In reading an interesting book today
I came across a line that gave me pause
"Every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way."
I've always taken secret pleasure in being somewhat different
Even odd some may say (as most archaeologist tend to be)
But in that sentence from the book
I stopped to give it thought  and came away with something
I would have never considered till this day
I wouldn't mind being just like the Joneses  
A happy family just down the way
Right down to the mini van and Mr Jones and his golf shirt tan
With creased khaki shorts and socks in loafers
I would gladly give up my worn faded jeans work boots and untucked
Neal T-shirt covering my boot lace belt and trim my hair
To be exactly happy like the happy Jones family down the way

I saw her after some time, and recognizing her took me a while...
She had gained a lot of weight, mast be due to the stress and strain.
Unusual bags underneath her eyes,
Which once shone, are now engulfed in pain.
Her normally well-kept hair lies in a tangled mess.
Worry lines, spots, a frown and signs of stress.
seem to have taken the place,
of a once cheerful look created by the curve on her face.
She looks worn out, pale and weak.
As if she'd pass out if she tried to speak.
Drooped are her shoulders,
Gone is her smile,
To get back to who she was, is gonna take her a while.
But Alas! there is no turning back and fate is the only factor to blame.
Forced her to leave family , friends and the place she called home.
Burdened by the present, she realizes nothing's gonna stay the same.
So she stands up, and prepares to face life on her own.
Faces the future but tries to hold onto the slippery past.
In hopes of making those beautiful memories last.
She maybe called a fighter, but its getting harder...
She's on the verge of letting go...
"Don't lose faith in God, believe in a better tomorrow"
with a watery smile, to her i whisper.
"you're almost there, its just a little while longer"
are my departing words,
As i turn and walk away from the mirror.

When I was younger, My family had money,
A never ending flow,
My pap owned a store, My dad sold drugs,
They both did what they needed to,
They spoiled us like their was no tomorrow,

When I was younger, My family had fun,
A never ending flow, Parties all the time,
Pap would throw parties in that blooming little store,
Dad would bring people to the attic, they’d party all loud and crazy,
They lived like there was no tomorrow,

When I was younger, My family had love,
A never ending flow, An unbreakable bond,
Mom stood by Dad through all the cheating and drugs,
Aunt stood by Uncle through all the drugs and abuse,
They loved like their was no tomorrow,

Now that I’m older, My family’s broke,
The flow has ended
Aunt and Uncle stealing from Pap, all of his money is gone,
Dad is now stealing from Mom, her last penny,
Now we have little food, little clothes,
Hoping for a dollar to come tomorrow,

Now that I’m older, My family is boring,
No more going out, No more fun
No more gatherings,
Not even birthday parties for the little kids,
Hoping for the fun to come tomorrow,

Now that I’m older, My family has hate,
The love flow has ended,
Mom and Dad cheating, hating, divorcing,
One in the bed, the other on the couch,
Hoping for some love tomorrow,

Now that I’m older, I realize,
Things have changed, people have too,
There’s no money, no fun, no love,
Then you start to wonder,
Was there ever

Name by name,
He prunes the family tree.

Inching ever closer,
Towards the coronet...

I hope that you believe me,
for I wouldn’t tell a lie.
I cannot turn my science homework in
and this is why:

I messed up the assignment
that you gave us yesterday.
It burbled from its test tube
and went slithering away.

It wriggled off the table,
and it landed with a splat,
convulsed across my bedroom floor
and terrorized the cat.

It shambled down the staircase
with a horrid glorping noise.
It wobbled to the family room
and gobbled all my toys.

It tumbled to the kitchen
and digested every plate.
That slimy blob enlarged
with every item that it ate.

It writhed around the living room,
digesting lamps and chairs,
then snuck up on our napping dog
and caught him unaware.

I came to school upset today.
My head’s in such a fog.
But this is my excuse:
You see, my homework ate my dog.

Uncle Bruce writes sermons and gives grace at the Christmas table
his family bowed their heads
and listened to what they thought of as
"quaint"
"old time-y"

Most of them there were atheists
or maybe Catholics
(it depended on the side of the table)
and even Uncle Bruce was not sure what he believed in, not yet, not yet
after 53 years, he wasn't sure
(he had always been a smart man)
even after debating how many angels could dance on the head of a pin
and preaching for years behind the pulpit

What Uncle Bruce does know, he does
He gives us all faith

I once knew a man,
A man who was my father,
Famous,
Honorable and
Respectable.
Upholding the values
He so constantly
Reminded
His daughter.

Or so I thought.

I once knew a man,
A man who loved my mother,
He did everything for her
When his family was against her,
He accepted her,
Loved her,
Pampered her.

Or so I thought.

I once knew a man,
A man who was a worker,
Busy earning money,
Providing for the family,
Always travelling the world
Bringing back
Stories,
Good or
Bad.
It was all for
Us.

Or so I thought.

I once knew a man,
A man who couldn't stand the cold,
He'd shiver and get a flu,
That's why
He couldn't sleep in the
Air-conditioned room.
Because he
Cared
So much
For his beloved daughter,
Let her sleep there
With her
Mother.
That's probably
Why he
Lied.

Or so I thought.

I once knew a man,
A man I thought I knew,
A man I trusted
Dearly,
Wholeheartedly,
A man I respected,
A man I looked up to,
A man who held the family together;
A man I thought would
Love my mother,
Not hurt her
In anyway,
A man I thought
I could trust,
Feel loved,
Spend time with,
Enjoy time with,
And Not spending

Every
Single
Day
Wishing he
Weren't

Here.

I once knew a man,
That I now wish
I still know.
But his actions
Unforgiveable,
Even the love
He now
Showers all over me,
I don't want it.
I don't want his love.
I don't want

Him

Or so I thought.

Your reassuring hands
Hands of almost strangers
Your rapid steps
Decided problem solving in the midst of task loading
No barriers except my new friends protecting me like I was in every family photo
I didn't even know you were alive and had names six weeks ago
I will not be able to explain to my own family or loved ones, much less, to anyone
how you a Jewish red head,
a southern brunette,
and a Chinese  girl have treated me like I was your own blood after knowing me for a month.
This isn't a poem
This is just one person absorbing my recent experience
They said that  we would be bonded for life
I know they are right
We are the lucky ones

A Sunday and she will not eat
cabbage brew
or the plethora of stale mush
stuffed within
her trusty rusty biscuit tin
even tea stained
and netted dishcloths wane
like fossil flies
on toffee streamers that were baptized
with gravey drips
of the Irish stew from her whitewashed crypt
and papal’s sprogg
plays housies with the dog
we keep shtum .

When threadbare ears are in the room
cull the conversation cull
Go Moe less scale, leather hull
until our hallowed family makes
familiar curiosity and lemon cakes
she’s broke down so give her a push
Maybe ninety two.
It’s Monday and she will not eat.

Where's your make up honey?
What happened to your hair?
New style
That's a different pair
New attitude ; that's cool
Realization that the new trend is rude
Huh? What you say?
You said at this rate the next fashion statement have to be nude
No more clubbing?
You tired of sharing spaces in places where you have to refer to Men as "dude"
Strangers steadily attempting to intrude
Now you making plans with family and friends
I heard you saying that you rather enjoy yourself and the people who been with you since the long ways
Recollecting the old days
I'm glad that the feeling is now mutual
And that you are finished with trying to be cute
Because you are already simply beautiful