{ pathetic.org }

poor old dad, a pathetic bastard..

by Dawn Davidson

my main emotion for him, was deep compassion

he had been indeed, cast into a play, that used
vanity and isolation, as tools to harnass the mechanical
minds, of the working class

starting with, the initiation into fatherhood in the 40's

sex was a big deal, back them, and once you had it, with the special one
that was it, get off the train, and drop down into the vestibules of
committment, crimes will be described later, if at all
shut up, and court your blessings

this will be a place where, physical belongings, win out..
qualities of french provincial and italian wall art..
three inch grass heights, expected
and keep it tidy, be a tidy-er, if you want the pat on the
head of the archetypal mum and dad, called government control

we will deviate somewhere between democracy and fascism

but like the little religion we indocrinated you in, at your
birth ha ha ha
and all the silly and simple theme songs, we had you memorize
like a bible on the will of your sacrifice
don't ask to many question, be a man
but what a man is, or might be
is really not your business
leave it in the hands of the professionals
witchdoctor....shrinks, priests, and economist

forget that a church is a structure, like a puzzle
that was constructed to evoke the emotions that it
wants to, to of course, control the emotional nature
of the beings, who feel the need to follow...

which means, in laymans terms, the rhetoric will
be commanding from you, a place within this hierarchy
and if you question the actual reality of its purpose
or truth expect to spend alot of time alone
which take it from me, it is not all that lonely

that again has been initiated into the agreement
and emotions are memorized, and patterns have
been imprinted....maybe this has helped, to
control the passion, the hunger, and the appetites

so poor dad, who on his deathbed, was so shy in his
naked ape state...after the costumes were removed

he had been too identified with the external dramas
bought in too much, to the rejection theorum

i as the thinker, and knower, of illusions of power
and listener to natural forces; gave him compassion

not pity; as every mankind must work with his or hers
own levels of understanding, that is a given

albeit, he played their games, so pathetically, honest
and perfectly

i have indeed come to believe in reincarnation from
this experience, hoping my late dad, will indeed
evolve into a more free thinker, and less concerned
about what the neighbours think

cause the neighbours do not think, they react to again
the economic, and educational dictators called society

and like any zoo animals, caged and fed have all the mimcry
and visual show of surrender, to insure their survival
they plead happy upon command; show sadness when told

the times i love to watch dad, was when he was wildly
brave, jumping on horses at the speed of light
laughing like a baby with his animals
they were really the only beings that truly loved him
the humans only had expectations and desires for control
of his resources; slapping him down with words, the
women in his life, were narcisstic, and seducers of love's
i thought he was taking the reins, when he told me, he
wanted to give up sex, your second wife, a wee bit younger
wanted to have your head examined for this response, but as you said,
i am tired of performing, fair enough; do what you need
to do, for self; i found that decision reasonable, and leaving
the unused energy for your own exploration, not uncommon in many
men, once they loose the interest, in the procreation of human species

his dogs, cats and horses, gave him the wilderness
unconditional love, they were his pack

good luck dad, in your next life time
remember, humans are only projecting ideas
and belief systems
once the sting of rejection, from the maternal
energies are understood

like a mystic, you will find it in yourself

and the word dad, will fade among lilies in
your frog pond

may you find the world you need
to release all your beauties into
a creative harvest

and leave the world of magic behind

which only wanted to terrify you with it
contradicitons of i love you, i love you not

you do not need her mirror, to tell you what you are

your intelligence, is and was far superior to her
oracles; she only wanted a father for her child

a machine to build their future

a show place to her power

i say, screw it, become the master of your own
talents, showcase your brilliance

why else would you be born with it?

break the churches apart, and make
rock gardens for your roses

unjoin racism as religion, and find
your own type, to harmonies with

don't lettim' push your buttons

i hope as two souls, i have helped you become
closer to knowing yourself, and loving yourself

i know that you deserve it!!

and you will not be hearing from me again...
as i trust you got it, as you always knew i was
a true friend, not only a daughter.

and indeed, we spent this lifetime
helping each other, becoming the individuals
are true selves, have longed for.


Author's Note: no comment

Posted on 06/20/2011
Copyright © 2017 Dawn Davidson

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Elizabeth Shaw on 06/20/11 at 04:24 PM

i enjoyed this muchly - very well written and, in itself, a lovely tribute to your father and his success.

Posted by Charlie Morgan on 06/20/11 at 04:29 PM

...no comment, back at cha'. real.

Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 06/22/11 at 01:39 AM

Wow! This covers so much ground on a single page, as a poem like this should. Almost an epic, at least a poetic novelette in terms of density...combined message(s).

Posted by David Hill on 06/22/11 at 02:39 AM

There are lots of psychological and social truths in this work. The challenge, I guess, is to see things as they are, and to somehow operate with an independent decency despite it all. The observation of the Dad seems very real. I admire real. I like this: truth expect to spend alot of time alone which take it from me, it is not all that lonely

Return to the Previous Page

pathetic.org Version 7.3.2 May 2004 Terms and Conditions of Use 1 member(s) and 2 visitor(s) online
All works Copyright © 2017 their respective authors. Page Generated In 0 Second(s)