My Whole Family Is Dysfunctional
I.
I haven’t spoken to my brother in ten years.
His brain was slammed in a car accident,
never got any therapy because dad didn’t believe in it.
Somehow he came into some money
and spent it on surplus military vehicles,
which he leases to Hollywood from time to time.
II.
When my dad’s appendix burst, he didn’t know it,
tried to kill the pain with bourbon,
finally phoning me in delirious distress
and I called the ambulance.
My sister wouldn’t let the paramedics in.
The police came with a megaphone,
busted down the door.
III.
I hadn’t spoken to my alcoholic mother in 13 years
when a stranger called and said she was dying.
I flew to Chicago and spent the afternoon
at her comatose side telling her body
what I’d been doing for the last 13 years.
She died the next afternoon
while I was out getting a sandwich.
poem by Michael Philips
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Identity Crisis!
When born, I was called “baby”
And later they called me “Abby”
Within 5 years they called me “student”
And for 7 years, like that I spent
Then they called me “teen”
I loved it and felt like a queen
Then I was called “woman”
And those times, were the best
Then some one tied a knot and called me “wife”
I hated those times, it was horrible and gross
In years I became “mother”
It was beautiful but tough
Then being called “grandma”
My times got better and better
Then at last I was called “old”
And my body was frail and cold
All this time I wondered,
Where my identity has gone
Some where in the middle, I had lost it
Through the ages, I had a crisis
An identity crisis to say!
DECEMBER 23,2008
poem by Sania Harris
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It takes three to make a family
(The Mistress or mother)
My son was a gift,
But his father didn't think so,
He left me alone,
With his son I mind you,
I was just a girl,
And he a man,
He did not care,
He left me bowed eyes and broken,
A Lord was he and I Mistress was I,
We were in two different worlds,
Seperated by our familes,
But our son not like us,
A son forced to see his parents like this,
I can still do te best for him,
His father is a monster not a man,
I am scared for my son,
What of his life?
No, I must do my best for him,
If I don't I'll let both of us down,
Years have past and now my son is a man,
I'm dying slowly,
I don't want my son to worry,
I know that I'm on my deathbed,
And I'm as king forJesus.
(Lord or father)
I did not leave her,
She left me,
I couldn't find her,
I wanted my son,
She didn't give him,
Now she's gone and my son with me,
My son's mother was my late wife,
I wanted them both,
But she sought me to be a demon,
Lies upon lies,
I was persuaded from my mother,
My wife listened to our converesation,
Many years later my son is married,
Now I'm going to meet my wife,
Together in heaven,
We have all eternity,
Jesus please keep our son.
(Son)
I am a man who loves,
Mom and dad didn't know,
I am the birth of their future,
They died without knowing me,
I am their son,
But all their time was fighting,
Mentally and emotional,
I spent my childhood afraid of them,
On a nevering chase against time,
My family will teach and give me love,
Years, many, many, years later,
I am a great grandfather,
Now and finally I am on my deathbed,
And I'm happy,
A tear has fallen out my eye,
I am now ready to reunite with,
Both my mother and father,
Jesus thank you for bringing,
The family together at last.
poem by Qeeony Luv
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Interment
Funeral.
A young man died in his sleep he was 49 years old, with my aged eyes
he was boy too young to die. I don't know the medical reason for his
early demise, think it has to do with burst blood vessel in the brain.
I went to his funeral last Sunday it was a sunny noon and thought at
least heavens could have cried. I didn't know him, but had hoped to
meet his sister, whom I adore, telling how sorry I was for her loss; but
the whole family was there in common grief, I wouldn't intrude in their
unhappiness. I spoke to a friend of hers and asked her to extend my
concern, I wanted her to know that I had been there to show respect
and that I cared. But could not escape the gnaw of guilt in my heart,
hadn't it been for her I might not have attended.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Ten Pound Note
I was five when mam left us
But before she passed away
She gave me a ten pound note
For a coat on a rainy day
But there was no coat which could last
The rainy days I had to bear
So I lent my money to my brother
Who looked after me with care
My brother spent the money
Everywhere we went
On things I didn’t care about
Like camping in a tent
On bandages and soap
And fishing in the river
And chips when we were hungry
To warm a bellies shiver
He seemed to spend lots of money
I wanted my money back
I decided ten years later
For I never bought that mac
Brother where’s my money now
I loaned you long ago
For years you’ve spent it carelessly
But I still love you though
He was sad as he looked at me
Then he began to say
I promised mam not to leave you
Until your rainy day
Its time to buy that coat now
I’m leaving you today
You’ve grown to be a fine young man
But I must sail away
Your note has never left me
Its folded in my pocket
It sits so very tightly
In our mams silver locket
Its your turn to keep it now
Your note has kept us near
Goodbye my little brother
Let me wipe away your tear.
