Monday, December 16, 2013

A Dark Dark Christmas Poem


Twas the night before Christmas and all thro’ the house, 
There was one creature stirring, it wasn’t the mouse;
His stocking was hung in my face with good care,
In hopes that his dickolas would soon be “down there”;
My siblings were nestled all snug in there beds, 
While I gave that damn ass hole some wonderful head, 
And Mama in her ‘kerchief, and my diaper full of crap,
If I did not a good job, “Santa” gave me a slap’
He had just settled into a nice rhythmic fuck, 
I soon had the feeling, I’m fresh out of luck. 
When out in the hall there rose such a clatter, 
My mother came in to see what was the matter. 
Away under the bus I flew in a flash, 
Tossed me under the tire, then made a mad dash. 
The moon on my face with his milky white snow, 
At the corners of my mouth, no suspicion arose?  
When what do my wondering ears they do hear,
A little “white lie” and a suggestion of more beer.
That little old driver, an asshole so quick,
I knew I was stuck with this horrible prick. 
More rapid than eagles his lies when they came, 
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name, 
Now dash here, now dance here, now prance here you vixen, 
On Trusting, on Believing at Once you poor victim.
To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall! 
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”
As dry heaves from the assault, the wild hurricane did fly, 
When they met with an obstacle, mounted to “that guy”,
So up to the house-top the course that he flew, 
To control all of the aspects of live that was below.
Then to my deep dismay that I saw from this land,
The wanting and yearning of many small hands,
As he held my small head, my head spinning around, 
Down my throat did st. Dick, he had cum with a bound:
Then he dressed and changed my diaper then kissed my small foot,
And his big smile was tainted, that ass hole’s a coot, 
A bundle of lies he had flung on my back:
His eyes how they squinted and dared me to speak,
His cheeks were  were so rosy, the liquor did reek;
His droll little mouth had a nasty smirked smile, 
And the acts he inflicted made me throw up some bile.
The stump of his pipe he held down past my teeth,
And the stroke of his dick held my head in the wreath.
He had a broad face, and a little round belly, 
That shook when he fuck, my face like it’s jelly:
He was controlling and a grump a wright he gave to himself, 
And I cried when I saw him, I had no “myself”,
A squint of his eye and a punch to my head
Soon gave me the knowledge there’s so much to dread.
He spoke not one word, he went to strait to his “work”,
He drained my poor childhood, turned on me; such a jerk.
And laying his middle finger upon me he chose, 
To give the world his warped view and came smelling like a rose. 
He sprung to his family, to his team he gave a whistle, 
And away they all flew, I had to swallow another thistle:
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight;
My sons under the left tire, and to all a a good night. 


Krampus is a sort of anti-Santa, a demon who comes to punish children who misbehave during the year. 
I am using the image here as the anti-Santa who takes childhoods away from children who have not done anything wrong.    

Sunday, December 1, 2013

A Call From A Supportive Uncle

I recently got a call from my uncle from the west coast.  He has been with his partner for I think around 40 years!  He is a very educated and successful man and I am very proud of him.  He is semi retired and has done many years of work in the community where he and his partner reside.  He also loves his older sister a great deal and is her enabler.

I recently got a call from my uncle on the west coast.   He asked me if I had heard from my mother and I told him no.  I informed him I had written her and called her and even visited her but there has been no response.  I asked him about his life and we continued the conversation.   He moved back to the issue of if I had heard that my mother had fallen.  I informed him no I had not heard that.  I guess she is just being passive aggressive.  I asked him about the community work he was involved with and the funding his organization has been rewarding persons or other organizations needing funding for projects or art installations.  He responded with information I asked about and again the conversation went back to my mother and "family/relations".  I informed my uncle that I had not bonded with any of the people there as I grew up in more than one unsafe house and that there was safety in each house until my pedophile took that safety away.

My Uncle and his partner (who I have met once years ago) are so really incredible and very supportive of me.  My uncle even sent me a great deal of money to support  the art that seems to be a hobby now but it is what I work for to make it my living.   He also has a deep love and loyalty for his older sister.
I do not believe that he has drawn the parallel to being an enabler.  What happened to "fight your own battles".  What happened to "Work it out for yourselves!".    I did not have the luxury of having much of a relationship to my siblings or parents.  I for the most part think of myself as an orphan.

If there are enough photos of me as an infant and young child, you can see that in every photo I began the tradition of looking at one of my siblings when there was a photo in a group setting.  Often times it was a group photo at my grand parents house in Tilden.   The photos changed after the sexual molestation began.  My life of course was shattered.  I believe have put the majority of the pieces together.

I want to confront my uncle about being an enabler.   I do not believe he would knowingly give liquor to an alcoholic.   He may occasionally have a glass of wine but that's about it.  It concerns me that I do not believe he understands that he is an enabler.  For now I will not confront him.

I was thinking about what I would write or send to my mother since it has been a number of years since I last wrote her.  With the print of the "high horse and ladder" I was going to put a gold sticky star near the middle of the back of the horse and state, "The last I knew, you were here", inside the card I was going to put the same picture of the "high horse with ladder" and put a gold star just to the right of the ladder.  On the inside of the card it would read..."Are you here?"

I do not see the point of writing to people who will not write back to me.

I think I may send a Christmas Card.  We will see.