"Mother"

Embraced, I feel soft

In the arms of my mother

As she sings to me.

"Childhood"

In this quiet field

Full of glee, I am running

Towards a blue sky

"Adolescent Blues"

The Clouds block my view

Like all the people swarming

Tear drops like the rain

"Days are like the Dark"

I sleep in the dark

Awake, I dream of sleeping

Unworthy of love

"Final Words"

No one to love me

This is all I'll ever be

Embraced, I can't breathe

I recall that one Sunday night when I sat at my porch, looking at the snow, covered in my blue coat, pondering about when I had first laid my hands on a keyboard, age twelve. It was cold, I was shivering, it was dark, and I was Sixteen. It was around nine in the evening, my parents would not arrive until nine-thirty, my sister was out with her friends. I remember those nights, when I was young and insecure, when I felt that the worst is yet to come, when I couldn't even talk to people my own age. I had a hairstyle that had a slight quiff to the left, like a 1950s office-man. The snow falling off the ground was the only thing happening in my surroundings, everything else was pitch-dark, the streetlights weren't working, the neighbors are asleep, and the light bulb up above my head was turned off. I recall touching those piano notes for the very first time, from the very first F to the very last. As I played those consistent notes I wondered when I had first seen a keyboard.

"We're leaving", was the first thing I had heard when I woke up. It came from the mouth of my mother, who at that time wore a black dress, touching the ground. She said that she had left money at the table, that I should order food later. "Mom", I began to ask, "why did we never buy a piano". "Why do you ask such a question my dear", she responded. "I'm just wondering why", I told her. She then told me, "We never knew you wanted one".

Back when I was fourteen, I often had dreams, dreams of me as a baby and an elderly person. It showed me a crying baby me being comforted by a weak elderly me. There were no other people around except for me and me.

It was during that year when I decided that I wanted to work-out, talk to kids my age, and study the piano. Eight grade was nearing it's end and I was eager for summer vacation to commence. But first I had to present a report of Shakespeare in front of the class. I prepared by taking down a couple of information that was not found in my textbooks. I also made a printed down a couple of pictures that I hanged in the board. My last name starts with the letter A so I was the first to present. My heart kept pounding when I was in the center, everyone was looking at me. One boy said to make my report long, it was boy number two. For a large part of my presentation I kept making mistakes. Instead of saying King Lear, I accidentally said King Pear, though I did know an awful lot about literature. When my report was done my teacher went in front the class and guided them about what-not-to-do on their reports.

When summertime came I was faced by the heavy burden of my thoughts. I ran for about thirty minutes when I had read an article saying it was bad for your health. Instead I did pushups and pullups, but after that I read articles saying that one should lift weights first. I did not have any weights but my father did. When he was at work I snuck into his room. There were two dumbbells and other things I don't know about. I lifted the dumbbells for about thirty times and lifted the other things too. I looked at my body and saw how it's very disjointed, I looked fat in the mirror but many say I was skinny. Then I heard the sound of my parent's car arriving, I walked out of that room and I never lifted any weights again. In fact I never did do any more 'work-outs' at that age except that one time when I had to carry a big box to our garage.

I decided to instead pursue my second goal which was socializing. I read countless articles regarding the subject. In my free time I would walk to the park and observe the people talk. They often talked about useless things like marriage or exercise, but the younger ones talked mostly about events and such. So I had practiced in my room by looking at myself in the mirror and stretching my mouth in order to create a smile. But when I walked to the park again and tried talking to a group of boys all they said to me was, "Aren't you that creepy guy who stares at people".

The rest of the summer I just did what I had did in my previous ones, watch movies, read books, and listen to music. It was only towards the end of the summer that I had remembered that I wanted to learn how to play the piano. When I told my parents about it they said they couldn't afford it.

When I was twenty-one I had a date with a girl I had met at class. Her hair was curly and dyed in the color orange. She also had a mole on her face that was color orange.

