Almost Naive, poetry by Joseph L.M. Sturm at
Ralph Nas

Almost Naive

Almost Naive

written by: Joseph L.M. Sturm



The ringing reverberated
restlessly – almost testily
staring into my mind-mess
less than me,
but then I realized the best in
had the rest of me
answer the damned phone.


“Yeah. Whatchu wan?”

I felt my heart splatter
as I spattered and stuttered
“whys?” on a platter.

I swear I saw flashing lights
as much as my boy did.
My blood matters –
high lit and highlights
in tombstones and mid.

He smiled at me –
that mischievous “no” rang
in my heart – the damned caverns
just wouldn’t let me hear the echoes.
Just the drums. Silence, he sang
in the dark.

And NOW!
He smiled, and he won’t.
He ran ball, and he won’t.
He palmed books and dunked
Grades, and he won’t.
He prayed to God and dressed
In fades, and he won’t.

And NOW?
Hole in his hat..
Empty where he sat.
Damn, I heard your life
flashes before your eyes
when you died,
no one said how many times I’d
relive my boy’s life until I died.

Days of planning what?
A prison in the ground?
Let him be free.
Let me hold my little man.
Let me squeeze his careful hand.
Let me hold my skeleton baby.

I sleep where he slept.
My boy.
I sleep in the sirens that
came when I ran down to the corner.
I smell the dank fear and
taste the salted tears
As I push the crowd away.
Damned bloody rainbow
That wouldn’t leave but stay.

I think the universe shifted when
I screamed why.
Its heart must be a broken cavern as well
because I didn’t hear a reply.

And NOW?
I painted sorry with his blood on my hand
A sign at the corner by the trash can.
Where he died;
Double Red leaf with sorry.
Only bastards drink barley.

Let me breathe for both of us
since no one came;
Rustling the eye
and shout the why
and ask the highs
and lows.
Fine. and Breathe again. And
I’ll say it for the both of us.
My boy.
Let me ride the clock for the
both of us.
Little man who can.

who did.

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