Tell Me
Tell me I wasn't true
Tell me I didn't believe in you
Tell me a moment I didn't share
Tell me when I acted like I didn't care
Tell me a moment with me that was hard to bear
Tell me when I was fake
Tell me the time we spent wasn't great
Tell me I wasn't a good friend
Tell me I wouldn't have your back until the end
Tell me I treated you like a child
Tell me a time I couldn't make you smile
Tell me a time I didn't miss you
Tell me I never kissed you
Tell me a time I used you
Tell me a time I abused you
Tell me you're not all I have
Tell me when I didn't speak on your behalf
Tell me when I didn't have your back
What I'm seeing I feel like you're telling me all of that
poem by Daniel Chapman
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Dark Horse
Do you know who you are?
That is a good sign.
So many don't!
And I am sure by now,
You are not surprised by this.
Do you know your capabilities?
Even those who have spent years...
And mommy and daddy's money,
Partying in the finest colleges...
Will never figure that one out!
They have been 'assigned'
To seek good paying jobs!
Not minds to independently think.
IF you have been accused of 'thinking'...
At least 'everything' didn't end up,
Confused in your head.
Your heart is involved!
No one has to tell you what your potential is!
You know.
Do you know your desires?
What heats you up...
Chills you out and douses your fire?
Many are on prescription drugs...
And scheduled therapy sessions for that.
They haven't the slightest clue.
They are counting on someone else,
To show them the way.
Tell them what to do.
But you?
What does it matter what a stranger thinks?
Or who says what?
Common sense has already spoken.
And you have known...
Everyone who lives,
Does so to eliminate 'something' that stinks!
Speculation may be a good thing.
And used by those you go to casinos.
However...
Speculating over who says what,
About what it is you should or should not do...
Still will not get you to where you know you are going.
That's 'if' you have a need to go anywhere.
And if that is not a need of yours...
Do all the speculation you want.
You will have lots of company.
And the odds will not be in your favor.
There will be too many opinions.
And you will be left spending a lifetime deciding,
Who you are.
Why you exist.
And for 'whom' your decision wins a bet!
Be that 'dark horse'.
And catch everyone by surprise.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Had Died
I read the obituaries where I had died
I looked beside me and Death was not at my side
I felt so sad and lonely that I almost cried
Why about my death had others had lied
My ex-wife called my family and she was very sad
She was sorry that I was gone and she felt bad
She said I was the only true love that she ever had
Then she found out I was alive, and she got mad
My son then called after he read the news
He had cried and cried and went through boxes of tissues
He was sad and distraught and also confused
He didn't know that I was sick so he wasn't amused
My friends then called one after another
Then I got a call from a sister and then my brother
So happy the news wasn't read by my mother
It wasn't I who died, but sadly it was some other,
Of course I am here and I am still alive
And I hope for many more years I will survive
My friendship and my love it will also thrive
And my friendship to others I hope not to deprive.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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All I wanted is for you to love me
All I wanted is for you to love me! ! ! !
