Proverb of Heller

In a small room was a boy with a large wide-eyed head

Who could not see beyond his bedroom bed.
When presented with the choice to leave the system ruling,
His mouth remained dry where it should have been drooling.

And tho’ taking a leave is not always by train

Through his wide eyes sat too a homebodied brain
That read all of the poems and twice again as was told
And more times when feeling what he thought was bold.

His confident stutter knew well how to burst in,

Yet he feared the commandment and the venial sin.
He kept a spare sharpened pencil and a planning notebook
So never a reading assignment would he o’erlook.

He kept his hand high and higher when mad,

And he spoke for the grade and got the grade for his dad.
And a pat on the back left him satisfied.
However hard he’d been trying would be how hard he tried.

Though he was a smart boy (even more well-read)

Because he’s always slept in the very same bed
And wore the same Sunday clothes and never had lied
The fairest of weather was always inside.

But the only weather he knew was the weather inside,

So when asked “Leave or stay?” he chose not to decide.
Like the deaf-mute who knows not the sound of his voice
When you don’t know what you’re choosing, you can’t make a choice.
The Coach

When the season’s cold

Inside burns a man of fire.
On his chest
A sweater vest,
Cotton cage for his desire.

Verbal gases spuing,

He screams with all his might,
“You’ll never win
with shirts tucked in,
Or ponytails tied tight.”

But still they lose each game

No matter volume of his din.
They’re not bad,
Just never had
A reason to want to win.