Long Offspring Poems
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POETRY…
Poetry – two sticks with which to interrogate a frog, hold up a cardboard box in quest of pigeon’s freedom. A petal-less flower weeping in an early frost, a squirrel hiding acorns he will never find but his offspring will climb. Solitary footprints erased in a sadly silent surf, a seagull screeching at the howling wind. Words elevated on the updraft of unfathomed emotions, falling helplessly into an ever darkening void. A voice scratching across a vast expanse of unshadowed doubt,
forming the shape and soul of a moment. Two hands venturing into the realm of words, reaching ever closer to the thrill of touch, the pain of separation, the ecstasy
of eternity’s now. A flint possessing the power of a conflagration scorching the edges of imagination. A child kissing the wings of a butterfly, laughing at fluttering snowflakes. A lonely street lost in the clutter of windblown debris,
shimmering in the light of swaying street lights, its history clinging to withered branches. The soft grip of an infant telling you “it will be ok”. The sound of a pen confessing, a lover repenting, the laughter of life – crying out. A tepid intimacy shared by unmet lovers – alone yet somehow together.
John G. Lawless
©2/23/2019
I, (though ye feel averse associating
with birth father) attest,
perhaps undeserving your vicariously quest
regaling, surmounting, and triumphing
storied Penn ultimate academic conquest
affirms his pride and joy at
stellar success no credit to this beastliest
inept papa, who winces with tragicomic,
woe how animosity toward me increased
smoldering rage at actual/
perceived paternal transgressions,
and do not expect to receive forgiveness
within your wounded breast,
but please allow this opportunity
to suspend any smarting rancorous
loathing, and bitterest
emotions that still sting from deep
seated psychological wounds
indelibly piercing chest
within eldest daughter,
whose unconditional boundless love
spurs whim to express
optimism at Edenic future blest
with praiseworthy largesse of commendable
laudatory, and noteworthy brainiest
accomplishments driven by ambition,
doggedness, perseverance, cleverest
ploy, plus revulsion emotionally costliest
psyche rent asunder courtesy yours truly,
he will not challenge, nor counterprotest
thee, asper his (i.e. mine) crassest
peccadillos, and significant damnedest
accursed personal weaknesses thee detest,
and unintentionally unpleasantly
impacted impressionable offspring, I dust
regret, and thus
figurative figleaf extended
without any expectations, though earnest
sincerity to accept culpability, asper
your anger, animosity, antipathy
maybe ranked as evilest
person on Earth, nonetheless,
and perhaps futile attempt feeblest
against affecting, sans fondest
best wishes despite scathing foulest
faux pas, I abhor lament ghastliest
inflicted upon an innocent progeny,
whose truevalue impossible grandest
to assess preciousness bestowed,
and wisdom proffered as biological guest,
now on her way to glory with handsomest
eminent beau linkedin heading toward happiest
days awaiting as ye embark
on destination unknown - honest!
Avast emotional gulf manifested; courtesy
series of unfortunate events; sundered
biologically accorded, cherished, enshrined
paternal bond; resultant dereliction defies,
justifies, ratifies...dissonance; unbearable
hindsight excoriates impropriety reviewing
dirty deeds done dirt cheap; impossible mission
to excise indelibly etched psychological
impacted repercussions upon mine fountainhead;
weighing excruciating deserved self loathing;
permanently deplorable depravity yoked;
unyielding choke hold, no longer asking
forgiveness, but airing errant culpability;
dada's guilt indefensible impropriety; begetting
permanent fallout; exacting just desserts; bitter
regret beast of burden (oxe see moron) housed
within self made villain; unjust to impinge your
providential opportunities, whose blessed smarts
plus unfettered, unencumbered, undaunted...
daring do promise productive existence par
excellence, versus anxiety riddled torturous
legacy writ large across countenance this papa;
analogously das scribe bing mortal epitaph, while
dark shadows haunt this edgy rusty knight, who
once pawn time shrugged off mischievous
lascivious actions as payback; recognizably erred;
misperceptions (mine); deduced ex post facto,
when the missus doled out unpleasantries;
exploding anger; vented regarding significant
roiling perturbations harkening to her own
unrepentant poisonous stinging toxicity;
delivered courtesy birth parents; hands lack
king awareness to rock cradle with tender
loving care, hence burdened with childhood
tsoris prior to accepting yours truly as life
contra dance partner these preceding xxii+
years avoiding unseemly behavior; aware
that the mother of our two darling daughters
doth love and forgive me, though recouping
similar results with first offspring may remain
tense, and many years past not a happy camper.
