The Uniform

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Tags:
  • Confusion
    • ,
  • Childhood
    • ,
  • Pain
    • ,
  • Fear

    The Uniform

    The uniform

     

    I dread today,

    16 years now

    And capable.

     

    With the accuracy of

    A Clock,

    The solider brings it to me;

     

    The proof.

    The future.

    The obligation.

     

    I gingerly grasp it.

    My face tightens ,

    My fists clench,

    As I feel my boyhood innocence

    RIPPED from my skin.

    My young naïve skin

    Now scorched ,

    Scarred.

    The coarse wool and starch

    Scratch my body painfully

    I buckle my belt

    And with a snap,

    Sealed my fate.

     

    I walk.

    I walk:

    My shoulder hunched

    My eyes leaking

    My hands wringing

    My feet shuffling;

    But still,

    I walk.

    Then it happens.

    They take my things.

    An with a flash

    Of the camera,

    I am one of them.

     

    　

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    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

    alinac’s Poems (4)

    Title Comments Submitted
    Title Comments Submitted
    White Castle 0 01/03/2010
    The Uniform 0 01/03/2010
    As You Wish 0 01/03/2010
    Four Part Harmony 1 01/03/2010
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