She had her when she was only 15 years old, and her baby was so beautiful! many people told her that, and she smiled tho but! ! ! ! in the back of her mind she hated her child tho.From taking thee attention away that she craved! ! ! ! ! and she was thinking it will never be about her, but always about her so called beautiful daughter. Now as time went along her mother blamed her for the men that went away and didn't stay the mother claimed that men would say, that her child act so childish each and everyday that there developed a frown on the mother face like her daughter was the case that her men friends went away, but it was always how she miss treated her daughter in there faces like calling her Miss. little red **** In front of her male acquaintance and she would laugh! ! ! ! when they didn't think it was funny, she ask for them to leave, and they would say you crazy! ! ! If that was my baby you would regret the day you ever mat me. And when they left she start yelling at her baby telling her look what the **** you did again! ! ! ! Thee anger, the rage, the look she gave. She grabbed her baby slammed! ! ! ! ! her on her bottom in a chair and piece, by piece, start cutting her hair. Telling her you think your better then me! ! ! ! you think your prettier, then me, you red **** You think you can compete with me **** even tho she's only eight years old. Talked about her birthmark on her feet and said thats the start of you being ugly, and the daughter just cried! ! ! ! The mother said you make me do these things to you because you think you so got dam! ! ! beautiful.
Years later a history of events occurred thur out the years and now the daughter is now 15 and her mom hating on her body, that she covered up all the mirrors or gave them away so her daughter wouldn't be able to look at her face. What ever the daughter can see thur the mother trash that too the daughter asked why are you so mean and taking everything because this is mine **** you always think your cutter then me! ! ! You red ****you want to hit me so I can **** up your face! ! ! ! wearing your tight jeans acting like you so much better then me you red **** And the daughter didn't say a word she just looked at her and her mom responded you looking down on me and the daughter responded no! ! ! ! Then responded I should have gave you away when the doctor placed you in my ***** hand, and she went on to say that day I brought you home I should took your clothes off and left you in the cold! ! ! ! ! you red ***** should be thankful and grateful that I didn't do that **** to you I'm only telling you this for your own *** good! ! ! then her mom said you want to hit me don't you **** and the daughter responded no but I'm sad for you tho, that you couldn't be the mother I needed you to be, and it hurts it really hurts, and the mom responded **** you **** and the mom said what is that chair doing in your room! ! ! ! I just wanted you to love me. The daughter stood up in the chair the mom responded **** get down off my **** the daughter said I would never be loved by you the mother said you got that right! ! ! the daughter started to cry and the mom responded you ugly **** daughter went to her pocket grabbed the knife and cut her own wrist I had to do this JUST TO GET AWAY FRom you, you jealousy **** she smiled and fell to the floor bleeding to death. Then the mom started yelling noooooooooo my baby my beautiful baby girl! ! ! ! ! ! !
Clarence Williams of greater
poem by Clarence Williams
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I haven't spoken to my wife in years. I didn't want to interrupt her.
quote by Rodney Dangerfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I spent two years in the Army. And my older brother, who was also a great positive influence on me, encouraged me to think about law school, and I said - well, I didn't have any money.
quote by George J. Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pop Juice
You went there until you crash here
Then woken up to wonder where the night went
Keep breathing it'll come back again
Tonight will be different
We will all be saved
My name's Jimmy, I'm an alcoholic
And I have been for 33 years or more
So kill me, I will die without it
It's like this wherever I go
So we crashed down in BB's
Keep quiet because the question is elaborate
You need a lawyer, a doctor, a drink
To keep surviving
Keep me firing
My name's Jimmy, I'm an alcoholic
And I have been for 33 years or more
So kill me, I will die without it
It's like this wherever I go
I don't feel like going out
I don't feel like going out
Feel like going out
I don't feel like going out
I don't feel like going out
Feel like going out
Feel like going out
My name's Jimmy, I'm an alcoholic
And I have been for 33 years or more
So kill me, I will die without it
It's like this wherever I go
My name's Jimmy, I'm an alcoholic
And I have been for 33 years or more
So kill me, I will die without it
It's like this wherever I go
Do you feel like going out?
Do you feel like going out?
Do you feel like going out?
Do you feel like going out?
Do you feel like going out?
Do you feel like going out?
