Saturday, February 29, 2020

The Catholic Ethic and the Spirit of Alcoholism ~ Saturday, 29 February 2020

Feni drinkers don't have minds of their own, 
every feni drinker bears the same scars, 
no feni drinker dares think for themselves, 
if feni drinkers were intelligent 

departments of health would not need drunk tanks, 
round up my parents, a united front 
in naysaying and permitting freedom, 
not for my brother, of course, the coke head, 
kissed ass so well, he's a millionaire now, 
even if our parents knew, would they care, 
remember your first born, your pride and joy, 
still, getting beaten up by my father, 

demented as it seems, at eleven, 
of course, I was arrested with Ricky, 
not that I was allowed to visit him, 
that was his reason for anger and rage, 

his punches, slaps, and kicks bruised my body, 
at forty-three, he should have known better, 
vengeance is mine, I shall repay, I write 
exactly as I see fit, rest in peace, 

misery loves company, as they say, 
indeed these words say nothing strikingly 
new, violence in my family was love, 
demented as it sounds, they didn't care, 
still, terror never goes away, but hides, 

on a good day, for the pendulum swings, 
from happiness to absolute horror, 

the bruises go away, memories stay, 
haunted by my father, brother, cousin, 
even my mother watching the beatings, 
in her own mind, not calling the police, 
remember, nothing seen, nothing observed, 

only sorrow, lack of trust, and hatred 
wins the game, play keep away and don't touch, 
no one in my family earned my respect. 

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