"What's your name again", she asked me.

"I never told you", I said.

"Well, then tell me"

I told her my name.

The time progressed and we continued to converse. I had thought it was going well and was very shocked when she didn't answer any of my six calls that I had made to her. What I did in order to cope was went outside, where the first few snows started to rain, and walked endlessly in a circle down main street, where the lights often didn't work. I suddenly stopped when I recognized her face. She was playing the piano at the same bar we had went in.

I remember being forty years old, what it feels like to feel useless. But I remember when my child was to be born. My wife was making my breakfast when all of a sudden her water broke. I immediately started the car and raced to the hospital, forgetting to turn off the stove. My wife sat in the back seat, breathing fast. I told her to calm down. I loved my wife and she loved me, something I thought that would be impossible when I was younger. It was beautiful being in love. She was the only woman I ever loved in my life. So it was a big deal to have a child, to start a family. I drove her to the hospital.

"I'm nervous", she said to me as she was being taken to the operation room. My only response was to kiss her on the cheek, then soon after she was taken away from me.

I waited in the lobby for a very long time. I remember when I had first met my wife, five years earlier, one afternoon when I was walking in the town, with nowhere to go, and an orange-haired girl who broke my heart. I remember the first time our eyes locked, her bluish eyes locking into mine. She too was walking, though I'm not sure if she had somewhere to go. We first spoke to each other, a week later, when we met at a grocery store.

"Aren't you that man I saw last week", she said.

"Yes, I am", I told her.

"What's your name", she asked. I proceeded to tell her my name.

"Nice to meet you, I am Sarah"

It was taking too long, she was at the operation room for a very long time. I walked to a nurse and asked her if I could come inside with my wife. She told me I was not allowed. I then went back to my seat and continued to wait for her. I closed my eyes and dreamt of one of our days together. It was a normal Saturday night, back then she was still only a girlfriend. We were watching Saturday Night Live.

"This is awful", she said, "I mean, this used to be good".

"Want to change the channel", I replied.

"If you want to"

I began browsing the channels, her head was deep into my shoulders. We began to watch a movie, it was about a dying old man who begins to forget his memories. Halfway through it, when the old man was asleep and a nurse was taking care of him, my wife began to ask me;

"If you became old, would you still remember me"

"We'll grow old together, you'll be by my side"

"But what if I wasn't", she asked, "What if something terrible happened to me"

"Don't think about stuff like that"

"If you were to die first, I'll be sure to remember you"

"I hope so"

Then came the next scene. The old man was playing the piano. He played Chopin as he tears slowly fell from his left eye. I remember all those times that I wanted to play the piano, from when I was six until now.

"We have to get a piano', I told my wife.

A doctor came out of the emergency room. He had on a facemask, which he began to remove.

"How is the baby", I asked him.

"I'm sorry Mr. Abrams, we did everything we could. She had a miscarriage and died afterwards. I offer my deepest condolences to you and your family", was what he replied to me.

I remember when me and my wife were at the music store, browsing for a piano.

"How much is this", she asked the salesman.

"That one is Six Thousand Eight Hundred Twenty Five Dollars"

She looked me in the eye. I looked at the piano. It was a majestic figure, painted in brown.

"It's beautiful", I told them.

"It's the only one in our store", the salesman told me.

"Are you sure you want this", my wife told me.

"Yes, I have been wanting to play the piano ever since I was six years old and I never got to"

I began to sit at the stool, cracked my neck, and took a deep breath. I looked at those notes, the same notes that played on and on the piano. I then touched a single note, which was note F Major, using my right hand. I then began playing all the notes from start to finish.

"We also offer piano lessons here", said the salesman, "It's only 200 dollars".

"I think I'll take just this one".

I remember playing all those notes when I first got it. It stood near the couch. In my spare time, which was not very much, I played singular notes in the piano. My wife would often watch me and ask me about why I don't take piano lessons. As time passed by I would often use it less and less. I was often at work and when I would arrive at home I would often see my wife playing a song and singing along with it. When she died I had to sell the piano to pay my bills. I had never encountered a piano again until many years later.

