Father To Son

Son,
What has become of you?
Who is this I see before my eyes?
Why the ice-cold glint in your eyes?
Is this what I raised you to be?

Come now Son,
Mend thy tongue a bit-
Do not be too bold before your elders,
Keep your head a little lowered
Do not look your elders in the eye
It is not right, Son, it is not right

So you chose to shun me now
Must you call me a useless old rug too?
Be I not the first man you admired?
It is not a man that insults his father so.
You say the food I offer disgusts you,
Were you not raised on it?

Go ahead Son
Go then to your wigged breasts
You seem to find comfort between their legs
If it be so, I cannot stop you
Even a monkey cannot teach its young to climb
Mark this Son
Her comfort will poison you



©2003