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    Headstall
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The content presented here is for informational or educational purposes only. These are just the authors' personal opinions and knowledge.
Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are based on the authors' lives and experiences and may be changed to protect personal information. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Headstall's Reflections - 2. Chapter 2 Honor Thy Father

Bad dreams of bad memories. More reflections as I look back. We are the sum of our parts....

Reflections

 

 

Chapter 2 Honor Thy Father

 

 

 

Hidden terror still abides in me

A mistake to think time sets you free

A child’s abuse is my cross to bear

I learned too soon life isn’t fair

 

A mother beaten while at my side

No safe place for me to hide

Boiling hot coffee thrown in her face

How dare she ever forget her place?

 

Black liquid burned on my face, neck, and arm

Not her fault she couldn't keep me from harm

A loving father on public display

A lie, a creature no plea could sway

 

You died alone, you piece of crap

Ran out of victims, your life’s a wrap

Does anyone ever think of you?

Yeah, it took long enough to get your due

 

Big strong man you thought you were

You more resembled a worthless curr

Caring more about your shiny things

Cruising around town with the air of kings

 

Three grown sons who hated your guts

Your legacy’s worse than a million cuts

Some say that to forgive is to forget

I hope you’re in hell now paying your debt

 

Beaten senseless because you’re too pretty

An irony for me that’s the nitty gritty

We left and you moved on to others

My biggest fault was a face like my mother’s

 

I hope she can see you from a place up high

Where never again can you make her cry

Mourning you is something I tried to do

In the end, thank God I never turned into you

 

When my life ends I have no fear

Memories of me, my kids will hold dear

Honor thy father, speak well his name

Truth is, I envision you a writhing flame

 

Back in those days you got away with this

I hope now you’re enduring a devil’s kiss

We may have escaped your controlling clutches

But to this day, we still struggle with our crutches

I guess I'm striking out at something long gone, but that has never really left.
Copyright © 2017 Headstall; All Rights Reserved.
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The content presented here is for informational or educational purposes only. These are just the authors' personal opinions and knowledge.
Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are based on the authors' lives and experiences and may be changed to protect personal information. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

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On 04/30/2016 11:26 PM, ColumbusGuy said:

Oh Gary, I really didn't want to like this one. Not because it wasn't good, great in fact, but due instead to the subject. It feels like I'm validating or approving of the monster by clicking 'Like', and I never want to do that. So, I'm looking at it like this: the 'Like' is for you--for having the guts to even look at these episodes and having to relive them. I know they never go away, and I hope that this at least is a catharsis for you, if not a healing.

You know what is so achingly beautiful--that despite experience, you turned out to be an awesome father and loyal friend to those in need. You broke what could have been a continuing cycle...and I am so lucky to count you as my friend.

Hugs from Down South, G.

Thanks, CG. It was cathartic, but it was tough going for a while. I think it was good for me even though it sticks around still. Yeah, I was never remotely part of the cycle. I guess I'm one of the lucky ones in that regard. Loving and nurturing my kids was and is my greatest joy. Thank you so much for the review and your comments... I'm lucky too, to count you as my friend... cheers... Gary...

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On 01/10/2017 06:57 AM, Dennis191 said:

God...The beginning. Well, guessing now I`m welcome to the club of those who were abused as a child.

And...Am I the only one who instantly remembers a song from Sonata Arctica. Ummm..It`s called "I have the right" Well just google it. A great piece here.

Thanks, Dennis... I googled the song... powerful, and appropriate to my poem. I appreciate you checking this one out... it was a difficult one to let see the light of day, but it was good for me to do it... cheers... Gary....

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I m not of a crying disposition...but I couldn't held it in after reading this...The pain, the anger, the sorrow everything was so raw!!

(On a personal level I have such experiences myself only it's my mum but I just couldn't word it, even in my poem which is my outlet...

when I read yours, everything suddenly came back and I was a sobbing mess, in fact my hands are shaking while writing this)

I don't know what to say..."beautiful" doesn't seem right...So I could just say...very well worded/written!!!

  

Edited by Aviana
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On 7/5/2017 at 1:14 PM, Aviana said:

I m not of a crying disposition...but I couldn't held it in after reading this...The pain, the anger, the sorrow everything was so raw!!

