OMG That’s Me
Tears they fall
Like acid rain
From short sided
Iris enclosed
Pupil centered
Blood bathed
Silver lined
White clouds
I am no writer
Here is the proof
Need an editor
Or at least a
Context counselor
To straighten this mess
Hands are tied
Mouth is gagged
Back is again the wall
The window is open
I can see clearly now
Heart is nearly broken
This will make sense to nary
Written for myself so why worry
Evidently judged by me, no jury
Keeps repeating, so no hurry
Yet, like a rat on a ship, must scurry
Dreams, visions, reality all blurry
Expressions of PURE frustrations
Landing on no destinations
Making aware the realization
Not creating a kid justification
Still got handed an education
Regarding the following contemplation
Observed a “Cats in the cradle” moment.
Thanks for the ball,
Dad c’mon let’s play
My friend gave you that,
Out of our way you’ll stay
Besides it is basketball
Your not tall enough anyway
Ran into the house crying
And his smile went away
Here’s the OMG, that’s me part.
Rather the “Holy F@#K” that’s me part.
I intentionally did not create any any offspring. (My personality took care of most of that, or rather all of that.)
Too many confounded contrarian contradictions carrying on chaoticly and contained in my clouded crammed cranium.
Married a beautiful, intelligent, loving woman with three wonderful children.
Going on 20 years, yay!
Long story short, middle child living with us, with son.
Grandson ran into house, upset with his dad. Came back down from his room, stifling anger, permanent marker on face and hands. To watch his dad play basketball with friend, from behind a curtain gripping tensely at 4 plus years old.
As I was about to inquire why he was upset, the flood gates of awareness opened up as I saw my child self reflected back. HF that’s me.
Ever have that moment of awareness of not only having opportunity knock at your door. You find it being battered down by an unwelcome Bradley tank with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.
People rib me for not remembering my past. Might not be so much not recalling, rather not by having a lot to remember.
Other than constantly being kept busy doing chores, saving a lot of interaction. Likewise fulfilling the meme that a child should be seen and not heard.
Perfect for what this society needs a good employee.
“You know what they want?
They want obedient workers .
Obedient workers, people who are just smart enough to run the machines and do the paperwork.”
George Carlin
That’s me. Driving truck, filing out a logbook
Watching the above, brought awareness to some of the causes of stuffed anger then and now. Having no real critical means to express, save writing it here.
My dad was in my life, as is his, present, yet unaccounted for. In the realm of seeing it now, that he filled his obligation.
Like paying on an 18 year loan for some thing you did not want in the first place.
In this fun house of mirrors, the first twisted image is the responsibility reflection. Observing that perhaps I did not engage more and so shame on me.
Physics teaches us that no two things can occupy the same space at the same time. Knowing it was not my role to replace their dad, rather be kind, guide and love them and their mom as much as possible.
The remembrance reflection is that of spending an inordinate amount of time alone, playing video games or watching TV.
Plus just staying in my room, deciphering their actions, misdeeds and lies.
My suggestions to alleviate this, are rejected as I’ve never been a biological parent, so advice is rendered useless.
Regardless of my front row seating of aspects of my life movie played out in front of me.
Hence
Hands are tied
Mouth is gagged
Back is again the wall
The sad irony
Based on what I see
Unless I can get through
He is raising me
Pink Floyd “Lost for words”
Can you see your days
blighted by darkness?
Is it true you beat your
Fists on the floor?
Stuck in a world of isolation
While the ivy grows over the door
When he was young, he identified with the Harry Chapin song as his bio dad basically abandoned him and his siblings.
Awareness through a song / story of intended premise, being not to abandon.
Unfortunately it is possible of being “there” without “being” there. Minimally interactive would be a good euphemism.
Years ago, I learned the best way to get some one else to change something is to let it be their own idea.
Wonder if this partial Harry Chapin parody would help?
“Cat’s In The Cradle”
My child sits alone,
Watches tv all day
I do the same,
Top of the stairway
There’s sports to watch,
No bills to pay
He learned to talk
In a Mickey Mouse way
That is how he was talkin’
‘Fore I knew it, and as he grew
He’d say “I’m donna de like you, Dad
You know I’m monna glee like you”
His Aunt is his stable
And guiding him true.
Little boy blues,
Half a man stoned through
When you going to work, Dad
I don’t know when,
But I’ll get it together then
You know we’ll have
Some money then
My son turns five
In just a few days
He said, “What is this, a ball,
Dad, where do you press play?
