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Sunday, September 28, 2014

The Devil You Know

Is it I who takes the rap
for your father's drunken crap
for I had one too many on a sunny summer day?

Do I smell of him...
dusty, greasy
grey and lazy
still so crazy?

Do I look like him...
with wily whiskers on my chin
and haunted, yellow
crooked grin?

Does he frighten you still
that you hand me his cross instead
demanding that I walks his bloody mile
for your angry Jew
for I am the easier, softer way?

Am I the river for your tears?
Do you will me to swell and overflow
crawling across this desert
under your watchful, distant
burning command
as you number my every
dying drop?

Is this the price I'll pay
for the stain that never went away?
You sulking saint
You serpentine
You little girl
You brooding queen

Save your soul
and not from me
but from yourself
and get one thing into your armored mind...
I am nothing like your father


"It is sometimes refreshing to embrace a position of  uncompromising unforgiveness...there are surprises and rewards that follow in the wake of  the undiluted expression of one's hateful seizures. However, if you are unskilled in the subtle  transformative processes of language, it is best not to write down your ugly thoughts. If you must, do not show them to one who has the power to transmute. He will not be able to help you. He cannot recover from what he himself has begun." Leonard Cohen


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