In The Children’s Dungeon, 2008 (A Long Poetic Prose Poem)

((The Sea-toad Knows)


In elevating my children I in no way heard their demise sighs, years away Đông tăng long an lộc

Like a rustic tap, of cast-iron, slowly become their false love dripping? Like worms accumulating and crawling in a future nest of brooding, worms from hell, full of vengeance

I by no means saw their boneless hearts inform now, antique age however, they were saying, “Wait, wait, we can grow older, worms grow you already know…This is the hard time, children!

“Then we will vicinity him on the hook while his tissue is vintage and tender, we can now not visit him, nor name: now not even a minute one! All in time all in good time!”

Five youngsters and I in an empty house looking fish swim around and around
flies humming in circles, outdoor with the aid of the light searching at old snap shots now fading.

Their voices are continually silent, as they appear inside the form of youngsters, no longer ever ageing… Children that grew to become bitter, scorpions or bees seeking to sting me.

Inform me:
why did you’re taking that street? Out of what door should I crawl? Where could you have got me lay?

2-They Told Me

Sun rays instructed me, hide from them; the moon said: they are like eels; the physician held, love isn’t enough, tears will not help, nor extol nor money, nor items of any kind they do no longer wish to comfort you simplest to sadden you with hammer and gossip.

The toad informed me, they are flat stones owls in the night; they are looking within the trojan horse infested garbage inside the warmness of summer, searching and looking for some thing-

three-The Vision

I had a vision, a dream, I saw the form of their hearts bigger than elephant’s, however darker than a rats, with less blood in them, than a mosquito’s- and the pumps made a noisy nostril.

I turned into below water searching up it become gentle like a sponge, wrinkled like a mouse it didn’t fit in place, it had valves like toes! And it was an eel with fangs of a wildcat and it pulled out of its socket, and rolled about in thick muck it felt correct, I suppose with its long wobbly legs puncture holes here and there and it preferred to swim beneath the water sleek as an eel….

Four-The Abyss

Where do the hearts cross? To the gravel of the seabed (I turned into told by using a mysterious voice). I seemed and that they had been covered by tough marble stones, they looked as if they were there pretty long; it become their home faraway from domestic. And they twisted approximately like a vortex. Ask the sea-toad he knows, he noticed from his leaf…Deep into the sea… He told me “Beware father Lee, they live a grimy soaked shell, and if allowed they may simple nibble at your nerves, and punish your will.”


From the mouths of my children I heard their sour and scorn it changed into getting old, and older, things I’ve heard before.

Like a rustic faucet, of antique solid iron, slowly become their fake love dripping? Like worms gathering and crawling in a future nest of brooding, worms from hell, complete of vengeance

Like wild dogs, they groaned twisted up and wailed; twilight was against me, as turned into the deep eels of the sea, as became the houses around them whom whimpered out of gossip. The birds, dogs, cats all cried; their buddies, like cows took their facets, of their timber to listen as they hid, and needed I’d die! What small man or woman they advanced, what shallow songs they had to sing, what thick mud, they needed to crawl out of… What type of father are you now? You all live in ice caves dripping with envy, jealousy, and black-blood most effective the hypocrites here!

I’m tired, I’m very worn-out, all my bones crackle, so crack them more if you desire, you have got anyhow! Only the wintry weather now; you have drained the summer time and spring from me- father worry, is now not right here, you have got drained the love from his heart, now he has nothing to provide.

6-Perhaps Snake Oil

What kind of shape plays to a Mind that is recovering? Beckoning to do all it can for His kids, through halls and hail and whilst status nonetheless in a fag, looking to placed one’s lifestyles again together; as soon as scared, now scarred and possibly a touch phony…?

From the mouths of kids things are seldom expressed how they can be, no vocabulary! Perched on my shoulders, I noticed my boys flowing away; that coldness developing inside of them like lifeless eels being frozen (accordingly they have become phony like me). They dropped me right into a watery grave even though I did all I should to save what I should, once in a while it’s miles worse, doing what’s right, and being cursed.