I recall last week, Sunday morning, I attended my cousin's funeral. I wore a black tuxedo that I never used before. She was to be buried at the Saint Augustine Cemetery, right next to the Saint Augustine Chapel. There stood a piano at the chapel room next to her black casket. The choir sang in an acapella since there was no Pianist to do his job. Just as my uncle was saying a eulogy, the chapel doors opened and revealed a stout young man. He ran through the side hall, into the area with the choir, sat next to the piano and took a deep breath. The first note that he played was F major, what followed then was a series of notes that formed an intense tune for about four minutes, afterwards the Pianist started playing another one.

I was awoken in my deep slumber by a young man and a young woman, it was night but I wondered why is the sun up. The young man greeted me a Good Morning. The young woman told me that she bought me my lunch. It was roasted chicken, mashed potato, and orange juice. There were also two blue pills sitting next to the plate.

Jazz music was constantly played throughout the next few hours. I had only realized now that I was sitting in a white bed, covered in white blanket, wearing a white shirt, in a room painted with white paint. The two young people that had come earlier did not close the door. An orange-haired woman with a mole was dancing, she is old yet she is dancing. Then two young men arrived and held her hands, led her to a room. I looked around me once again and realized that my daughter wasn't with me. I shouted her name, 'Nora'. Another young woman arrived.

"Yes", she asked.

"Who are you"

"I'm Nora Mr. Abrams"

"You are not Nora, I'm looking for my daughter, she is also named Nora"

"But Mr. Abrams, you have no children"

I was in the lobby, remembered what I was; a sad, lonely, wrinkled, old man. I was in disbelief as I remembered all those things. A piano-man started playing, he wore a black suit and was not late, there was also no choir. I remembered the first time I had seen a piano. It was when I was six years old. My parents took me and my sister to a high-end shopping mall. My mother was with my sister, shopping for brand new clothes. While my father and I went to a 'hobby shop', it sold guns. I was outside the shop while my father was inside, in awe of all those guns that he saw. Then I heard what was the most beautiful tune I heard. I tried to track it down, where it was, like smelling a chocolate after eating a meal. I kept walking towards it's origin, not minding the people also walking towards their own destinations. Then I saw a man dressed in a tuxedo playing those wonderful tunes, it came from an odd looking thing like a table that produces music, a piano it was. He continued to play music until he saw me. He asked me if I wanted to try. Before I could, I already heard my father calling out my name.

I walked to the piano-man in the black suit. I stopped and looked at him play for a while. Then I asked him, "Can I try playing that thing", like my six year old self would have asked if the man didn't already.

"Sure", the man in the black suit replied. He stood up and left the seat open. I sat in it. I started to play all the F notes.

"Do you want me to teach you", the piano-man asked.

"That would be very nice", I replied.

They're

Selling postcards

Of the hanging

They're painting

The passports brown

The beauty parlor

Is filled with sailors

The circus is in town

Here comes

The blind commissioner

They've got him in a trance

One hand is tied

To the tight-rope walker

The other is in his pants

And the riot squad

They're restless

They need somewhere to go

As Lady

And I look out tonight

From Desolation Row

Cinderella

She seems so easy

"It takes one to know one"

She smiles

And puts her hands

In her back pockets

Bette Davis style

And in comes Romeo

He's moaning

"You Belong to Me I Believe"

And someone says

"You're in the wrong place

My friend

You better leave"

