mum
To hear you say…
To hear you say…
By jfarrell
To hear you say “I love you”
I would have sprouted wings and flew
So happy, so joyous those words would have made me feel
From you, my mother
To hear you say “I’m proud of you”
I would have pulled the stars from the sky
And made of them a crown
For you, my mother
I heard you say “I should have smothered you at birth”
And I feel crushed, hated
Outcast and rejected
By you, my mother
I heard you say “I should have had you aborted”
And I feel aborted;
Stopped, cast aside
And incomplete
I still hear what you said
After all these years, over all these many miles
Has my silence, my absence, gotten through to you
After all these years, can you still hear me
But,
I still want to hear you say
“I love you”
To me, your son
Last chat with mum; aged 24 (me, aged 24)
Last chat with mum; aged 24 (me, aged 24)
By jfarrell
“now he’s dead, I gotta ask….
“was he my dad? Truly???”
…. “yes”
This is my mum responding….
Her and the ‘truth’….
If she told me water’s wet and leafs are green…
I’d have to check….
….my mum truly believed her lies…
Really…
…
She didn’t get kicked out of the milkman’s house…
1 am in the morning
And walked home naked with her 7 year old daughter screaming at her
What a w……. she was…
No….
My ‘dad’ was flirting with the barmaid again…
….
I was there; I know what happened…
But,
She really, truly believes her lies.
“was he my dad?”
“yes”
….
Deep breath…
Disappointment, anger, relief?
Who knows?
But….
What I asked next was really, REALLY stupid!
A very bad idea…
But
How could I know?
“Ok… ish… he’s my dad…”
Long silence, couple of minutes?… less?… more?…
“what happened back ‘then’? when I was 5? 6?
When uncle brian raped me?
….….
….. we haven’t spoken in nearly 10 years… what you all did hurt….
What happened?”
“your dad told me you’d raped your cousin”
…...
“i was 5…?… 6…?….
…. I wasn’t even physically capable…. 5…6…”
“that’s what your dad told me.”
A couple of deep breaths, from me…
Several seconds…. a minute or two…
Felt like f…. centuries….
….”and I believed him.”
NOT an added aside, an intentional thrust with a stiletto…
Not an attempt to move in for the kill…
On an already injured, badly bleeding target…
No….
She was just being honest.
….OK…
“nan, uncle peter…. di…..”
“well of course I told them about it!”
…..
At least I had the sense to shut up then and not ask if that’s..
What she told her friends…
…..
Haven’t seen or spoken or had anything to do with my ‘mum’
Since that day…
Over 25 years ago…
I will be 50 in a couple of weeks…
My anger, bitterness, hurt….
…..that little mother to son chat….
Is killing me
Poisoning me, like a virus …..
That hate, anger….
Wanting to hurt back…
….
Maybe my mum had mental health problems….
I don’t know….
But..
To so totally, absolutely believe… agree…
At 5… 6… years old…
“your son raped his cousin”….
I don’t totally believe that’s the WHOLE truth…
I will happily call my scumbag ‘dad’ a lot of names…
But.. ‘Liar’ isn’t one that would be honest….
….
…”and I believed him.”….
I don’t know….
Have spent all my pointless life trying to imagine….
WHAT I DID….
That was so bad…
That…
At the age of 5 or 6….
… my mum hated me SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO much,
“and I believed him.”
Maybe she’s right ;-)
After all,
Who knows a man better than his mother?
I wish I could forgive and forget…
I wish I could be a son….
I wish I had a mother….
…..
And,
I so wish I wasn’t me…
But…
These are the hands we are dealt.
Sadly….
I fear my bitterness, anger….
Absolute f…… rage…
…after I die….
My hate will continue.
….
Other than my mum, who can rot in hell…
PEACE AND LOVE TO ALL YOU LOVELY WONDERFUL READERS!
