violence begets violence
i am haunted…by violence
i see it everywhere, i mean everywhere
in movies, news, the papers…obviously
in language, in mentalk, in football…possibly
violence is so so normal
it is so so masculine
its synonyms are with us
every effing, no, every violent day
intensity, severity, strength, force,
great force, vehemence, powerfulness,
power, potency, ferocity, forcefulness,
wildness, frenziedness, fury, storminess,
tempestuousness, turbulence; lack of control,
lack of restraint, passionateness; fervency, ardency
honestly, sadly, and unfortunately
violence sounds so so sexy
makes me just want to…
have mad mad passionate, ferocious sex in the rain
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pain is an act of love
pinching, pushing, punching, slapping
threatened with beatings for bad behavior
threatened with further beatings for not answering questions
threatened with more beating for talking back
for keeping quiet, for speaking up
beaten for causing embarrassment to the family
beaten to get rid of the resulting shame
beaten for disrespecting the elders
beaten for fighting, failing, foiling,
beaten because it hurts them, too
beaten for not doing the right thing,
beaten for delay in doing the right thing the first time
beaten because you must have done the wrong thing
beaten because you are a man
beaten because boys don’t beat girls
beaten because sparing the rod
is disobeying the good lord
growing up and straying
a sinful parent it’s portraying
beating, you learn, is the ultimate act of love
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the language of initiation
it will hurt some
the pain is necessary
a man must learn to withstand pain
and then spend the rest of his life running away from it
it will hurt some
the pain is necessary
the plan is to go through it now
and learn why later
it will hurt some
the pain is necessary
to understand that nothing in life
comes easy
they brought presents
money and food
and i learned that pain is a party
for them, not you
it will hurt some
the pain is necessary
the point got lost
when i tried to inflict it
rather than endure it
it hurt a whole lot
and to this day
three decades on
it is still baffling
why the dance with pain
leaves more marks beyond the question marks
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adolescence – romancing with pain
adolescence is god’s act of violence on man
suddenly, what was normal is not any more
not my mother, not my sisters, not girls, not boys
not my body
oh no, certainly not my body
and then… they call it growing up
the acne, the crazy dreams at night and the messy sheets in the morning
that i was told was a sin
the weird emotions when with others and when i was alone
and i was told that this was all normal
that this was ok and that i was becoming a man
i dreaded the thought and more so the alternatives
castration, suicide, or going far far away
then booze showed up
a welcoming froth
warmed my gut, my heart, my soul
and most of all my mind
if ever there was the ultimate experience of
peace, love, unity,
bliss, freedom, happiness,
release, rest, love
where violence was absent…
…it was when i got high
and…
if only i could stay high forever
would there be peace on earth
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dancing with the punches
his fists taught me to dance
to skip the parts that were out of tune
to tread carefully as on a fragile ego
so that the jig would be just right
he painted the house red
when his fiery insecurities waltzed
with my innocent sensibilities
and did we create hit music
he played my heart
with his fists
and i learned, too
to do cover songs
on others hearts,
minds and bodies
once i used words of a hit song
and she said
she preferred drum music to rap
waxing lyrical moved to fisting to the beat
with his fists and my rhyme
the rhythm created a disordered
orchestra of pain, of agony,
of fear, of the unspoken
a complex dance with the fists
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once and for all
my sister says once you hit once
you will again and again
do you promise to never hit me
no matter what?
your sister is right
your sister is wrong
i will not promise to never hit you
simply because
i cannot promise to never hit you
so what do i do when
i feel unsafe
threatened
afraid?
run
to your sister
to your god
just run
what does that say about us?
i need guarantees
i need to trust
that i can feel safe with you
that you won’t hurt me
i need that if i am to be with you
otherwise we have a problem
a huge problem
baby, the way i see it
the one with the problem
is the one with unmeetable needs
not the one with ungiveable promises
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son, i’m sorry i hit you…again
he came to me as a refuge
in me he found confusion
and a slap and a punch
for never doing the right thing
all because
he wouldn’t do his homework,
or the dishes
i told him this was about life
as his face met my open palm
i lied
it was about me
and my pain
and my fear
and my anger
i am sorry
i hurt you
i hurt us
and now
i don’t know what’s worse
being an absent indifferent father
or a present violent one
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what i am really really afraid of
if you love, trust and respect me
before i have earned it
i will think you are mad
or drunk on something cheap
if you demand that i earn it first
i will insist your standards are too high
then i’ll go hate on myself
poor me, poor me
they say be yourself
we’ll love you as you are
and i chuckle
and whisper to myself
because i know very well
that i belong in the sewer
because that’s where shit belongs
and i can’t stand the smell
but more than that i can’t stand
the unspoken, the silence
that the smell brings
especially that loving you
is more painful
than remaining lonely
if love is pain
is that love really?
your love cleanses the stench
your trust provides the confidence
your respect, oh, your respect
births a desire to glow and grow up
and suddenly, i am no longer afraid
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grace is real
therapy
or prison and therapy
are the only options available
for violent perps
she told me
i had done the work
of therapy, of cleansing
of healing, of forgiveness
of letting go
i told her
i was a pre-convict
and because of grace
and loads of self-work
i avoided the story
of an ex-convict
and yet i stand here
and sit among you
a free man
living a day at a time
without having to look over my shoulders
or you having to watch your back
yet
though i make a vow i cannot keep
i still do not give promises with guarantees
grace is real
it keeps the past in the past
and the present presents as a gift
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violence is…
violence is borne of a lack of self-acceptance
violence is a lack of acceptance of another, of me
violence is lying in a ditch and feeling sorry for the world
and then dragging them to your level
and beating them with experience
violence is low self-esteem in need of company
violence is causing pain because you are in pain
violence tells you the world is messed
and it’s your job to beat it into shape
violence keeps the cops busy
and the priests, and the counselors
and the chemists and the doctors
because peace on earth may just wipe out
a whole load of jobs
violence can be physical, emotional, verbal, psychological
or spiritual
sometimes it is abnormal in a normal world
but often it is normal in an abnormal world
violence strips you off layers of self-respect
self-love and self-worth
in your quest to restore, to replace
then you only strip others of their humanity
when a simple look in the mirror would’ve sufficed
violence breeds violence
people resort to solving issues through violence
as victims and perpetrators
why can’t she leave? how does she put up with it?
i am sorry, please forgive me. i know i said the same thing last time
violence is addictive, it’s contagious, it’s progressive
yet, yet, yet, violence is avoidable, needless and treatable.
My Side of the Street 