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Mother (the reality)


Jason Rimbaud

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Current Music Selection: Five For Fighting?World from the album Two Lights

Current State: Dis-jointed

Current Mood: Depressed

?What kind of world do you want?

Think Anything

Let's start at the start

Build a masterpiece

Be careful what you wish for

History starts now..? Five for Fighting

If you?ve read any of my poetry hosted here at Awesome Dude or have ever been bored enough to visit my website, then you probably have an idea that my childhood was less than perfect. And before you ask, most of my poetry chronicles my life and the demons I face on every level of my existence. Add into the mix my BI-polar tendencies and dependence on altered states of reality, I wonder why I don?t let the pain slide.

Maybe it?s a stubborn refusal to let ?him? win. He?s already taken my first from me and inadvertently gave me this sickness and fear of front seats and single beds. Squeezing the trigger now would be like saying the last ten years of struggling to find the sun was pointless. Maybe John was right, my life really was over at twelve. That I?m dead and just haven't fallen over yet.

But giving up has never been part of my genetic make-up. I also got that from ?him? as well as his predatory nature and life denial. I?ve always been good at smiling at those who pretend to care about my well being. You know the types I mean, well-intentioned do-gooders who spit platitudes and rhetoric claiming truth from a book they use to bludgeon others into sameness. Or ?caring? therapists who attach blame but offer no solutions. Who takes poetry as absolute and recommends institutional care and gives you labels like, HRSA.

I tend to roll my eyes and go off into my own world as they try to convert me, analyze me, or commit me, while alternately scratching my nuts and winking at the cute ones. Once, I even stripped off my clothes in the middle of her office and described in vivid detail that first time. That didn?t help me but it was the first time I was held overnight for observation.

Have you ever wondered why christians are filled with such hatred for anyone who differs from their idyllic belief system? I was raised on the good book, I?ve read it ten or eleven times and for a brief period, I could quote dozens of scriptures and talk down to others with the best of them. But that was before front seats of cars and someone who used his position to further his own demons. Being taken advantage of puts you in a place, mentally and physically, that you never truly leave. Having one?s innocence taken by a man, who swore before god and the world that he would lead the faithful to the promised land, is something that can never be understood by someone who has never experienced such action. Molestation is an act of aggression against God.

Christians hate others for one reason, stupidity. I?ve been there, I have the scoop and let me tell you, they begin brainwashing at the time of conception. Once a week, a man walks to the front of a building and for an hour, he pretends to speak the words of god. And the faithful sit there with raptured faces and rabid expressions as their own prejudice and fears are given validation. How can you fight christians? They tend to think in absolutes. There is no compromise with absolutes.

Denial is the new black. My father had it, my mother has it, and my family embraces it. And I?m left alone. Can?t they see I?m hurting? It?s not about what I smoke, what I snort, what I inject, who I fuck. It?s not about whether or not I?ll go to hell. I?ve been in hell since cotton candy and broken heaters.

It?s about this scared little boy who still sleeps in the closet at times clutching stuffed animals with ripped seams. It?s about a boy forever trapped inside a man?s body with no clear path on how to proceed. Just once, I wish they?d see me. Why can?t they see me?

Mother

(the reality)

By: Jason R.

Mother

I can?t forgive you

You were there all those times

I know you know what he did

You turned away

Sheltered your eyes

Belief in your god

Could not save your boy

What you couldn?t do

Was protect me

I?ve been dying

Day by day

Mother

I tried to forgive you

Because the bruises

Speak of pain

I heard the yelling

I heard the praying

But what good is god

If a man can do that

It?s your duty

To your child

Laid down in that book

By your side

Mother

I won?t forgive you

Because the laundry

Was your domain

You saw the blood there

Where it never

Should be

From a boy of twelve

You cleaned the sheets

Saw the tear stains

Mixed with fuck pains

How could you let him touch me

Mother

I think I hate you

Not as much

As I hate that man

Should I tell them

All your good friends

Just what kind of mother you are

You hold your head straight

During service

They look to you

For guidance now

But if they only knew

Mother

I can?t forgive you

I won?t forgive you

I can?t?

But I love you

Help me

Please

Hold me

Like a child

Wipe the tears

From my face

Like I was twelve again

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Jason, I'm not really sure I have the right to even make a comment. Your life sounds like it's fucked up badly, and your family isn't exactly helping you any. My temptation is to want to hug you, just because for some reason, I'm one of those despised people who want to help. I don't know why, but when someone is hurting, I want to make it stop for them. If someone needs, I go overboard to assist. If I'm not careful, I just about kill myself trying to 'make things better'. This too, is an affliction, and one I have to constantly guard against. I've been told that it's because I cannot love myself, so I try to buy affection from others. Frankly, I don't believe that. (I love myself every night, rain or shine; sometimes more than once.)Nevertheless, there may be the slightest thing that I can do for you, which doesn't overdo things for me, or offend you. Bi-polar has been found to be directly connected to poor processing of copper by the liver. By cutting down on foods with copper in them, you can drastically reduce that 'tendency' as you called it. It's not a tendency, it's a medical condition, alleviated to some extent by diet control.If you will forgive me to making this further comment: shed your family from your life. THEY are dragging you down. They're already lost to you, no differently than an actual death. They are blinded and brain dead. As long as you continue to live through them, whether memories or hopes, or even anger, you are lost. You owe it to yourself to find yourself.

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