If I were someone,
Someone not me,
The sins of the past
Would let me be.
The sins of the past
Would another one hurt,
Deep inside where ugly
Resides like piled-up dirt.
Deep inside where ugly
Causes the mother to be mean,
Gives birth to the son
She thought was obscene.
Causes the mother to be mean
Since the father was a rolling stone.
A rolling stone became his son,
Searching the highways for his clone.
A rolling stone became his son
Going from town to town.
Leaving unloved children in his wake,
Searching for father to shoot him down.
Going from town to town
He finds his father hunkered down.
Old now unable to run,
He looks up at his son with the gun.
Old now unable to run
He laughs, coughs and laughs more.
Opening his arms saying "Do it now
And then go back and shoot the whore.
-©May 7, 2003 / Jerry Pat Bolton
Wow, Jerry, this cuts right through to the 'heart' of the matter. Reminds me of my step-dad, deceased. I love your poems. Take care my friend.
ReplyDeleteJanet xx
Thank you, Janet, my friend.
ReplyDeletePowerful poetry, with perfect combine of rhyme & rythm.
ReplyDeleteAh, hello Smita, thank you very much . . .
ReplyDeleteHello, I'm new around here :) And I am still just barely getting to know your writing so bare with me.
ReplyDeleteI sense a dark entity lurks somewhere close to your heart.
You run a definite continuous flow,telling a troubling story with amazing dexterity in word-play. It really is a great piece of writing. I loved the ending...
S.K., thank you for finding me and reading my poetry. It is greatly appreciated.
ReplyDeleteDark and troubling. That's why I like it.
ReplyDelete