Do you feel like going out?
song performed by by Gomez
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rizal
i agree
education is the key
when the door if
finally opened
in fact a long time ago
and
we already had
333 years in that
Spanish convent and
43 years of
that Hollywood experience
another door has been
closed
and still
the key has to open it
one door leads to
another
same key
the young keep on getting
that key
another door is close
more keys
each key has become
more expensive
and some have thrown
that key away
meanwhile the Authority
is asking
that doors outside the country
be opened
export labor
brain drain
that is another key
problem
on the other
hand
it is not the money
it is the open mind
resilient to
poverty
taking time still to laugh
at those hard times
i agree
despite the irrelevance
it is still
the rightful key
the door is open
and we are inside it
no one
no one can take this house
again
from us
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Our Nephew Thomas
Our nephew Thomas Duggan died at twenty three
And he is one I'll never meet or see
For he is one i never met before
And he is at rest now forever more
In distant Chicago in the U S A
From where i live a half a World away
His loss to his family time can only heal
My late brother John's son he has one brother Neil
I met his mother Nancy years ago
A lovely lady this for her a tragic blow
A devoted mother and to John a loving wife
She has a heavy cross to bear in life
He died in an accident in April of this year
Such sad news one would rather not to hear.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Mistrust of Sex.
Ginny had a mistrust of sex,
It led into dark corners
she didn’t want to recall,
didn’t want to explore,
didn’t want to know.
Mother’d just died,
Father was too cut up
to notice the fingering and pokering
in shadowy places
out of sight of others.
Her husband tried,
years later,
in a gentle manner,
to open her up
to the joys of sex,
but she closed him up
and shut him down,
after kissing moved on
to touches and holding
and physical smut.
Ginny wished Mother’d been there,
hadn’t gone off with death,
hadn’t left her alone
with the bogeyman in the dark,
who touched her
and fingered her
just for a laugh and lark.
poem by Terry Collett
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Pride Comes Before A Fall
The great one does not last a champion in his prime
He lost to a younger man with some help from father time
The years had left him slow time takes care of us all
He defended his pride but pride comes before a fall.
And even what a difference five or six years can make
To keep on keeping on for him a big mistake
He should have called it quits a couple of years ago
For the money he kept going though the years had left him slow.
Once feted and admired but that was in the past
And he too had his day and nothing ever last
He went down rather tame to one that he once would beat
And for one proud as he there is no pride in defeat.
The beaten one this time he has called it a day
Though perhaps six years ago he should have given his game away
But his pride kept him going wisdom never was his friend
And his glory day for him one might say at an end.
poem by Francis Duggan
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That child
Eight years old and already hate life
Abused by her adopted mother
Raped by her adopted brother
She is just a child and she cant be more.
The bruises on her back keeps her silent
She cries at night till the pain is numb
And when he is on top of her she drifts away
Away from body away from spirit.
Nine years old and it continues
To protect her blood brother from the same
She pretends nothing is wrong
For him, trying so hard to be strong.
She cared so much for her blood brother
She took his bruises upon her self
And he was only a year younger
And they both were just kids.
Ten years old and he still knows nothing
She must be the best secret keeper
Or just a scarred girl who doesnt want her brother to know
Either way she is just a child.
Eleven years old nothing changes
Twelve years old she is getting fed up
The nights when he would come in and do what ever
Forced to mature before her time.
Fourteen she tells her adopted mother
And adopted mother beats her and the girl knows not why
Is it because the mother doesn't believe her
Or does not care enough for her feelings
Sixteen she tries to runaway
Her aunt talks to her so she goes back
Seventeen she moves out and graduate high school
What do you know she graduate with honors.
Eighteen she joins the military
Her blood brother still knows nothing
He see her for her success and not her struggle
That is how she want to keep it.
Her childhood was taking
She just met her birth father
Knows not her birth mother
Her biological brother is all she has
At Nineteen she wrote this poem.
And still remembers that child.
poem by Tressa Carliss
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~You're Dead Because Of Me~
At times it may seem
That living life is to hard,
Mybody cries and screams
And my trust has been scarred
I'm sick of living but what else can I do
Perhaps suicide?
Everything would be better if I died
But what if I died where would I go?
Would I finally see you?
After all these years,
Through all my tears,
Would I finally be with you?
