I been pulling the wings off little angels for a long time. I do it because mine got done that way when I was little and growing up in the real world. It's all over now. I am in the Spirit World. I am at rest. I am at peace. Actually, the dead know nothing and if you conjure one of us up we will just tell you a lame story or at best give you a crock and bull poem like the following:
I've been driving in the rain
For hours
You're late
There must be some misunderstanding.
I am the Son of Candy.
The windshield wipers cut my line of vision
Like the circumcising, castrating voodoo witch doctors
Going in to get yet another boy
Hood.
They want those gummy foreskins
I bet they chew them around the fire
And tell tales of the dark
Just to keep their dicks hard for their wives.
Sometimes the rain brings you out like me
Or maybe the not so sunny climate of your family life
Drives you to me
Anyway I am here to pick you up.
I first see your shiny eyes in the headlights
Deer and doe eyes
And you are caught
And can not look away.
In no time we are side by side
And you peer into the window I have half way down
Because on nights like this I can not stand the smell of myself
Fate needs its ventilation shaft.
I ask if you like candy
And you say that you do
They all like candy
The hard kind with the creamy center.
It is this simple and our journey begins
We are two kindred souls
I am running to something
And you are running away from something.
I will drive as fast as I can
So you can get there quicker
You are so beautiful in the dark
I can smell you too now. I must put the window all the way down now.
You smell worse than me.
I smell your father's abuse
I sense the tingling
I ascertain the gym happenings with your coach
They have been so busy
Grooming you for this night.
They drove you to the depot;
I just picked you up.
And yes you love candy
And I have a lap full of it.
It is so hard just like you like it. The creamy centers
Are the best you say.
Yeah go on
Get you another piece of that candy
You can have three or four pieces if you like
You been getting three meals a day, is all
Counting what your brother's been doing to you
It is candy dessert time now. I can see you are starved.
It is like swallowing Heaven
Before Hell starts in.
You rode all those inches to get to me
You down to your last mile now
You are ready to let go
In your six years of living
You put in more appearances than Marilyn Monroe
You clocked more stage time than Madonna
Monica's stained dress had your name written on it.
I got your ticket in my hip pocket
It is long and shiny
It will slice
Your life in the star twinkling of an eye
And you will wake up home.
Oh, no
Not again
It hurts so good
I don't understand.
I been crying in the rain for hours
You're late
There must be some misunderstanding.
I am the Father of Candy.
The sun is out today, not a cloud in the sky
Cotton candy land
Tootsie roll pops.
You drift away from your gang of school friends
And begin your lonely walk home
I can tell by your stride
That you are not going to a happy place.
I so much want to comfort you
I so much want to offer you my candy.
I pull up and our eyes meet
We see each other reflected
And you know that I am your friend.
You need a lift to where I am going
You need a ride to where I am taking you.
Chocolate kisses.
You a cute little Afro-American boy
That big red candied apple
Got you really interested.
It is on the end of that hard stick
Nut coated and sweet and juicy
As you take another bite
Soon you will have it taken to the core.
Sometimes they like my candy;
Sometimes they like my fruit.
You haven't said a word
But I can hear you
You are telling me about all those nights
With the babysitter
And all those evenings with your step-father
Playing hide and seek
Before your mom comes home
Working down at the hospital
Scrubbing the floors to send you to college.
You just been accepted at the College of Hard Knocks
Your test scores
Were the highest
My fly has ever registered.
Let us get you ready
For freshman orientation
You will need to wear this little leather cord around your neck
Close your eyes
The next time you open them
You will be receiving a Doctorate
Surely Hell will graduate you cum laude.
Oh, no
Not again
Hurts so good
I don't understand.
I been dying in the rain for hours
You're late
There must be some misunderstanding.
I am the Grandfather of Candy.
My sack is empty.
My candy is all gone.
I have been here for eighteen years
I am out of time
I have gone through the drill several times
It is simple enough.
It is like walking into the lights of a car at night
I have been too busy to get out much.
I never went and got me any candy
I was always too busy giving it out.
My daddy gave it to me
Just because his daddy had given it to him
He told me.
We all had candy.
It was hard candy.
It tasted good but left a bitter taste in your soul.
It was sweet
But robbed you of being a boy.
