Inside

Day breaks, at a pace that makes the face ache and just for his faith’s sake, he tries to stay calm he looks down at his young man’s hands and at his arms and remembers a time when they seemed so much smaller outside it’s grey and as the rain beats a rhythm on the [...]

Day breaks,
at a pace that makes the face ache
and just for his faith's sake, he tries to stay calm
he looks down at his young man's hands and at his arms
and remembers a time when they seemed so much smaller
outside it's grey and as the rain beats a rhythm on the window pane
inside feels just the same
he remembers the game he used to play
at home on his own
racing the rain drops to the edge of the glass
back then he only had to ask
any questions
was always someone inside who seemed to have the answers
in that house, that smelt of fresh pumpkin
fried dumpling, beans and Saturday cartoons
old tunes, Lee Perry and James Brown
when Soul II Soul came round he was rocking a fade,
Super Mario got played and played
like the hand-me-down jungle tapes
his brother gave him from raves
everything was simple and nice, Granddad's advice
Nanna cookin' peas and rice for ten children
cousins did the running man and whether it was sunny out and hot or not,
it never really mattered
first time he ever got battered by four kids
or on four quids' worth of Tennent's Super
shared with James Cooper
both times he got the same feeling
that all he wanted to be was back inside home
inside, nothing could hurt him, the fortress

Castle Greyskull with mom as the Sorceress
of course, things changed
people died, people left, people lied some turned strange
outside became home
two steps from fully grown,
running with a crew but in truth all alone
sitting in the park hitting spliffs and getting high
not really fitting in, but not really knowing why
different, only thing in common was boredom
keeping score of how many lips and trips they'd had
it went bad, the same old role play
picking up the dole pay and smoking to find home
inside and outside got blurred
so when he got hurt the only places to go
were the dark rooms
now he's sitting in, going out less and less
smoking sess got in a mess internal voices
blames himself for bad choices and
with only himself to convince it's a cinch to hear voices
no outside inside became both
one minute haven, next second a nightmare
the whole world is right there
one third of an inch of that same glass is now too much to ask
now it's grey on both sides
and nothing tastes worse in this world than wasted time.
at this point the narrator steps up out of the paper and slaps his face to wake himself it's now ten years later
days rolled like snow, avalanches of years
tears run off flushed cheeks and drown in his beers
it appears that things change and people move on
but if you just squint your eyes that perception is wrong
inside to outside it's nobody's choice
but what better way of getting out, than using my voice

from inside me to outside then inside you
from inside me to outside then inside you

You can hear (and see) some of Polarbear's performance poetry at:

www.myspace.com/polarbearspoken