(Dedicated to the useless gentrificationers of genuine pain)
Nobody wants to admit it
But we are ashamed of our past
‘I did not grow up poor in deep shit
And my fun parents made me laugh’
My happy childhood is the death of me
How dare my parents mock my artistry
Goddam daddy who didn’t drink
And mom who didn’t fuck the town
What was I supposed to think
When they failed to let me down
My happy childhood is the death of me
How dare my parents mock my artistry
Gramps didn’t stick his hands down my pants
Ain’t no hood profit in picket fence life
Credible people don’t stand a chance
Only the damned know how to bleed right
My happy childhood is the death of me
How dare my parents mock my artistry
(Artifacts of a past well remembered–both establishments these came from have been replaced by parking garages. The fuckers.)
(This is a neighbor whom I call “Da Blues.” He is a gregarious Russian Blue, his owner is very nice–but, for the love of God–do not dress your pets!)
(Pieces of the Twin Towers at The Evergreen Park 9-11 Memorial, Bremerton, WA)
Saragun Springs 
A happy 100th Birthday to Mel Brooks!
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Yes, loving parents and kind sibs and gentle, happy upbringings are the bane of existence of the aspiring artist. Love the cat but yes, don’t dress your pets.
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Hi Bill
Yes, we want kids to grow up safe and with caring parents. Yet society–mainly rap and metal music societies tries to spit on that. I grew up a bit rough, but that does not mean that the good kids are not able to feel and help. Messed up, specious world view supported by social media and not a damn bit correct. I like nice people. (Oh, and I think Da Blue’s has his shirt on backwards.)
Thank you!
Leila
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Aaaah! I love a bouncy ballad. Wonderful 3rd verse – thanks, mick
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Hi Mick
Thank you! Actually most of what I might call poetry is actually little bits of songs that never took shape–never found a melody or didn’t’t expand (or got too big) lyrically. Now, this one still has a chance, so you never can say.
Thanks as always!
Leila
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My Dear Leila
This poem reminds me of something out of Dorothy Parker’s brilliant, lovable, heartbreaking book ENOUGH ROPE. Not that your poem is overly influenced by Dorothy at all, instead that it resonates with her poems in that book and resurrects her spirit and renews that kind of spirit for a new time and place in the same way that Shakespeare develops from Ovid or Tennyson from Keats.
Complex irony, a double-sided voice, brilliant refrains, and more!
Great pictures of a world that once was until they ruined it.
That cat is a beautiful animal and he looks sadly resigned to wearing his Batman vest or whatever it is the friendly owner has chosen to clothe him with. Sadly resigned and wishing that someone would take it off of him.
Wonderful work, your energy inspires and amazes…
Dale
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Hello Dale
Thank you as always for your kindness and encouragement.
It looks to me like a baby onsie that is supposed to be coveralls. I so want to help him out of it, but that isn’t my business. Still…
Thank you!
Leila
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Hi Leila
This is so ironic and well done! ” It’s like the anti-American dream.
I love this line and many others…
“What was I supposed to think
When they failed to let me down”
CJA
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Hi CJA
You hit it with the anti-American Dream. I’m not sure how long ago it happened, 90’s, maybe, but there appeared to be a flat out refusal by some to admit they had good childhoods. No one had it perfect, but only cool people had messed up ones. That is such bullshit. I had a fairly messed up childhood, my parents did their best, but they were messed up people –good people but messed up. I’m messed up, but I’m all right. Childhoods that lack security and a sense of a glittering future not based on unrealistic dreams are not to be desired. Poverty is a terrible experience. It is not something to want, certainly not for children. I see the “cred” thing as a construct by the lazy, who turned to violence and cruelty and need to blame others, and by spoiled rich children who failed to appreciate the effort made on their behalf. The middle class, who used to be most people, used to exist when I was a kid, but they have either gone extinct or invisible. Now we have wealth and shades of poverty.
Thanks again!
Leila
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