"Family" is a loose term where I came from. I wish It wasn't so.
Wish your way to fluffy clouds in the sky- Hold your breath.... and you'll get there. Keep holding. Fight your natural instincts, always!
You will get your marshmallow sky.
Did anyone else notice my mother always has and still to this day,
in her wise old age: SAYS DUMB SHIT:
For Instance-
For Instance-
"YOU'RE MY LE - LE GIRL!" and "VOTE TRUMP!"
But it's all forgiven because the "DUMB BROAD" means well.
That was Father's pet name for her.
So Sweet!
"YA DUMB BROAD!"
Right. She did the best she that she could...
Must forgive, you must.
Now, wait just one second!
Perhaps it has always been a ploy,
a manipulative skill she developed as the result of having a
BIG STRONG DRUNKARD,
U.S ARMY DADDY.
"Steady as stagger Frank."
My Grandmother said real cool shit.
She was Sharp. A Sassy Dame.
She would have been a real gun moll if...
Frank didn't come back from his helicopters!
Salute!
Heil, Mein Führer!
GOD BLESS AMERICA!
Ahem.
Excuse me I seem to have been choking for some time...
My Grandmother was a real WOMAN. You know what I mean by a real woman? She had Jazz: Like Marlene or Bettie Davis. That jazz.
She is laughing with me, she laughs at fools & she laughs at the absurd.
She, however, is polite so you can't hear her... NOT ME!
So- Where were we? Right,
FRANK the "man" man (a father) and one-two-three older brothers,
then out leaks this weak and sickly little squeak toy, squeaking
"Don't hurt me! I'm so very small, Help me! I'm Powerless!"
The Child that is my mother.
She didn't even earn that title "Mother"
I AM CESARIAN!!! Brother is too
The Titles.
Upper !! Mother Fucker.
He sawed her open to let me, a full grown fetus, out of that fucking uterus.
Oogie boogie boogie! Hey, would ya look at that!
I'm still bloody and pissed the fuck off almost thirty-one years later.
Phew! (PRO-LIFE. WOOHOO!)
Thank you Doc!
Thank you Doc!
"God Bless" the U.S ARMY and all our fathers, my father, ghost man, ash man, carbon man, ( Shhh, they say I've got a wicked tongue...)
My mother told me as much when I was a small child.
Evil, mean, wicked; some of her favorite terms of endearment for the 1992 space-time version of me
Oh and lest we forget; Trump. yes, yes, we're all forgiven.
Go Play With The Control Machines...
Poor Mitchell. He is lost to me. You have kidnapped his personality too.
My mother told me as much when I was a small child.
Evil, mean, wicked; some of her favorite terms of endearment for the 1992 space-time version of me
Oh and lest we forget; Trump. yes, yes, we're all forgiven.
Go Play With The Control Machines...
Poor Mitchell. He is lost to me. You have kidnapped his personality too.
For What??!!
All the family you had, the years you lived for free, warm, safe, with tons of spare time, more than one free sitter to choose from, like your brother in law in New York.
(Who, I think is a good person. I hope I'm right for Mitchell and Devin's sake)
He offered to help you get into a trade or go back to school... tsk, tsk!
He offered to help you get into a trade or go back to school... tsk, tsk!
How do you look my children in the eye?
I've been Wondering that.
I've been Wondering that.
I know I could.
I know what the Fuck I Did and didn't do.
I know what the Fuck I Did and didn't do.
Some things are impossible to forget, such is the pain...
While you sat smoking pot,crunching Lay's potato chips, drinking Coca-Cola:
A living advertisement for Everything I Hate.
A putrid infectious growth from the furniture or the woodwork; your sibling's couches and in their basements.
What a shame. What a waste.
What a shame. What a waste.
Living as if you were the teenager- but you weren't, were you?
WHAT A SHAM you've got going!
SOME FUCKING LIFE THEY HAVE.
SOME FUCKING LIFE THEY HAVE.
The father provides, the father provides. THE FATHERS DIVIDE!
You like math, providing much? Certainly not financially, but the real deficit in your provisions;
You Neglect Them. In every way that there is a name for.
Wikipedia that you pathetic monster.
Go see what a great job you're doing.
There I go again, damn. Silly me, I must get that from my mother.
These useless thoughts. But hey now! They say I have a way with words!
That's real nice. Some say words like Forgiven. I gave up. Forgiven?
SSSin like a snake... I Sin! Sinning and slithering my way to that ol' river.
What river? The East River. East River Park, near the Seventh street bridge.
Up and over- Timbo, watch me fly.
My brother knows. He knows a great many things, I love him.
I love my children, but far too much.
Do You See? Do You Get It?
GROUND CONTROL TO MAJOR FUCKED!
I digress, whoops.
Words are only words, right?
Tell them that their mother was sane, played the piano, she was in her second year at Smith through the Ada Comstock Scholars Program when she died tragically,
the exact same way as Isadora Duncan.
Give em that, will ya?
Then, I can have a little lie,
I really want one too.
There's my fucking Eulogy.
- Mary Catherine.
