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This ain't one of my
summer sunshine rhymessorry fresh out tonight
this is for blue black times
I'm not normally one to
let my inner goth out
but there are times when
she needs to howl and shout
there was a man, a wolf
no, a werewolf was he
he was black Irish charming
this wolfman father to me
he had a curse on him that
he alas to me passed on
or he cursed us both with
his morbid self-harm passion
death by name, death by trade
my pater was fixated upon
a modern pre-Raphaelite with
unholy suicidal obsession
So very romantic, innit?
such fine young gentlemen
must have their peccadillo play
look at all the little punters
those dreamy soul-eyed pens
halcyon nights smoking life away
in disease ridden opium dens
in laudanum induced stupor
fantasizing about a red head
who by her own hand made
herself all drowned and dead
isn't it a bitch when your
superheroes show their grime?
welcome to my world folks
that's what happened in mine
he was my Ozymandias
despite having feet of clay
we all do of course but
his were the muckiest of clay
by clay I mean earth, dust
eaten up by moth and worm
plotted his own decomposing
composing his funereal requiem
I get Mozart, us both co-opted
to play death disc in reverse
to sound knell prematurely our
dear old dads forced on us
unlike Wolfgang I didn't have to
Pre-emptively eulogize my dad
I don't know if on reflecting
it woulda been any less bad
what the hell is wrong with
these death-eating fathers of ours
bloody consumed with fussing
about arranging their canopic jars?
so discussing this is hard and
I'm coming to it roundabout
with all my highfalutin nods
why can't I just spit it out?
me dah detailed his bucket kicking
urged me to join in suicide pact
his death wish 'bout destroyed me
his the plan, but mine the act
on top of his threats, the guilt
made worse by the well-intentioned
wondering aloud at his motives
my shame increased when questioned
did he jump or was he pushed?
did it predate him enshrined in tomb?
his constant cakewalk with the grave
might it have begun in the womb?
I'm tempted to cut him slack
cuz that's what I always do (did)
did he have a secret half life
that he kept from me well hid?
Was there some abiding pain that
made him speak fluent self-harm
did my dear grandparents hurt him
and set off his coffin alarm?
but how and when he did shows
endless talk of ending was ruse
to claim exemption without remorse
was a weapon to punish and abuse
I was threatened with his rope
when he wanted an exit or excuse
suicide promises have a way
of shutting down home truths
funny tho it's never themselves
with whom they plan to do away
vampirically they suck your self
till you've no spark to light your day
But I found my voice recently
and I find I've got a lot to say
to him who terrorized little me
dicing with death to get his way
yet too late now the doom's on me
the mirror's cracked side to side
taunts of his self-death ruined me
the gates of my hell opened wide
It's a curse I'm stuck with
this tendency toward self-harm
the loop has come full circle
now it's me sounding the alarm
I hate like hell I'm like this
it's knee-jerk though unwillingly
passing on the devil's contagion
hurting my beloved posterity
sins of my dad, brain-staining
Mea culpae for my many wrongs
mea maxima culpae, though two wrongs
don't unwrite the death-eater songs
I can't erase what's past but
I can ease our today pain
stop the evil juggernaut and
derail the ceaseless self-hurt train
I have to. I owe it to them.
--with sorrow, contrition and love to the family circle
--and prayers to the Heavenly Father to help me to excise this generational cancer of the soul
--picture is me and Wolfman Jack about two years before he started sharing his death wish with me. Don't let the fond pose fool you. This is Instagram foreshadowing performative parenting for the camera. Usually he was nowhere to be found. Or mad at me.
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