And the only sound that's left

After the ambulances go

Is Cinderella sweeping up

On Desolation Row

Now the moon is almost hidden

The stars are beginning to hide

The fortunetelling lady

Has even taken

All her things inside

All except for Cain and Abel

And the hunchback of Notre Dame

Everybody is making love

Or else expecting rain

And the Good Samaritan

He's dressing

He's getting ready

For the show

He's going

To the carnival tonight

On Desolation Row

Now Ophelia

She's 'neath the window

For her I feel so afraid

On her twenty-second birthday

She already is an old maid

To her death

Is quite romantic

She wears an iron vest

Her profession's her religion

Her sin is her lifelessness

And though her eyes

Are fixed upon

Noah's great rainbow

She spends her time peeking

Into Desolation Row

Einstein

Disguised as Robin Hood

With his memories in a trunk

Passed this way an hour ago

With his friend

A jealous monk

He looked

So immaculately frightful

As he bummed a cigarette

Then he went off

Sniffing drainpipes

And reciting the alphabet

Now you

Would not think

To look at him

But he was famous long ago

For playing

The electric violin

On Desolation Row

Dr. Filth, he keeps his world

Inside of a leather cup

But all his sexless patients

They're trying to blow it up

Now his nurse, some local loser

She's in charge

Of the cyanide hole

And she also keeps

The cards that read

"Have Mercy on His Soul"

They all play

On penny whistles

You can hear them blow

If you lean

Your head out far enough

From Desolation Row

Across the street

They've nailed the curtains

They're getting ready

For the feast

The Phantom of the Opera

A perfect image of a priest

They're spoon feeding Casanova

To get him to feel more assured

Then they'll kill him

With self-confidence

After poisoning him with words

And the Phantom's

Shouting to skinny girls

"Get Outta Here

If You Don't Know

Casanova is just being

Punished for going

To Desolation Row"

Now at midnight all the agents

And the superhuman crew

Come out and round up everyone

That knows more than they do

Then they bring them to the factory

Where the heart-attack machine

Is strapped across their shoulders

And then the kerosene

Is brought down from the castles

By insurance men who go

Check to see

That nobody is escaping

To Desolation Row

Praise be to Nero's Neptune

The Titanic sails at dawn

And everybody's shouting

"Which Side Are You On?"

And Ezra Pound and T. S. Eliot

Fighting in the captain's tower

While calypso singers laugh at them

And fishermen hold flowers

Between the windows of the sea

Where lovely mermaids flow

And nobody has to think too much

About Desolation Row

Yes,

I received your letter yesterday

(About the time the door knob broke)

When you asked how I was doing

Was that some kind of joke?

All these people that you mention

Yes, I know them, they're quite lame

I had to rearrange their faces

And give them all another name

Right now I can't read too good

Don't send me no more letters no

Not unless you mail them

From Desolation Row

Brief Synopsis: During the 17th Century, a "comfort woman" named Beatrice exiles to a small shack in the woods with her two young children after being accused as a witch. Over the course of their stay they encounter several demonic figures in the form of different animals such as a snake and an eagle. Because of this Beatrice increasingly starts to become paranoid, believing that her two children are "demonic".

Ending: Beatrice is burned inside the shack by the townspeople who had recently discovered her whereabouts.

*I'd think this would be a short novel consisting of less than 200 pages.

John was driving his car at the highway, his soft hands steering. The car moved in a swift and straight direction. There were no other cars present. The tall trees covered most of the sunlight, darkening his sight. A female soprano opera singer started singing in Italian, coming from the radio. The radio suddenly changed stations resulting in a mix of different sounds. "Heavy traffic is expected at MacArthur Avenue", a radio announcer said. Meanwhile a man doing an impression of a woman started, "Honey I'm Home", followed by a bunch of laughter. "Oh, In heaven there'll only be you an me", a Texan started singing until he is interrupted by the voice of a young woman who sang the words, "Beautiful stranger; beautiful danger". By this time John's mouth kept opening and closing as he tried to calm himself down. The radio kept changing stations at an alarming rate. John stopped his car as he turned off the radio. He then started it again and moved on when another car at the intersection broomed closer and closer.

John woke up in the middle of a pure white room. He looked at his bruised body, not knowing where he was. The window only showed the plain blue sky. He then opened his mouth and held a deep breath before going back to sleep.

