symphonies of sweet, uncanny mimicry - blogtramp-ray-today #poem #madness

Staring into Puddles Staring into water-portraits of himself He cries in funhouse mirrored mimicry Living half the day away inside of fantasy He'll babble incoherent holophrase, amazed He studies his reflection in a muddy puddle Frozen catatonic, drenched in winter drizzle Welling teal tears flow, splash and ripple Stirring clouds to smother his warp-double Mood-swing-laughter projects from obsession He has died inside the animated film In this utter state of over stimulation He runs off to a new dimension, in a whim Playing hide and seek behind the coat rack Giggling while his withering guardian calls Lost in overcrowded shopping malls, He suffocates in panic, social phobia attacks He kicks his rain boots through the window In explosive rage and tantrum fuss And scatters to a million broken bits of dust After shattering the looking glass Copyright ©2002 Raymond John Scott Eric Keeps on Staring Staring into scattered portraits of himself, That's Eric, crying in the mirror of mimicry Living half the day away inside of fantasy He'll utter incoherent holophrase, amazed Acts of movie screen emotions mood swing As he'll laugh, then cry, performing In a puzzling drama, shockingly familiar To that rainy day dialogue with a mud-puddle Gazing into cracked and cloudy rear views As a client in his parent's car, he is amused Reciting lines, in syndication, from cartoons While entertaining playmates he can choose In many different copies, frames and outtakes In a glass-pane, pond or dream recital Fragments, from the person he portrays Uncertain in which one he will behave Eric plays back photos of some memory Someway saved as snapshots, cycling Watching closely, his reflections He glues together, surreal recollections The System “Every system is a sum of interchangeable parts” It’s Children Bothered, forced and beaten Broken, taken, homeless then hurt Scared, desperate, split up, angry and separated Twisting the sharp, jagged glass of anxiety and abuse deep into a predisposed opening of worthlessness, Inflicted Dragged down dirty, urine soaked hallways by a whelm of blue confusion And a damp, musty smell stirs up from the carpet being pounded out, By all the commotion Looking up, limp, dizzy and exhausted, after kicking at the shins of this oppressing force, “Ward”, Disoriented and breathless Agreeing to take the pill Powerless Closing off …And It’s Parents Denying Seeking empathy, and given pity Hard for them to be hated out loud because it’s not professional nor ethical, nor responsible, nor culturally, socially, or ethnically moral It’s a cycle; it’s a shame But someone must take blame! Lashing Selfish and senseless Inflicting, with injury and shattering hopes leaving syringe scars Chasing what should be nurtured and cherished, into dark, infested crawl spaces With bars To be crammed and crowded, Closing in with each new need unmet It’s a sickness, suffering …It’s clients Being abandoned, being shackled in restraints, helpless Being assessed, evaluated, counseled and classified, strictly confidentialized Being teased and bribed Becoming constantly defensive Naked and defenseless In need, yet defiant Falsely self-reliant …As It’s clients They cover right up They act aggressive to protect themselves from a world That seems to cave in around them A foothold that seems to sweep out from under them They’ve been dressed in the institution’s clothes And then the society tears them off When again time to switch houses They question They kick in walls They carve lines into their arms with compasses, already scarred They become oblivious to truth and innocence, Become less and less naïve They find pain as the only way to feel, to fit in, and to belong, Because it is all they know For it’s the only thing not ripped away! It’s almost momentary solace It’s comfort for a while It stays Amidst everything else weighing so heavily, that constantly rapes and betrays …It’s individuals, Disappearing and unheard Growing up, in all the wrong ways, all too fast But triggered into events long past Strangled by control Wards of society Bought and sold Constantly repressing needs, wants, emotions, personal goals Because of what early learning and painful observing has told Behold, What years and years of incongruity mold! …The Child and Youth Worker Coaching and telling Not listening Acting “The Professional,” “The Talker,” “The Counselor” Not “The Person” Always finding someone else willing to be, and whom they are, willing “To fix” Not “Being Helped” …The Student Unsure to raise a hand Unsure to test the new techniques He doesn’t know what on Earth to say Uneasy, worried, sleepless and sad Torn Who is he and what is he “Supposed to be?” Right in the middle of all this Unfortunate, short-circuiting want, expectation and need, Burning out while wondering if he should keep trying to keep speed In a crawl space, clawing Shrinking Wondering “Why is my father chasing after a PHD and not me?” March 28th, 2002 The System, Jist: You say, “Every system is a sum of interchangeable parts!” It’s Children: Are bothered, forced and beaten. They are broken, taken, homeless then hurt. They are scared, desperate, split up, angry and separated. They self-inflict the jagged glass of learned anxiety and abuse into a predisposition of worthlessness, twisting. When they cry out the only way they know how, they are immediately “held” in other words, dragged down dirty, urine soaked hallways by a whelm of blue confusion and a damp, musty smell stirs up from the carpet being pounded and stomped out by all the commotion. Looking up, limp, dizzy and exhausted, after kicking at the shins of this oppressing force, our “wards,” disoriented and breathless, comply and are administered “The Meds.” They close off further, finally, during late-night shift change, in their treatment center beds. …And It’s Parents: Despite what they may or may not have asked for, are given condescended empathy, and are given seminar for structure. They are text-book counseled because it’s not professional nor ethical, nor responsible, nor culturally, socially, or ethnically moral to become emotionally involved. There’s a cycle in there somewhere. “What a shame,” some say. As clients: abandoned, and helplessly shackled in purgatory restraints, they are assessed, evaluated, counseled and classified, under rigid confidential code. They are all teased and bribed with token and reward. They are set up with goals and action plans and, of course, consequences. They are naked and defenseless; in need, yet defiant and falsely self-reliant. They cover right up in a second hand wool blanket womb of developmental regression. They are our lambs. They act aggressive in crawl spaces to protect themselves from a world that seems to cave in around them. They’ve been dressed in the institution clothes and then the society tears them off when again time to switch “Homes.” They kick in walls and carve lines into their arms with compasses, already stained. They learn from each other how to take an inch and hoard a mile, forming antisocial affiliations; acting naïve with alternate motives while hiding agendas. They find deviance as the only way to feel, to fit in, and to belong, because it is all they know for it’s the only thing not ripped away by the law. It’s almost momentary solace. It’s comfort for a while It stays amidst a terrifyingly confusing world of sadness, false promises and surprise (or surprisingly predictable) abandonment. …The Child and Youth Workers: Coaching and telling but not listening. They act as “The Professional,” “The Talker,” “The Counselor” not “The Person.” They always project on someone else, the need to be, and who they are, willing “To fix” They are compulsive caregivers who are not “Helped” or “Helping.” …The Students: Unsure to raise a hand and intimidated out of “Technique.” They don’t know what on Earth to say when finally faced with crisis. Uneasy, worried, sleepless and sad, they become slowly detached. Who is the Individual? Who is he and what is he “supposed to be?” Right in the middle of all this most unfortunate, short-circuiting want, expectation and need, he is burning out while wondering if he should continue trying to keep speed in a crawl space, clawing, shrinking, wondering and desiring.