Wednesday, February 8, 2012


This is a short story I had to do for an advanced art project, way back as a freshman in high school.  We were asked to write a poem or short story using only cutout words and letters from magazines.  Serial killer note style.  This thing was AWESOME and I kept it for a long time.  It took an entire week of class to complete.  If only I had gotten a scanner before all the glue melted away from the humidity.  I can't remember where I got these ideas from, probably plagiarised as hell, but here goes............



Taught not to cry and reveal my soft spots, a dream about Manhood!  With a swell of confidence, I cried, "WATCH THIS!"  I leaped into the air and the sun smashed into my eyes.  I fell, plunging backwards, and sinking slowly underwater.  A second before I floated to the surface, I listened for my father's applause, but I saw only a smirk.  Now I realize it was a smile.

"A man is a man who can always look the same, no matter what plagues his tiresome soul."  Least ways, that's what Pops said.  I pull the Sony Walkman's music from my ears, as he remarks on the burning eyes of the man smacking the innocence, out of the young child.

I stood..... watching, as an old photograph fades back into the stream.  In the photograph I am bundled up and warm, in a thick, padded jacket.  My head is covered by a layer of animal fur, a sacrifice not soon to be forgotten.  I hit at the air, I scowl..... lashing out and searching for a spark of what flickers inside!

Years ago, to stop the tears a bully had beaten out of me...... My father, with an easy twist of the wrist, whipped me into a man.  The pain was gone, for there had never been a pain as bad as this new pain.  His bear head and and heavy glasses torment my eyes.  I did not cry anymore, and to this day I have not cried again.

In times of trouble I clam up and fizzle, like a hot, shaken Dr. Pepper.  Only as I'd seen him do.  HE IS A MAN!  His father was a man, as was his father's father.  Bottled up emotions hid truths.  Alcohol festered anger in their hearts, and consumed them in fire.  They died in pure silence, their spirits are finally free, grinding into Heaven.

I carry on, and OH, how I have learned to cry.  My emotions no longer composed of pure ice.  Sometimes..... for my father, I am still not allowed to cry.  I thank you... I love you... Never my Daddy... Forever my Father... and your fucked up dream about Manhood!
 A related vibe from a 2011 rap song, quote by Brotha Lynch Hung and COS, from the song "Spit it out."

I'm colder than the glacier
Even where my heart breaking
Everything aching can't repair myself
Every mirror in here broken like I can't stare at myself
I see clear through the smoke cause I got air in myself
But every time they give me rope they think I tear at myself