I was gonna…

I was gonna write about how tiresome you’d become,

Was gonna show you how your slander was but pabulum,

Was gonna write some wry and witty prose about how you

Seemed by your actions to have stayed way back in ’92

While all the rest of us matured and worked towards building peace—

How you, it seems, find power only when you spread disease.

I was gonna write about all that, and show you how I still

Can see right through your worn facade—that so predictable,

Expired charm with which you think you can manipulate,

That dribbled from your eager maw each time you’d defecate—

And how delighted you would be when we would lap it up,

How shame was all that ever served to fill your greedy cup.

How meaningless the notion love with all its selflessness

Rang on your life as as you played those whom you found valueless.

But how what on a twenty-something might seem to fit well,

On a man of forty-two leaves nothing to compel.

I was gonna write about all that and post it on my site,

Because though I’d forgotten you until this latest blight,

I’ve learned you’re obsessed with us still, unable to progress,

Devouring scraps that we discard since us you can’t possess.

But then I thought about the time that it would take to write,

About time you’ve already sponged when your words could bite,

About the grueling effort spent on you long years ago,

About the chaos that you caused, your mental vertigo.

And indifference towards your puerile antics gripped me suddenly:

No longer potent, you’ve reduced to mere absurdity.

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6 thoughts on “I was gonna…

  1. Biting and accurate.

    More of a distant nightmare that attempts to reoccur but looks incredibly annoying and childish today, opposed to how it did 20 years ago. Sadly, it’s those that are 20 now that appear to be enduring the nightmare.

  2. On a positive note, I was gonna say “thank you.” I was gonna say that I have a hazy memory; one I have to reach for, through the events that molded me. Memories that I have cherished, hated, learned from… Those are important to me. But way back in my childlike mind, where this resides, this childlike memory that charmed and swayed me was just that, childlike. I now understand that the fairy tale’s prince charming is still charming, and is now feeding his spell on a new generation. But I’m not that generation anymore. Charming is charming… not sincere… just an old fairy tale that sits on a dusty shelf, stuck in the past with nothing new to say. But I know how the story ends now, and I’m not interested anymore. But thank you; thank you for bringing me closer to my family… the ones who taught me to look at a fairy tale and find it amusing and absurd, but to still wake into reality, grow, and move on.

  3. You make me ponder:

    Who says only little girls believe in a dream of prince charming?

    (That is: the fantasy that there exists out there some ‘perfect’ man: somebody who will sweep you off your feet with fine-sounding words, good looks, magnetic personality, and lavish gifts. Of course—this omits things like compassion, kindness, humility, and true self-sacrifice—but hey, nobody ever said prince charming was a man of Aristotelian character, rather, simply a fairy tale character!)

    From my experience, it seems that little boys believe in prince charming, too; only they expect these fantasies of their fathers and themselves. What to do when you are disillusioned?

    Sure, having an illusion (by definition, a falsehood) removed is a good thing—but how very painful! And how very important that we who have been thus freed be willing to aid in the disillusionment—the truth-discovery—of the latest victim of the prince charming deception.

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