This epidemic re: murderous love affair perfervid
with gruesome morbid
fixation allowing, enabling and providing terrifying
trappings, whence Pandora out the lid
anger loosed by gun toting recorded by hid
dee us aide de camp per grim reaper
milling crowd, each bewildered person stunned viz satanic grid
loosed bullets ensnare coterie upping ante bid
daring pernicious fare thee well odiously off loaded
per incendiary fiery maelstrom to mega death count added.
Suicide bombardier slakes thirst aims at billeted soiree
with deadly precision, and spray painting human innards
congregated engaged groupon people), with egregious pay
ment for exaggerated slight mowing down, a slew - nay
soon to be lifeless victims unaware - delivering may
hem to anonymous hunter a cannibal as well
family and survivors, who lay
down their sorrows, which bring revulsion and gray
obsolescence of faith in mankind to fray.
Death be not proud, nor ought airtime be allocated to these
heinous cavalier avengers foe tee eight-hour special (proffers
twitchy finger itching to squeeze
especial easy access to sophisticated high caliber compact
offspring family affair sport doth please
manifesting prize pride killing machine owners
posed as stonewall Jackson frieze
rapaciously with so much ease
lethal gimcrackery cutlasses incite epidemic violence as disease.
Sorrow soulful songs sung by the likes of death cab for cutie or goo
goo dolls in tandem with foo
fighting beastie boys pay homilies whence homage grew
to grateful dead nobody knew
fetishistic martyrs wannabe set sights of sister and mew
sic cull doobie brothers of their simian species with no sorrow to rue.
There are images
that seem too much,
billowing out
with menace to envelope
our meager scale
and overwhelm.
Take those
of an age born
in a blinding ball
of heat, a city laid waste
beneath a fiery sun,
the seared skin
and featureless faces
of people wandering
aimlessly through the frames
of a black and white film.
And two generations on,
more lethal offspring
of that age are still
incubating in silos
waiting to be born.
The image has escaped
into the absurd, immensity,
born in the confines
of the human brain,
has been let loose,
rolling down a hill
like an ever growing ball
chased by children.
Why me father/daughter relationship
important to this papa
Fourteen and a half years
since death of mother (mine),
nary one iota of communication
in general and compassion
in particular while
she lived, now wears
heavy and yokes
mantle fostering tears
indirectly sabotaging rapport
with eldest daughter
futility doth arise uttering
feeble secular prayers,
cuz interaction with mother,
whose vehemence more
deafening than banshee killdeers
exceeding threshold of
decibels tolerable these ears.
Now comeuppance came
full family circle, yes
that's her within picture frame,
when young, innocent, and beautiful,
decades before terminal
illness rendered her
incapacitated and lame.
Her second of
three born offspring,
and yours truly
that singular boy
figuratively tethered himself
to her apron strings,
which near omnipotent
biochemical bond her
rancor would destroy,
when lonesome son
failed to employ
purported adult responsibilities
solitary without any
even one homeboy
never knowing how
to maximize potential
rather totally tubular at loss
advantageously to deploy
supposed ducks in a row
always imp pond
durable feeling cast ahoy
shore lee within alien nation,
whereby village people
observe an exceptionally
unresponsive immovable
lad - qua zee decoy
analogous to stonewall,
albeit socially withdrawn
emotionally, physically,
and socially retracting
exhibiting no joy,
nor any audible,
tactile or visible life
stockstill like an
abandoned broken toy.
Silence spoke volumes mainly
I don't wanna be alive
antithetical to that basic
instinct to survive
protestations arose deliberately
minus figurative parachute,
I took kamikaze nosedive
a couple years after two times five
orbitz astride planet Earth
ne'er did amity, comity,
fraternity ever jive,
nope not even pleasant hello
would fake deaf/mute contrive
interaction between kith and kin
affection toward parents
and siblings (two sisters,
not twisted) I did deprive,
whence fast forward decades later,
a metaphorical wedge would drive
roughshod o'er kinship,
when fatherhood did arrive
though "star student" did connive
him (me) to test discomfort zones,
yet more often than not inclusive
integration abandoned among
linkedin with kindling explosive
smoldering volcano found
wicked volatility expressive.
(Revelation 22:15)
Outside are the dogs, those who practice magic arts, the sexually immoral,
The murderers, the idolaters and everyone who loves and practices falsehood.
I, Jesus, have sent my angel to give you this testimony for the churches.
I am the Root and the Offspring of David, and the bright Morning Star.
"I read these verses, and my heart grows desperately earnest."
Lord, please let my runaway cat return safely to me.
Even if she wants to come back, the world outside is a minefield;
She dares not take a step.
