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Passions in Poetry

The Traveler 4 . . . Reworked

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JerryPat2
Member Laureate
since 02-06-2011
Posts 15711
South Louisiana


0 posted 04-06-2017 06:25 PM       View Profile for JerryPat2   Email JerryPat2   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to Submit your Poem to Passions   Click to visit JerryPat2's Home Page   View IP for JerryPat2


The traveler screamed.
Then he ran and ran and ran.
The road became as straight as it had been crooked before.
Still . . . he could not escape from himself.
He understood that.
The woman thing was gone,
but it still lived as surely as he took the next gasping breath,
it did so because it was him with all the warts.
A forlorn, solitary howl interrupted the traveler's perverse musings.
Such a sad and lonesome wail it could only come from a hound.
The traveler took it as a warning.
A cautionary howl directed at the stranger
who walked among the remnants
and distasteful ingredients which make up mankind.
Plop.  Plop.  Plop.
One foot in front of the other.
It should be night.
It is not.
It is twilight.
He needed to find . . . Shelter.

“Why?”

He startled himself with his audible question.
He needed shelter because he was,
or would soon be, cold.
Shelter to hide his nakedness.
He was ashamed of his slightly rounded stomach,
his old man sagging breasts;
his rapidly receding penis.
Shelter to hide his imperfections.
Oh, my.
The howling hound was there with him,
pressing his cold, wet nose against his bare leg.
Oh, my.
The hound walked ahead of him.
He was,
of course, not a hound.
A beast though.
He was that.
A beast that spoke.

I am here to take you.

The traveler did not see the beasts' mouth move when it spoke.

”Where are you taking me?”

The beast began to lope.
The traveler did not run after it.
Soon the hound was out of sight.
The traveler continued walking.
What else was he to do?
There was no where else to go.
Each step he took he was met with Ethereal Images from his past.
Only they were not really ghost-like,
they were eerily delicate real matter.
These wraithlike images could touch and feel and bleed.
They sobbed and screamed into his face angry words,
screeches and clawed his back and front side
and attacked his genitals,
especially his genitals.
He could not defend himself,
for without him being aware,
his arms had fallen from his body.
There was no blood.
It had not hurt.
Was he at the mercy of his past sins?
Were they infiltrating themselves into the very pores of his being?
He walked, and as he did so he decided to forgive his persecutors
even though it seemed they were holding onto their grudges.

“Forgive them for they know not what they do.”

Actually, he believed they did know what they were doing
He knew most of them.
His Mother.
She was the worst.
Blaming him.
For everything.
She was the worst.
Old Girlfriends.
Old Wives.
Vicious.
Unrelenting in their desire to hurt.
Payback is . . . Toughtittie . . .
Reap what you sow . . .
Yes . . .
What goes around . . .
All That Jazz!
He was being hit and poked, jabbed with sharp fingernails,
bitten with filed-down teeth and kicked,
he would surely fall to the earth and be beaten until he died but  . . .
they stopped.
His Mother's chest burst open,
her heart fairly flew from her bosom onto the ground and split into.
Broken Heart.
The rest did the same.
Everyone he had known,
everyone he guessed he had hurt
in ways he could not remember now,
lost their hearts and minds and love and joy,
all to be strewn alongside the dusty road the traveler walked.
Now he understood.

©February 20, 2017 / Jerry Pat Bolton
© Copyright 2017 Jerry Pat Bolton - All Rights Reserved
P.U Stinkenbaum
Member
since 03-09-2017
Posts 106
Watersking with Tidy-Bowl Man


1 posted 04-07-2017 01:47 AM       View Profile for P.U Stinkenbaum   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for P.U Stinkenbaum

It seemed to me that near the end, "The Traveler" sorted all these surrealistic occurrences and discovered what it was like to be human, with a reality all his own. No more Ego-driven pursuits that alienated him from others and finally ready to meld his reality with those of his past.

Thoroughly enjoyed reading this! Bravo! (Applauding)    

Pass the Glade if you're going to do that here...

JerryPat2
Member Laureate
since 02-06-2011
Posts 15711
South Louisiana


2 posted 04-07-2017 09:42 AM       View Profile for JerryPat2   Email JerryPat2   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit JerryPat2's Home Page   View IP for JerryPat2

You have read and commented on all of my chapters so far my friend. The last installment will be posted tonight. Thank you.

~ If they give you ruled paper, write sideways. ~
Lori Grosser Rhoden
Member Rara Avis
since 10-10-2009
Posts 7583
Fair to middlin'


3 posted 04-08-2017 07:34 AM       View Profile for Lori Grosser Rhoden   Email Lori Grosser Rhoden   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Lori Grosser Rhoden

You are really digging deep here and finding true gold. I'm so glad you embarked on this journey. You have grown over the years. ~L
 
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