neglect

Your Father's Mess!

Consistently calling me disrupting my work day just to tell me your father was really ill was a terrible mistake!

He was your father in action but a stranger to me; my well being he would always forsake!

How dare you expect me to stop what I was doing to bend over backwards for a man who always showed he didn't care about me?!?

My response mirrored his lack of concern for my life; and I don't give a fuck if you disagree!

He chose to be present in your life while absent in my life so don't act surprised that I am not really impacted by his departure!

He is gone now so you don't have any reason to  contact me any further!

You had the nerves to contact me and suggest that I was responsible for trying to establish a relationship with your child neglecting dad!

The fact that you even think like that validates our lack of sibling relationship should continue to make me glad!

You disgust me and I am done with any involvement I was previously entertaining with you!

You have shown your true colors now your limited chapter in my life is also through!

You attempted to clean up your father's mess instead of staying in your lane!

For you to ever try to re-unite with me would substantiate  that you're

Insane!

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Based on a true story involving the interactions preceding and after the death of my birth father Tuesday  August 14, 2018.

View bmosley's Full Portfolio

Let me see you again

Pretty face

Affable and sweet

Accept my invitation

Take the adjacent seat

 

Talk to me about your art and studies 

The music you love 

All that you find funny

 

And in our limited time together, consider my regret

I never told you about your eyes

Your beautiful hair

Or your apparent intellect

 

That when you left me that day, you never left my memory

That I dreamed about you since the day that you met me

 

That I suppressed my feelings, for fear of rejection

And I pushed them so far down, I forgot where I had left them

 

I will remain fond of you, far from when I leave

And in my absence I hope that you still think about me

I hope that you think about the laughs we shared and the connection I seeked

 

I hope that you turn my way, when you're looking for a friend

I hope that you still trust me

And let me see you again

View abg123's Full Portfolio

Job Prospects

Job Prospects

By jfarrell

 

I helped a milkman on his milk-round;

My first job; I must have been about 8;

The milkman, my mum and dad,

Sat in the pub, one night;

Discussing my job prospects.

 

Dad went home his usual time;

Work in the morning;

“I think your son’s got a great future as a milkman;

Wanna come back to my place and talk about it?”

Well, why not?

 

An hour later finds me walking home ‘alone’;

Alone means….

Ten yards behind me my younger sister is screaming at mum;

Who is naked.

Because that’s how we got thrown out of the milkman’s house.

 

The beep-beep “lovely tits” from caveman motorists;

The lights in windows going on;

And faces pressed to the glass;

And the only prayer I can plead

Is “don’t see me, don’t see me”.

 

Along the main road;

Past the pub we’d left;

Past our school;

Onto our estate;

My sister screaming names I don’t need to mention.

 

My going to school next day was like a Clint Eastwood western;

Joyful sounds, giggling, kids playing;

I walk into the playground and….

Silence - blessed silence - for all of ten seconds;

Then chants and jeers.

 

I got bullied a lot at school, still can’t work out why.

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

cognitive behavioural therapy says how i feel about this is, is my choice - forgive me, but i strongly disagree

View suicideslug's Full Portfolio

I Am Free

I was a stone, skipping frantically over the water’s surface, only to sink to the unending depths, choking; desperate.

I was a leaf, briefly flashing stunning hue, then tumbling from the tree, slowly swirling to meet the hard, cold ground.

I was the setting sun, incredible beauty, bands of soft and radiant color, only to slip into the horizon, greeting the pitch of night.

I was a bird, soaring the open azure skies, only to be brought down with a violent arrow; overwhelming agony.

I was a rose, fragrant, full of life, breaking out of the bud, but petals soon fall, I crumble.

Never inhaling, loving warmth withheld, fear of the dark, the unknown, unbearable pain, shattered.  I felt, despaired, experienced; yet battled.  I was broken, but yet not…I fought, I rallied, finally breaking the chains that bound; unfettered. 

 

I am free! 

