The Man with Another Face

Wherever I go, whatever I do

He follows me up the street,

I cross the road and he crosses it too,

We never actually meet,

He knows I know, it’s a waiting game

For I know he knows I know,

No matter how often I give him the slip

He’s there, where I get to go.

 

I have no clue what he wants with me

But he’s going to have to wait,

I often stop, and he walks on by

Or I hide by the garden gate,

Then just when I think the coast is clear

He pops up, out of the blue,

Or reads the paper and catches the bus,

Just as I catch it, too.

 

I try to pretend that he isn’t there

That I’m sitting quite on my own,

I don’t know whether he’s dark or fair,

I sit and play with my phone,

He seems to know when I’m getting off

He’s the first one off the bus,

And I’ve often thought to stay in my seat

But I don’t like making a fuss.

 

At work, I see him in offices

That are off the beaten track,

When I’m on my way to the novices

His eyes burn holes in my back,

If I take an early minute he’s there

Propped up by the factory gate,

Deep in a conversation with

A guy I thought was a mate.

 

I’m not going to let it get to me,

I won’t let him get me down,

I try to pretend he’s a nobody

When really, he’s such a clown.

He wears a million different suits

Is always changing his hat,

He walks a dog and he smokes a pipe

And he changes, just like that!

 

I thought I’d go to the police one day

To say he was stalking me,

They asked for a brief description, and

I said he was hard to see.

‘Just give the colour of hair and eyes

So that we can put on a trace.’

‘He’s always changing, he lives in lies,

He’s the Man with Another Face!’

 

I saw the look that he gave the man

Who was slinking down in the hall,

I knew that I’d never be free of him

Surrounding me, wall to wall.

They put me here in a padded cell

Where at least I’m on my own,

But I still feel ill when he opens the grill

And his eyes burn through to the bone.

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[TL Boehm]

there was a song back in the 80's by Maxwell called "Somebody's watching me" - I'm singing it now. I've felt this way sometimes - that people are watching, listening....I would guess we all go through a bit of this insanity. We just don't have your amazing gift of turning it into a poem

[Dennis]

ah...the stalker from within. Can't shake him, don't need to wake him, he's alert and on the move, he shadows my every groove. Well written and intriguing tale, write on dear poet !

Dennis

[Tomahawk Joe]

interesting take on the subject matter

[Keith]

A journey to the other side of paranoia, great read, enjoyed that.

[Mic]

Ha! Loved this one, David, and will even confess to a deja vu moment or two reading it. Excellent write!

[Tate Morgan]

Well that is a different kind of tale for sure. A look into paranoia. Hmm sounds almost schizophrenic. I suppose we all have had that day when we thought we were not alone .Cant put our finger on it .But it chills us to the bone.

[SyberRose]

Sounds like he had a lot of admirers haa...a little paranoid I would say ha...skillfully written as always David.:)

[Marie]

"I met a man upon the stair/ Alittle man who wasn't there..."

Reminds me of a book called "The Man With My Face." Reminds me of a movie "The Man Who Wasn't There."

Deep thoughts...

[quinfinn]

oh my, this evoked a hearty belly laugh at the finish, absolutely a delightful read! i suppose it could make one lose it after so much rigmarole and mayhem in an otherwise simple life. again, you have conquered the tedium and mundane of everyday writing with an engaging and unique approach to a cleverly handled but familiar subject. game, set and match!