the curse of the father

the only thing my dead father left me,
was the idea that I am cursed,
like he was,
and his father before him.
he left me his depression,
his self loathing,
his anger,
his misery.

I don’t want my inheritance.
you can take it with you to the grave.
keep it, please.
you gave me nothing my whole life.
I don’t want your shit now.

I talk to you more now that you’re dead,
than I ever did when you were alive.
I’ll do things my own way,
as I have done.
you weren’t there when I needed you.
so why do I waste my time with you now?

I am still here. alive.
I have blood running through my veins
I am flesh.
I need no curse from a dead man.

I walk among the living dead.
I found someone who loves me.
for me.
not what I can give.
that should break this fucking curse
by itself.

you lived with women,
who you hated, despised,
just to have a roof over your head.
you were too pussy to make it on your own.
I made it on my own.
you were alone in houses and apartments
with women,
silently crying to yourself,
wishing death would come sooner,
but were too afraid to speed up the process.

you, father, were jealous of me.
me!
instead of nurturing, you were envious.
you told my women, “why settle for him,
when you can have the original?”

over the years, you would call and tell me
that you were dying for different reasons.
it got to the point where I was just waiting
for you to call and tell me that you were already
dead.
it seemed like it was never going happen.
for a dying man, you were very healthy.

now you are gone.
all that’s left are memories of disappointment.
keep you fucking curse
I won’t pass it on to my kid.

 

click here to check out my upcoming book THE END OF EVERYTHING on indiegogo

 

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2 Comments

  1. Two front hooves and a nose
    are the first things to appear
    at the lips of a cow’s vulva,
    sometimes a probing bovine
    tongue.

    The world, for a moment or an hour
    hangs in the balanace.

    The whole thing started
    of course
    with a big-balled bull
    throwing his head
    over a cow’s back
    Doesn’t much matter which cow
    sniffing her ass
    impressing upon her
    the size of his horns,
    eventually mounting her
    like a big goddamned monster truck
    at a tractor pull.

    That’s the extent
    of his participation.
    Another year of grazing.
    Another year of standing
    in the shade,
    or standing sideways
    to the cold cold sun.

    But this new little being
    is there, poised at the brink
    of a new world,
    front feet forward,
    the new sensation of air
    dark nighttime air
    cold against its wet nose.

    And then
    at some point
    if all goes well
    the cow
    unceremonious
    drops
    the little one
    like an eighty pound turd
    into the mud.

    It ain’t a pretty beginning
    this earthy genesis
    but it IS a miracle
    and I’ll be glad that you’re here
    until you can take that up
    for yourself.

    • That is awesome!!!! Great job Jeff! Keep writing and maybe me and you could put a chapbook together or something.

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