father

My father's stache

I’ve been around my dad for almost 20 years now, and not a single from those 73,000 days I have seen his face without that gigantic moustache of his. I believe it not only marks him as a human being, but it’s the single most representative thing that he owns. Not even his colorful flowered shirt’s which he has used every single “casual friday” at work for the past 10 years, nor his funny “sport outfit” that goes completely with him make me think about him as much as his moustache does. I know it may sound silly and weird, but his moustache reflects his mood in almost a perfect way, just by the look of it one can tell if he’s happy, angry, sad, joyful, disappointed... which is pretty awesome, if you ask me. His face is literally unimaginable for me and my family without this characteristic of his. Honestly I would probably call the cops if he entered the house one day without it. As of today, my mom still swears that he didn’t have it back in the day when they both met, but I don’t believe her. Of course I know that there was a point in his life when he didn’t use a hairy manliness all over his face, when he was 5 years old perhaps. I can’t think of another thing that describes better someone, I can compare it to a skaters board, or a ballerina's shoe or even a rich man’s cane. At the end of the day my fathers most symbolic and valued possession in his life is a part of his own body. In retrospective this is pretty awesome, because well one could say you don’t depend on nothing. How many people can say that their personality isn’t a mixture of T.V. stereotypes and several Comedy Stand Up jokes which mold them into what people think about you. It’s an important for everyone to sit down, clear their man and think about what defines them, because what defines you is what you are projecting about you. And if you don’t like what you proyect, maybe it’s time to make a shift in your life. Back to my father; I’m 99% sure he likes what defines him, it``s simple, its his own and more importantly he can change it whenever he wishes to mae a change in it, its a shave away.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This was an assignment for my English class, we needed to do a poem (I didn't know poems didn't need to ryme) about someones possesion.

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A father of faith

 

 
Your actions leave an impression.
So show honesty.
Give hope.
Reflect unconditional love.
The formula of family,
Is bound with faith.
 
For with faith,
You give an impression,
For your family,
To reflect honesty,
To show love, 
And have hope.
 
For it is hope,
That gives us faith,
And it is love,
That gives the impression,
Of honesty.
Reflect this upon your family.
 
So show your family,
The grace of hope,
The elegance of honesty,
The strength of faith.
May these paint an everlasting impression,
For the portrait of love.
 
For it is love,
That is shown in the family,
That will leave an impression,
For your children to have hope,
To have faith,
And to practice honesty.
 
For it is honesty,
That is found in relentless love.
It is tenacious faith,
That builds the foundation of family.
It is the anchor of hope,
That leaves an impression.
 
Leave an impression of honesty.
Have hope and give love.
Show your family the strength of your faith.
 
Author's Notes/Comments: 

Wrote this sestina for my father. These words I one day hope to show to my children.

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tags:

Dad's Death

Two weeks ago, Dad drew his final breath.

Now I have no parents because of his death.

He was battling leukemia and took a turn for the worse.

It was unpleasant to see him being hauled in the hearse.

 

He passed away on the 13th of July.

When I went to his funeral, I had to say goodbye.

He suffered tremendously while he battled cancer.

Why did he get leukemia, only God has the answer.

 

During all of this, people were by his side.

He couldn't beat his illness even though he tried.

When I saw him in his casket, it was sad.

Many people came to pay their respects to Dad.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

[Dedicated to Charles F. Johnson (1947-2013) who died July 13, 2013.]

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the men i love

because he has a crooked tooth

because he is tall and built

because he's short and frumpy

because he's bald

because he's a great fiance

because he's understanding

because he's kind

because he laughs with me

because he cries with me

because he empties the trash for me

because he leaves his dirty dishes in the sink

because he's comfortable when he's with me

because he listens

because he is resilient

because he is cunning

because he is so ugly in the morning and

it makes me feel prettier, and he doesn't even 

care

 because he farts and blames it on me

because he bails me out when i'm down in the dumps

because he has a dimple on one cheek only

because he has nice cheeks***   ;-)

because he smells good

because he has body odor

because he's smart

because he failed the driver's test 4 times in a week

because he dropped out of highschool

because he kissed my forehead when i needed it kissed

because he kissed my ass when i was being a bitch

because he outsmarts people 

because he's a great fiance

because he's the best dad

because he's the best brother in the world

because he is the best friend i ever had

because he's obese

because he's not perfect

because he's perfectly himself

because he works hard

because he tries hard

because he never gives up 

because he loves my cooking

because his hands fit perfectly on my waist

because he eats like a pig

because he snores

because he leaves the toilet seat down

because he hurt my feelings

because he loves me

because i love loving him

because he is a man

 

 

 

3:05 AM 7/6/2013

 

©

 

............

