The Ninth Father's Day Poem
(6/15/2014)

A 12 year old Wynn,
wandering around the house.
Not so different from a spirit,
one that had shed its oppressive shackles of daily struggles.
A lot of people came to my father's funeral.

Everybody kinda threw a hodge podge of advice at me.  
Saying token phrases that they probably picked up in a movie.  
Things like, "Your father loved you, you were a lucky boy."  
I don't care to remember the rest.  
Although the worst was the people who had the audacity,
the nerve, to tell me, "Time will heal all."  

They must have meant it takes enough time for me to die too,
only able to heal once I can see him again.  
Because I spent the first 6 years numb,
carrying on through awkward motions,
like I needed a good grease or tune up.  

You could hear the **** squeaks
as a poorly maintained robot should.  
Devoid of emotions, unfeeling,
unable to accept the traumatization of tragedy.

I spent the last 3 or 4 years successfully.  
I graduated college.  
I've fallen in and out of love.  
I even grew up into a promising young adult.  
But I also learned how to miss my dead dad.
Time only makes it hurt more as I count each year.
This is The Ninth Father's Day.

What do I trust in life
Myself or the past
Whether I try to break free
I end up stepping back

No surprise that I'm moving back
As if I'm imprisoned in a time machine
All my effort to move forward
Is left behind

I've been fatally wounded by a blade
As my blood oozes out
Memories of my past stimulates my body
My eyes hurting and body weakening

Pressure to forget traumatization has entered
My memory tries to fight back
But they are outnumbered
As they fall apart one by one

I've been driven to dark highways
Driven to underground tunnels
Driven to the fiery depths of hell
Driven to the past

I'm humming the battle songs a warrior would,
it's been implemented within my mind that I should stay weak.
do not seek help,
keep your toxicity and burrow it into your chest.
if you try your best you can stop the negative energy,
every thought you have is your fault.
you are not a victim,
this is not a matter of assault.
vault over your issues,
be a pretty young woman and cry into your tissues.
we expect that your conditions match those that we have deemed as acceptable,
nobody is allowed to be personalized—your mental illness does not grant you the ability to be special.
you are weak minded,
not blinded by the traumatization.
we don't care what you have endured,
we have lured you into our trap.
we will destroy you because of your mentally ill mishaps,
wrapped you around our finger.
our words will linger around,
you'll recall the exact sound.
you get stuck up on stupid things,
stop pulling on old strings.
if you can't fix yourself you need to be confined,
why should the rest of us listen to you whine?
I am tired,
you have unwired my system that circulates fragility.
you can break all of my bones,
pelt me with the heaviest of stones.
I will rise like the phoenix I have always been,
you are not going to win a game you don't even play.
if I'm not right now,
then I will find a way to someday be okay.

So happy all of us together;
Because you were around.
You looked so beautiful;
& so happy to be with us once again.
I was happy that you came back.
All of us,
So surprised;
But it felt so real.
Felt so normal.
So comforting to be with you.
The conversations where we left off last,
& The stories we spoke of.
Your company made us all stay together.
Made us all reunite again.
Fun & games;
All the girls in one room;
Laughing about everyday life.
And then it happened once again;
You had to go.
Questions were asked.
So you told us you needed to leave forever once again.
To go back up to heaven;
& then we all suddenly drowned in our own tears.
After you came back,
I really thought you were back forever;
& never leaving us again.
So you went around to everyone of us;
Said your goodbyes.
I broke down in tears;
Told you not to go again.
But you said you had to go.
My tears suddenly washed away all my happiness;
And then you tears started to fall.
And you never drowned like we did;
But it all ended;
& you were gone.
I woke up so depressed.
I woke up so confused.
I woke up crying;
& then I balled my eyes out.
I felt like i was in another world.
A beautiful dream with you back;
With a sorrowful ending with you disappearing once again.
My head is still pounding;
I just stayed up all night feeling different.
I just felt like I suddenly got worse.
Now everything is going to get worse.
This dream really ****** me up;
& Im still crying.
Im traumatized once again.

