too dangerous to touch - original poem
Too dangerous to touch...
dinner, a mess hall with a hundred others
cacophony of knives, forks and voices
no one is related and no one is a brother
it feels like a hostile situation
to a scared and lonely seven year old
this is supposed to be temporary situation
promise, thirty days then go back home
that first meal all food gets stolen
which will go on for some time
from the safety of home came into a war
Promises turn out to be calculated lies
were only told to acquire cooperation
never going back home was the plan
this war of children is the new normal
adults can't be trusted the lesson learned
the world outside is really not more friendly
first school-day, teachers gather in a circle
kid in the middle being bounced around
to show this piece of orphanage scum
who they are and how they run this school
teachers treachery to teach a hard lesson
pushed out of school into an angry mob
no way back, no want to go forward and no choice
rolling of eyes, releasing the lion
howl and kick the bully's ass, the rest will run
then, a broom stick breaks in the bully's neck
tolerance for abuse totally depleted
school board ruler breaks a teachers face
the heart turns cold, face to stone
smile at this kid and get your ass kicked
so a wall goes up, that shield of protection
do anything to survive this living hell
eyes in back of head, sleep with one eye open
let go the crazy lion then reign it back in
that is how you become too dangerous to touch
I was not sure if I would post this poem, it was heavy for me to write and then heavy again to read. It seemed to be too much, they way it came out... On the other hand it is what happened so why not? Strange how things you experienced yourself, that you remember very vividly, can have such an impact once again when written down? Is it because we can't think every thought at the same time, because we can't remember every memory at the same time, can't re-feel all that was felt before at the same time? What is certain is that writing it down was a good thing, even if I almost didn't post it. It made me relive this time and look at it as an adult, differently. I had not thought about it for almost 40 years...
I don't feel any love for the liars, bullies and teachers still. What they did was heartless. I do understand myself as a kid a bit better, why I reacted like that. When I was flatly told that the "month" was a lie I realized it was me against the world. This "month" lasted almost 5 years.
Inside the orphanage it was an all out war, everyone doing his/her best to stay on top of all that was going on. Then the town where this orphanage still is, is very biased toward this place and the children that live there. We were always blamed for all shit that happened in the village, whether we did do it or not. To be fair we probably did do half of what we were accused of. But at some point it just doesn't matter anymore, you will be blamed regardless, so why not do it? So I, and other children from the same place, were beaten up by kids, teachers, parents and the rest of the village regularly for the simple fact that our parents couldn't take care of us. I remember one instance where two mothers jumped out of the bushes and pulled me off my bicycle and held me so one of their sons could beat me up. That same night the mother of this kid was in the orphanage complaining that I beat up her son, while denying that afternoons happenings. Even with the marks on me, the orphanage staff didn't believe me and i got punished. Usually that meant doing dishes for a shitload of people, if you were lucky you were not the only one.
It was not a nice place and even writing these tiny fragments of all that happened there will not do the whole story justice. I will write a book someday I guess, or I sure could.
Should I regret going through this? After all it made me who I am, and I am OK...
If you appreciated reading this (I didn't want to use the word "liked") know that it's because of @poeticsnake that I posted it at all. Thanks Snekky! <3 <3 <3
If you want to read more, check out some more stuff I wrote:
a tale of eleven cities
consumed by consumption
return to innocence
she burns bright
chaos and order
my valentine
a limerick about my birthday
a circle shaped short story (J.A.S.E.)
luctor et emergo
a poetic poetry review - daily dose 24
an experiment with word shape and meaning
excercise with shape and words
coincidence?
fifty - fifty
feelings in motion
my drowning land
nothing from nothing
infinite bandwidth
just a limerick
i've always been me
life is suffering
An anecdotal poetry experiment
When it rains it pours
Dreaming about Steeming
For the love of stones
Mind, body and soul
United dreams
Talk about addiction
is this the new DD banner?
Daily Dose #30
Free the drugs
And if you like them, please upvote, resteem or follow! All are appreciated.
Madevi.
umuntu ngumuntu ngabantu!
No tengo palabras que describan el sentimiento y las emociones que surgieron al leer tu poema. Yo estuve interna y ahí se ven muchas injusticias. Claro!! igual, lo aprendido me permitió elegir quien ahora soy. Para completar. estudié para Maestra y aunque te parezca extraño, cometí errores que se reproducen en mi mente. Eso quiere decir que, no necesariamente de una experiencia negativa hay un comportamiento positivo a futuro. Siento que el leon en mi se defendió ante inocentes. Ahora ya es tarde, no se borra lo bailado. Hay que seguir, quitandose lo que marchita y hace ver la flor fea.
Gracias por su reacción. Tienes razón, fue una terrible injusticia. Entiendo que también estuviste en un orfanato y así puedes relacionarte. De hecho, estas experiencias me hicieron una mejor persona, aunque podría haber sido fácilmente a la otra manera también. Es bueno escuchar que te convertiste en un maestro, ¡ los niños son el futuro! El León aún no está muerto, a pesar de que muchos años después.
Truly a poetry filled with restrained emotions!😭 I commend your bravery for sharing something so deeply traumatic to you. I like the rhythm and the transition of the story telling. Indeed, a lot more is in store for each and eveyone of us! Congratulations for making it through the darkest of days!!😌
Thank you, it is true that that time was traumatic and has left marks on me that probably cannot be completely erased, on the other hand it has given me a capacity for survival that will benefit me for the rest of my life.. :)
I brave an honest poem. So dark and, yet, so colourful. I love narrative stuff like this. Seriously impressive work,
Thanks, i'm not sure if I can see it as "colourful" yet, maybe when i am eighty five... It's cheaper than therapy and probably more effective too :D
Deep!! I can only imagine what you've been thorough. Its all for good now.. Better days ahead.
Thank you. Yes, it was all for the best. But only because imagining who I would have been, without all of the shit I have been through, is impossible and would drive me mad. I do hope you're right about the better days.
It is better if it is heavy, that means you put some emotion and passion inside it, and that it is real.
Thanks, I have written up a few more very dark poems about my past but I always think "I can't do that to them..." I might still post them after all.
This Poem Was Resteemed and Upvoted. It was part of the Top Three Picks of the SPU Daily Dose of Poetry and Prose #45 Issue
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This post has received a 0.16 % upvote from @drotto thanks to: @banjo.
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