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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a poem from my screenplay. The lead character is a street poet and this is one of his adolescent monologues.

Submitted: November 22, 2011

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Submitted: November 22, 2011

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Safely tucked under one roof as one

Mother, father, sister, newborn son

Warm apple pie, icy milk creamy cold

A brother's boy's mother's body being sold

Prodigal son begets

Prodigal son's regrets

Blinded by dope and gin

No hope's champion

Proud of his stupid grin

Stocking stuffer? - Beatings rougher!

No campy fishing trips in the truck

Prisons suck

Religious neglect for a hustler's buck

Live by the gun, no way, I say

That's death by the wrong fun, ese

Evil like cockroaches scurry

Each flees quick in a hurry

Whenever bathed in sudden light

Like an eagle hawk's diving flight 

Locked in the bowels of velvet darkness

An all consuming fear in its mystical starkness

Our hero's imprisoned, oft forgot in a closet

Like a crippled mouse, fears a cat that claws it

Condemned at birth to no mirth, it seems

To a tyrannical hater, an executioner of dreams

Now the dreamer sits alone atop his lone wooden stool

To examine his fate in a world gone far too cruel

"I brought you into this world"

He was assured with cheap boozy breath

"I can surely take you out," said his arranger of death

Then he'd read - the Bible'd said - of the Lord - our God

That a most comforting thing, was His staff and His rod

Is that working for you, or the deaf that can now see?

But He didn't spare the child, so it hasn't, so far, for me

The boy, an even rare child, is forced, far-flung to flee

With his fine mind a reeling and feeling heart unhealing

Yet the icy cruel winds had cleared no place for me

'Tis said, "That which kills you not only makes you stronger"

But what if, he can simply take it no longer?

See, this kid's unlike you, or maybe even me

No family trips, or to the zoo - savvy?

Forced to escape, running to stay alive

Uses every ounce of cunning, just to survive

So the boy did his best, was put to the test

To the only choice presented, then rashly resented

To perish or return to the torturous madness

In truth, the truth has just barely been dented

Tormented like Lancelot, with broken heart, I relented

Regrown to disown, and disinherit the sadness

Somehow destroy this perpetrator of madness

With infectious minty glee did he with purpley gladness

It's over, here and now, gave I, my solemn vow

I'll raise up something wondrous from caring and love

Trust we're blessed, one and all, in all ways from above

Affectionate understanding will be the order of the day

Embrace the positive, positively along the way

Plant ceaseless smooches and smiles on all my kid's faces

And bedtime stories, locked inside tender embraces

Ascend the mire; accept the good in all races

Shun the sinister shame and defiant disgraces

Here's hoping I was no fool in having it so mentioned

In the end, just a cunning narrative extension

If anyone caught my characteristic clues and traces

Tingled by my mingled pronouns and places!

Quincy FADES THE MUSIC OUT.

Cas bows a bow worthy of any Elizabethan performer.

CAS
Thank you! On behalf of all the little
people, I thank you...

The class APPLAUDS, slow at first, but then it becomes RAUCOUS.

WHISTLES and CHEERS are added by his supporters who stand and
entreat praise from the others. Even Alcotch displays his
reluctant, then warming approval, with HOOTS and HOLLERS.

ANGLE ON: Switching between, Emily - Cas - The Class.


© Copyright 2017 DerrickM. All rights reserved.

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