© 2026
Manyme
By FlatDaddy
I grew up rough,
but didn’t know it at the time.
I grew up poor,
but didn’t admit it at the time.
I was given good direction,
but rarely took it at the time.
I had good and bad advice,
but shunned the first, embraced the last,
and damn well knew it
at the time.
I ignored street signs, talked in libraries,
crossed roads between crosswalks,
refilled my cup more than once at MacDonalds
and never thought of payment at the time.
I’ve hurt people I have loved
many times.
I have swallowed their pain
and have a belly full of tears now
that bang wet fists upon my innards
til I stumble when I walk,
til I st…st… stutter when I talk,
til I wake at night frothing at the brain.
Why is the me not the me
I wanna be when I can be
so many mes with what I be inside?
I hide so many others
I’ve never met,
most of them must surely be
so much better at this.
Most of me is kind is good is …
(sigh)
not me.
In my life I have been many things
I didn’t want to be
but had to be
But the other thing was always
Not available
Not affordable
Not within my reach.
So the many mes
that I became were
mes of necessity
mes of the “quick buck” or
me’s of “maybe this will make me happy” or
me’s of “maybe I can pay the bills now” or
me’s of “maybe if I do this I can be proud of me” or
mes of “maybe I can make enough to send my daughter to art school now
“and maybe buy my wife a pair of shoes.”
I just saw on the news
that one must retire from the Pennsylvania Supreme Court
at the mandatory age of 75.
I’m not from Pennsylvania.
But if I were and were a judge in their Supreme Court
I would have had to retire three years ago.
That tells me something
I don’t want to hear about
I don’t want to think about
I don’t want to know about
or write about.
or be.
Can I retire from being me?
some time? any time?
and still be someone? And not some one?
Yes, some me I never knew that never was that longs to be,
that me who maybe will be me
when time swings by again?
perhaps.
This is freaking deep and introspective.
This really got me “still be someone? And not someone?”
I took it as can I still be a person and just not another number.
That is correct, Fia — not be just some one.
Hey, my friend…This one aches with honesty—the kind that doesn’t clean itself up or ask for forgiveness.
It’s messy, human, and brave as hell, the voice of someone still standing inside the wreckage and telling the truth anyway.
Thanks, Thomas, this is a very nice review, my friend. And yes, it was difficult to write, but you know how things have been with me lately. I’ve been very circumspect about many things, and this was one result of that.
However, how about a laugh? Check this page or better yet, any of YOUR pages or someone else’s work. You will not there is an option to listen to our poems, even when we did not make or post any audios for them! And they are absolutely dreadful bits of garbage! It’s too funny to get angry about it, especially since it seems to be affecting all of us! The Spoken Word category is gone, too! Isn’t it hilarious? I sent a note to Fia about itt. What a hoot!
Oh yes…..I’ve heard my poems read by machines…it’s hideous.