The Boy with a Mind of His Own

The little boy with the shining eyes

Was skipping along the street,

They said that he was autistic, that

He never would learn to speak,

He laughed and played in the open air

And he chattered away inside,

But he couldn’t utter a single word

That anyone recognised.

 

His mind was cluttered with happy thoughts

Of colours and sounds and things,

He couldn’t make sense of the what-they-were

Or anyone’s utterings,

He thought they spoke in a special tongue

That nobody understood,

They kept on saying the same old thing,

‘Now Oliver, you be good!’

 

He thought that ‘Ubble ee yuli dood,’

Was the sound of a creaking chair,

Or maybe the voice of a ‘Wotsigot’

When his mother was tearing her hair,

His father would just say ‘Geepimin’

When he wanted to go out late,

And she’d say, ‘Wotdid yalass slayv dyeov?’

Locking the garden gate.

 

He’d learned to scale the iron fence

That was built to keep him in,

And he took his chattering Umblevorks

That were gambolling within,

He filled the street with his Landyplatts

Where they lay on every lawn,

Waiting to play with the neighbour’s cats

That he knew as Gratzendorn.

 

But down the road was a nasty man

With a name like Hubbrygast,

Who would grab the lad by the scruff of the neck

And drag him home at last,

‘Keep your idiot son at home,

Away from my place, at least,

If I catch him out on the road again

I’ll be calling the local police.’

 

The day was Doodly Wangle with

The Flubber up in the Guy,

When Hubbrygast saw a Landyplatt

From the corner of his eye,

The boy was singing a Wollygong

To a two-tone Grindlepick,

When Hubbrygast poked the Landyplatt

With the sharp point of a stick.

 

The Landyplatt gave a gorble that

Had enraged the Umblevorks,

And Hubbrygast was surrounded by

His own sharp garden forks,

They poked and prodded and brought him down

‘Til the nasty man had bled,

While a bright red volluping Corple

With a spade, took off his head.

 

The people hide in their houses when

The boy comes out to play,

And nobody tries to speak to him,

They wouldn’t know what to say,

They weave their way through the Landyplatts

That have taken over the street,

And try to avoid the Umblevorks

That chatter, under their feet.

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Sarah Ramsbottom]

Thank you, this little angel sounds so much like my little Cohen. Such wonder in the little ones eyes, such excitement and love. My son also learned to scale the fence when we started locking it. Amazing, on so many levels. I wish people thought of these moments and not the ones media displays about autism.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

O! This is so, so good.

It reminds me of two things:

An old Twilight Zone episode where this little boy has the power to make people disappear. He hates noise, and all of the adults are terrified of him and try to cater to his every whim. On his birthday, he gets angry at a man who is drunk and has the liquid freedom to speak at last. The little boy tells him, "You're a bad man" and banishes him into oblivion.

It also reminds me of "Rindercella" as told by Archie Campbell:

Once upon a time in a coreign fountry there lived a geautiful birl and her name was Rindercella.

Now Rindercella lived with her mugly other and two sad bisters. Also in this same coreign fountry there lived a pransome hince, and this pransome hince was going to have a bancy fall and he'd invited people for riles amound, especially the pich reople.

Now Rindercella's mugly other and her two sad bisters went to town to buy some dancy fresses for the bancy fall, but Rindercella couldn't go cause all she had to wear were some old ruddy dags.

Finally the night of the bancy fall arrived and Rindercella couldn't go so she just crank down and shried. And she was sitting there shrieing when all of the sudden there appeared before her, her gay mudfather and he touched her with his wagic mand and there appeared before her a kig bulch and hix white sorces to take her to the bancy fall, and he said -- "Rindercella, be sure and be home before midnight or I'll purn you into a tumpkin!"

And Rindercella spaced down the rairs and just as she beached the rottom she slopped her dripper!

The next day this pransome hince went all over this corn foundry looking for the geautiful birl who had slopped her dripper.

They finally came to Rindercella's house, and he tried it on the mugly other and it fidn't dit.

Then he tried lt on the two sisty uglers and it fidn't dit.

And then he tried it on Rindercella and it fid dit! It was exactly the sight rize!

And so they were married and lived heavenly after happily.

Now the storal of the mory is: if you go to a bancy fall and you want a pransome hince to lell in fove with you -- don't forget to slop your dripper!

[minisla]

Love the lines "The day was Doodly Wangle with The Flubber up in the Guy". Comical in a sense.

[Tom]

This story makes me think of Lewis Carroll's famous poem 'Jabberwocky', I quote; 'Beware the Jabberwocky,my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun, The frumious Bandersnatch!'

Splendid David, the wee boy had much more wit than anyone gave him credit for !

[Enid Blake]

Well, I think this is a really clever piece of writing.

[A Soap Mess Stories]

I liked the message in this story...so sad...

[Marie]

I love that this autistic boy made a world of his own. I used to work with austics and found them fascinating. I recognize some Lewis Carroll in this.

[Tom]

Just noticed your review of David's clever poem, I also thought likewise !

[Robert Lindsay]

Brilliant wordplay - in my rusty brain 'gyre and gimble in the wabe' came to mind right away. However your poem had a story to tell from something like the real world (with your own distinctive twilight zone dimensions of course) As your other commenter brilliantly drew out.. it even has a sort of moral to the story. Nice one this.

[wordwarrior]

Isn't it amazing how one can follow words even when they make no sense? It's the way they are placed and used that brings the comprehension. This is amazing and so sad David. I have taught children at the lower end of the autistic scale and they have so much to offer, as well as being very clever.
Your poem speaks volumes about how we treat people who we perceive to be different, without taking the time to peel back the layers.
This also tells me about how we fear those who are different and many will do anything to shun and ignore them(like Hubbrygast in this poem).
Bravo!
Clever writing with a strong message.
Had this child been accepted and loved(even though they can't return that love as we understand it), the outcome may be so much different.