Author's Notes/Comments: 

men are always writing women the most beautiful poems of love... just listing all the reasons men are lovable...good bad and in between!

After the Golden Age

Folder: 
Poetry

Chaos should not cease

To dominate the world.

O yes, Nyarlathotep;

Will rule!

 

No wish for harmony,

Of its Golden Age;

It was before the Fall.


 

Reveling in constant disorder,

But Yog-Sothoth prefers reason;

Giving His first allegiance

To the Daemon Sultan: Azathoth

Remembering old times of this God.


 

Cthulhu does side with Him,

But Yig supports Yog-Sothoth;

As Father Serpent of the Cosmos,

Who invented this very world...


 

Yog-Sothoth has sympathy,

As Dagon; the Deep One Lord

And not even he can say

What will happen when there remains

A Princess restored on Her throne,

A Princess on Ebony Bone.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A poem about what happened after the Golden Age.

Abandoned Child

Folder: 
Poetry

My brother died,

And in his place;

I was born;

But I was repelled.


 

My mother threw me from the table,

Abused me, both mind and body.

My father never present,

And if so, he ignored me.


They left each other fast,

'cause mother was a lesbian.

But my father needed a woman,

For his children and as a housewife.


 

The second was quite alright,

Even if she made me eat axis.

Only my sister I couldn't see,

That became off limits.


 

After years they had their divorce,

And then came the third, the most terrible.

My wicked stepmother,

The greatest dictator.


 

She tried to strangle my brother,

Then father did interfere.

She put me in the sanitarium,

With false motives, my fear.


 

Firstly in a crisis-centra,

'cause I run away from home.

Then in the sanitarium,

Where I for six months did roam.


 

In the sanitarium,

Provided with medication.

By which I lost my memory,

Crawling in the emptiness of chaos...

 

Regularly I suffered blackouts,

By which I saw nothing.

Not knowing what I did,

Much like sleep-walking;

And strange vistas occurred.


 

I wasn't suffering delirium,

Is what the doctors told.

So all this time,

I was in the asylum for no reason.


 

Then I had to go to boarding-school,

Where I developed something bad: anger.

I wanted to kill another, a female;

And Nyarlathotep, I am sorry;

Maybe I didn't wanted to commit this act,

But I had to from Satan...


 

What happened was unforeseen,

'cause my room was now aflame.

The building completely in axis,

The police came to arrest me.


 

A year and a half in prison,

Locked away in a cell, in Hell.

A year and a half terror,

The bondage of society.


 

When I got out, there was another project,

Named room-training.

I had to work in a factory,

But that didn't end well...


I started to mutilate myself,

Which I learned in the sanitarium.

They send me to the hospital,

To the psychiatric division.


Then again to the crisis-centra,

Which I didn't liked at all.

As if I had to start over,

This was too much overall...


 

Through the open door I escaped,

And from my last money;

I was buying a train-ticket,

Which brought me to Ramses.

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is my autobiography.

A Little Child

Folder: 
Poetry

Have to be a little child from my father,

Have to obey Cthulhu evermore.

And all bad things turned into dust,

By my evil and good Father.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Some thoughts.

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Daddy Dearest please don't go

Folder: 
Depressed.

 Daddy Dearest please don't go,

I need you here with me.

Though you don't seem to think so.

Without you it's worse, can't you see?

We may not be the perfect kids,

or even the happiest family.

But as long as you stay with us,

the happier we can be.

 

We need you to keep us together

because you are like our glue

This family will keep on falling apart

If we don't have you.

You may think you aren't important.

But you are, believe me I know.

And we need you to keep us sane.

So Daddy Dearest please don't go.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Personal crap -_-

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The Diminished Rat King

Whatever good you've cradled,

I can't be bothered to find.

You've been blind to mine at times.

 

Such ends we have enabled

speak dire of your confines:

internal irons that bind.

 

As the rat I am labeled;

I am nothing, and resign:

a scourge that burns in daylight.

 

From gutters I am fabled
to return one day to find

what ruin is left behind,

 

in the wake of your "insights".

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