Basis For Children’s Tale

My history was a totally dark rocky cave
That I searched through for love
I heard the echoes of wolves howling
Who shelter from winter blizzards and eat their young

Fear engulfs the child in me and initiates nightmares
My heart swells like a bloated corpse in a sea of fire
Love fades like a thin sheet of ice amongst the stones
I leave the cave into the thickly wooded forest

Here I learn all about the freedom that has no love
Here I learn about the love that has no freedom
Here my eyes become the dusty branches of trees
That slash my face and leave spotted trails of dried blood

Here there were tears that were made into stones
And stones that were chewed in mouths
(Here there were tears that were turned into shoes
So that I could walk away unscathed)

Here the red beams of the dawn slashed at me like knives
Here the yellow glow of evening soaked up dreams
Now all I can see before me is the zero of love
Not the motherly kind, or the fatherly kind just the grit of it

Love is not seduced, love is not tempted 2x
Real love is there, is it, isn’t it, there

2002

this is about how as a kid, in about 1960, I was terrified by watching an episode of tv western series, on my own, of Rawhide, where to escape a really bad winter storm the cowboys from the Wagon Train sheltered in a cave where a wolf pack were also sheltering. well one of the two way. I understand it to mean how unhappy parents can appear to a lonely child.

Author: blackbird212012

I am interested in multimedia work: songwriting, art, and creative writing. I have been involved also in theatre and music performances.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s