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ABOUT ATTRITION

ABOUT ATTRITION

Few kind words were ever spoken
and I never understood the beatings:
gratuitous fits of anger and mostly
location---I was the youngest
always in range and I cried not for the pain
but for a heart that was breaking.
love had boundaries and conditions
and for every sin there was an attrition
yet I was a child : my sins were never clear….
I did finally see after many a year
I realized the sins weren’t mine
and for that I cry; my love was the stronger
and I bear the hurt no longer.

Editing stage: 

Comments

maybe the cold..the weather..I understand this very clearly
and how you have put it to words
i always said it was like radiation
radiowaves etc
that energy burst
and I became affected
and survived so far

last lines are epic

thank U
!

I hesitated posting this. I knew you would understand.

joe

author comment

very similar conditions
you are the youngest
in your family
she is the perhaps
eldest
such mates have similar fates
I have many experienced
be it
nothing can be done now
but endure somehow
just say hello
and WOW!
May also
BOW!!!

I was just a child. That is all my mother knew,

author comment

but I knew powerful men whom went through worse
U perhaps had just a mother......imagine a mother
and a father similar...both ambitious powerful
totality in say....and within that construct the ambition
for power control....Hey...maybe I got more then just
italian in me....maybe Sicilian....these grey eyes....
any...way....
ahem
U didnt hesitate
welcome to the wonderful world of This edge
this ledge
cause if your not the edge!
your taking up way too much space
Laughed my ass off when I read this!
the above line three spaces

I got hit with the anger..rage
potential to be beaten senseless
like being thrown a grenade
told its live but its always a dud
U never get used to it
I could write a thesis on the love
hate trip

no one writes about this
no one writes about what happened
a friend of mine said we are all haunted
value things more then hearts
but not so...
there are many who value hearts
and appreciate things
I remember poets whom wrote from
living under bridges for a time
my computer crashes...
I got no library card now
Im gone for awhile

but that doesnt mean my poetic
soul or essence is gone...
I get hit by a bus
cold..whatever
If there is spirit land and many
cultures believe there is
then I figure I will not be
all that different...

all my mother knew
my mother was human
and brilliant
and she knew

all I shall say about that
and I like that saying
Karmas a bitch
otherwise I will
be upholding the hate
which came with the love
I endured
and sorry
but there isnt
that tolerance
in my expectation
of the Now...

some people are
just cruel
simple as that
as someone said
I shall take it up
with her when I meet
up with her...
I liked that one
even better
and that
person is a hard
core mothutrucker
a female too boot!

oh no...
I am so happy U posted
this Joe!
the righteous
indignant
..
are that because they
chose not to face the fears
of the oppression
because they in turn became
what they hated
they became as dirty
and committed their
personal and social attocities
in their own fashion
love hate....
passed on

poetry....
we just write it here
its in us
our path
our cause

thank U very much!
U have greatly enlightened
me!
on our coldest day and sunshine
beautiful thus far!!

Esker!

we were the chosen--the good child generally is , an d the sensitive heart quietly submits because it knows how to forgive.

author comment

I got the hate...but my mom was sick...I got a lot of good and shown empathy
she was not a complete horror.....she showed me all that...
maybe she just knew.....somehow it would make sense to me
funny world!

thank U! and U are right!

my mom knew; but she only followed what her mother did in raising kids. Mom raised all 3 of us well. Not all bad.

author comment

was the protector. She was the one who taught me love and forgiveness. I owe her for the heart she gave to me. My father was the one who abused us. He was an alcoholic who took his anger out on us for the mistakes he made while captive of the "demon drink". They divorced, but my mother was the one who convinced me that he was sick and that he couldn't help himself. She forgave him, as did I. Thank you, Mom! Thank you, Joe. I see where you are coming from and know the truth. You are one of the bravest people that I know, to write about something that many people chose to bury.
~ Gee

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This must be the place, 'cause there ain't no place like this place anywhere near this place.

we all have a survival mechanism in us.

thanks, m y friend

author comment
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