My cat, who was like my own alter ego,
Now cowers in fear before another cat—her niece-like kin whom she once gave sweet milk.
Chased away frantically, she vanishes into the shroud of darkness.
Lord, I pray to You with all my broken heart,
Let my cat, who has been missing for three months, come back to me!
And the Lord, at last, heard my weeping voice,
And briefly sent that sweet cat back to my arms.
Exhausted, worn out, she crawled back to me,
Finding her way to the secretive, weathered kitchen window.
As I fed her in frantic haste, I whispered:
"Hurry, eat up. They might catch your scent and attack you."
And so, I frantically smoke my familiar Dunhill cigarettes.
For filling the air with my own scent is the only way left
To shield you and hide your tracks.
"Hurry, please!"
With my tear-stained window, I finally closed the view
Of those eyes that gazed back at me endlessly.
That beautiful history of yours
Will now never return again.
History?
No, it is Herstory.
It must be rewritten that way.
Even today, I open that kitchen window,
Waiting for my alter ego.
"I am the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last,
The Beginning and the End."
A season passes,
The door opens and closes,
And though I desperately exhale my cigarette smoke into the air,
She never returns.
That cat was a cat of quantum mechanics.
When I open my eyes, she is nowhere to be seen,
But the moment I close my eyes, she truly exists.
Do not stand on my grave and weep
My adult children: you see
I was alive for 92 years,
You never came to visit or act like you care
I was there, I never move away
I was the one who put food on the table
Cloth you, during the rough days
I shield you from the harsh reality in this world
The world in which I must now leave
Loneliness, heartbreak and man-made diseases
While the wet snow creep in my old brown boot
I count all seven of you.
As you sip your bowls of soups
I was there, I never made a move.
Do not stand at my grave and weep
For thirty years my offspring avoid me
An evening of Psalm and Hymns
Would never make amends;
it’s thee end of my journey
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
Go shelter from the rain.
let the cloud weep for me
while the rivers and ravens shown solidarity.
Do horses mind the rain/storms?
Do not stand at my grave and weep
The fog surround my grave like a white woven drape
No more prays, no more tears.
Ruth 2:11-12 NIV?
[11] Boaz replied, “I’ve been told all about what you have done for your mother-in-law since the death of your husband—how you left your father and mother and your homeland and came to live with a people you did not know before. [12] May the Lord repay you for what you have done. May you be richly rewarded by the Lord, the God of Israel, under whose wings you have come to take refuge.”
?Ephesians 5:31-33 NIV?
[31] “For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh.” [32] This is a profound mystery—but I am talking about Christ and the church. [33] However, each one of you also must love his wife as he loves himself, and the wife must respect her husband.
?Romans 9:8-9 NIV?
[8] In other words, it is not the children by physical descent who are God’s children, but it is the children of the promise who are regarded as Abraham’s offspring. [9] For this was how the promise was stated: “At the appointed time I will return, and Sarah will have a son.”
?Galatians 4:23 NIV?
[23] His son by the slave woman was born according to the flesh, but his son by the free woman was born as the result of a divine promise.
John 17:21-23 NIV?[21] that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me. [22] I have given them the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one— [23] I in them and you in me—so that they may be brought to complete unity. Then the world will know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.
Form:
Lillian’s Echo
Lillian sat in the dayroom’s dim embrace—a survivor etched in time. The air clung to stories, whispered secrets, and the lingering scent of suffering. She, the one-character legend, spun her tales—prose blabber, raw and unfiltered.
Born into the system’s cold arms, Lillian emerged onto Brooklyn’s unforgiving streets as an adult. There, she tasted the bitter brew of inhumanity—the kind that seeps into bones, leaving scars unseen.
Abortions etched memories on her soul. Each child, born or unborn, imprinted on her heart. Tears flowed freely among the day roomers, their lives force-fed with drugs until the final breath. Neglect and abuse danced in shadows, haunting their fragile existence.
Lillian’s children—thirteen souls conceived in the crucible of rape. Some lost to the system, others to her desperate choices. Abortion, a relentless companion, etched its refrain: “You will never forget.”
Ms. Smaldone, wise and weathered, shared her truth. Money, she warned, was no legacy for offspring. Instead, travel—imbibe life’s nectar before the curtain falls. Merrill Lynch riches crumbled when sickness struck, and family greed devoured her nest egg.
Lillian listened, her eyes reflecting pain. She vowed to seize life’s moments, to honor the lost and the forsaken. Four west day roomers, souls adrift, yearned for salvation. May they rest in peace, their echoes woven into Lillian’s prose.