“A Boy Once by the River” A poem

Something made me day-dream today. A visual representation of my diluted imagination; if you would like to call it that. I know I do.

The day-dream was of a boy in the rivers of the Northern Eastern part of Oregon, where I once lived for a couple of years nearby in La Grande, Oregon. I imagined the kid skipping rocks onto the water as the  Northern Oregon trees towered higher than buildings and homes looked like tiny models out of an old “little house on the prairie” television series. That time period was a pretty intense one. A lot of little and big things happened all in that small period I was there; and I have yet to even blink and write anything based on it. I imagine I will soon. Let’s give you an idea of a small piece of La Grande, OR.

Me and three others were all in a vehicle, headed to a masquerade party. We had alcoholic beverages (we were all of age…) and some weed (illegal obviously) and drove over to the location.
When we arrived, we saw a police and paramedic vehicle in front of the house and a friend comes out of the wood work and tells us one of the roommates blew his head off, in the bathroom with a shotgun and is still inside. He was a McDonald’s store manager in the small town and always wanted to hit the shores of Oregon to surf, had a lot of friends and not many were even aware that he had an impulsive desire to want to commit suicide. The small town of La Grande, Oregon is also home to the University of Eastern Oregon.

When I moved out there, I did not have immediate access to the internet, so the day I moved there and unpacked, I went to the La Grande, Oregon Public Library, where I was banned from  the place the very next day for saving a photograph of “Art Bell; radio host of the late night show on Coast to Coast AM radio” onto the desktop of one of their computers.

I did not get into trouble that day, but the next day it was as though they were waiting for me to arrive, and when I came by to use the library public computer, they immediately escorted me out of the building, calling me a hacker. I found it very funny they would think of such an idea of me being a hacker for saving a photograph onto the desktop of a computer.

I even asked if they wanted me to delete the file from the background; which in reply

“We already had a computer professional do that earlier this morning, now will you please leave the library. And please do not come back again.” Said the librarian lady, heavy in the waste region and as old as bones, I imagine she passed away by now but I’m sure they do have it in their files. [Chuckles a bit]


I imagine the “Professional” took about two hours to delete it and made it aware to them that it was serious business… and at the time, there were no “real” hacking laws unless it was for theft I believe. I imagine they also knew I was not from town, considering everyone knew everyone pretty much, and I had a friend who knew the town Judges daughter, so I was on their radar as good immediately. Which was nice considering. So I have been kicked out from a public library before, go figure… ignorance is bliss I guess? [winks]

On that dreadful and small piece of LA Grande, Oregon history; or my short history events in the region; I will continue with my unreleased poem that was just written only moments ago in my private journal:

“A Boy Once By the River”

Down by the river I skipped the pebble
Skipped the stone…

Chipping away at the water flow walls,
…Just before splashing in.

For hours
Skip > Skip > Skipped another
…And another stone awaited to be sacrificed; slavery for the chipping
Chipping away at the water flow
… Just before Plopping in.

The sun spotlights down from above.
Heaven-like, but not quite.

Skip . . .
O> > > Skip
> > ><Skipped through the trees.
Fascinating to watch lifetimes skip by.

And as I Skip skip skippy; hours woosh and splash,
Thinking of nothing at all.
And chipping away at nothing at all.
…Aside from the skip, skip, skipping of the water-flow,
Just before each one drops in:

Divine and golden infinite
Pure and wiser…compliments of time.

-End- Feb 16, 2010 11:53AM PST

I am pleased with the piece. I enjoy how subtle yet intense the piece has become, as though there are treasured thoughts that lay hidden in within the child. You know?

I hope that you enjoyed the piece! have a wonderful day.

~ by The Distorted Poet on February 16, 2011.

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