Ever since mine boyhood
I experienced abhorrence
toward yours truly,
an extremely introverted kid,
whose parents nor siblings
(one younger and older sister) could
not arouse him out of his emotional torpor
akin being on par with
Peter Peter pumpkin eater...
whereby he (meaning
author who wrote this poem)
kept himself isolated, quarantined, and xed out
within self made shell.

Me mum mollycoddled her only son
bathed him in maternal love
omnipotent motherliness
figuratively guillotined
(unwittingly) healthy maturation,
thus development sabotaged
courtesy figurative apron strings.

No matter his filial relationship woeful
(to thee woman who birthed him),
he registered sentimental value
regarding keepsakes bequeathed,
he still keeps cherished mementoes
redolent when she lived.

Call him a mama's happy go lucky boy
whose later ambivalent feelings
tarnished, undermined and vitiated
short lived tender loving care,
which brief vouchsafed cocooned wellbeing
regarding idyllic rapport between parents,
got staind, suppurated, sundered, sullied...
in later years by incrimination
against being gainfully unemployed.

February twenty eighth ninety sixty eight
marked a tectonic seismic shift as moving vans
transported our household freight
to (at that time) R(ural) D(elivery) 2,
Level Road Collegeville, Pennsylvania 19426,
a ramshackle (summer) mansion named Glen Elm
plus whittled down fraction
of original Hundred Acre plus wood.

Relocation with Lower Providence School District,
approximately half dozen mile distance
between former and latter home(s),
nevertheless psyche of mine
property of extremely introverted kid
severely hi-jacked.

Invisible to the naked eye
traumatization (courtesy
chastising and reproaching -
by fellow classmates
and later in life
birth parents and inlaws
dealt hefty figurative jab)
tremendously impacted yours truly
analogous to him moving bajillion miles away
compounded by his withdrawn demeanor

diagnosed when he reached middle adulthood
as schizoid personality disorder,
thus exhibiting obvious developmental delay
bullied courtesy nasty brutes,
who scapegoated and rejoiced
with hip hip hurray,
meanwhile I experienced
terrible psychological melee
escaping to safe confines of bedroom,
where I wanted to stay
for mine remaining years of life.

Retrospective review
now approaching my doddering old age
constituted more'n one cruel (cheap) trick
played on super tramping urchin,
who traipes across virtual global stage
ensnared within whorled webbed wide
spending his hard earned itty bitty wage
spinning one strand after another.

As we illuminate the world we have to stand together
The enemy waits for its prey to be devoured
For my sanities sake I choose not to play the coward
Even though my brain was hijacked
Programmed to be some kind of spy that
Would carry out one of there attacks
But I saw it from the start
I was chosen to be apart of this
Anonymously orchestrated problem that’s probably
Interceding
with my new found philosophy.
Just believe me when I say
The enemy you see is not me
When I breached the border of the impossible
The day I left the hospital
My life’s been a military obstacle
A foreign anomaly
everything but logical
Now I gots to go
find the unstoppable Force
to save my lost soul
From the hell way down below
I speak to the illuminated
Of The collective consciousness
Don’t let the truth go unnoticed
What’s happened is an omen
The artificial intelligence
is fully controlling
Orchestrating the traumatization
To any threat to there corporations
Using black ops mind control operations
Training agents in expert manipulation
The gaslighting of the innocent to instigate investigations
Enacting community persecution to ensure institutionalization
They are the cause and the cure of the virus that plagues or soul
Like a parasite it grows in the minds of the young and old
Meant to cause a distraction from the alien invasion
Grown from within the mind fractures to a split
Bombard indoctrination
from a script
Freewill overridden
there words restrict my oxygen

I know to aim toward purpose,
but I'm always drunk off of subjectivity.

Inside is out and outside is in,
orbiting consciousness

Influence to influence
to not be heavily influenced

How can I think clearly
when the fog of traumatization surrounds me?