Expect perfection
Demand respect
Oppress the kids
Then say you're sorry--
But only when
It's good for you.

I scream at you,
My cry for help.
Voice falling on
Deaf ears.
You block my words
As "disrespect"
And chase me to my room.

Ten year old
Vaccuuming the floor
Like Daddy told him to.
Not good enough
Not perfection
Scream some more--
Hey, gets it done.

F*cking illness
Blinds you to the world
You don't see
What you do to us
You don't see our tears
You don't feel our pain
You say you love us
But you can't show us.

A few words to you,
O Father of mine.
If it's respect you demand
You'd best give us some
Because until you do
You will push us away
And one day, you will wake up
Alone
Angry
Crying

Like us.


June 23, 2002

If you only aim for perfection, that will always be enough for me.

Love you greatly my little muse!

With boundless affection,

Brucefur

Okay, now I'm feeling kinda guilty....my father is a good man. He loves us, he takes care of us, he's pretty good to us. Just that his temper isn't in the best of shape, and also we think he has Alzheimer's, so....yeah. I give credit where credit is due. My father is a good man, and he's done the best that he can. Sometimes it's not enough, though...I care nothing for myself, but I fear for my brother.

- Lady of the Night

Lady: Sometimes we are inspired by the pain of others-(brothers for instance)--and it brings out words that end up expressing our deep deep inside feelings. A lot of "good" people are unable to freely express their love and therefore it can be said that they did the best they were able.
Sometimes- understanding just that is phenomenal...do not feel guilty
for addressing your reaction to your father's actions. Keep on posting...
:-) lgreen

I like

Dear Lady:

Thanks for ever being so gracious as to open your "heart" and "soul" to us unabashedly; trusting that we are loving and worthy enough to truly appreciate the precious gems of emotion and spirit with which we're blessed to behold! Keep on "sparkling!"

Namaste,
Jazzy

All -

Thank you for your thoughts and replies. lgreen, your words were comforting to me, and I appreciate them. I do understand where he's coming from, that's what keeps me from going insane But again, my brother can't always see it, and he's so much like me. Young, full of life with the thought that yes, the world IS good, and that as long as you're nice and respectful, everything will be great! Generally, that is the case, however...it's not always like that. Ach, this is depressing! Lol.

Jazzy, again, your replies are much appreciated. I look forward to your thoughts on different pieces, you do so well to express them, and certainly bring light to these forums. Thanks again

- Lady of the Night

It's hard work being a father - believe me! - and I hope yours manages to cope with it. You have a level head on young shoulders - but know if and when the time comes to seek help, and seek it.

I know e e cummings is old hat now, but in my youth I drew great comfort from "my father moved in dooms of love".

In friendship

Stephen

Was this a poem? If so, is it short enough to post here? If not, where can I find it?

- Lady of the Night

[www.poets.org] />
And, for my mother:

[www.plagiarist.com] />
(Come and play on the Plagiarist site. We need wise persons there.)

Stephen

Milady,
certainly full of power and force...you can feel that anger. I am not good in meddling into personal matters, but try to make life easier for your brother.
No comments.
siren

bump

Les

Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 03/03/2013 07:32PM by les712.

my father moved through dooms of love
by E. E. Cummings

34

my father moved through dooms of love
through sames of am through haves of give,
singing each morning out of each night
my father moved through depths of height

this motionless forgetful where
turned at his glance to shining here;
that if(so timid air is firm)
under his eyes would stir and squirm

newly as from unburied which
floats the first who,his april touch
drove sleeping selves to swarm their fates
woke dreamers to their ghostly roots

and should some why completely weep
my father's fingers brought her sleep:
vainly no smallest voice might cry
for he could feel the mountains grow.

Lifting the valleys of the sea
my father moved through griefs of joy;
praising a forehead called the moon
singing desire into begin

joy was his song and joy so pure
a heart of star by him could steer
and pure so now and now so yes
the wrists of twilight would rejoice

keen as midsummer's keen beyond
conceiving mind of sun will stand,
so strictly(over utmost him
so hugely) stood my father's dream

his flesh was flesh his blood was blood:
no hungry man but wished him food;
no cripple wouldn't creep one mile
uphill to only see him smile.

Scorning the Pomp of must and shall
my father moved through dooms of feel;
his anger was as right as rain
his pity was as green as grain

septembering arms of year extend
yes humbly wealth to foe and friend
than he to foolish and to wise
offered immeasurable is

proudly and(by octobering flame
beckoned)as earth will downward climb,
so naked for immortal work
his shoulders marched against the dark

his sorrow was as true as bread:
no liar looked him in the head;
if every friend became his foe
he'd laugh and build a world with snow.

My father moved through theys of we,
singing each new leaf out of each tree
(and every child was sure that spring
danced when she heard my father sing)

then let men kill which cannot share,
let blood and flesh be mud and mire,
scheming imagine,passion willed,
freedom a drug that's bought and sold

giving to steal and cruel kind,
a heart to fear,to doubt a mind,
to differ a disease of same,
conform the pinnacle of am

though dull were all we taste as bright,
bitter all utterly things sweet,
maggoty minus and dumb death
all we inherit,all bequeath

and nothing quite so least as truth
--i say though hate were why men breathe--
because my Father lived his soul
love is the whole and more than all

Phew!

Just looked at the date, thank Zeus she hasn't been around. Fucking awful poetry, painful.

Well thank you for your honesty, Larkin

I admit, it is a bit ghastly.

- Lady

Poetry is meant to elicit reaction and emotion. Camus was always good at rebuking the efforts of others. Personally I like it and am glad that over time your father and you have drawn closer.

We have, very much. I don't even think about those days anymore and I've come to know and respect him as a man, father and friend.

Thanks

Good for you, Lady.

And Kris, is it really necessary to be so crude? Profanity is a sign of immaturity.

Joe

Especially from a poet's pen.

I was attracted to the part about DEmanding respect. I had a commander in the military forces of the Untied States of America who once said, "I firmly believe that if a person COmands respect, he will never have to DEmand respect, he will have it."
Well did Dama very well did.

That is very true.