I saw you going under, I saw your hand,
I saw you reach for me, but I didnt understand
I didnt understand, but now I do,
You were reaching for me,
To help you onto safety,
At the time i didn't see,
And now you're gone, because I didn't help you,
You're dead because of what I didn't do
It's because of me,
That you died,
Because of me that you commited suicide,
ALL MY FAULT! ! ! ! ! ! !
poem by Cara Green
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My Brother Bill
This is the sad true story about my brother Bill
who was four years older than me.
He was born and then tossed aside by his mother
who left him to his father’s parents to raise,
then promptly disappeared out of his life forever.
My grandparents brought him up
hoping his father would take care of him
when he returned from the war.
His father also my dad returned from the war
married with another son and didn’t want to know.
They gave him a nickname in private
so no one else would know.
In private, they always called him Dopey.
My sister and I were told
our grandparents had adopted him
and he was nothing to do with us.
When my dad’s parents died in 1958 and 59
plans were made to come back to England
where my mother’s parents were still alive
and leave Bill far behind.
Then as his mother had done eighteen years before
his father abandoned him as well.
For a while, he had to live on the streets
taking handout from where ever he could.
He was arrested for vagrancy and sent to jail.
Getting out he got himself a job and began to build a life.
He got married and started a family,
until one night he came home
and found his wife in bed with another man,
and a divorce followed and he was alone again.
Then after 25 years, his job vanished
and he had to find another.
One day in 2000, he got a telephone call
and did not know whether to believe it or not.
It was a call he never thought he would ever get,
a call from his younger brother - me.
As we talked on the phone, some truths came to pass
his brother and his sister did not know about him.
They were told he had been adopted
and were nothing to do with them.
However, I had found the truth,
which incensed my mother enough to disown me.
We met one another for the first time
after forty-two years in 2001 and again in 2002.
In 2003, this sad story ends,
in the March of that year
Bill succumbed to a heart attack.
His final words were a testament to his life.
No one loved me enough to care.
The sad truth is someone did
and that someone was me.
We never had enough time together,
circumstances kept us apart,
but he was my brother
and will remain in my heart.
2 November 2009
Authors Note:
The facts are as Bill told them to me. A sad refrain to a wonderful guy who was tainted by my parents as being bad and no good. If the truth were known he was probably better than the both of them. He was a guy who would give you the shirt of his back if you needed it. My brother Bill, may he now rest in peace.
DVH - 2009
poem by David Harris
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Father Spoke in Code
Father spoke in code
Mother understood.
She would cry
once he went to bed.
I never understood the code.
My sister didn't either.
As we got older, we quit
asking Mother what he said.
A feral cat claimed our yard.
It would leap the fence
when anyone appeared.
Except, of course, Father.
When he came out to walk
around the garden after supper,
the cat would sit straight up,
then rub against his leg
and look at him as if it understood
what others never could.
My sister used to say
the two of us were proof
Father and Mother
got together twice.
I told her I wasn't so certain.
I looked a lot like Mr. Brompton,
the next-door neighbor.
He used to buy us sugar cones
from the ice cream truck.
My sister, by the way, didn't look
like anyone in the family either,
but that was 40 years ago
when I last saw her.
I went away to college
and she got married.
We were never close after that.
Not even Christmas cards.
Forty years is a long time.
Now, we plan to get together
for a weekend this summer
before one of us dies.
I suggested we wait
till one of us is terminal.
What's the rush, I said.
But my wife told her
I was only kidding,
that we'll be coming
and not to make a fuss.
Burgers and hot dogs
will do just fine.
I know what Sis and I
will talk about that weekend,
the two people we'll always
have in common, no matter
how many years and miles
may lie between us.
Father and Mother have been
dead for decades now
but they're still alive in us.
I talk in code, my wife says,
and my sister cries a lot,
now that her husband's dead.
The one thing I want to know
is if my sister knows
what happened to the cat.
It knew the code,
may have had some answers.
poem by Donal Mahoney
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I haven't seen a professional player come out of New York in over 20 years since my brother Patrick came out. Blake spent a few years in Harlem, but he moved to Connecticut when he was a kid.
quote by John McEnroe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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