At times I feel like I'm being molested
Touched in places only I should touch
Places where I'm free
Like a baby suspended in a womb
My promise and my doom
Vulnerable to the fancy of others
I can only imagine the nerves of a suspecting mother
For nine months the protector and nurturer of another
A child
So meek and mild
She imagines the smile and wonder
If it'll bear the eyes of the father
Remembering that's what made her love him
Now stressed and sometimes confused
She wonders if she can take it much
Longer
Sometimes silence makes us stronger
In the end only you determine your purpose
Your strength your sanity
You're woman
You're mother
Mother
Did she close her eyes when
He touched her
Dreams of stability can cause one to
Gamble
From shamble to mansion
He got a pension plan and the only
Man I know driving a convertible
And working at the plant
My sisters rant and rave
About how much money he got
Yeah, I know he talk crazy and walk
Funny
That man with money
I sometimes block out moments of my childhood
Polluted thoughts that soil my mind
Funny how compost can produce the most reddest roses
And sweetest succulent strawberries and pain can bloom
A hurting heart beating with passion like that of
An African drum beating with emotion
And treble voices tunes of hope and forgiveness
But somehow can never forgive the one who disappointed
Me the most
Like an abandoned toy after a child has out grown him
Like that Commodore 64 covered in dust and black magic
Marker under my bed
My father grew absent from me
Like the empty desk in a full class
No pictures of my family include he
I wonder if this is why it's so easy for me
To become distant, abandon myself from
Others like forgetting to leave a trail of
Stones while you travel so you can find your
Way back home like Hansel and Gretel
Maybe I'm conditioned
Being touched and molested mentally
I guess I get it honestly
For I am my father's son
Like birds falling from the sky
To the ground they die
Discarded seaman in latex condom swirling
Downward like a trout swimming up stream
I wonder if I should have made it
Planted it
Laid it in a womb with or without consent
Heaven sent looking like me
It's funny but I think I would make a good father
Despite it all, I think my brothers are
It ain't that hard if you and your partner
Work together like the way leaves of a tree grip branches
In stormy weather I'll even sing a song to you
And I can't sing
At least not well enough for any one
But you
I'm still looking for love
Touching others with or without their consent
Molesting them with a smile and conversation
Verbal elation, sensations, mental stimulation
Not like when your mother leave you with
Someone else' child who is mentally fucked
And touches you in a way that cause you to
Question your sexuality and mentality
So often that you eventually grow to like it
Every child craves attention and touch
Never too much
It was never too much
It still is never too much at least that is
What I've been convincing myself
It is what it is
I never thought I would get this off my chest
Maybe it's this weed
But I am feeling so free right now
I used to fall asleep looking up at my fish
Swim around in their aquarium
Fish are the shyt
They saved my life
When I was drowning they taught me to breathe
We're all in this community this place
This world
How naive of us to be opinionated
And so self righteous that we place
Prices on others and things that the earth
Delivers for free in more than enough abundance
I trip off the Matrix because it really made some
Sense and so did the Color Purple and Blow
I block society's pedophiliactics- the disturbing
Tactic of conquering innocent minds and
Touching them inappropriately
Groping me with standards foreign to the righteous
Unnatural attempts at adjusting who I am for the
Benefit of others who have never read a book
Or painted a picture or dreamed of the possibility
Of making this a better place
By being a father to your kids and holding it
Down with them and the young woman that fell in love
With your eyes
Maybe she would have became better at
Being a more understanding and
Compassionate mother
Tough love don't always produce and a strong man
It may produce a sensitive punk who is to afraid to
Be the light of truth, their destiny
Maybe a little more compassion and understanding
And the mentality of, “fuck what anyone else thinks
This is my child our child
They deserve the best even if I have to give my last”
Sacrifice
Sometimes I understand Joe Jackson
And it's scary
Forgiver them Father for they know not what they do
And someday father...
(under construction; stay tuned)