It was candy what made you a man
And grew you up too quick.
It was like a day old sucker
Red hots. And orange slices.
The peanut brittle breath touching your shoulders
As the Zero bar grabbed you down there.
It was candy
Sweeter than Bit O Honey
That bit at first like a knife
But the scar scabbed up real quick
And you raised your pants
And went on.
I am sitting here
Waiting for you
I have missed you these past years
There you come.
I can see that you are grown now
You made a good looking man.
Come right on in that door.
They got it locked so tight in here
But I see you got the key.
Yeah I like candy
You brought only that one little piece
For all the candy I gave, this is all I get in return.
You throw it down on the floor like it ain't nothing
That is candy you wasting Mister
It hits the bucket of liquid
And the bad smoke comes up.
It smells like gas
And that smell of me I have lived with all these years.
The mist rises and you fade away
And I am left here sitting without any candy.
This chamber is so cold.
I feel like I am slipping away.
So many voices
So many children
Why are they running away from me?
Why are...
Oh, yes
Yet, again
Hurts so bad
I finally understand.
My story out of context would bore you. Poems have a way of coating the reality of prose. I wanted to tell you so much. I wanted to confide in you. I wanted to believe that you cared enough to have me over to your house that one time. And I guess the time we passed was the best time I ever had in my life. But of course you preachers have a way of comforting people.
I told you alot but still I could not tell you everything. The timing was just not right. I guess the timing will never be. I stopped telling my story after a few months in this place. I started writing my pretty poetry to get my mind off some things. But still I found myself writing about those pretty little angel boys and angel girls. I have dreams of plucking their feathers. Their sweet little feathers. So soft and so new and shiny.
They say I listened to too much rock music. Hell, I listened to that shit turned up as loud as I could in an attempt to shut His voice out. But I never could. Behind all the music His whispers still got to me.
He was Older than Candy and Wiser than Chocolate...
Story Credits:
I've been waiting in the rain for hours, you're late, there must be some misunderstanding.
*Lyrics by Phil Collins.
Oh, no not again, hurts so good, I don't understand.
*Lines from Infatuation by Rod Stewart.
Author notes
YAPAPPA: In case you do not get my drift...the one piece of candy falling into the bucket was the whatever they call it chemical that falls into the bucket of solution in the gas chamber that the executioner brings to him.
A contest entry
- SHOW, don't tell... by sodancewithsoda.
175 points, ended February 4, 2007, 18 entries
Honorable mention
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - Feathers of Dreams by Golden Guardian.
615 points, ended March 2, 2007, 14 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - From the Realms of Heaven and Hell by H.A.Johnson.
525 points, ended July 29, 2008, 19 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest
Stuck a feather in his cap and called it Yankee Noodle?.
Comments
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I see this peice in two parts. The first is part Grimm Reaper. A spirit on a mission and the mission is of destruction of life done with no mercy attached to it.
The second part is of the man portion of the reaper. He wants to explain why he is the way he is. And, instead of taking ownership over what he has done, he gives you explainations on the why he did it. [wings off of angels....just like it was done to him]
This is a raw emotion peice. One that deals it out more clinical than emotional.
I won't go into more detail over it tho.
Good psychological peice and honestly? The title is perfect [not for what most people would think either.]
Congrats on the H.M. however, I think, if the contest giver really looked hard at this, they could see a lot more to it than what first meets the eye. If I was still in college, I could do a thesis on this.
Last comment. Your style changes along with your emotional happiness.
beginning: 5, language: 5, plot: 5, ending: 5, dialog: 5, characters: 5.
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I am happy.
To see this story receive an Honorable Mention. -
Thank you for complying with everything, even the "senseless" YAPAPA bit 
And also, thank you for your author's notes - I honestly saw candy in a lot of different contexts, as well as a symbolism of many things including the executioner's chemical (I did read it again after seeing what you wrote as a guide). Did he give away candies to lure his young victims? If so, I'm glad I didn't live there, at the time when this man lived, perhaps, I would have been one of the victims, after all, candy.. and chocolates (the REAL kind anyway) are my weaknesses ^_^
This was written in such an amazing way, and I found myself agreeing with the narrator - poetry DOES coat prose, or even real life, with something sweeter or more bitter, and sometimes, giving a bittersweet feel to that which had existed. Poetry can also make something appear more beautiful, more acceptable... Or maybe that is just what I think.
