Father and son
05/11 2023
He alleviates the sins of the father
By dangling eternal glory in front of the son.
See them rise to heaven with polished assault rifles,
Or mohair suits and blackened fountain pens and minute trifles.
They who lit the temple of Jupiter on fire in hordes
Or they who cut their hair with Moorish swords.
The three fates twirl the mother's hair to a noose.
He grows up thinking the world is full of dangers
So he surrounds himself with strangers.
He's one among many looking for a way out
Though he would never hope to admit it.
He steals a dream of his fathers about
Eternal reward from cruel loyalty
To rebels against fast-food royalty.
The three fates pour hormones in his saltshaker.
He says "Nothing makes sense anymore"
Before kicking down his neighbor's door.
He wears sunglasses to his father's funeral, a pointless day.
He smokes cigarettes in stairways with tobacco's prey.
and His tongue is coated in sweet-sounding words
Which are poison to his soul, but which he ultimately throws out.
The three fates weave a gentle lullaby into his jeans.
He finds himself aching for days long ago,
When things made sense, when nothing had to go,
When traditions were truer than a photograph.
He meets his father in the mirror
Wearing an officer's uniform
And his expression is stern against the storm.
The trumpet sounds, it is time to go.
War is fought for unknown ambitions.
They fire at religious apparitions;
Spirits who emerge from the dust of old;
Spirits who only want to be loved in the cold.
They return and spin a wild tale
Of how Apollo used to burn the eggs without fail,
Or how Athena chased them through blood red rivers
But never let them believe that she meant any harm.