An exercize for class

Shannon Hollender
Prof. Heroy
Assn 05-1 Poem on
Thought to Image
Due 4-18-06


Easter care-package

I can't take your half-hearted hellos, mom,
And the way they always seem to be saying some sort of sardonic goodbye;
You're not mournful, you just want to seem that way to the world.
The way you like to seem caring, the way you show what isn't really there.
You seem to be saying to the world that you care about me,
And it's more important that the whole world hear you;
Than it is that you actually show some compassion towards me.
You send me things, trinkets and "remember me"s,
Things I don't need, don't want, and have a terrible time finding space for.
I sit here sifting through your junk,
You want me to think it's how you show you care.
I can't find a single thing I ever liked.
I asked you not to send this very thing.
I don't need it.
I can't use it.
I'm allergic to it.
I don't like it.
I pick past it, spending time, useful time,
I could be at the bank now,
On sorting through these things in their shiny shells.
Broadcasting a sweet inner morsel with a bright shiny coat.
I'll not have your candy-coated lies. I know the bitter center.
I've tasted your foul fruit these years.
The masses do not understand my contempt, they do not know that you lie.
I plead with you to stop wasting my time, my energy, my tears.
You send them anyway, obsessed with the message it sends.
You seem to say to the world;
The world who doesn't know what we've fought about:
"Yes, I care about my child!"
And you scream it on a soap-box,
Over my head,
Past me.
You ignore me;
In order to spew your lie.
Mother. I despise you for your lie,
You want only to reap the social benefit of caring,
Without really caring.
You bitter-sweet morsel of poison.