The Invisible Man

Terry Trainor By Terry Trainor, 14th Nov 2012 | Follow this author | RSS Feed
Posted in Wikinut>Writing>Poetry

Many years ago a boy was banished from his community and he made some wrong turns. Here is a small part of that tale.

The Invisible Man.

,The cold driving rain soaks my torn old overcoat; the dampness soaks my dirty skin,
It weighs a ton when it gets as wet, it's all I have it gives some shelter from the rain,
My old battered trilby hat has taken a hammering; the band is long gone disappeared,
Clouds are heavy; it will be another cold night as the constant rain falls to the ground.

Walking the streets, looking for things, I hate myself, I am so bitterly, bitterly ashamed,
Can be so cold, sometimes, uncontrollable shivering hurts me so wish I would just die,
Lie down just drifting away waiting for the bright heavenly light to give me some peace,
To feel the peace and warmth of that light for St Peter to shake my hand and welcome me.

Did I tell you I went back to my hometown town where I grew up, the only place I know?
I sat on a car park wall watching people living their daily lives and wished I could join in,
I’ve known most of these people all my life, but now I can see them from a different view,
Thank goodness nobody could see how low you can go the pain would be worse than the cold.

My hair is gray and I have a greybeard, my complexion is brown and leathery, I look very old,
As these old friends from a different world keep passing me by, it would be good to say hello
They do not recognise me in any shape, size or form, if they did would it make anything change,
Thinking that one time this was my life too, tears roll down stinging cheeks, as I quietly cry.

People shout! "Look there's a dirty old tramp," sometimes I think they are not pointing at me,
You can you smell that old bastard from here, they shout, nobody can feel this pain it hurts,
All they see is lost hope, disgust and utter despair, people think that outcasts do not care,
Kicking a person when they are down is so very easy, do I really represent a future they fear.

Then a woman walks quickly past with heavy bags of shopping, once, long ago; I knew her well,
For a single tiny moment she glances at me, walks on, was that recognition in her fleeting eye,
Did something spark off a memory taking her back to the days when we hung around by the shops?
Or was it just disgusted that a desperate homeless man dare sit on this wall degrading the town.

As she walked into the distance it seemed like a good time to look in some bins round the back,
A desperate human being making his way to eat some body's rubbish, wear discarded old clothes,
Sifting through rubbish with an expert eye, is one skill learned through desperation and time,
The pockets on my old coat were torn through to the lining it allowed me to carry an extra load.

With pockets filled in my rags I walked along my old shopping parade, looking for cigarettes,
An icy steel wind blew hard, my ears, numb blowing my long grey hair into my watery blue eyes,
My neglected greybeard would itch around my neck; it was hard to scratch in my sodden overcoat,
When you thought it could not get any worse or any colder a rumble cracked through black skies.

Harsh winds blew along the rows of shops, paper swirled in the air, and my coat flapped my hat gone,
The old torn coat that was my home, caught the gust whipping a corner up and blackening my eye,
Turning away to take the wind on my back, I had to take some shelter in a closed shop doorway,
One on the corner would be the best as it would cover me from two sides and I could sit down.

I sat in a shop doorway out of the wind for a while the cold left me alone it was bearable not cold,
As the evening darkened the day, the wind came looking for me and whipped in and out of cover,
Sitting there staring at the lighted pub it was my old pub where friends would meet and have a talk,
Staring in a bit of a daze the light pouring out of frosted windows my mind just seemed to drift away.

Did I tell you about my happy old days, days when I was a young man smartly dressed and clean,
When coping with life, everything was easy and managed problems a cold man hard and very mean,
I snapped out of my dream as I heard a voice, a familiar voice my brother walked past from the pub,
He saw a lonely man sitting in a doorway and walked towards me, I bowed my head to hide my face.

My brother asked if I needed any help I grunted no he walked right past and threw me some change,
I watched as he walked off down the parade a little stagger every now and again he is a good man,
Remembering when we were small, he was my friend, my brother, he always looked out for me,
He is a couple of years older than I am, but we are the same size we shared our clothes and more.

Did I ever tell you about the time I fell into a pond the sides caved in it was dirty smelly water?
Soaking and drying off in the sun, on a lovely summer day the clothes dried but the smell stayed,
I must have fallen asleep it is now near dawn and people are making their way to work or home,
These people walk past a bundle of wet old rags, it is the start of a brand new day, what’s new?

I stood up and looked in the shop window and started to running fingers through my long white hair,
Catching my reflection in the shop's glass plate window I growled and bowed my head in disgrace,
So another day of wretched bitterness and the cold weather to endure and keep warm whenever I can,
Today I will hide away in the woods a respite from people and my own harsh self-hatred of myself.

Talking to an imaginary friend.

Need we need to fear everything, Sam?
Is my fear a reflection of today?
But whatever the cause it's real Sam,
If you were a friend you would take my fear away.
Do you fear things as I do Sam?
Or do people see threats in a different way?
But whatever the cause it's real Sam,
I've never had anybody ever to take my fear away.
What do you think I should do Sam?
It would be nice to tell someone to take the fear away.
But even as a small child Sam,
Nobody has ever held me and said don't worry.
Even when I was helpless Sam,
Nobody ever said leave this one up to me,
I've never slept sound in my bed Sam,
No Guardian Angel has ever watched over me.
Now I don't mind hunger or pain Sam,
I can deal with this as I have since a young boy,
But you cannot get used to fear Sam,
Nobody's ever cared to hold my hand and smile.
The whole of my life has been cold Sam,
I thought that when I grew up I would cope,
But it's chasing the end of a rainbow Sam,
One day you just give up all hope!


As the Invisible man tries to sleep in the wood he asks his imaginary friend for help.

Things are not getting any better, Sam,
Sleep just passes me by,
My eyes sting with tiredness, Sam,
Sleep just pushes me away.
I shut my eyes in desperation, Sam,
But when they shut it opens my mind,
There's a whole New World of fear in here, Sam,
Fear I have never ever left behind.
You're my only friend, Sam,
What do you think I should do?
Go back to drinking all day long, Sam?
I am so confused, and so scared too.
If I shut my eyes will you watch over me, Sam?
And maybe sing a small tune in my ear,
What would I do without you, Sam?
You've always been a friend and have carried me through.
No, it's no good Sam,
I just can't close my

Tags

Bitterness, Cold, Lost, Lost Hope, Lost Humanity, Lost Soul

Meet the author

author avatar Terry Trainor
I am a Poet.
My passion is to write about nature and the history of nature.

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Comments

author avatar David Reinstein,LCSW
14th Nov 2012 (#)

Well done... reminds me, just a tad, of "Invisible Man" by Ralph Ellison...

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author avatar Terry Trainor
15th Nov 2012 (#)

Thank you for your feedback. This piece has been on my files for a year or so. I thought I would give it a whirl.

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