(no subject)
There's a saltwater film on the jar of your ashes
I threw them to sea, but a gust blew them backwards
and the sting in my eyes that you then inflicted was
par for the course just as when you were living
It's no stretch to say you were not quite a father,
but a donor of seeds to a poor single mother that would
raise us alone. We never saw the money that went down
your throat through the hole in your belly.
13 years old in the suburbs of Denver, standing in line
for Thanksgiving dinner at the Catholic church the servers
wore crosses to shield from the sufferance plaguing the others
Styrofoam plates cafeteria tables, charity wreaths of cheap wine
and pity, and I'm thinking of you I do every year when we count all our
blessings and I wonder what we're doing here.
You're a disgrace to the concept of family the priest won't
divulge the fact in his homily and I'll stand up and scream if
the mourning remain quiet, you can deck out lie in a suit but I won't buy it
I won't join in the procession that's speaking their
peace using five dollar words while praising his integrity,
just cause he's gone doesn't change the fact:
he was a bastard in life, thus a bastard in death.
I posted this in my other journal too, probably for lack of having anything other to write here. I told my aunt on Sunday that she had 'a nice little family unit going on'. She was quiet for a moment then laughed and said, 'Just between you and me... if you can go and have the boy sperm separated from the girl sperm do it' She has three sons. I asked her when she'd be adding the white picket fence. She and I used to be so close. This entry began as me wanting to hate the father I never knew, but now this has nothing to do with him. My family loved me, my aunt would sit in the back of the car with me and tickle my feet for hours trying to make me laugh. My older aunt always listened to my junior high secrets I never told my mother. She listened, I listened. We sat in the dark of my grandmothers garage steps. I've dyed both those aunts hair. Maybe I'm not really wasting my entire life away. I still wish the father I never knew had of known enough to care. I wonder if any of his other kids feel the same as I do.
I threw them to sea, but a gust blew them backwards
and the sting in my eyes that you then inflicted was
par for the course just as when you were living
It's no stretch to say you were not quite a father,
but a donor of seeds to a poor single mother that would
raise us alone. We never saw the money that went down
your throat through the hole in your belly.
13 years old in the suburbs of Denver, standing in line
for Thanksgiving dinner at the Catholic church the servers
wore crosses to shield from the sufferance plaguing the others
Styrofoam plates cafeteria tables, charity wreaths of cheap wine
and pity, and I'm thinking of you I do every year when we count all our
blessings and I wonder what we're doing here.
You're a disgrace to the concept of family the priest won't
divulge the fact in his homily and I'll stand up and scream if
the mourning remain quiet, you can deck out lie in a suit but I won't buy it
I won't join in the procession that's speaking their
peace using five dollar words while praising his integrity,
just cause he's gone doesn't change the fact:
he was a bastard in life, thus a bastard in death.
I posted this in my other journal too, probably for lack of having anything other to write here. I told my aunt on Sunday that she had 'a nice little family unit going on'. She was quiet for a moment then laughed and said, 'Just between you and me... if you can go and have the boy sperm separated from the girl sperm do it' She has three sons. I asked her when she'd be adding the white picket fence. She and I used to be so close. This entry began as me wanting to hate the father I never knew, but now this has nothing to do with him. My family loved me, my aunt would sit in the back of the car with me and tickle my feet for hours trying to make me laugh. My older aunt always listened to my junior high secrets I never told my mother. She listened, I listened. We sat in the dark of my grandmothers garage steps. I've dyed both those aunts hair. Maybe I'm not really wasting my entire life away. I still wish the father I never knew had of known enough to care. I wonder if any of his other kids feel the same as I do.