A cautionary poem that I have written... enjoy!
FACTory By Darren Clark Thomas Fitzjames used to lie all the time And he is the subject of this little rhyme He lied to his granddad, he lied to his mum, He lied when he stood or when sat on his bum His lies kept on coming until one day you see The CLAWS took Thomas to FACTory. Where children and walls were all dressed in gray And they were made to tell lies all day every day They worked them in shifts, the lying recruits Putting lies into bottles and bottles down chutes Thomas was also a curious boy And finding things out was greatly enjoyed He thought to himself ‘what would happen if I Put a truth in a bottle instead of a lie?’ So Thomas, ever the curious chap Wrote ‘I’m a boy’ and screwed on the cap And he reached out his arm with the bottle… The alarm started going, the FACTory turned red And a searchlight soon pointed at Thomas’ head The CLAWS quickly caught him and took him away He was certain that this would be his final day But the claws dropped him down on a hard metal floor In a dark shadowed room that he’d not seen before Before him there loomed a mouth without tooth And inside it the infamous Tongue of Truth Inside he was put, the tongue started to roll And soon Thomas Fitzjames had been swallowed whole Down, down he tumbled, down cold tubes of glass Now and then slowly and sometimes quite fast In darkness and shadows he then hit the ground And rubbing his eyes he tried looking around “What is this place” said Thomas, alone But himself didn’t answer, instead came a groan “This is the place where truth comes to die And sits gathering dust just like you or like I.” The speaker was ancient and wrinkled and bowed With sagging old legs and a mottled old nose “All of these bottles are filled with what’s true Words from the heart deep inside of you” Thomas Fitzjames followed her through the sea Of discarded bottles and true hopes and dreams Till they came to a house lit with shimmers of light That stood out from encroaching shadows of night “What’s that?” Thomas thought in his mind “That’s the Little House of Truth, won’t you come on inside?” Thomas opened the door to warm yellow hue And inside there were pictures of people he knew His mum and his dad and his brother and sis All of the family he had now come to miss, He held himself back, with tears in his eyes Thinking “What have I lost by telling these lies?” “How will I ever get back to the start?” She said “All that depends on the heart” “In the depths of the FACTory, withered and black Like a barely live corpse of a shriveled black rat Is a heart that’s been shattered and broken as well If it can still live, well no one can tell” “To the heart you must go and sing it awake Though the trip won’t be an easy one to make" So Thomas set off from across the dust bottle sea Determined to set the broken heart free Through canyons and valleys of hard twisted shards He counted the miles and he counted the yards The FACTory was larger than he could have thought Larger by far than what he’d been taught Then after days he reached the black soul A place thick with blackness, a forgotten hole Wires and tubes ran into it’s black pulp A slackened carcass, of battered hulk And Thomas walked up to the broken heart And he could see that it was fairly near falling apart The cracks running deep on it’s hard dry skin Desperate for something other than lies to be in And Thomas stood up, in the prime of his youth Took a deep breath and whispered the truth… The heart started roaring, like a cannon or drum And FACTory shook with a bone shaking hum The CLAWS all collapsed and the children ran free And that was the end of FACTory. And Thomas Fitzjames went home to his mum And he no longer lied when he sat on his bum He told only the truth to his family and friends And promised his heart that he’d not lie again
1 Comment
Grandma
5/25/2013 11:22:28 am
Lovely jubbly. A few more and you can publish a little book! Love and best wishes.
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