Archive for the ‘Bad Dads’ Category

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Black Trash Bags

June 1, 2009

I was 10…
…10 years old…
…when you walked out that door.
You said, “This is for the best and God Bless.”
…My Mother and I sat on the couch
And watched Jay Leno tell some stupid joke
As you gathered your things
And left.
…I crawled closer to my Mother…
…and I didn’t sob,
I didn’t cry,
I didn’t scream…
…I was just confused.

…I came home from school one day
And saw what it seemed like
Dozens of black trash bags
Filled with your things.
…I ripped them open
And tried to put your items back.
“I don’t understand, Mom;
I don’t get it.
Why is Daddy’s stuff tucked away?”
…She said…
…”He wants to be somewhere else,
So I’m letting him be.”

…I ran to my Great-Grandmother’s house.
I screamed and told her my Mom was ludicrous,
But she couldn’t respond….
…She was very ill and had to deal with her own issues.
…I crawled into her nursing bed
And just laid on her chest;
…Her heartbeat was the ONLY thing
That kept me sound.
…The beat put me to sleep…
…and I dreamt of the days
When they didn’t hate each other.
…My Great-Grandfather
Walked into the room
And said,
“She’s been looking all over for you, Pammie.
Head home, child.
I need to be with my wife now.”

…I came back home
To see my Mother
Throwing hard objects at my Father
And my Father striking back
And my Brother walking upstairs…
…ignoring it all….
“Stop, yall, stop!”
I screamed and screamed and SCREAMED
And couldn’t feel
My neighbor dragging me out the house.

…The following day,
As I came home from school,
I heard my mother
SHOUTING,
“You got that bitch on my phone!
Get the hell out!”
…My Mother lurched toward him
And I ran out the house.

…I just ran and ran…
…and it seemed like
Chester’s streets were too little
And not big enough
For me to run
‘Til my legs got tired.
…I ran around the whole city…
…just trying to fill the time,
So I wouldn’t have to see them argue.
…I finally ended on 10th Street,
Dropped to my knees,
And sobbed,
Uncontrollably;
…Tears of confusion
Streamed down my face
And onto the ground.
…I could feel my stomach grumbling
And hated the fact
That I had to return to
THAT HOUSE
To satisfy this STUPID thing called hunger.

…I made my way back,
To walk in and see the black trash bags
Scattered across the floor,
AGAIN!
…I removed a picture from one
And spotted one of Daddy, my Brother, and I holding each other….
…I screamed…
…Really…loudly…
And tore it into pieces.
…I turned,
To see my Father walking into the room.
I brushed pass him,
Ran into my room,
And slammed the door.
…Just the sight of him
Made me wanna cry
…and pretending that I never saw him
Made me feel better….
…It seemed like sleeping
Was my only haven
Through all of that chaos.

I was waken, hours later,
To the hurling of those
Big…
Black…
Ugly…
Trash bags
Down our steps.
…I walked downstairs
And sat on the couch
Next to my Mother.
…As he moved
HIS things
Into the car,
…I could feel
The confusion…
…And anger…
…And hatred…
I had inside.

…Why’d you leave,
Huh?!
What’s the matter?!
Were we not good enough?!
Was I not a good enough child for you?!
Did my Mother not do all you wanted?
Was she not pretty enough?!
Did we stink?!
Did we look ugly?!
Were my Brother and I too much of nerds for you?!
Did my Mother not please you the way you wanted?!
Was your ass too horny to wait ‘til you got home from work?!
And why…
Why…
Did you renew your vows
And let your family look like fools in the Chapel
And lie in front of God,
If you didn’t want what the fuck we were there for?!
Why Dad, why?!
Please make me understand
Because I still don’t get it
And this shit happened
Almost 9 years ago.
Why…
You asshole?!
WHY?!….

…I sat on that couch and tried to find a reason…
…But I still don’t have one.
You left us because you were impatient
And that…
…I CANNOT…
Forgive you for.
…I love you…
But grow the HELL UP!

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Growth Is….

May 28, 2009
Alarm sounds off….
Reach to grab it
with no glasses on
Grab the first pair I see
and she shouts
“Dammit, yours are over there!”
…That voice was my Mom’s
and this is our ongoing argument
for the past
10 years.
…Daddy left when I was 10
so that would mean
that my 20-year-old self
just awoke from that alarm.

…I haven’t had my own room
since his departure
‘cept for the one year I stayed on campus
but Daddy yanked me outta there
’cause his pockets were screaming.

…Not too social
Who wants to hang out with someone
that lives 2 hours away?
My Mom moved us around every 3 years
’cause each job wasn’t stable.

…There’s been times when I wasn’t sure
if I could attend school the next day
’cause you either paid rent or
paid for classes.

…Daddy used me as a “show-and-tell”
as in
“Show people your good poetry”
and
“Tell them that I’m your father.”
…The only father he’s been is
the one with the purse
and even that
I have to beg for.

…So, with family life f*cked up
and a forced residence hours away from society
I dug into my books
HARD.
I’ve always had straight A’s
and it wasn’t for material rewards.
…Quetta was always so proud
but whe the cancer took her
I worked even harder
in her memory.

…I wasn’t surprised when
I made NHS
but I couldn’t celebrate with friends
…I had to celebrate with My Mom
(they weren’t trying to travel
and I wasn’t trying to leave early).

…When I graduated high school
I thought
“Yay! College!”
but Daddy’s purse was screaming
so, I had to stay local
and I had to go to “the best school for the best price”
and I had to studyi his major.

When it came to wanting to transfer
I thought
“What’s the best school
for my major
that’s far away
in which I could pay off, eventually?”
Ummm…New York University!
…I conquered its high standards
and was
ACCEPTED!!!
…But even THAT
came with
Bitching and Moaning.
…Dangling his purse
in my face
deciding whether to aid the
Deposit on NYU
’cause He doesn’t like
the major
the distance
the cost.

…He gave up his part, nonetheless
and I cut him off
and I am soon
to sleep in my own bed
to pay my own phone bill
to fund my own life.

…I know Imma be
book-tired, stressed, & hungry
but the tiny mattress
man-purse
and unreasonable opinions
won’t be the reason.
…Growth is.