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sofolo Sep 4
Death called your name, you said
Not from the periphery
But right here
Right now
And it requires bloodshed

Eyes glazing over
The tracks before you
Dreaming of being
Splayed
For the length of a mile

I laugh nervously
When you tell me
Because it was me
Your son
Who handed you the phone
“For death, press 1”

You’re at the crossing now
From the pedal
Your foot lifts
The train’s horn
Bellowing
As into its path
You drift

The brakeman screams
As your body disjoints
Your shame for me reduced
To scarlet exclamation points

A nearby sparrow
Witnesses the scene
“Sad”, she thinks
Hatchlings cozy
Underneath her wing

It’s a bit cruel
To pile your ****
On my shoulders
As if I were a mule

And it’s a bit wicked
To claim my
Unchangeable
Existence
As sin committed  

The enigma of stigma
Is yours to explore
I slide you a key
I’ll be right here
On the other side of the door

A mouse creeps
Across the threshold
Seeing both sides
“Too bad”, he thinks
As he scurries by

You named me Christopher
After a boy killed
By a train
And now you say I’m to blame
Like an unfortunate stain
On the hem
Of our family’s pain

The truth is
I couldn’t keep living a lie
And I’m sorry, dad
I’m the reason you want to die
Ashwin Kumar Jul 9
When we speak of parents
We usually refer to the mother
More than the father
Which is quite unfortunate
Because fathers are equally special
Of course, it is the mother
Who has to suffer through labour
And its unspeakable pain
In order to bear the child
However, once the child is born
The role of the father
Becomes equally important
Coming to my own experience
I could not have asked
For a better father
He has been there for me, no matter what
Taking me almost anywhere
Whether it be India
Or the rest of the world
A special mention to the train trips
Since it is only due to my Dad
That the Railways hold such a special place in my heart
Next to the Railways
Pride of place goes to cricket and tennis
With Dad sponsoring my cricket coaching
And playing tennis with me and my sister
I will never forget
The India vs Bangladesh match at Birmingham
Nor all those Wimbledon finals
The events themselves were memorable
But it was Dad's company
That made them all the sweeter
Anyway, enough about sports
Without Dad's support
I would never have made it through school
Especially the transition from CBSE to ICSE
That too in the eighth standard
Moreover, not many fathers
Would've been as patient and understanding
As mine was, during my engineering struggles
Which involved notching up seven arrears
However, the biggest challenge was my professional life
My first job was full of ups and downs
And towards the end
I felt like a fish out of water
Plunging from crisis to crisis
And eventually being forced to resign
And take a break from work
During these difficult times
Dad not only arranged my counselling
But also stood by my side like a rock
Putting up with whatever tantrums I threw
And this continued during my second job
Which turned out to be a nerve-wracking experience
Ultimately ending in a termination
After six months of hard toil
Coming to recent times
During my trainwreck of a marriage
And the subsequent divorce process
Dad and I ended up getting closer than ever
And I hope this only continues
Though of course for happier reasons!
So, as I said earlier
Fathers are equally special as mothers
Full stop
Silver Hawk Jun 28
He looks in the mirror
He sees himself
Young, driven and about the make
the same mistakes again
I look back at him, feeling
young, driven and wiser

Each attempt to right the wrongs
of the past
to live a second life through me
is like one rock striking another
until one day
age finally numbs the sparks
and the reflections in the glass
turn to one of understanding

When I am older
I want to look in the mirror
at my son, proud at the
refined version that he is
knowing that I did not tell him
how to live his life
It's so funny, my approach to life has always been this convoluted dichotomy of ideas and practices where I never wanted to give a **** about anyone or anything but I wanted to have a good reason to do so. I couldn't just chalk myself up to being an *******, I wanted the freedom of some diagnosable dilapidated mental state. Like somehow if I could just write my apathy and general laziness up to some kind of disorder then it would all be justified and I could feel at ease about just letting life pass me by and letting people who love me down, over and over again. The whole process has been so ******* and backwards that I started to feel like maybe my goals have been achieved, and by just working towards this contradictory state of mind I actually managed to make myself some kind of insane. The act of wanting to not give a **** about anything, whilst simultaneously wanting a good reason to be that way perhaps set me aside as the thing I wanted to be most in life: crazy.