The imageries I read in this one are very original - I mean, I have yet seen someone else likening windshield wipers being to voodoo doctors (and the way you described the voodoo doctors themselves, and a lot of the things in this piece, was just so.. ingenius). Wow.
I found myself understanding the narrator... even if I'm not a man and I've not molested anyone The way you started this off with tearing angel wings from young angels just... broke my heart. I'm not trying to justify his deeds, but then, maybe because he had been broken at a very young age, that action (breaking other young ones) is just the thing he knows how to do. At the same time, I feared this man... his twisted ways at looking at everything. *shudders*
This story just seemed "right" to have a poem within it. It made the narrator's "deeds" somewhat... less appalling (though, I'm not saying it is no longer appalling). I may have "seen" what he did under a better light. I'm guessing he went to heaven? Or maybe... maybe we would all go to our own heavens... ^_^ at least His voice still reaches that man, somewhat.
Thank you very much for entering this read into the contest.
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The Voice.
I made the voice he heard the Bad One.
The Lord of this World was created perfect in beauty and with more wisdom and wiser than any. He lured the man away even after his father and grandfather had taken the same route.
He candy coated a false life. It was like the lines:
It is like swallowing Heaven
Before Hell starts in.
This dude did spend time with a preacher, but the preacher could not get through. This man still dreamed in the end of plucking feathers.
I figure he went to the Hot Place. But he is at rest and at peace. God made the just and the unjust alike. The just for an eternal reward and the unjust for the judgment which is to come. There has got to be peace or completion when the Lord has covered the whole world with his jealousy, after which he can rest in His love.
Getting to where you are going is your peace and rest at last.
What in Hell does anyone want?...meaning what would you do in this life to ensure your ability to get to Hell and get down there and enjoy if for an eternity after you got there? What is the reward? What in Hell did this man want?
You reap what you sow. We sowed candy and he reap his killer chemical pellet. The devil gave him candy and made him do what he wanted. He served the devil. In the end one of the boys that got away was his prison jailer and in the end the boy who grew up gave him his one piece of candy.
You can gain the whole world and one piece of candy and lose your own soul. Older Than Candy gets you eat up; and Wiser Than Chocolate makes it melt in Hell and not in your hands.
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LOL, hi RR! You wrote this
I thought the voice he heard was the voice of God though x.x I am sorry I misinterpreted some bits.
I did get the line about candy coating his life and the prison jailer being that one boy... I also understood, somewhat, the father and grandfather bit - though.. I thought it was more "sexual" in nature x.x I don't know why, but I saw the poem as something that held some subliminal sexual stuff maybe because I'm a bit perverted. Again, thank you for this. Always a great read... Thank you for joining the contest! ^_^
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Finally got the poem re-lined.
The poem part is now in the original lining.
I am thinking now that the prison guard might could be his son or his grandson instead one of the boys he messed with who escaped and turned him in.
A dark poem
Set in abuse
In an adult world.
Written after reading: "The Man With the Candy", the story of the Houston mass murders by Jack Olsen.
Written April 27th, 2006, originally at allpoetry as the poem title: Halloween In the Front Seat of My Jeep Everday. -
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Went back for a reread. I think the new format/lining has put more emphasis for the poetry. I like how it SCREAMED out "I AM THE (GRAND)FATHER OF CANDY". Still enjoyably deep. And wah, wait, have you changed anything else? Because I didn't notice if you did. Sorry! Must be because I am quite braindead x.x
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Changes only to line spacing.
I hope the original lines will make the long strung out poem easier to read.
Thanks for the re-read. Took this poem to the town librarian. May have already told you this. She read about 3/4 of it and stopped. She said it was too sad. She said she would call it profound...but couldn't because she knew I had written it. -
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haha, she knows you too well then! And woot, you are WELCOME!!!! ^_^
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i really enjoyed reading this, excellent choice of words thanks xxx
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This was written.
After I read the story about the Houston, Texas serial killer. The book was entitled: The Man With the Candy. -
Wow. Super cool, good luck with the contest and all.
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