Cravings, Needs, and Inner Childhood Wounds

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on Good & Plenty</p><p id="0b6b">my inner child has bubblegum melodies — sixties earworms, imaginary scenarios, where he’s seven feet tall and could do a finger roll with a basketball</p><p id="8bca">my inner child hopes never to grow old, to jump every wave, and to have cotton candy stick to his hands and face</p><p id="4a9f">my inner child collects wounds like shiny copper pennies polishes them — and drops the scars in his piggy bank to be redeemed at a later date

my inner child does not listen to misguided adults those who ruin dreams men in dark suits who claim to know more about me</p><p id="4a42">my inner child needs to be accepted and never abandoned coloring books and being creative, a chil

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dhood to be taken seriously not tarnished or misplaced.</p><p id="248a">© 2024 <a href="undefined">Mark Tulin</a></p><p id="4906">Here’s another poem by Mark —</p><div id="e8d1" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/devilish-angels-35d8613968c4"> <div> <div> <h2>Devilish Angels</h2> <div><h3>I temper my fanaticism</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*9GrJ_TMqg3_ZCV-GRF06Fg.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

Shine like copper pennies

my inner child is a curious bird with peculiar interests cravings and needs to search and hope fall and skin a knee my inner child walks on spindly legs, flies over houses and mountains, balances on a high wire, sways back and forth with an ocean breeze

my inner child is perpetually hungry for orange soda and chocolate candy, munching on Snickers, getting hyper on Good & Plenty

my inner child has bubblegum melodies — sixties earworms, imaginary scenarios, where he’s seven feet tall and could do a finger roll with a basketball

my inner child hopes never to grow old, to jump every wave, and to have cotton candy stick to his hands and face

my inner child collects wounds like shiny copper pennies polishes them — and drops the scars in his piggy bank to be redeemed at a later date my inner child does not listen to misguided adults those who ruin dreams men in dark suits who claim to know more about me

my inner child needs to be accepted and never abandoned coloring books and being creative, a childhood to be taken seriously not tarnished or misplaced.

Here’s another poem by Mark —