Your much welcome interaction: Your much welcome interaction and comment brings me to the memory of reading play scripts wherein the narrator's and the playwright's notes are equally "on the page" as the literary text itself. That is such a beuatiful meld of voices, a fluid nebula of stream of consciousness even.
I like how this poem tells us: I like how this poem tells us how it should be read (some of Wallace Stevens' finest do that as well): it is to be received as a lilting melody that flows further than the far-away glow of the faintest star, and so delicate that not even the finest mist can kiss it. This is superb verbal artistry at its highest level.
The paradox of blame and: The paradox of blame and responsibility across generations.
As the song Living Years goes: "Every generation / blame the one before / And all of their frustrations / come beating down your door."
I do not believe that this cycle exists in all societies. And most certainly, if it does, in some realms it's very subtle and often goes unnoticed, unsaid. I think that the cycle, and even more so the perceptions of it, are largely a product of excess and spoils of empire. Those living closer to the ground have far less time, and reason, to see themselves as a bi-product of a previous generation.
We all endure the Façade of a: We all endure the Façade of a manipulator/Narcissist, pretending to be Prince Charming, just so they can tear you down and break you apart, while pretending that they are the victims and you're the bad guy. But what great joy it is when you finally see through the Façade and you see who they really are and you leave torn. So much more peaceful.
If you are still with him, : If you are still with him, you should leave. I know that's easier said than done. In time you would be happier without him. Might hurt at first, but you'll heal and in that healing, you'll find peace and happiness. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to be treated right. You deserve respect. You deserve to be treated with love. You deserve companionship.
Particularly Patricia stops: Particularly Patricia stops by to blow up my inherent mad cyclone, settled me with reasonable pleas for a desperado whose dear needs are freedom sprees...
I hope you don’t mind..: I hope you don't mind. You had commented on a poem by Pam Schwetz titled 'WHEN ALICE THREW THE LOOKING GLASS'. Excuse me for yelling. Your comment referred to Humpty Dumpty. I responded to your comment. Unfortunately, Pam Schwetz deleted it. I thought you might enjoy it, so here it is.
One night, Donald Trump opened the door
And there stood a beautiful whore
He said 'I'm Donald Trump. Gee,
It's you I want to hump, see?
If you're looking for Humpty Dumpty
He don't live here no more!'
Wow, with each poem of yours: Wow, with each poem of yours that I read, I become more and more fascinated by your style, and by the phrases that inhabit your poems.
You know how to make a point: You know how to make a point and you don't believe in pulling punches. I get that. Sometimes one needs a sharp-witted, edgy, fearless, devastating wake-up call. Jarringly brilliant.
This galloping, intense and: This galloping, intense and very identifiable expression has great potential, and being the innately gifted poet you are, you can certainly tweak it into an even more engaging work of art.
As someone who kicked off the boots of metered verse decades ago, I almost don't feel qualified to analyze your rhyme scheme, but it was something that played an important role in my experience with this poem, so I'll go ahead and give you my impressions. Don't think I have anything against metered verse, in fact, I greatly admire the old masters and anyone today who can meld thundering eloquence with delicate musicality as you did here.
I first noticed your internal rhyme in the first five lines, giving the impression of a forceful yet natural pulse, like a heartbeat. This really clicked, considering the wrenching emotions, but it seemed the lines that packed the greatest punch were those with perfect rhyme and meter.
Not that all slant rhymes are an abomination. My first literary crush, W.B. Yeats, used them, but you have to use your own inner ear, sense of rhythm and intuitive voice to tell if they work. Some of your lines are dynamic and savagely beautiful because of the symbiosis of impeccable meter, rhyme and substance. For example:
"Father time grows older, The empty space grows colder"
And these traditional lines that sing:
"I am here but you are there
stuck in the yesterday of her atmosphere"
(Slanted, but it works!)
The sixth line began a tercet followed by a couplet that had the feel of a chorus, and it made me imagine this as a song. An amazing song. As a separate stanza, this could be majestically emotive. In the words: "I cannot reach you now,/ I don't know how" there's a heart-crushing descent. It's perfect.
My suggestion would be to go into an almost meditative state and truly listen to the entire poem and then polish it accordingly while retaining, as much as possible, the brilliant phrasing. This is something you have to do for yourself, and I'm certain the results will be stunning because this was a delight to read and dissect. I hope I didn't overstay my welcome.
My sincere respect and admiration.