tortures

© Frank Moore 5/18/94


Reading by Attaboy & Ben Burke on Frank Moore’s Shamans Den, October 24, 1999

events are real,
but victim’s reality
ain’t mine.

loud doctor
judge
voices kept pronouncing
no intelligence,
no future,
no spark,
just a black hole drain…
put him
forgotten
memories
institution.

family screaming voices
over thanksgiving
and christmas table
accused
the mother’s sins taken out on the son…
the son
there
listening
crying
for 13 years.

ugly doll.

kids were pulled away…
maybe it’s contagious.
kids were slapped away
for looking
at the slobbering
doll.

adults,
keeping
the doll
for awhile
to give
the poor woman
a break
saying
over coffee,
why does she keep him,
no future,
can never do anything…
sure, he understands…
but more the pity…
understanding doom…
look at him
listening to us
in the chair…
4 years old
and doomed
to can not.

abandoned at 5…
hospital,
their excuse,
a baby brother being born,
then me
with chickenpox…
but i knew it
was because i shit
too much,
pissed
too much…
so i held it in
until i couldn’t
anymore…
and then sat in it
because i needed
too many baths.
sat in it
until after college…
it was the least
a burden
such as i
could do!

they were going to leave me
again…..
the floppy
ugly
thick-lipped,
buck-tooth
dumbo-ear
no-future
me…
for 2 years…
i’d be 10
before i’d see them
again…
if then…
but my hives
put an end
to that!

frames steel and leather
pinched,
rub blisters,
rub raw red sores
from hips to ankles,
framing
imprisoning
chaining
this gross
abnormal beast
down into the sacred appearance of
normalcy,
that abstract state.
if the beast crossed his legs,
the illusion would crack…
so wedge a lead bar
between these frustrated legs
for 26 years…
never mind
it pinches his balls.
he will just watch tv
all his life.

me
lying on a hard table,
listening to the professionals
discussing my doomed fate.
me
only in underpants.
they want
always
to cut open
my body and brain.
i knew kids
who were twisted zombies
after doctors
cut them open.
doctors want
to give me drugs
to stop my slobbering
and to tranquilize
my body
into the american dream…
or in the ballpark. they settled
on daily physical torture.

dad
missed my ninth birthday party
for a bender….
babbling drunkenly later
about how he loved me.
teachers
bribing
one another
about who would get the freak.
one quit.
but the professionals
decided the schools weren’t equipped
to handle such a creature.
sentenced
to isolation
with mother
in the towers…
with daily outings
to physical tortures.
bent fingers,
arms,
legs
so far into unnatural positions
that it took
three of them
to do it,
so far i screamed in pain,
screaming
i want to be normal.
i lied,
i never wanted that!
one time
i stuck my hand up
into their cunts.
they rubbed ice
all over my body,
then brushed me
hard
with a house paint brush.
i awoke
when i was 13
after an operation
to pull my balls
down,
i awoke
to hear one nurse
saying to another,
“why did they bother,
no woman
would make love
with him.”
mom
once told
me,
“any girl
who would want you
must be crazy.”
in the towers,
i lost my hearing.
the teenage “babysitter”
blindfolded
14-year old me
so i couldn’t see her
and two girlfriends
dance sexually
with one another.

dad was pissed.
he couldn’t hit a crip.
so every night
at the dinertable
he would scream
at my brother,
humiliated my brother,
backhand slapped my brother,
whipped my brother
with a belt….
and then exited to the local bar.
i always cried.
my high school teacher
made me eat clorets
because my breathe
and body odor
stank bad.
college wouldn’t take
me
because my slobbering
would offend and distract
other students.
airlines
used this logic
to not let me
on their planes.

rubbing myself
into climax
in college,
nothing came out
like before.
orgasms weren’t messy
like before…
before that bladder operation.
curious,
i went to the college nurse,
who checked with the doctor
who didn’t see any reason
to tell
a 27-year old virgin
ugly
rag doll
about the side-effect
of the operation
of no-mess orgasm…
after all, rag dolls
don’t have sex or kids…
we don’t want to have more rag dolls!
my would-be mother-in-law
told my would-be wife
“marry somebody else…
and adopt frank!”
she said a lot
more choice things…
but time and space are limited.
but she did bribe
every justice of the peace
for miles around
to not marry us.

if you don’t shut-up,
you spoiled brat…
living
with old drunk
male nurse
who kept rag dolls
in their place
by punching them out.
lived with him for 6-months…
until he pulled
a loaded gun on me.
then i screamed him to sleep.
a knife at the crashpad…
if i didn’t stop laughing at him…
i wasn’t laughing.
a paper dixie cup at the headshop…
if i didn’t start talking,
he’d push it down my throat.
never mind the hitman.
never mind linda’s mafia papa.
and i’m sure i’ve forgotten a lot.
my first french kiss
was from a guy
who then tried to rape me
putting his penis in my mouth.
i like french kissing.

but all in all,
life has been good!

Detail of “Luna” by LaBash ©1991