Seedlings

Mother said no,
Oh how many times,
When the chores were not done,
Booked into custody for this crime,

Silently you're lead away,
Connected bracelets behind your back,
Gods will protected you,
From the switches crack,

The courts said, "Can you be good?"
I played the part to get out,
Quietly I accepted the consequences,
Shut myself in and the world out,

Too young to understand,
The imbalance that I was subjected to,
The family chain had rusted and fused,
How did the family tree become rotted through?

It's time that I dig it out,
Plant a new one starting with me
To raise the seedlings with love,
To grow to learn it is okay to be free,

Free to be what you want to be,
Free to do what you want to do,
Say whatever you feel like saying,
And grow up feeling it is okay to be you.

© January 26, 1996 Rod Arbogast



Father

Never knew you as I grew,
So I didn't have a half of me,
I just haven't gotten around,
To learning what is to be,

So how do I feel about you?
You don't know me or show you care,
So how do I know how you feel?
When you were never there,

When I needed some of what you were,
Did you ever stop to think about?
Or give a word or hope to me,
No, I just did without,

As I have for all these years,
I've had to be for myself all through this trip,
You've had no input to this story,
You've had no input or copyright on this script,

I've had no direction to follow,
So my path was always unknown,
I've kept myself alive and survived,
Learning to radiate an exterior of stone,

I had to seek out and find,
To become all I have seen,
To become all I can,
To stand, to hope and to dream,

Striving to be whole in the end,
Letting my spirit grow,
To catch a hopeful ray of light,
Maybe then I may finally know,

The reason for your absence,
Where have I alone flown high?
Only in my early days of infancy,
When I still had innocence in my eyes.

© June 18, 1995 Rod Arbogast



Black Bag

All the people of my youth,
Take back your black bag of shame,
All your words of discouragement,
All your ridicule of my name,

Take it, it's not mine to keep,
Your sick perverse mentalities,
Maybe you were having a bad day,
Or a succession of childhood memories,

So a child had to be your sounding board,
But a child absorbs into its tender brain,
All the words of shame that you hurl at him,
And for years all of your mocking remains,

So take back all your black bags of shame,
I don't need them anymore, or their hurt,
So take them to your God and tell him to keep them,
I feel maybe he'll make you eat them for dessert,

Home, school and all my relationships,
I give all these memories of shame to God,
I give them all away to the universe,
So all that will remain is Rod

.© January 18, 1996 Rod Arbogast



Conditioned To Run

You don't know the sadness I've created,
Inside myself from all I've done,
When I found my true love as a child,
I was conditioned to do nothing but run,

Then the race was over at last,
I was free to do or go as I chose,
I came home to see the mountain rims,
And the people I had held close,

Everything was different than it had been,
I found bridges burned to the ground,
I became depressed at all I'd done,
At all the wreckage that I had found,

How I wished that I could change,
All those actions that damaged,
The people I still hold so dear,
Another aspect of my life I had mismanaged,

A grown man looked at the wasteland,
That a boy created from internal pain,
Knowing that I can't recreate,
All the things he crushed in vain,

I despair at all the images,
I frustrate at being alone,
I'm enraged at what I left behind,
And again leave it behind like sun drenched bones,

To forge ahead and become a soul,
Who's learned from his mistakes,
One who's had enough of self-crucification,
To discover the means for which it takes,

To not repeat all of the destructiveness,
That has held me back from being myself,
All of those things that have held me in my hole,
Things that have hindered me from seeking help,

My mistrust of everyone I meet,
My dishonesty to myself in the past,
My foolishness from not thinking,
About my actions and how they last,

My way of choosing in times of stress,
How I handle my anger when it comes along,
The way I express my love,
And how I run away when it grows so strong.