“It is not a remote”,
I said that’s “okay”
It’s the best I can do for you”,
He said, “That’s ok”
And he walked away
and his smile kind of dimmed
And said, “I’m gonna be like him, yeah
You know I’m gonna be like him”
His aunt and his uncle
Teach him kid tunes
Little boy blue and
His dad on the moon
When we getting our own home,
Dad
I don’t know when,
But we’ll get it together then
You know we’ll have a
Good time then
He went to California
Just to get away
So much like a man
I just had to say
“Son, I’m proud of you,
Can you Skype for a while”
He shook his head
And said with a smile
“What I’d really like, Dad,
If I could send you money, please
Save it for yourself
And I fell to my knees
//.
My uncle stepped up
Probably didn’t want to
But am glad he did
So did my papa
Reluctant, but there, the same
For I am grateful
I guess I can to
Be a surrogate father
To baby boy blue
Series of haikus
Poetic license be damned
What else could I do
Makes me fully aware, even though in order to make it safely to my destination I should stay in my own lane.
Perhaps it would be okay, to pull over and help a stranded motorist, give them some fuel, so they can be on their merry way.
Iron Maiden
“Dream Of Mirrors”
Have you ever felt the future is the past, but you don’t know how…?
A reflected dream
Of a captured time,
is it really now,
is it really happening?
Don’t know why I feel this way,
Have I dreamt this time, this place?
Something vivid comes again
Into my mind
And I think I’ve seen your face,
Seen this room, been in this place
Something vivid comes again
Into my mind
All my hopes and expectations,
Looking for an explanation
Have I found my destination?
I just can’t take no more
The dream is true, the dream is true
The dream is true, the dream is true
Think I’ve heard your voice before,
Think I’ve said these words before
Something makes me feel
I just might lose my mind
Am I still inside my dream?
Is this a new reality
Something makes me feel
That I have lost my mind
All my hopes and expectations,
Looking for an explanation
Coming to the realization
That I can’t see for sure
//
The dream is true, the dream is true
The dream is true, the dream is true
I get up put on the light,
Dreading the oncoming night
Scared to fall asleep and
Dream the dream again
Nothing that I contemplate,
Nothing that I can compare
To letting loose the demons
Deep inside my head
Dread to think what might be stirring,
That my dream is reoccurring
Got to keep away from drifting,
Saving me from myself
// Chorus
Lost in a dream of mirrors,
Lost in a paradox
Lost and time is spinning,
Lost a nightmare I retrace
Lost a hell that I revisit,
Lost another time and place
Lost a parallel existence,
Lost a nightmare I retrace
This is more for me than him, I have no plans or intention to share any of this with him. It would simply be an over intrusion on a psyche I know I am not prepared for the ramifications. Be they good or bad.
All my jaw jacking and abnormal angry actions seem to produce more chaos than construction simply because I know no better, plus my ability to communicate is chancy at best.
As for taking too big of a role, am also very aware of my idiosyncrasies, should they get passed along may cause more harm than good.
Besides, he is doing the best he can, still recovering from a TBI (Traumatic Brain Injury) he suffered as a passenger over 10 years ago.
My only proof of brain damage is for posting this. All this, from an chance circumstance observation. Sorting it out in printed pixels that somehow I may evolve into a better person.
“I’m one of those people who doesn’t really know what he thinks, until he writes it down.”
Jake Epping AKA George Amberson
From Stephen King’s “11/22/63”
Writing this, the other awareness is, he is raising his son, all by himself as the bio-mom, bailed well before their son was two. On the rare occasions, she has seen him, we find she does more harm then good.
Having given up her first child completely, moved as many times as she’s had relationships, producing a third child in the meantime. Being in one now, that in theory should create no more children.
“Wouldn’t it be nice to have a kid? To have this fresh, clean slate which we could fill. A little clean spirit, innocent, and to fill it with good ideas.”
Yeah, yeah, how about this? If you’re so fucking altruistic, why don’t you leave the little clean spirit wherever it is right now?
//
I would never bring a kid to this // planet.
– Bill Hicks
I guess, since my parents never had children, neither would I. Having learned early on, how to best serve humanity.
Knowing they would have been happier with robots or monkeys, mostly getting what they would have preferred.
Am told that I do okay as a papa, probably from best emulating one of mine. Keeping my mouth closed and smiling.
“Tears”
– Rush
All of the seasons and
all of the days
All of the reasons
why I’ve felt this way
So long…
So long
Then lost in that feeling
I looked in your eyes
I noticed emotion and
that you had cried
For me. I can see
What would touch me deeper…
Tears that fall from
eyes that only cry?
Would it touch you deeper
Than tears that fall from
eyes that know why?
A lifetime of questions,
tears on your cheek
I tasted the answers and
my body was weak
For you. The truth
What would touch me deeper…
Tears that fall from
eyes that only cry?
Would it touch you deeper
Than tears that fall from
eyes that know why?