Pinocchio Couldn't Help ItA Poem by Raef C. Boylan
mopping, take a moment to energise yourself on the craziest broom-stick rodeo never seen
and practise laughing aloud, without a trace of self-consciousness – if children, lunatics
and evil masterminds can manage it, so can we –
now wait for someone to pass by the window and burst into song, at the sort of volume
reserved solely for midday shower solos when you’re certain nobody’s home
- did you startle them?
what, you think you know all about honesty now?
you merely had a moment.
people lie to themselves; they think they crave truth x infinity
because those moments often feel important, but society’s a carnival of contradiction
and the saintly are kept in cages
while prizes are handed over to false-faced performers.
what’s your most embarrassing memory?
instant reaction: blush, duck, erect impenetrable shield behind wide, unblinking eyes.
I’m not asking you to suddenly stand up on a crowded bus journey and yell out,
my most embarrassing memory is, aged five, attempting to share the joy of masturbation with my mother -
but waking up shouldn’t mean shutting down
elements of the true self – wash your face, brush your teeth and slip on your semblance; erase the person who occasionally trips up, f***s up, farts in public and uses their shampoo bottle for a microphone.
why do we pretend to be invincible?
brushing against one another in the street, avoiding eye contact, afraid vulnerability might shine through our pupils – giveaway, like a burglar’s torchlight spotted through the curtains.
straitjacketed in your own skin by social insanity; breaking into a solitary dance along the pavement unthinkable, cars beeping their judgemental horns, smirks pressed up against the safety glass.
dishonesty’s dangerous when you no longer believe in yourself – uptight, worthless, you trudge home; track six tugs at your heartstrings but the world weighs heavy on your puppet strings and there’s no skip in your step.
adjust headphones, hate self, sigh.
people. they say they want honesty
but they’re lying.
secretly selective, they long for partners not to cheat
and their celebrities to confess all on TV – but generally , we’re obliged to maintain the farce.
tell her she’s thin. laugh at his racist jokes. no, it doesn’t make you a s**t. of course there’s a heaven. people we know won’t die anyway. parents love you no matter what.
back to the walk home: deserted street, urge to bounce off walls and swing on lampposts -
honesty tapping at the brain, wailing around your ears.
don’t wait for the chorus before letting it in, just –
© 2009 Raef C. Boylan
Shelved in 3 LibrariesAdded on March 17, 2009
Last Updated on July 15, 2009
Raef C. Boylan
Coventry, UK, United Kingdom
AboutHey there. C. BOYLAN Where Nothing is Sacred: Volume One www.lulu.com/content/paperback-book/where-nothing-is-sacred-volume-i/1637740 I can also be fo.. more..