I was a boy when people asked me…

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

‘Unafraid.’ I thought.

“I don’t know.” I answered.

I just wanted people to stop hitting me. I just didn’t want to be afraid all the time.

I grew tall and people asked me.

“Why are you so angry?”

“Why do you drink so much?”

“I don’t know. ” I lied.

I am 58 years old and I am a father and I know what I want. To teach her and show her love and support her and be her friend… and paint and make films.

“I will tell story.”

Said I.

Dennis Mantin

He told the joke that made you laugh. 

And creased your forehead like a path.

I took to silence in my smile.

You looked inside. It took a while.

I sometimes thought what it could take.

To slightly stir or violent shake.

I listened hard the words he spoke.

That broke on through; you got the joke.

To see you smile, it could have been me.

And hid my face. The jealousy.

Impossible no more. Now I am free.

No sad goodbyes. Blue skies, I see.

He told the joke that made you laugh.

And creased your forehead like a path.

I took to silence in my smile.

You looked inside. It took a while.

There is no calculation that I have seen that can determine the reactions of people who do not get their own way.

If you want to know who are dealing with… just say no to them.

Say no without explanation for maximum Strange.

There was no prior warning.

There is no beauty here to show.

It is darkness in the morning.

Here in deep Alaska snow.

I listened to your snoring.

In deep sleep so far below.

I’m not begging just imploring.

That cold wind is going to blow.

Went out walking in the distance.

There was nothing left to know.

Just some inner voice insistence.

About somewhere we’ve got to go.

There was no prior warning.

There is no beauty here to show.

It’s just more darkness in the morning.

Here in deep Alaska snow.

There is a heart shaped carve in rosewood.
There’s a line drawn in the sand.
I pray there on grace and wonder,
and there’s a baby, she’s in my hand.

There’s a virtue called forgiveness.
From a force we can’t see.
It’s how I deal with darkness.
Of how I feel when you’re with me.

I struggle now to hear you.
Seek approval in your eyes.
I hate you for your beauty.
Like I love you for your lies.

It’s a sad sad situation
Department sad but true.
You fear that they are coming
And you fear what they will do.

It’s a sad sad situation
Under heading sad but true
You fear that they are coming
No one is coming for you.

Dennis Mantin

The bad luck raised suspicions, on a path that was beat down.

No one dared to look within or see the wise men in the town.

It was happening for eons, as long as Grandad could recall.

Like a dark foreboding plank walk or a dream in which you fall.

Until the child spoke her words that, “Maybe somethings wrong with me?”

So we made a meeting with the Doc, down at the Family Psychiatry.

The doctor raised awareness and we all took a look.

Things are looking so good now, might take Grandma off the hook.

Now life is far from perfect however the family’s not so sad.

Looking in the mirror, not blaming blind luck, good or bad.

It is early in the darkness.

In the morning of my night.

Fighting off this starkness.

In a battle lost from sight.

They said, “It’s an only in your head thing.”

But I said, “Oh contraire.”

When they correct you on your spelling.

From concern like they still care.

Then the sun rose on that horizon.

That one with all those lines of light.

Where my dreams lie with the spies gone.

Cause most have lost the need to fight.

Chances were the premium at the chances store.
Called up their proprietor and asked for just one more.
Inside information suggested relocate.
When they closed the chances store, it sealed the users fate.
With no plans for the future and the future, it is here.
Who knew that the sun would rise and whisper last nights fear?
So we headed for the highway, which ended at the light.
Looked upon arrival, no chances store in sight.
Searching for the answers that will ease the fears.
Some will stand there crying and find few are buying tears.
All are someone’s baby lost along the way.
Strangers and sojourners who have lost the need to pray.
And I say, “Pray”

Dennis Mantin