my deadbeat dad

21 Feb


he stumpled upon

the gardens sprung –

whole universes

spilling out.

He watched them grow

from his high spot

until he fell asleep.

When he awoke,

there was a dream

that he almost remembered

that seemed to say,

HE was the one

who made it all this way;

even though, he had found it

already cooking along.

Then HE

told it, this world,

have at it, you kids and

HE hid away all of the keys.

Then HE threw up some

plastic that mimicked the truth

and buried it

below the dust.

HE paid for a book

in which HE was the star,

wooed the corrupt

(taped to view later);

HE paid off the guard, and

confused nimble spirits


HE got him a numbers’ guy,

taught him some Ponzi and

together they

printed some sums

on downed trees.

They took the cash down and

passed it around

for all the slippery bros.

They fingered some puppets

and boom boxed some tunes, and

Punch and Judy’ed us all in the gut.

Oh dad, you’re not my dad.

Mother ought lock

you in the closet.

We’re feeling so sad.

But cry not for  long, for the secret is close –

and the tree has both riddle and salve.

We were only playing

at sleep, but we missed the alarm, and

the dream was so real, we were lost.

7 Responses to “my deadbeat dad”

  1. prewitt1970 February 21, 2014 at 12:39 am #

    I hope your heart is healing whilst your head is reeling for these words are concealing. I’m here for you should you be feeling that your heart doth need healing.

    • marga t. February 21, 2014 at 12:52 am #

      Your words, I be heeding for you are so exceedingly kind 🙂 Forever! marga

      • prewitt1970 February 21, 2014 at 1:56 am #

        I always have you in my heart for you have a piece of me with you.

  2. Andrea February 21, 2014 at 12:52 am #

    Saclas! This poem is so f’ing brilliant it gave me goosebumps and revved up my engines. It’s go time.

  3. seeingm February 21, 2014 at 7:42 pm #

    Will the real MT please stand up? I believe she does in her life all the time. Profound dig out and up up and away.

    Power surges in the outer packaging of such malleable table manners. Passion is so beautifully there.


    • marga t. February 21, 2014 at 10:55 pm #

      The demiurge had me by the tail for a bit 🙂
      Now, I cannot get the phrase, malleable table manners out of my head – those words together sum up so much of my path, ah ha and haha! Ever grateful for the gem studded hand mirror you place before my visage (said in John O’Donahue’s voice). I love you, a bushel and a peck and a hug around your neck – where ever you may be! xo! m

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