My poetry about my family/my parents!
Big Brother/Little Boy
in a bed laid a little boy.
something had been wrong in his brain,
something they could not fix then and can not fix now,
growing to bring only harm.
his father was a mechanic, an architect, a contractor and a handyman.
everything that had broken would be fixed by dad, he was sure,
just like everything up to this point.
this car still had miles to go, surely, as it was so young.
the boy sat in a wheelchair, looking to his father, wondering when this would be fixed.
later, his father would give up on fixing such things.
he had done so much damage in the first place-
(though, he didn’t, really, he just failed to fix the damage he saw)
-that he continued to do damage with no desire to fix it.
so in a bed laid a little boy.
something had been wrong in his brain,
making him need all sorts of medication to be fixed.
his father was a mechanic, an artist, a craftsman and a survivor,
as he stood shouting at his son for asking for respect,
having lost one son and unaware of the likelihood of losing another.
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derivative tranny poem
There is no body in that coffin
Nothing for the worms to eat
Nothing for the earth to take
You hold a funeral for someone that did not die
someone that lives in your home still
different, and better, and happier
There is no body in that coffin
Only respect
it died the day i came out
Only regret
it died the day i saw you mourning someone still alive
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Furniture
there’s a bit of space, right in between
young adulthood and retirement,
space we surely could fill with something.
maybe we place a lamp upon it, turn it into a source of light,
if the light’s not too bright nor too tall.
it needs to be small, though-
we only have so much space.
it’s gotta serve more than one purpose,
and serve each purpose very well,
since it is taking up space, after all,
and it cost us money.
it’ll be a chair, an ottoman, a side table
something to balance all of the bad upon
so that we don’t have to hold it ourselves.
it’ll really have to balance, though,
since it needs to be small-
we only have so much space.
it may come in the wrong color,
or just one we hadn’t expected.
we could allow it to be brightly colored, sure,
but it’s simply too eye-catching that way
this isn’t a statement piece, it’s only a side table,
and how dare it for trying to be anything more.
paint it the color of the rest of the furniture.
it must not be loud, not too big,
we only have so much space.
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