A daughter's plea
A daughter's plea.
an ode about my mum called The Queen of MSG
The queen of MSG
I want to tell you a story
About the queen of MSG
Not forgetting e numbers too
Everything thats bad for you
Im talking about my mum
Still knee deep in the program
Getting on in years too
Cooking stuff thats bad for you
Im not just talking about
Ghastly stuff out the packet
The way she boils the crap
The goodness, doesnt entrap
Cooking cabbage, green water
No gooness left in: oughta
Same for every vegetable
To process a bodily struggle
Dont forget gravy granules too
Day after it turns to glue
Is that how gluten got its name?
Either way, its waste: insane
We even consume it at all
Western food standards: Mental
Cheap stock full of salt
It really isnt her fault
Limited budget, food going up
Soon the people gonna be stuffed
Not with food, lack of it
Shelf stackers, job to omit
Whole system turns blind eyes
Bad for you, shouldnt suprise
Profiteering or more sinister?
People in charge, just don’t care
Just seeking increasing profits
People suffering: STOP IT
Im glad i dont eat mums food
None of its any good for you
Dads struggling under the weight
Of Boiled food at a discount rate
The only cheap things in food shops
Bad for you or waste products
No choice for poor people
Or too busy or too feeble
Please think about what you eat
Could be killing people inavertently
an ode to my mum and my sister
Hard wired is my mum
For the life she has chosen
Servitude, cooks and cleans
But at her age definitely
Should lead a more graceful life
Instead of wallowing in strife
She gets up every morning
Early, dad’s breakfast sorting
Then she cooks and cleans
From dawn to dusk: INSANITY
Boiling the good out of food
Not caring put inside of u
Any wonder my dads failing
Stodgy food hinders plain sailing
She’s 85 years of age
Should be winding down with grace
Used to think i was mad
Not having her life, truly glad
Shes created every part of her
Going the same wqay my sister
Too late to change for mum
Not for my sis, please hun
My sis please do the right thing
Put an end to all suffering
U don’t have to believe me
Ask anyone spiritually
Tuned with life, divine, gaia too
All designed to help you
But it’s your choice choose
Spirituality, win or loose
And a garbage life of servitude
Which doesn’t become you
an ode to my mum
I have come to a conclusion today
Which causes me much dismay
About the woman who birthed me
And her bad attitude endlessly
Always looking to pick holes
In anything she can don’t you know
I’m doing some painting and decorating
And she didn’t see the tape masking
The paint from tiles and stuff
She thought she was out of luck
So she had a bitch at me
It comes off everything anyway
The paint is water based
If I didn’t know any better I’d think
That her attitude really did STINK
And she wasn’t happy unless moaning
Forever the martyr; permanently groaning
She is the chalk to my cheese
I really can see why her attitude
drives away Some of her family
not that I judge anyone at all
I just comment about facts: Mental
Mums only happy when a martyr
She wouldn’t have heard of the Buddha
Who strived for an end to suffering
A lighter load this does bring
But she wants to be dragged down
And she wants a permanent frown
Her bad attitude won’t drive me away
She is not going to win that day
The parting will be more natural
Will leave her to her personal hell
I can’t be around such negativity
For too long else it will get me
She’s bemoaning lack of sleep
I have done my thing on her
Yet it’s her choice to keep
She has created every part of her
The cook, washer woman: Martyr
And she is too old to change now
Hard wired till her final bow
She won’t let anyone do anything
This attitude only leads to suffering
This is exactly what she wants
Its absolute madness: the lot
I reiterate its dads final year now
Before he takes his final bow
will spend as much time as I can stand
at Dinas Road, this is where I am
they need more permanent care here
but mum won’t let anyone near
being the martyr till the end
no need for suffering the Buddha said
I believe him more than my own mum
Who thrives in her world of glum
She really is welcome to it
I have only one word for it: shit
Hard wired and she aint changing for
Anyone you all know the score
And mum likes quality in her life
Yet life aint complete without strife
Watching TV poison for her mind too
Just been under chemical attack too
Hairspray kills bugs and flies
Imagine what it does to your insides
She is worse to my chalk and cheese
She is in the neighboring galaxy