(On a personal level I have such experiences myself only it's my mum but I just couldn't word it, even in my poem which is my outlet...

when I read yours, everything suddenly came back and I was a sobbing mess, in fact my hands are shaking while writing this)

I don't know what to say..."beautiful" doesn't seem right...So I could just say...very well worded/written!!!

  

Yes, I was very raw as I wrote this. It's the first time I had put those feelings into words. I hope your tears were helpful ones... we learn to live with a lot bad stuff, but it's impossible to forget. No, it's not a 'beautiful' poem... but it is honest... thank you for reading and leaving such a powerful comment :hug:  Cheers... Gary....

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20 minutes ago, Rigby Taylor said:

Wow! This is powerful stuff! So clear, so concise, so totally to the point. This is what poetry is all about. a fast slap in the face that we didn't see coming, leaving a sting we don't forget.

Thanks, Gary.

R

Hey, R. When I wrote this, I felt exposed, and there was a real reluctance to post something I'd kept close to the vest for so many years. It ended up being a slap to me too, and it still stings a little. But, that is what poetry is for me... digging deep for truth and letting go. Not to say it's a cure-all, because it's not. Anyway, I appreciate you reading and commenting... and finding it powerful. That is rewarding... cheers... Gary....

Gary, I just read Honor Thy Father, and I teared up. Again we have the same experience with our fathers. My father loved to scare the living daylights out of me when I was way younger.
I was oh about 6 or 7 years old when he did something that I still can remember. One day he and I were on a father/son activity, He rode his bike and upfront was a child seat, we were at the harbor and he leaned his front tire over the edge of the quay, and dipped the tire deeper. So I was sitting in the child seat and he asked; '' Do you want me to throw you with the bike in the water?'' I was so scared, I wet my pants while clinging to the handlebars of my child seat; he slowly edged the front tire deeper and I started to cry. He did more things but this one is etched in my memory.  A few months later my mom divorced him. I was so scared when I was alone with him because he found always new ways to scare me or to hurt me.

I am sorry you, your brothers and Mom had to endure that. You are right if I would have children I would never treat them the way my Dad did. I would love them, encourage them and be there for them. As always, your writings touch me.

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39 minutes ago, Job said:

Gary, I just read Honor Thy Father, and I teared up. Again we have the same experience with our fathers. My father loved to scare the living daylights out of me when I was way younger.
I was oh about 6 or 7 years old when he did something that I still can remember. One day he and I were on a father/son activity, He rode his bike and upfront was a child seat, we were at the harbor and he leaned his front tire over the edge of the quay, and dipped the tire deeper. So I was sitting in the child seat and he asked; '' Do you want me to throw you with the bike in the water?'' I was so scared, I wet my pants while clinging to the handlebars of my child seat; he slowly edged the front tire deeper and I started to cry. He did more things but this one is etched in my memory.  A few months later my mom divorced him. I was so scared when I was alone with him because he found always new ways to scare me or to hurt me.

I am sorry you, your brothers and Mom had to endure that. You are right if I would have children I would never treat them the way my Dad did. I would love them, encourage them and be there for them. As always, your writings touch me.

Thanks for sharing your experience with me, Job. I never understood my father's anger, but back in those days, men were almost expected to be aloof and even a separate entity from their family... I hope you know what I mean. I'm sure you are proud of your mom for divorcing your father... I know I was with mine. Like you, some things are etched in my memory, and every so often, I relive them. Take care, my friend... I'm glad you were able to escape as well... at least physically. Cheers... Gary.... :hug: 

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I don't normally read poetry, but I am so glad I read this powerful, well crafted poem.  As a teacher I had to work with students who were abused, confront abusive parents and try to help heal the wounds.  Only once was I surprised by father that had the courage to acknowledge the abuse he had suffered as a child.  Like you, he was an excellent father who survived, healed and raised a happy son.  I hope that there are many of these success stories, but know from this experience that we may not know of these successes.  The courage to share these personal histories is rare.  You have my deep respect for your courage to share this poem with us. I also extend that respect for the readers who shared similar stories when commenting on this poem.  Thanks Gary

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29 minutes ago, raven1 said:

