"custody of me now."

Six weeks after
you went
six feet under.

Here we are,
on a bench.
At the
hospital's playground.

Nothings changed.
You're still crying.
I'm still dreaming.

Nothings really changed.
You just have night-time
custody of me now.
Dad, can have the day.
He's drunk at night anyways.

"In theory we’ve joint custody"
John F McCullagh 

For years now I have lived alone
Since my marriage fell apart.
In theory we’ve joint custody
But that’s always how it starts.

I’m a salesman on the road
About thirty weeks a year..
My barkeep is the mini bar,
Room service makes my meals.

But I was in town for Valentines
And for my weekend with our girl
I took her to her favorite place
These days she’s my whole world.

All grown up at five years old
And learning not to cry..
She enjoyed the present that I brought
Cause I’m her special guy.

I’m careful not to criticize
her mom who’s now my Ex.
.She also is considerate
And I’m current with the checks.

We had a decent pasta meal
I wisely passed on wine.
As I enjoyed my night out on the town
With my little valentine.

This is a fictional tale about a divorced traveling salesman and his little girl.
John F McCullagh Dec 2011

In Brooklyn, in these hectic times,
if Mom-hood gets you down
you need a little pick me up
so you won't fret and frown.

When we boomers were just babies
Mom might have a glass of wine.
Just enough to take the edge off
and leave her feeling fine.

But Generation X and Y
are more like Cheech and Chong
when baby gets your dander up
It's time to light a bong.

A little toke of Mary Jane
gives Moms a pause to sigh.
"Good night Moon" is a gripping read
when Mom is flying high.

Put the little Prince to bed
before Mom has a fit.
Motherhood is stressful
she just needs to take a "hit"

When the" little terrors" get you down
Just think - "this too will pass"
sneak off and roll yourself a joint
We know you have a stash.

Inspired by a New York Post article detailing recreational marijuana use among Young Mother's in Brooklyn and Manhattan. Lighting up has replaced a glass of wine as the go to choice of Moms in need of stress relief.
"Child custody is disputed"
John F McCullagh 

It’s unique in jurisprudence,
this case I must decide.
Child custody is disputed
between a woman and her bride.
One spouse supplied a fertile egg,
The other gave it womb.
Deciding custody is a challenge
in the absence of a groom.
Was one woman just a donor?-
having no parental rights.
Was the birth mother just a surrogate?
It’s keeping me up nights.
To which mother should I give the child?
Which one will I turn away?
I cannot cut the child in half
to let each have their way.
Its tragedy when Love had died,
leaving children in its wake.
I gave birth mother custody-
Have I made a bad mistake?

This poem is based on a case now pending before the Supreme court in the state of Florida.
"Mullet’s in Federal custody;"
John F McCullagh 

An Amish elder named Mullet,
And some of his inbred clan,
bore hatred deep in their gullets
for their Amish fellow man.
Murder seemed out of the question,
It’s rare among Amish, folks say,
(It may be that a horse and a carriage
doesn’t make for a quick getaway.)
So Mullet and some of his minions
Invented a new sort of crime:
Shaving their bearded opponents
one Amish man at a time.
Losing one’s beard among Amish-
A disgrace before God, it’s been said.
Mullet spared no woman either
choping the hair from their heads.
His victims are speechless with anger,
denuded of both beards and hair.
Leave it to someone named “Mullet”
To offend using a Barber’s chair.
Mullet’s in Federal custody;
charged with a crime, not a sin.
He refuses to answer the charges
By the hair of his chinny chin chin.

A true hair raising tale- you can't make this up.
"And custody,"
Courtney Snodgrass 

I was in the hallway,
I heard it all,
From the cursing and swearing,
To the door slamming.
I knew he had left,
But I went back to bed.
It happened so fast,
It was soon morning.
I thought he might come back,
But when I woke,
There was still no sign.
I ate my breakfast in silence.
She drove me to my grandma’s,
I was with my cousins now,
I almost forgot about it all,
Until she came to get me.
It filled my head again,
Then I thought I might see him.
We arrived home and still no sign,
Then she told me.
I wasn’t sure what it meant,
But I took it like I did.
She explained it all,
I didn’t cry.
She went to court.
They probably argued.
But I wasn’t there,
Maybe I thank God for that.
They both got assigned visitation,
And custody,
I learned I would not live with him,
But with her.
I visit him every Wednesday,
And every other weekend.
At first it was just my brother and I,
Until four years later.
She came from Oskaloosa,
She had two girls,
Who later became our step-sisters.
And she, our step-mom.
She’s not evil like in Cinderella,
But quite the opposite.
She buys us things,
And loves us like we’re her own.
My mom has moved on also,
She now dates a man,
Who cooks great food.
And loves us like we’re his own.
So maybe this is like Cinderella,
And we all live,
In a world,
Happily ever after.

A poem about my parents' divorce.
"My parents almost got custody,"

I remember the day I met her
Near the breaths of the ocean
Before she chose mind-altering pleasures
Over everybody’s well-being
Only the tips of the clouds were bathed in light
The sounds of a typical barbeque
Echoed across the water
She smiled, I remember how that was, a gentle smile,
The kind you get when you lie in giraffe high grass
Within the meadow flowers
As the sun’s rays gently caress your face

The last time I saw her smile
It had twisted into a horrible grin,
The kind you get before you sing
“I know something you don’t know…”
She was smiling at something I couldn't see
Can never see
The effects of speed, ecstasy, crack, and cocaine
Her kids were taken away
My parents almost got custody,
But by then, she was “cured”.

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