Inside Things Poem by John Allen Richter

They don't tell you, you see
about the things
the inside things
the real things
the things that matter
they hold them in, you see
to trick you

Those apocryphal angels
obscuring truth
hiding the meaning of life
pointing you this way
pointing you that
but don't let out the things
that matter

Life isn't real
it's about what you feel
and they laugh
they laugh when you feel
and make you think
life isn't real
That you shouldn't feel

And so those hordes
those denizens of deceit
have stolen you
stolen your inside things
locked them in a dusty trunk
in the attic
marred only by your tiny fingerprints

And you, alone
thoughts roaming
inadequate
selfish pig!
How dare you feel?
How dare you need?
How curdled this bile they puke on you

But you were there once
so long, long ago
stooping in that tiny attic
knees finding splinters in the wood
touching that great black trunk
breathing its moldy waft
your hands and eyes but a childs

Oh, those treasures within-
inside that trunk
a lost life
memories gone rancid
gathering dust
alone in the attic
mere traces of someone's heart

Your eyes ablaze
senses attuned
as you rape those memories
defile that lost soul trapped there
steal the thing he once was
and can never be again
that part of him locked away, gathering dust

To think of him
another man
another time
another place
and that he once had feelings
the deceivers laughed at him too
and so locked him away

And there you sat
a child rummaging that trunk
a mantle clock
a photo or two
an old Army uniform
moth-eaten and stinking
He lived then, but a thousand lifetimes before

And so how could it be?
This young soldier, your father
who wound his clock
and gazed his photos
loved and laughed
before you knew him, a thousand lifetimes ago
he had feelings too

But he was locked away
another time, another man
whom he can never be again
the demons laughed at him
and expelled him to this trunk
his young heart, his lost feelings
and left him just a shell, the man you knew

And so where are you now
how have you come to be
that same man?
living, loving, lost
feelings sprouting from your core
another trunk, another attic
your young heart locked away forever

And will another child come?
Scrape his knees on a bit of plywood plank
bump his head on a short rafter
to find you, alone
gathering dust in a trunk
your cares and your feelings growing yellow
age losing you, leaving you just a shell

And what would you tell that child?
what note to lay
beside the tokens of your life?
Tell him to care?
To feel, to love, to share?
or just to be aware
of the demons lying snare?

Or tell him to hide them-
those inside things
never let anyone see
those feelings that don't belong
not to you, not to me
harden your heart
or end up like me

The best part of me
locked away with trinkets
mere novelties of my life
a love, my life, you
a time ago, elsewhen
I loved you so
And I still do

I would tell that child to love
to laugh
to wonder
to see
what your love
has done for me……….
It's worth a thousand trunks, and a thousand years