By Richard Wallace
I am a victim
I am me
I am a product of
you and you
Where were your expectations,
Where were the demonstrations of life skills,
When was I ever offered direction,
Why wasn’t I ever presented with goals in life,
I wonder if anybody ever cared,
Why didn’t I see any examples set,
Everything I see
around me is slop
Slop and pious platitudes
So you think I could have done better
I did not ask for this
I am a victim
Richard Wallace’s latest book or poetry is out now published by Shuswap Press
“I am a victim” – my response – only as long as you hold on to being one.
This Be The Verse
By Philip Larkin
They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another’s throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don’t have any kids yourself.
I don’t agree with the conclusion of Philip Larkin’s poem, but I do believe that folk, if they can, need to see what produced their behaviour, and, if it is damaging to themselves, or those around them, work on it to clear the harm. If they can. It can be done – I’ve seen it happen. Harm can produce harm – but it doesn’t have to.