I don't normally read poetry, but I am so glad I read this powerful, well crafted poem.  As a teacher I had to work with students who were abused, confront abusive parents and try to help heal the wounds.  Only once was I surprised by father that had the courage to acknowledge the abuse he had suffered as a child.  Like you, he was an excellent father who survived, healed and raised a happy son.  I hope that there are many of these success stories, but know from this experience that we may not know of these successes.  The courage to share these personal histories is rare.  You have my deep respect for your courage to share this poem with us. I also extend that respect for the readers who shared similar stories when commenting on this poem.  Thanks Gary

Hey, raven. I never wrote much poetry before I came to GA. I'm not a musician, but I did write some songs for a period of time in my forties. To be honest, writing this one shook me up. I think it was good for me, but it took a long while to settle. I don't feel shame for him anymore, but when I think of those times, I still feel ill... like I'm waiting for something bad to happen. I felt that way for most of my childhood and even beyond. 

My kids have never been hit, or emotionally or verbally abused. All I've ever done was raise my voice and lecture them when I thought they were putting themselves in danger, and even then, I would apologize later for yelling at them. They aren't perfect kids, but they are all confident and well adjusted and loving and considerate and respectful... and they just love making fun of dad. I'm a very fortunate man... which makes up for the opposite reality of my childhood. I hadn't read this poem in a long time, and it still makes me cringe, but I had an epiphany of sorts just now. I remember how my grandmother used to spoil him... he used to whine to her about stuff, so unlike her other three children, and he usually got his own way. She stopped spoiling him once she saw what he was capable of with his own family, and I loved her dearly for coming to our rescue one time. Maybe that was why he was capable of such cruelty. I guess it really doesn't matter anymore....

Thanks for reading and leaving such an interesting comment. I appreciate that very much... cheers... Gary.... :hug: 

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15 minutes ago, Headstall said:

Hey, raven. I never wrote much poetry before I came to GA. I'm not a musician, but I did write some songs for a period of time in my forties. To be honest, writing this one shook me up. I think it was good for me, but it took a long while to settle. I don't feel shame for him anymore, but when I think of those times, I still feel ill... like I'm waiting for something bad to happen. I felt that way for most of my childhood and even beyond. 

My kids have never been hit, or emotionally or verbally abused. All I've ever done was raise my voice and lecture them when I thought they were putting themselves in danger, and even then, I would apologize later for yelling at them. They aren't perfect kids, but they are all confident and well adjusted and loving and considerate and respectful... and they just love making fun of dad. I'm a very fortunate man... which makes up for the opposite reality of my childhood. I hadn't read this poem in a long time, and it still makes me cringe, but I had an epiphany of sorts just now. I remember how my grandmother used to spoil him... he used to whine to her about stuff, so unlike her other three children, and he usually got his own way. She stopped spoiling him once she saw what he was capable of with his own family, and I loved her dearly for coming to our rescue one time. Maybe that was why he was capable of such cruelty. I guess it really doesn't matter anymore....

Thanks for reading and leaving such an interesting comment. I appreciate that very much... cheers... Gary.... :hug: 

I have only started to read your poetry, but have enjoyed the few I have read and will continue this.  (I also have begun reading Sidewinder at your previous recommendation.)

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6 minutes ago, raven1 said:

I have only started to read your poetry, but have enjoyed the few I have read and will continue this.  (I also have begun reading Sidewinder at your previous recommendation.)

Well... I have written a lot of them... and it's nice to hear you've enjoyed the ones you've read so far. Since you brought me back to this one, I've been rereading some of them, and I kind of got lost in them. Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me... it's why I keep writing. :)  So glad you're reading Sidewinder as well... it's sequel is nearing its end, and then it's on to something new. :) Cheers! G.

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16 minutes ago, Headstall said:

Well... I have written a lot of them... and it's nice to hear you've enjoyed the ones you've read so far. Since you brought me back to this one, I've been rereading some of them, and I kind of got lost in them. Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me... it's why I keep writing. :)  So glad you're reading Sidewinder as well... it's sequel is nearing its end, and then it's on to something new. :) Cheers! G.

I am looking forward to reading many of your stories.  I am very impress with what little I have read so far.  Your descriptions and characters are very well written. Watch for comments from me in the future. 😀

Edited by raven1
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