable approximation of a family, holds hands praying they will not disappear.

But then the fury at temporary sensations and an ancient urge cannot be held in the hands of the complicated boy, and the prayer in the circle lifts higher than the moan of the square – so he starts speaking in tongues so loudly that a small town sheriff is called to the last road stop at the edge of despair, and there the boy is forced to confront the genie in the desert rather than remain a rag doll at the affect of his grandfathers treason.


6 responses to “Because even rag dolls need love…

  1. Beautiful, Mr. Poetman. I’m glad you still write. You are excellent and a good soul.

    And thanks for your tribute to Bob. I have just “met” him recently, and you are so right.

  2. Poetman, there is so much here that it’s difficult to envision in a single reading. That may explain why I’m on Pass #5 and pick up something else (on several different planes) each time. You’re brilliant, my friend… simply brilliant.

  3. My visit to your blog is sad today. How do you render pain and longing with such beauty?

  4. This touches so many planes, simply splendid.

  5. Julie Buffaloe-Yoder – I will alway write…I may not always post, but I am almost certain that I will always write…Thanks for the compliment…and as for Bob; he’es one of the good guys…

    Bob – I wish more people would take the time to read through my poems more than once or twice…so it is an honor to me that you do…

    Muse – what I said on your blog about your knack…your comment here is another fine example of your soul at work…

    Jo – Thank You…and now I am leaving on a jet plane…

  6. I read it like a poem. I watch it like a dream. You have managed to pen down the transcendental. An amazing feat!

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