"Lessons to Teach Parents Around the World"

"Lessons to Teach Parents Around the World" - 9.9.12

Never step intentionally on your pets' reveries unless they're your children for a dream fulfilled no longer qualifies as a dream and any obstacles to achievement heightens expectations in adults from dysfunctional families.

Always remember that support creates dependency and parents should never allow their pets to fall into that trap.

Force your children to make bad decisions and learn that mistakes are compulsory, for to never attain status or wealth is the true goal of self-reliant behavior.

Remind them that asking for help is a weakness that cannot be tolerated, asking for what you want is insufferable, and praying to the Almighty is laughable and a pipe dream.

For dreams smeared on slices of bread make for the best peanut butter and jelly sandwiches which is much better than being able to afford properly-cooked food for lunch everyday at their dead-end job.

Never discuss problems as solutions are only hard-won in isolation. Remind your pets that the family is not a team but individuals who spend their days trying their hardest to make this life as unbearable as possible for each other. And that as your children they are forever indebted to you for bringing them into this world.

"Reminiscences"

First Tuesday of the month at 10 a.m.
the sirens blast just once then it's over
95 degrees, the forecasted high,
it's not the heat but the humidity
that can kill you if you're old, feeble, frail
and nowhere near an air conditioner
for July in Chicago can kill you
but if you survive, there's always August

I pass a woman on the way to work
her body maladjusted with old age
a bag in each hand, her shoulders slope left
her imbalanced hips jut out to the right
crushed, I continue on my way to work
pathetically, glancing back without hope
as if she were a hot chick before death
takes her hand for that final silent dance

Her postural assessment I could do
if I had my license, but I fucked up
sent my application to the wrong folks
wrong organization, they cashed my check
so I'd be nationally certified
for four years, they pitched my application,
sent a check for the left-over amount
with no explanation, they screwed me good

Fifteen months of massage therapy school
and fifteen thousand dollars down the drain
I started paying-off my student loans
after six months from my graduation
I could never again afford to pay
the fee to apply for my state license
as I've worked in bookstores for twenty years
earning less than thirty thousand per year

And now I get a phone call everyday
from credit card collection agencies
trying to recover the 20K
I owe the banks when I chose to pay off
my student loans, honor the government,
and not have my wages garnished on top
of losing any IRS return
in exchange for the worst credit rating

Debt helps to place a noose around her neck
the day I knock on her front door, her car,
an orange Karman Ghia around back,
I figure she left in another car
with friends, a nice day outside in Memphis
my hope to spend time with fair Jennifer
that beautiful curly redhead woman
with the Kentucky bourbon voice is dashed

That was Sunday, Monday her sister calls
to let me know that she found Jennifer
at home hanging at the end of a rope,
the memorial service on Wednesday,
with the funeral service to follow,
the open casket, her dress and make-up
all wrong leaves an impression of disgrace
for me to remember her by for good

I watched her mother cry in such despair
tears I myself could not shed openly
not in front of a crowd of her old friends
people who had known Jennifer for years
but where were they when she cried in the park
letting me know she tried to kill herself
before we met, I gave her a long hug
and my handkerchief for her tears and nose

Maybe they were there at the hospital
after her first attempt by taking pills
or had she slashed her wrists, it's been so long
memories fade after so many years
I loved her as a friend, never lovers
I think she had a boyfriend at the time
I could be mistaken, she was single
or had they broken up, I'll never know

Later I'd take Karen to that same park
with the moonlight glowing over the lake
we'd hide from the security police
the spotlight from their squad car shining bright
take cover behind dogwoods, once they left
we'd take a stroll, hug and kiss in the dark
enjoy the beauty of a park at night
in a housing tract for wealthy people

"That's What She Said"

"This did not happen
although I have memories of it"

— Thylias Moss

It was all in my imagination
According to her, it never happened
Perhaps it was a dream, a fantasy
Except I was a naked twelve year old

She forced me to take off all of my clothes
And leave out the front door without a shred
We had an atrium, so I was safe
But I was scared, she was upset with me

She locked the door, wouldn't let me back in
If I weren't a distressed little preteen
I would have walked right out that second door
Out into the front yard and down the road

Until someone saw me and called the cops
But I was trapped begging for her mercy
Under the stars naked in the cool air
I couldn't think about how to be smart

I was in tears, no one else could help me
If I walked out that second door, they'd know
My dad was an alcoholic and mom
My mother, whom he called "mom," was his crutch

But even I didn't understand this
I didn't get what the other kids got
What non-alcoholic families would think
Their concern would frankly astonish me

But my mother dismisses this event
As something I made up, a fantasy
A psycho-analytical dreamscape
Where dreams landscape our real world with nightmares

What had I done wrong to provoke my mom
To throw me out of our suburban home
That night, naked, for all the world to see
Nothing the stars above wouldn't forgive

"On the Dominion of Daimonion"

Nonetheless, nonethereal domains
dominate the landscape, are no less real
than an innate understanding of space
where Cartesian coordinates reveal

an intimate faith in radical doubt
the malicious demon, the cogito
late-night cognac aficionados
the malignant genius of drunk fathers

violent when sober with alcohol
in their shrunken pickled cerebellums
pounding on their children like conga drums

mother stands guard to ensure the beatings
incorporate a severe punishment
that only loving parents can dish out

- 8.29-30.12