     My father is schizophrenic, and he left when I was maybe ten or eleven years old but I never hated him for it. In fact in my adolescence I actually idolized and envied him for the freedom of responsibility that was granted to him through his diagnosis, I saw it as a boon in life. A way to cast aside the obligations every one of us faces in a modern society and just live day to day like nothing ever mattered. I wanted that same freedom, but more than that I wanted the same reaction that his behavior garnered from other people in my life. No one was ever angry, or hated him for how he acted. They all just pitied him and would spout throw-away lines like "well, what can we expect?" or "I'm sorry your father is so sick, Justin." when he came up in conversation. My mouth watered at the thought of all that precious pity, I craved that dismissive demeanor that people gave him. Like sighing when a seagull takes your sandwich, what else did you expect would happen? It's pointless to hate the animal because it's just doing all that it knows how to do. There's no sense being angry, or even disappointed. You learn to hide your food better next time but ultimately you have to accept that it's just a part of life, and the only thing anyone could ever do is just sigh and hope that it never happens again. For years I wanted that same sympathy, I wanted to be crazy and lazy and not give a **** about the people who loved me. I wanted to be just like my Dad.

     It took me a good twenty six years and my Mom having an (ultimately fatal) aneurysm to finally realize that this way I've been living my life would never grant me any semblance of freedom at all, and in fact the things I actually wanted the most were those same loved ones and obligations that I've been absconding from all this time. Not only were those the things that I wanted most, but they were what I needed to bring me that much craved sense of freedom and justification that I've been looking for all along. Now I'm almost thirty one years old and I think I realize now that my father was never free, never liberated from any form of societal norms or responsibilities, rather, he was just but a prisoner. Locked in a mental jail cell, a drunk tank within his own mind. He couldn't escape his inability to be a fulfilling father, he was locked up within his psychosis and there was never a key to begin with. I think now that maybe him leaving was more about doing the wrong thing for all the right reasons, and I mourn for his presence in my life and for the sorrow he must've felt when he said goodbye. I can feel his sorrow echo in my conscience, for I know that even with his cursed, so-called freedom of responsibility, the things he always wanted most was just to be able to be there for me. I don't hate my father, but I do pity him and I no longer want any part of that pity for myself. I'm still a lot like him, but rather than embracing the worst parts of who he is I try to channel the positive aspects instead. I try my damnedest. Besides, at one point in his life he was a man that my Mom fell in love with. A charming, handsome guy that had a relentless love for cars and games and laughter that went unrivaled by anyone else I had ever known, back when I was young and still spending time with him. He could cast a spell on anyone and illicit laughter and smiles, genuine and hearty joy.

     Those aspects are what I now choose to remember, what I now choose to channel and project. Because what are parents really? Just people who are trying to take all the best parts of themselves and pour them into their children. They're just people, nothing magic, nothing sacred, working at crafting us into better versions of themselves. To that point I say that he may have succeeded (though I'm still awfully terrified at the prospect of fatherhood,) and although what I thought I learned from his absence in my life was misconstrued in my mind for so so many years, the true lesson that he taught me is so brutally simple. To just be there.
At one point or another everyone wants to be just like their Dad.
Francie Lynch Jun 20
She said I was her first true love,
And one day she'd marry me.
I told her another might object to that,
For I'm not what you seem to see.
You see, there were three others,
That said the same to me;
And I married the one,
The only one,
The Mother of those three.
Ah, daughters. How a father loves them, and how they first love their Dads. I miss my young girls, and love my adult girls. Tempus fugit.
Fantasy dream; caught in the between of reality
caught in these nets of generation’s imagination.
Desiring self *** appeal,—only the ones who’ve got
the guns for creation. Violence runs the streets;
a marathon of the fatherless kids brought into the world.
Tell them not to be bent out of shape if you dare, but
any blow of the wind causes them to fold.

Tender kisses of mama; spoiled a child:
Rotten as blackened teeth holes of the sweetest treats,
a long while since a tame domesticated the wild.
This child! Has only witnessed domestic violence all
of their life. Stepped on stepfather; beating the daylights
out of them every night.

Seeking approval; where the approved are only the kids
who break the rules. “There goes the youth,“
they’d often say. Unknowingly the same band of troubled
young mother’s go on their knees each night to pray.

But you’ll just bat an eye away from them;
ignore a present problem, still looking to a future’s gain.
Or take advantage of a youngster, then claim
their misconduct being only by an upbringing
as to blame. Where are the men?

