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I am A Prisoner in A 20th Century Body.

Updated on April 22, 2010

I am a prisoner in a 20th century body.-by-MFB III


I am trapped in a

20th century body
my soul imprisoned,

in a cage of ribs,

and fleshy walls
struggling through

the backside of

my life sentence
for now I am moving from
the general population

onto death row
in this the 21st century,

I am offered at most
30 years of hard time,

perhaps 40 with good behavior
58 years....68 years.....78...years.....
perhaps dare chance

I dream...88 years
my appeals have

been exhausted
my youth was stolen from me
and now I am a

middle-aged man
in a 20th century body
a little boy is trapped here too,
playing with some of my

favorite memories...endlessly
and he reminds me that

some of my time was well served
and there is a poet in there as well
hungry for words...

knowing he can never fill his heart
with enough to satisfy

the creative hungers
that will follow him to his grave
there is a sexual being

imprisoned there as well
who knows the time is

drawing near when

this too shall pass
and for this the voraciousness

of his appetite is excessive
but in the dark hollow of my soul,
where I crouch...humbled
I do not sit, and just

wait for the warden of fate
to take me to my demise
rather I allow my

mind to fly beyond
the confines of my

body, and my soul
to explore areas never touched,

words seldom written
love not yet experienced,

and happiness that is found most
in the grin of a child
I am a prisoner in a

20th century body
I scratch grafitti on

the walls of my skin
that closely resembles

wrinkles and age spots
to remind others that

they too some day
will share my fate
treasure your youth.....

make well of it...expound on it
take chances,

for soon it too will be stolen
and you will take my place
as a middle-aged person,
trapped in a 21st century body.

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||-MFB III 


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    • Debarshi Dutta profile image

      Debarshi Dutta 7 years ago from Calcutta

      This poem is one of your most poetic, is one of your most mature poems.

      It is wisdom and experience, personality and character.

      I can understand the anxiety of growing age.

      Yet the child and youth never grows old. Stop worrying. Keep us company.We wont let you feel old.

      God did this to us...and we have no way to take revenge upon God.

      All consciousness mourns it's end.

      I shall mourn the candlelight when it's extinguished

      as long I have sight

      and my eyes let me see..

      Without the light of the candle,

      in this darkness

      what is the point

      of eyesight?

      I would not know darkness from blindness

      Alas such is death!

      And God feels warm in the candlelight of Love!