Whenever
I am here
I am freedom’s
many son.
I am open
and aware
now
of my choice.
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His final farewell
I recall the calm
as I recall the storm.
Lead foot hesitation,
the slamming of doors.
Endangered are many
who’ve less stayed for more.
Excuses are fatal,
not ours anymore.
See I recall quiet
death and coffin smell,
his mustache, beard shaven
estranged from the crowd.
Was I the unwelcome?
The burden? Expelled?
His name once my keeper
I’ve written it well.
Yes I recall freedom
wished upon a star,
a second floor window
alone in the dark.
The price no one bargained
unimaginably hard,
his soul like a raven
still blackens my heart.
A kid and a coffin
for now I recall,
the parlor room floor
dead silence in awe.
While tears spill to carpet
and jittering jaw,
echoed through the parlor
with no sign of God.
I recall the calm
the storm never ends,
it grows like a Cancer
bad thoughts fill my head.
His final farewell
is my cross to bear,
how no son of mine
shall feel such fear.
sad suburban father’s
There’s a black cloud hanging over
the boys playing in the park
While they argue who is correct
mothers watch them from afar
Now there’s Billy screaming loudly
clawing at this boy named Mark
Who his mother she is absent
somewhere screaming in the dark.
It’s a Sunday what a fun day
boy let’s pass the ball around
He’s a shy son name is Ricky
staring at his father now
He is pitching like a Yankee
throwing hard with all his might
All the while there is Ricky
scared to death screaming inside.
There are blue jays singing robins
bugs and inchworms puffy clouds
On the playground there are children
swinging madly laughing loud
Cause it’s Sunday what a fun day
to be playing in the park
Except for Ricky, Billy’s mother
and Mark crying in the dark.
Now the children they all line up
ice cream bells ring all around
He’s a kind man I mean probably
he just smiles at the crowd
Screw-ball sundaes chocolate cookies
candy gleaming in his hand
For the children ask no questions
they just stand and stand and stand.
Now the mothers call the boys in
from the awful looking cloud
Billy’s mother reprimands him
as Mark’s mother has a cow
Oh your father she is shouting
Ricky hears her from afar
As his father whips a fast one
knocking Ricky to the ground.
There are stars now spinning circles
sending shivers down Mark’s spine
While his father who is furious
warns him hell boy you’ll be fine
As Mark stands and sees the dark cloud
fill with light ready to burst
Cats and dogs rain down around him
he thinks what’s he who’s on first.
So the moral of this story
is not what keeps you in line
It’s the people in the park who
I do not wish to define
They are people who like people
look quite normal in the park
While the sad suburban father’s
dingle dangle in the dark.
The saint in me is still a sinners son
I look at then
and I see me now
There’s people chanting
standing in a crowd
I wanna join in
try to help them out
But my mouth’s cashed checks
that just seem to bounce
Who be it that you try to believe
Who always turns into a parody
Now brush your teeth and try to behave
They’re all gonna hate you eventually
I look at then
but still see myself
Eyes wide shut
full of fear and doubt
She plucked the fruit
from the apple tree
As I stood staring
still I couldn’t believe
Who be it that you try to become
The saint in me is still a sinners son
Who be it that you try to believe
Now you’re all dressed up living a fantasy
I look at now
like she saw me then
All fed up
fist balled paper and pen
There’s dishes broken
on the kitchen floor
The serpent speaks
in tongues I can’t ignore
Who be it that you thought you saw in me
A break fix and used return policy
Who be it that I thought I saw in you
But what difference does it make there’s an election soon
There is so much greatness to be had.
There is so much
greatness to be had.
When did you forget that?
My son, if I told you this
would you listen?
I think not, because I didn’t.
So I will wait for you
to figure it out
the only way you know how.
And it’s there
that you will remember
what life was like
before you chose to walk away.
Another word to an unborn son
Some day
out of nowhere
your mood
will shift
from one hundred percent
to zero,
and you will feel sad
and you will feel weak
and you will feel vulnerable,
and that’s good
that’s natural
that’s life,
so get used to it,
it’s a beautiful thing
even when it hurts most.
The words I’d say to an unborn son.
If you’re not ready to let go,
then don’t.
Hold on as long as you need,
and then some.
These are words I’d say,
to an unborn son.
If it seems repetitive,
that’s good.
If it hurts in a hundred different ways,
it’s supposed to.
If you don’t want to smile,
let them see you frown.
These are the words,
I’d say.
Does it get easier,
at times.
Should you forget,
never.
Is it your fault,
no.
The words I’d say are these.
Life will kick your ass.
Love will break your heart.
Death will drug your senses.
With the strength of a mother’s love,
I would say.
You are your father’s child,
but make no mistake,
you are not your father.
