Clean up on aisle Seven
Another superstorm breached
In the chaos I'd cry out for you
"What's the matter?" You'd say
As if you didn't know…
And I believed you were my protector,
My knight in shining armour
And then one day I wondered….
Why did you leave me in the storm?
over critical perfectionist,
and ruled 4 kids with iron fist.
loved to cook
took us cycling every week,
raised by belt
couldn’t read or write
but worked damn hard for us kids.
No love expressed
no hugs at night
his whole life
spent in sacrifice,
he didn’t always
get it right
but even so,
I still love him.
My Made of Movies Dad
was my superhero—
not because he did something great,
he never understood me and he had a terrible job; he was my superhero because he was there when I had to cry, he was there when I needed to have a good time, he was my father and I was proud to call him that.
But I was living in a movie.
Overtime I witnessed the death of my superhero,
as he drank to numb the pain,
lost in an illusion,
no longer here with me.
I no longer recognized him,
he was not my father...
without thinking really hard,
I forget that I even have a father.
i don’t know who my father really is.
like the movies,
I hope this story ends with happiness
(but I know it will never truly happen).
Dad turned on music from the
Gruffalo, just because he
knows it calms me down;
he whistles along like a
the tune as if he’s a
I’m sure it wouldn’t help to
tell him I feel just like the little
spinning until I drop.
They wind me up, they do,
think it’s a game as I twirl to
but still he whistles along
I can hear him in the backround
of every song I write,
every poem I recite
every word I say
repeating it all until it
and they say imitation
is the most sincere form
of flattery, but I think he
does it just to make me
feel less important
Barely a memory
My fingers are warm
Sunlight turns them reddish gold,
a flash of gorgeous colour
Sandy beaches and the sweeping shadows of palm trees
Night comes, Colours fade to grey,
my hands retreat, hiding in my pockets.
You run away with the setting sun
Hidden in plain sight, I search for you,
but all that remains is a silhouette.
Custody court cuts us loose,
our bodies carried on the waves of your erruption.
Years lost to hazy dreaming
Silent pangs in my heart,
old pictures hidden in shoeboxes.
A necklace I pawned for $40.
A name from a language and culture I do not know, yet am a part of.
A brother to look up to.
A love for honey soaked sweets and fresh garlic.
A mother in survival mode.
A brief shining moment.
Now, barely a memory.
(To say you are dead to me would be wrong. You were always an abstract concept, a mythological existence. Never truly alive, how could you die?)
There was never a connection
My life filled with rejection
Dotted with pain
Father was cold and uncaring
Deplorable even in death
One last slap in my face
His last will sealed what I knew
I was never wanted
Merely a by-product of lust
There are silver linings
Thankful to be raised by another
Taken under a strong wing
Raised as his own
Loved and cared for
All was not lost
I was blessed to call another man Dad
2:00am Musings of a post menopausal insomniac mind
this doesn’t have to be a fight, you know
On stage we fight choreographed
Each foot movement muscle memory
In the same repeated scene for every show
Your first blow is underhand, pretending
To be something it's not
Or maybe you really think it's harmless,
Pointing a poison dart like that
And I swing my sword, hands gripping
Arms moving before I even think to react,
Ingrained in my body
From this repeating dance
And I keep on sliding daggers up my sleeves
And I keep on letting the tips slip out,
Just a little,
Glint in the stage lights
Asking for the spiked shields I know
You never fail to throw up
But it's a small show
With a private audience
When faced with the uncaring eyes of the world,
Our private audience nowhere to be seen,
We leave our weapons backstage and
Go out for coffee and hot chocolate and
Now my daggers are out in the open so
You don't bother with the poisons darts
Or the shields, in fact
You can even set them completely aside now and then
So why do we keep on going back on the stage?
I think you've noticed her eyes reflecting the stage lights
From the empty rows of audience seats
And suddenly she's a threat
And in your eyes, I'm on