To show a son how to love and respect,
a daughter a hand of gentle protection,
Teaching lessons of wisdom never to forget,
not of their words becoming a weapon.
To not settle for less when there’s always a best,
don’t let the shortest sad times become a deep long depression.

In the end what will our future be;
if we’re not being the future we’ll leave for
our young to follow,
Don’t glance at it with wallow,
build yourself strong,—build that strong
tomorrow.

Jesus, kid.

I had unspoken hopes  and expectations
when I first met and started talking to you..
but I had no idea just how incredible   your
responding heart would become.
I guess, in truth.. I knew it all along--
anyone as defiant and pissy as you were
is only that way because of a "**** the world"
form of a really deep self-love..
(tho I'm sure you want to punch me in the face for saying that.)

Everything about every single thing you have done
and responded to concerning things I have said to you
or written about you throughout the years
can only come through a brilliant mind's  
own self-understanding--  
that it deserves,  and in its core form..  expects..
nothing less than the best  that the Universe
                can bring forth, for you.
You have fought it within the residual insanity
that tells you that are unworthy..

or too "bad" inside..

or whatever, kiddo..  
but the greater, truer side of you  knows

                            and has always known.

Someone  long ago.. when you were little, tried hard
to smother away the beautiful view of it all in you,
But your Dad fought heroically hard for you so that  the view
that is now becoming more and more fully yours
would not be stifled to a place  beyond retrieve.
When I first came across you in all of your
"little troublemaker-queen of HP", glory,  I saw
what your father had so wonderfully done on your behalf
in what I immediately felt had been preserved in you..
                         even in all of your pissy, wildness.

Unfortunately, he could not stay, and you were left in shards..
devastated to the core..
now that the brokenhearted-champion  of your
nearly-broken spirit was suddenly gone forever.
I still through it all, could immediately feel what he had
done for you..  and I fought hard from day one
to help you get every single part of that back in you..

And now, here you are.  You are beautiful, Arlo.
              You are forever Yrlo. xoxo

                            Forever.


"And I’ve lost track
Of all the time I’ve wanted him back"
~Yrlo

https://soundcloud.com/arlo-disarray-51645295/seven-years-ago
You have become his perfect dream, young lady xo

#oh.my.yerlo ❤️
Descovia May 16
I look in the mirror, trying to remember who I am. Is what I see, is everything, I desire to be?

Or is it merely a reflection of exactly who I am.

Sometimes, the unknown drives me into madness. Not being able to understand, who is truly behind the eyes I see.

In my reflection.


The eyes are the window to the soul, but I can not see, all I see is Jesus the

Christ living in me, all I am is all I try to be is good enough be be there one

that I am called to be, the reflex hat I see is who I am but is it all that I can be
Matthew Descovia & Brandon Williams collaboration
Ray Dunn Mar 26
i see a white truck driving opposite me
they’re on the opposite side of the valley
i wonder who is driving.

i like to imagine it’s a father with a little girl strapped in
mostly because i want to imagine it’s me
in my fathers brown chevy

it smelled like cigarettes and spring.
i mostly hope it’s the same for that little girl
and her father.

i miss my father cranking the windows down,
he would pull over to do it
because neither of us could reach.

he would go to hell and back for me.
i love him and he loves me
so why can’t we say it out loud.

now i sit on the bus with an aching back
trapped inside windows that won’t open
and i look across the valley.
i love my father so much
SelinaSharday Feb 19
Hey son
what it do!
You know how much I love you.
How did you get so far from me. Hey son between us two you've put quite some distance.  
Feels like seeing I'm mother as your growing up I'm now the resistance.  
Remember I'm not the enemy. Hey son I love you from the Earth to the Moon and the distant Sun.
Hi little Gemini.
I want to see you take your wings  to soar I want to see you fly.
I give you your time, distance and your space. But I  remember when you were a little boy who didn't mind me planting kisses on your face.
Hi son I remember June 20th the day you were born.
From every moment I've helped you grow through every storm.
Hey young Gemini.
It's like now we can't see eye-to-eye.
But you'll always be the apple of my eye.
I know that you're on your way to being a strong young man
Just don't forget I'm here with an outreached hand.
I'm your mom a go hard fan.
With you I've done the best that I can.
Your journey has begun.
Go on now son.. Enjoy Life
I get to see you live and continue to learn and to grow and grow.
@H.E.R_Poetry S.A.M
For the struggling times of growth.. Not a momma boy.. Just out to make their own way.. let them go through the phases of life.. space, prayers and time..
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