James McLain

Gold Star - 40,778 Points (1958 - / From Tampa Florida And Still Living Near By)

Camp E-How-Kee. - Poem by James McLain

Camp E-How-Kee
as a child
had it's dark side as well.

Paul Butler is doing life
for robbery
i know.
He was black and seemed
like a nice kid back then,
he was the token
in our small group of whites
with him it numbered ten.

Fat Jack..Jack Thomas
in Florida state prison.

George Walker abused by
his father,
Sexually, psychologically and
physically life a living hell.
kicked in the face by Chief Snell.
He may have weighted
seventy pounds soaking wet
five foot one perhaps.
While Chief Snell,
wearing size thirteen and standing
six foot eleven in bare socks.
Kicked him in his face one early morn.

George in and out prison as well
perhaps by now, 'maybe dead.
He had courage.

Robert Sykes, whom wet the bed
every night.
Lord only knows,
the demons and monsters,
inside of his head.
The abuse that he suffered at home
was his fault we all now know
but a child as well.

is he alive..Amen.

The boy with the epileptic seizures
so bad
I remember his name..
as Dwayne Robinson..he shook and he
screamed all night..
putting the pillow over his head.

While the counselor poured buckets
of cold water on him.
Screaming be quite.
where was 'God'..then..

Must I go on..yes I will.
All of us between eleven and twelve.
Maybe one was thirteen..
mighty frontiersman were we.

Angels, were we heavans know, 'no..............
being allowed to use axes
and draw knives
we kept pocket knives to do our work.

And Wally Otting was like Frank...
Michael Berro...
none thinking back then were like I..
When it got to bad
I would take most away in the middle
of the night to escape..
what we thought we escaped when it was
we left our homes.

Most would not listen and then get caught
I always made it back home fifty miles
of eating berries or nothing at all..
just to be sent back again.

Delila after dark..this was then...
you were a tender Ronnie and
I was a boy of twelve..with no
moss or beard..
and my parts even then were coveted
by others as well..

This is my confession for them..
Donna Black...H.C.S.D.
Doing this to us was what..........and
where is Gary Anderson?

What could a child, 'i have done back then
but i tried, as
One group of five made up of tens.

Thinking back those were the most
children whom most never knew what it is
that you have
that they never did..most Sunday mornings
at chapel
they sang the old rugged cross and
amazing grace,
and through the garden all walked alone.

I can be reached @

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Poem Edited: Saturday, June 5, 2010

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