Dead Serious

Pretty good effort on that last poem, I think. Only needed a few small touch ups this morning. Mom loved tragedies that end happily and I wrote it for her. I used to send her poems. By the way, I'm doing just fine with accepting her passing. It can be quite overwhelming when you first get news like that, which is why I wasn't sure if I would need some time off from blogging, but I see now that life goes on and you just make do with your new circumstances. I bet that guy who walked by me the other day and said 'sick', implying that I was lying about my mother, hoped that my loss would be so crushing that I would stay offline for a while and let him go around and falsely accuse me of being in jail again. How many times have these pricks falsely accused me of being in jail now? Wow. You'd think that maybe the law could step in after their first offense and clear them from the streets when they cause so much extra torment to an already wounded victim. I doubt he checked with my relatives back home or with my mother's parish priest, Fr. Ballard, a former schoolmate of mine, before he got busy spreading his hateful, malicious lies. And I'm sure he wouldn't check with my sister-in-law because she works for the police and he's probably afraid of the police. How did these miscreants get to the point where they reflexively lie about me to the whole world on a constant basis? I bet CBC and NBC and WEA/Warner and HBO and Comedy Central and MTV could answer that question easily. Just look through my indexes and see how many hundreds of my poems and my songs and how many other thousands of my posts they've illegally broadcast as their own content in the last ten years. Those lying fuckers who want to add to the grief of my mother's passing now have already told thousands of lies about me to clear the way for years of ugly broadcast fraud. Way to go, broadcasters. See the way you party? That's why I'm glad I'm not with your gang. And are you as afraid of the police as the liars who tacitly work on behalf of your crooked programs? As usual, their lies are stupid. They think people tell lies about their parents to get sympathy. Maybe that's what they would do, but what's so tragic about my mother's death? She was eighty-nine years old and in constant pain. I think her continued suffering was more painful to me than her death. While it's sad to lose such a reliable source of love and warmth, it's hardly a tragedy after she lived such a long and fruitful life. My dad is eager to join her company. And why would I expect my readers to run to me with open arms now after having my heart torn out in front of them by this crime and being left alone to defend myself against the animals in this crooked business for so many years? No, I've learned to live without such sympathy. Oh yes. What is frail, police? Is that a place where you're in jail when you're walking around free on the street? Sounds pretty pointless. If it exists, it must be where you put the all the culpable production workers in this wicked affair. There sure are a lot of undesirables cluttering our streets nowadays. The government saves money by dumping them on the poor instead of incarcerating them. I think that if we can't afford to build enough prisons to clean up our streets, maybe we should build some labor camps in the far north to make up for it. It would sure give me a break.
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