© September 6, 1995 Rod Arbogast



Falling Into Limbo

A man twisted to form a mutant,
Walking amongst the creatures of the earth,
Another child of circumstances,
Who didn't have acceptance even from birth,

A baby raised with an iron glove,
Or an infant horribly neglected,
Growing each day with an uneasiness,
G rowing as if the cruelty it's shown hadn't affected,

The molding of untouched mentality,
The way it was shown to conduct itself,
Distorted and then reinforced to show,
The growing child within its self begins to dwell,

Shying away from strangers to keep itself alone,
Causing interruptions at the worst times possible,
Being taught it could have attention, good or bad,
And the good things it does go by unnoticeable,

So the child grows to a young adult,
In the teen years it is surprised at being an outcast,
And cries out by its actions,
Trying hard to understand the past,

Being confused and believing in a myth of self,
The direction it chooses brings its own destruction,
The chaos not dying away but growing,
The evil that it feeds upon creating an infection,

Life becomes a strain to its each waking hour,
Its energy focused on a path that is bent and twisted,
Eventually the path ends in a cliff falling into Limbo,
It's sick this creation that was doomed to become so wicked,

Some souls are just fleeting trails of no substance.

© July 1, 1995 Rod Arbogast



I Must Forgive You

You Like such a long time,
You ignite the emotional fire,
The tide of feelings they rise in me,
Bringing memories with each waves roll,
Some are painful, deeply confusing,
Some are blissful in feeling, what a joy,
All the childhood memories trapped somewhere,
Deep inside my subconscious locked away,
Behind a door of denial they rage,
Swirling chaotic the screams of a lost boy,
Abused and confused by the hand of mother,
Sick in her own addictions, she binged,
To wake up and ask what's wrong with me,
I only shook my head and welled up in disbelief,
Inflict your depression on me again, like before,
Raging drunkenly you scream red in the face,
Fucking hurricane thrashing about the house,
Havoc to all that is in your reach, you break,
The screams of children alone to face,
A demonic, alcoholic, dysfunctional adult,
Searching for anything out of place,
Any excuse to leave the kids a waste,
Threshing them into silent dolls,
Leaving them broken against the walls,
Sobbing and whimpering filled with tears,
Not comprehending why as adults they fear,
Don't come home we'll be glad,
We're never happy 'cause mamas always sad,
I'm her nigger; she rings the bell,
Grow up, shut up, sit down, and stand tall,
Who's that? What's this? Where is it at?
You didn't, don't lie,
No, No, No,
I don't like your friends,
Why? Why? Why?
I don't know,
Well you better fucking find out,
Fuck you, Fuck you,
I forgive you,
I must forgive you

© February 16, 1996 Rod Arbogast



Negative Reinforcement

From the womb,
Into the world,
Breaking the silence inside,
You are hurled,

From the dark to the light,
From the ocean to the beach,
From the quiet to the storm,
The start of you infancy reached,

Stick you with instruments,
Pass you around like show and tell,
Swaddle you real tight in a soft blankey,
Change your diaper when you smell,

Your cries bring someone to calm you,
Your smile bring joy to all who see them,
You're given attention for awhile,
Your newness wears off, as their patience grows thin,

No you can't do this,
No you can't do that,
No you can't do anything I do,
No you can't see that,

Don't say that,
Don't act that way,
Don't sit there,
Don't touch anything,

Don't look away when I'm speaking,
Don't pick your nose,
Don't do as I do,
Pick up your fucking clothes,

You better find out the answer,
Don't tell me "I don't know",
This better be done,
Before I get home,

Or else you'll get it,
Or else you'll be devoured,
Or else I'll take out my frustration,
On you and beat you for an hour,

You know the consequence,
Beat you into numbness,
Lock you away in a hole,
Conform you to the vision of their choice,

Years spent away from the world,
Told to do the things they will,
To sleep when they say,
To learn to sit still.

© April 4, 1996 Rod Arbogast



Why This State?

How do I teach a child?
When the instruction I have is so limited,
How do I feel at ease?
When all I can do is restrain the anger that's erupted,

How can I be a role model?
When I haven't seen enough examples,
How do I see the innocence of a child?
That has been traumatized and trampled,

Trampled by societies ill example of what life is about,
Where do I stand in the ashes of childhood's pain?
Does anger solve a thing in this situation?
Does violence hold any gain?

No! Why do I shake in anger?
Why does the conflict bring on such rage?
Where does it all come from?
What can I do to get off of this stage?

How come these feelings are so unmanageable?
Where does the anger begin to accumulate?
Where does this vibration come from inside me?
How does the insanity escalate?

What am I doing here?
What is this supposed to show me?
What am I to learn from this?
Who am I in all reality?

© February 17, 1996 Rod Arbogast



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