His father moved his wheelchair. "I built a ramp here just for you", he said to him as he moved his wheelchair, approaching the ramp. The wood that supported the wheelchair moved unsteadily as the wheels go up. "Andrew, it's not steady you might cause him more pain", an old woman, John's mother, shouted as she walked the stairs up. Andrew struggled to push the wheelchair up. "Margaret help me", he said. Margaret, who was already a the porch, moved to the ramp and helped John move up in his wheelchair. John's face was still and pale, like a dead man's face.

The three were now seated together in the dining room. One chair was moved out in order to make room for John and his wheelchair. Margaret started, "Dearest Lord, we thank you for our son's safety. We thank that he's safe here, with us. And we thank you because I know he's going to feel much better. All of us are here because of your grace. Amen".

Andrew rolled the wheelchair softly to a bedroom. He opened the door and left the wheelchair in the middle of the room. He carried John's light body into the bed and tucked him in like a little child, his face still pale. "Do you want anything else", Andrew asked. "No, thank you papa", John replied. "Goodnight son", Andrew told him as he exited the room. As he shut the door, a picture frame fell to the ground, the glass breaking into pieces. An old picture of John smiling.

"Is he asleep yet", Margaret asked.

"No not yet", Andrew replied.

Andrew then took a seat at the couch beside Margaret.

"What happened to our son", Margaret asked.

"Well, he got into an accident and is still very shocked about it"

"No, I meant why he became the way he is now"

"I guess he just grew up"

"I mean, he barely even talks anymore. When he was little was the most talkative and brightest person in the room"

"Margaret, give it a rest. We all change"

"I know we all do but why did it had to happen to our son"

Andrew opened the curtains revealing the sunlight. John was already awake. "Good Morning", he said to his son. He then lifted his body, feeling it gained a few pounds. He moved it to the wheelchair and headed to the dining room.

Margaret walked down aisle four; Cereals. She took a box of 'Fruity Os'. "Cereal, what do you need that for", a woman spoke. "Long time no see, Margaret", she continued. "Kiara", exclaimed Margaret. "I haven't seen you since my son was in High School, how are you". "I'm good, how about your son, is he okay", asked Kiara. Margaret let out a small sigh. She replied "He's still recovering". "That's good.", said Kiara.

Andrew opened the faucet. He carried John to the bathtub full of water.

Margaret had encountered another friend at the market. "It's so tragic. I included him in my own prayers. May the good lord bless him", she said. "Thank you", was all Margaret could say.

Andrew had already taken John to his room.

"You know I saw Kiara today, guess what she talked to me about"

"What"

"She talked to me about John. Doris also talked to me about how she felt sorry for him. You know this is the only time they've talked to me for years"

John was in his bed, awake. He took a mirror from the bedside table and looked at his face. His eyes were drowning in tears. Even his lips were bruised. He moved closer to the edge of the bed and fell. Andrew and Margaret opened the door. "What did you do", Margaret shouted. They both helped John lay down again.

"I'm in pain", John said.

"We know you are but you'll overcome it like you always--"

"I'm in pain and nothing can heal me. I heard you last night, 'why did our son have to change'. I am in pain, in deep deep pain! Do you know what it feels like to have a mother who doesn't like his own son. Do you know how it feels to be left out from the world. I may have suffered because of the incident but I have always felt pain even a long time ago. I also miss how I used to be. How I used to be so happy and full of life. I was even quite glad when I thought I would finally die. How I escaped from it, I don't even know. Now I have to live in pain for the rest of my damn life", with this John started to cry.

"Son, you know nothing about pain. You are a child and believe me when I say that your life will get better"

Margaret moved closer to his son and sat with him. Andrew also sat beside him and hugged both of them.

Later John took a glass, once again to look at his face. Suddenly he felt as if he saw the reflection of a dead man smiling at him.