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An encounter with Death...
It doesn't have to be raw and bloody
Sometimes rags and bones
Are what it is when you find a body.


(This epigraph was written specifically for tthis page - >^.Karl!)

The Skeleton;

about the poem... 

My epilepsy kept me from being able to drive until I was 27 and having a disfunctional family left me without anyplace that I could comfortably call home.  It was my determination to experience what I could of the world that I was part of that led me to hitch hike all over the country for several years.

The vignettes contained within this poem are all from personal experiences that I had as I travelled around the country during those years.

The skeletal remains that I describe were discovered by me while hiking through the woods on the Olympic Peninsula in 1996 and I describe them exactly as I found them.  Ladies & Gentlemen, meet...

The Skeleton


Poetry that appeals to people who think that they don't like poetry!  (from the heart and mind of Karl Stuart Kline) -

Poetry with Depth and an Edge!!

For a good mix of my poetry, including excerpts from all three of my books, go to www.poemhunter.com/karl-stuart-kline

 

 

The thought occurs again...
That those skeletal remains
Could have been my good friend Lynn
If she had been with me
Like she wanted to be...
 
Then again they could be mine
Lost in the woods without a sign
If I hadn’t turned about and spurned
That Rednecks’ crude advance,
Telling him he had no chance
 
Backing my statement with my fist
So that he understood the gist
That there was no doubt he would let me out...
I was the one that got away.
Sadly, that’s all I can say
 
For he was a predator
And he probably found more
Acquiescent prey on another day
Who allowed him to have his way,
Though it led to an early grave...
 
Lynn knew of my adventuring
And all the interesting things
That I had seen and places I had been.
She wanted badly to come along,
Not knowing how it could go wrong...
 
For there were other things I had seen,
That told me of what could’ve been
And this skeleton was only one
Of the ways our trip could have ended
For the girl who I had befriended...
 
As a hitch-hiker I had found
That the roadside abounds
With sad stories and mute testimony
To tales of Tragedy
Ending in Brutality...
 
These bones were with a bloody t-shirt
Lying near them in the dirt...
Of other clothing there was nothing...
Then there were the cords that bind...
Recognizable... from Venetian blinds...
 
Beautiful, bouncy, buxom and blonde,
Lynn would’ve been great to have along!
Until some trucker wanted to f**k her
And he had a gun or a knife...
To fight could be worth your life...
 
I’d seen sad things by the roadside,
But this time someone had died
The bones weren’t complete- they had no feet...
The head and hands were also missing
And no trace of them was to be seen...
 
By roadsides other than here,
Torn clothing and a child’s brassiere
That I had found lying on the ground
Were an open book that spoke volumes
Of how something wicked this way comes...

 
But never of Death and Mutilation,
Following naked Humiliation...
Forced to endure cruel torture,
Leaving only bones to tell the tale
Of a twisted mind from beyond the pale
  
I’ve lost touch with Lynn...
It’s been years since when
She tried eagerly to accompany me,
Those times that I ventured out
And managed to travel about
 
With my duffel and my thumb,
I went out and saw the nation,
The Grand Canyon and Apollo Eleven,
But now that’s long over
And these bones are a sober
 
Reminder of days long past,
When we thought Youth would last
Forever and we never
Thought that we could possibly
Meet Death and die horribly
 
Much as I’d have liked her to come
I’m glad that she stayed at home,
I said “No!” she couldn’t go and so
Scattered amongst these stones
Are someone else’s bones...

 
          Karl Stuart Kline,
             Approx. 3 AM, 10/11/01