Children Poem

Nothing is more frightening than a child. They frighten us because they are a mirror reflecting the effect of socialization on a soul. When you hear complaints about children being addicted to technology or being rude, remember, the child was not born that way, not at all. The implications of societies wickedness balloon into terrible clarity.

So this is a two part poem, the first part dealing with young children, younger than ten. It concerns a real phenomenon, which some of yee may have heard, which is "sex bracelets" which are charms that little kids wear on their arms to designate the sexual activities they have engaged in. Different colors mean different acts. When the existence of these charms or something like them is periodically discovered in a school it sets off alarm bells all through the hierarchy. The issue is met with swift and stern reprobation. While I certainly don't have any answers as to what to do about it, I would like to point out that in their haste to punish the adults are creating more evil. This is because the children do not really know what they are doing, at least in terms of how sexuality is thought of in the adult world. They are in effect, innocent. When this innocence is made shameful something irrevocable happens in the mind of the shamed child. Society has begun to set in, and it is neither a kind, an open or a forgiving world.



I. Sex Bracelets

the child’s chin rests on the top of the principle’s desk. quivering.
Eyes down.
Focus on the suit front, the tie-knot.

As the nurse and guidance counselor circle and hover
the voice narrates a list of grievances and offenses.

Little Girl,
perchance you fail to understand the gravity of what you have done.
For a child your age to be engaged in sexual activities is sick.
There are biological consequences, your standing in
the community, the example to your peers.

I want to know who else is doing this. What other girls are wearing bracelets.


Out on the playground.
They smoke candy cigarettes
stand and prance, their coats tight stylish, listening to rap tapes
little ponies.
blowing in the wind.
Silhouettes born to the end of time.
Yet 9 out of 10 times those as’d tell them that are not friends.

We exist alone in a wilderness, tamed by a desolation.

We, we have made—I don’t know what to say.

What kinda conversations do you make with your Barbie?

Mother, mother and fatha.

Mothers, Fathers, Ladies and Gentlemen,

(the tapping on the microphone of the principle spreads a hush through the crowd
(the auditorium quiets before the tapping))

As principle, it is a my duty to inform you all that
a number of your children have been engaging in promiscuous games and challenges
of a sexual nature at various birthday parties and their friends houses.
There is no way to know how long this has been going on or who all has engaged in such behaviors. We do know that each ‘game’ or sexual act, is marked by a colored bead or charm, that the child wears on a bracelet, to display to all those in the know exactly what they have done and how many times.



The child wishes desperately,
to be back in class
for the school to explode
to escape with friends
The pit of the stomach
churns.
Two worlds,

the firmly established and the nascent
inform and press as walls
together