The Body

Walking in the woods, he turned to me

and he said, nothing is ever dead

until I see the body and I laughed it off

because he was talking of his fear

and his battles with the bugs in his room

little buggers, harmless, who encounter

the sudden weight of his shoe

and come away broken, their husks

hidden beneath the clutter but still

alive still crawling, seeking with a chitter

in his mind;

But sitting around this dark morning

drinking even darker black coffee

it occurred to me he’s right,

and this applies to everything

… nothing is ever really gone,

until I see the body.

Reviews

[...]

When I was kid one my favorite summer activities was massacre and genocide of wasps and flies. I like it cause I don't always win. Anyway when I became older I stop killing anything except my stupid thoughts.Thank for reminding me my innocent childhood.

[JR]

You bet, it's interesting to see how he thinks about the world, his fears, stuff like that. It does bring me back to my childhood as well. Thanks for the read!

[...]

That's sound like quiet interesting fellow. I wonder if he make some kind of art. This people usually have quite great way of expressions. Anyway I don't know if you did same like me. But after I kill those flies wasps I usually cremate them and build some creepy cemetery at corner of our garden . Well I was quiet character.

[JR]

He took art classes in school and his stuff was amazing, but he doesn't seem to be drawn to it the same way I am. I've never made a bug cemetery, but I did torch a huge hornet's nest once with lighter fluid. That was a lot of fun.

[...]

From my personal experience those people who are more talented they are mostly lazy ones . I had friend who was very good at drawing but not just real things but also of own imagination. Well he endure one year after they kick him out cause some drugs problems etc. Well now he working like computer graphic for porn magazine. I guess this is where all money are right.


Torch wasp nest that's quiet massacre . That must be lot of smokes and smell like hell from burning wings.

I was once walk with my grandfather at woods. I accidently step into wasp nest at ground. Oh men they get me. My grandfather calling on me get out that foot from that hole. I was quiet perplex I just feel pain like fire. I guess that was their revenge for their brother and sister what i slaughter on my summer window.

[JR]

Yeah, it did smell bad. I'm sure they'll get their revenge on me for that too. Heh.

[Fabian G. Franklin]

This is my favorite poem I've read this week. Top notch writing, here, my friend. I enjoyed the read.

[JR]

Thanks! Sometimes the things my son says just strike me as so poetic... he gets me thinking of bigger ideas.