View fleurdelis's Full Portfolio

Garden

stumbling over garden

filled with dilapidated daisies

into a web of subconscious 

emotional beating

pleasure fleeting

as the petals fly

/

twirling in your own neglection 

neglection of self

tending to the other flowers

forgetting your own health

/

shifting sunhats

to cover up your eyes

woven in same subconscious

delayed response; washed out by light

/

Honey bees kissing flowers

You swat them as they speak

Off to steal their livelihood

Just to sweeten up your tea

/

stumbled over garden

filled with tiny weeds

into a field of subconscious

"all these weeds look like me"

/

and the familiarity is leaving

as the fall takes sight

a stain of subconscious

an existence lurking in the freckle in your eye

/

Posies leaking from your pocket

Flowers stay here to die

a garden of subconscious

a perennial spite

/

a drought of subconscious

weeds don’t know how to die

View iseespiders's Full Portfolio

"Vegetable"

Folder: 
human beings

He never asked for anything,

Because he couldn't, he was mute,

But everyone would speak for him,

They would make demands 

About what he wanted,

Without really ever knowing,

And I always wondered why,

If he could communicate for real,

Then why didn't they teach him 

To read, type, blink, or sign,

And I decided that maybe

They liked him just as he was,

And I could never decide whether or not

That was good or bad,

But I still always think about him,

And more often in the winter,

The season of the year when he died,

Because in his death,

His life surely came full circle.

 

Cold.

 

 

.......

 

View nightlight1220's Full Portfolio

The Way Of Ignorance

All this time,

You were thinking 

I had nothing to say,

The cockamamie way of

Those who blind you,

Blurring your reality,

Bringing you only

What is meant for you to 

 

Hear,

 

See,

 

Touch,

 

Think,

 

Know,

 

Act on,

 

Be.

 

****

 

It is such 

An Intentional

Violation to

Your being,

And to society

As a whole, 

The obsession with

 

Control,

 

The removal

Of free-thought,

 

With malicious intent,

 

Infects us all,

And strips away,

Chiseling at all

That inspires

 

Faith,

 

Unity,

 

Harmony,

 

And self-worth

Of the individual

Destroying any and all

Human rights.

 

***

 

The awareness

Of Divinity,

 

Soul,

 

Heart,

 

Love,

 

Sentience,

 

Hope,

 

Honesty,

 

Kindness,

 

 

All lost at everyone's cost.

 

***

 

To know,

To see,

And possess

 

Vision,

 

Insight,

 

Self-introspection,

 

And achieve

 

Self-Actualization,

 

As it exists in 

 

The Ethics of Human Rights,

 

Is not possible

 

Under this 

 

Blindfold of deceit.

 

***

 

But the law 

Of opposites

Tells me,

That one must 

First know 

What having a veil

Over their eyes

Is,

 

Before knowing 

What 

It is 

Not.

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-IUSZyjiYuY

 

 

3:51 PM 6/30/2013 ©

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Ignorance.

Coffee Stained Phone Bill

I'm pining in Limbo. 

Becoming derecpit and swollen in the damning Vestibule. 

Scintillating, squirmy memories of goey boredom that laminated me with a spackle brush; and happiness that came and went so quickly,

it should have been sold to me in a bottle. 

Cigarettes and college jerseys cleave to my naps like a fitted sheet.

Sleep, big woman,

sleep away your worries for your tinkling, cocaine babies.

Sleep little man.

Rub your nose on your corduroy pants.

Do your duty, child.

Lock and load.

Do not tear your tongue away from the window of the bus. 

View kiddo's Full Portfolio

In the wake of suicide

Folder: 
Poetry

The day America died, her children fell on their swords, the loss they could not bare, the slow, suffocating death of mother; the death that came not from a foreign enemy, or rival power, but from neglect from her own offspring. Those who turned on the liberty and freedom she'd nurtured them with from birth; those who no longer cared left her to die from the cancer they'd elected.

View shadow_season's Full Portfolio