Thursday, January 11, 2007

Melissa

Even though we have met
once or twice in the past.
I know that a lasting impression
of me would never last.
I know that you don't know me.
You don't know my name.
You are a well know star
a woman with rock and roll fame.
The stories in your songs
tell me that you know just where
I've been.
The power and the tenderness
in your music
never end.
You enter the stage
the leader of your band.
With your performance on stage
you take command.
I know the lyrics in your songs
come from deep inside of you
and in each and every song
you always speak true.
Your music touches my heart
and moves my very soul.
Watching you perform on stage
is somthing to behold.
You sing about passion, love
and sweet desire.
The lyrics in your songs
really do inspire.
You will never know
just what you mean to me.
You will never know
unfortunatly.

Friday, January 5, 2007

dad

dad, you aret he hardest to write about. i have so many feelings that come rushing at me when i think of you. so many questions i would ask you if you and i could talk now. did you love me? you never told me that you loved me, not once in your intire life. the closest that you came was when you were dieing in the hospital. you said that you knew that i wouldn't lie to you, then you asked me if you were going to die. i lied and said i didn't know. you said that you wanted some coffee and i got you some. i fed you the coffee from the spoon and you said, i was a good kid. a good kid, good kid, good kid, good kid, not i love you. i guess i should be thankful that you said that because you didn't even tell my sisters that. the next morning you were gone. did you care about me? dad, how could you not know how much i was afraid of you? you terrified me when you would go into your drunken rages with mom. here is what i remember about you. i remember how after smashing the living room to splinters you held mom in a head lock. you asked me what i wanted smashed
next, the tv set or mom. i remember another time how you threatened to cut moms throat with a butcher knife. i was so small at the time i thought that if i made her sleep with a rag around her throat it would protect her from you.
i remeber another time when you and mom were going at it and you were frying somthing in the kitchen and you picked up the pan and threw it at me because i sided with mom. at every one of your drunken rages with mom you smashed our things. sometimes it was what ever was closest to you, like that pan. butter up aganist the wall, ashtrys, dishes whatever you could reach. i remember one time you and mom got at it and you poured beer all over the clothes she had just ironed. i remember another time when you told mom that you were going to kill her and burn the house down around her. i remember the break-down that mom had because of you. i remember being scared to death that mom was going to loose her job because she couldn't go to work and she didn't want to tell them what happened. i remember the time i called the cops on you when you were in you drunken rage and you told me that i was no daughter of yours because no daughter of yours would call the cops. i remember how you beat donna with a rubber paddle becaues she came in ten minutes late and she had to go to the hospital. you would not get away with that today,dad. i remember how you and sandra would physically fight and mom would have to pull you off each other. dad when you and mom would go at it, i heard things that no child should ever hear. i remember mom telling us how you never wanted up girls. she would be complaining about how much work she had to do and you never helped or apperciated anything and you would say that is why she had us girls. to do the work. i remember how mom said that you tried to smother sandra when she was a baby sleeping in her crib. she came in, just in time to stop you. you never denied it. i remember how you said that you and mom had not made love in years and you accused her of having an affair. i remember when you smashed you boat into the edgewater pier and sunk your boat. you were drunk of course. the police were called and you were arrested and taken to jail. you called mom telling her to bail you out. i remember how you hated mom handling the money. she would say that she had to handle the money because if she didn't you would spend it all and the bills would never get paid. if you were not in a drunken rage you wouldn't talk to us. well, that's not true, you would talk at us. get me some coffee, put the dog out, change the channel
you didn't clean the strainers in the sink good enough. i remember when you mother died and we were walking across the street to the funneral parlor and i took your hand to hold and you wouldn't take my hand.i guess i could go on and and on and on and on but what is the point. what is the point of writing or thinking about this crap. what good will it do. i will never get any answers. i wish that you and i could talk now. i wonder what happened to you spirit after you left us. do you know the hurt that you caused? Would you hold me and tell me how sorry that you were and that you loved me? why do i even care, but i do.