This is the typhoon I ought to bear pay the price for this and that, and all they gave at the give up was unsmiling within themselves, matters they by no means knew; as for my bones they still grew antique, and the fireplace in my heart grew dim, and the seeds I as soon as planted that sprung to existence did no longer bud, butchered on the stem; Doom became already decided, for me and them, windows and doors now shut? House burning, new rage, now vintage rage, in their hearts, primordial tears, ongoing agitation and all of them ran every which way-12 months after 12 months.

7-Money and he Toad

Money, money, cash got here into the show, And when I was dying, all of them stood with the aid of, hoping I’d die quicker than I could, go, simply cross…They think they hid this from the toad…However he continually knew.

How stupid they can be, for the toad, he hides inside the cool of the grass when no ones looking, and inside the deep a part of the ocean; or from a department in a tree, he doesn’t even depart a shadow…He’s part of me.

“Look, look,” he says “they’re like ashes, falling thru a dark swirl….” and I look, and sure, he’s right!

8-When I was a Kid

I ran to the hill to look my mother (after I was a kid of eight or so) walking up it, walked with her aspect through aspect, complete of satisfaction, my eyes looking to the solar, she’d choose up a weed put it in her mouth, and I’d do similar to if I become a trained ….

On the foster-farm within the dark, I had a few years to breathe and with my little ft, I climbed the little steps up to the bunk bed under me my brother slept, however I in no way hated my mom!

There was a mild down the hall coming from the bedroom, like a fire-pit, here the owner slept, and other kids wept. But I played big, I in no way did! And I in no way hated my mother!

In the morning mild crept via the window mild from the East came slowly over my blankets like snow…Cool and clean in summer, fresh and heat inside the iciness. And I never hated my mother.

I’d say to my brother, “Mom is coming!” As frost melted on the again steps that caused the horses, and pastures-it all melted like a fine haze, each day, and I by no means hated my mother, thank God! And I’d say to my brother, over and over,” Mom is coming!”

9-The Years

There have been numerous high-quality years, in-between some winters, we traveled plenty, planes and trains and cars: the ones some distance-off memories, like roses saved swinging in the wind, above my head.

The festive instances in Germany the kites in the outside and playing in the woods, nights in Amsterdam, within the cafes and parks. The mild moved slowly over our horizons, the lovely surviving reminiscences now over these old bones, their children nonetheless swings lower back in my wind, for me to smell. The toad is aware of.

10-Their Troubled Souls?

Is it dark? Is it dark internal? Is it darkish inside the dark? Movement becoming lively unsettling? A vivacious logical will once amused them.

It will not manifest once more. Be quiet. You have only a while to attend, to get what you deserve, nothing…! Then I’ll depart. The toad knows.

Eleven-Somehow the Roses

Am I not but an antique wound? The Sea-toad can vouch for me! He is the spiral that you can’t see. He tells me the whole lot, pushes me forward shows me your coronary heart, expensive children…He whispers “They try and infect an old wound, leave them to their future; they have no room for comforting you!”

I am hunting or hurting, one of the two, the Sea-toad, says I am each, and you, yes you youngsters are my protagonists, geared-up, to portray my soul of focus (animistic), but I am no idiot…Your tails flick like spiders strolling to their webs, to devour the stays of the fly, I know, your desire that I need to die! -And I understand you tried!

I can not inform who you’re anymore, the fish, the eel, the mole in the hollow or the rat, the owl, possibly you are a image of they all, plus my obsession, to love and be loved, with respected! A frenzied hobby lapsing like rain on your desolate tract.

I dream of you two, the alternative 3 seldom, as in reminiscences of when you were children someway the roses appear round your frames “Papa” I pay attention you are saying, renewing my mild, nothing critical to present day fact, just old, antique memories, buried in ambiguity.

Now you are all grown women and men, Your childhood lengthy beyond, all mad silent poets, those are the simplest moments left I even have, I even have misplaced the spiritual quest, the ploddingly pursue.

Like a country tap, of solid iron, slowly become your fake love dripping? Like worms accumulating and crawling in a destiny nest of brooding, worms from hell, full of vengeance (The toad always is aware of).