mantra

Mantra:

hummmm
Be averaeeeeeeeege (average)
don't trust yourseeeeeeeeelf (yourself)
they,.. are out to get youuuuuuuu, (you)
so don't trust themmmmmm (them)
and hate your job.

This is the mantra I grew up with.

I was stuck in a cycle that was generations in the making
Poverty, hardships, abuse and failure that span from the old country to the new
and funneled into me and my childhood.

My sister was hit with it four years before my arrival,
her regret to me is the same regret I have to her,
that we could not have absorbed more of   "it"   for the other.

My sister was the bastard child that forced my parents to marriage.
and I,
I was the unwanted baby caused by my fathers grunt in when he should have pulled out.


unlike many today, I did have two parents,
but, most of my friends had two parents
dads worked, mom stayed home or worked part time.
it was an acomplishment of the times,... not of my parents.


living as the unwanted son,
famished for affection
I ate with greed every one of my parents regrets,
digesting thier failures as nourishment
and
drinking in their Cynicism as sustenance


and the mantra continues:
hummmm
Be averaeeeeeeeege
don't trust yourseeeeeeeeelf
they,.. are out to get youuuuuuuu,
so don't trust themmmmmm
and hate your job.


A childhood full of the extremes of
total absence-of-acknowledgement and
abuse-of-many-kinds
deeply embed the mantra.


I became the perfect loser,
a shell of a child,
numb,
socially inept,
that kid in school who smelled really, really bad,
hands filthy
clothes mismatched and stained.

I was that kid,... that did nothing when he was spit on.


I was bred to achieve that highest level of mediocrity reserved only for the
mentally ill,... numb from their medications.


My sister internalized the same mantra,
she too, had a stench about her
and she had already proven her failure
failed attempts of suicide,
failed attempts at running away,
failed at school
failed at keeping a job.


and the mantra continues, in us both.


hummmm
Be averaeeeeeeeege
don't trust yourseeeeeeeeelf
they,.. are out to get youuuuuuuu,
so don't trust themmmmmm
and hate your job.


The school nurse, knowing something was horribly wrong in my life,
took me aside, and tried to get me to open up to her,
but mantra line number 3 "they are out to get yoouooooo" protects me
so I say nothing of the truth.


Then an English teacher assigned a daily journal to the class.
we were to write daily events,
thoughts,....
and feelings.
she said we could ask any questions,.. share any issues with complete confidentiality,...
manta line number 4 "dont trust themmmmm" comes to my defense so,.. I wrote fiction.


Fiction of happy family

Fiction of family dinners with laughter in the air and everyone eyeing that last piece of
cake and pitching together to do the dishes,

Instead of the truth of the dishes being pitched in the air with the shattered pieces just
missing our eyes.


I wrote fiction of having friends come over to my house, and doing homework and playing
catch.

Instead of the truth that no one really wanted to be my friend, and those that did try  were afraid of what they would catch playing with me at my house.



I wrote fiction that my sister would be out of school for 4 days because she failed to see
a piece of broken glass on the ground that slit her wrist as she tripped over a plastic tub..

Instead of the truth that the failed suicide attempt number 4;  was her breaking a hand mirror
and grinding the broken glass into her wrist while she sat in the bathtub.



And of course I wrote fiction of "honor thy parent,"
Even though there was a 3:am every day.



The English teacher never commented on my words,
my hidden feelings,
my disguised torment
my fiction, that protected the truth.

One day she told me she would guarantee me a "C" for the class
If, I.
wrote a poem and submit it to be considered for the yearly school art and poetry
publication.


She said she liked the stories in my journal
and
that poetry can be fiction or truth.
and
that she wanted me,
to write the truth,..
but make it look like fiction.


Write the truth but make it look like fiction,
I thought to myself,... that, sounded like an easy "C".


I said I'd write her a poem!


and so with only the truth, I started
and it was hard,
the words
the fear
the secrets
the feelings
that was the hardest


But one assignment to get me a "C" for the class.
all I had to do is.
 hide the truth in a lie
I pushed on until I had one poem.


The poem was called Quazimoto,
the poem started with the line
"Quazimoto you poor lost soul with a grotesque hump on your back"
the poem talked of loneliness
and being an outcast
and not fitting in.
and the poem ended with him having the brazenness, and most of all the gall to live with
his deformity.


The poem was accepted into the publication.


The nurse said "congratulations",
and mantra line number 3 "they are out to get youooooo" lost some of its power


The English teacher gave me the "C", as she said whe would,
and mantra line number 4 " so dont' trust themmmm" released some of its hold.


and in a quite moment, where it was just the english teacher and I,
the english teacher said
that everyone that read the poem was very impressed,
with the flow,
the words,
and most of all the emotion.


a week later in the hallway as I was getting books out of my locker.
A girls two rungs higher on the social ladder said
to one of her friends loud enough for me to hear,

that Quazimoto was in the top three of her favorite poems.

and
Then
slowly
very slowly at first
the mantra,
the foundation of unhappiness and failure
that destroyer of childhoods'

that mantra started to go away

and writing

Writing poetry took its place.