About a year ago I was taking a literature class with the University of Phoenix. It was total horse shit. One of my assignments was to write a free verse poem about who I am. Under the influence of Maker’s Mark and the Country music supergroup, The Highwaymen, I wrote this terrible piece of blasphemy.
The prophets said my parents were Adam
A man made of mud
pies and a woman made from
a pilfered rib.
The biologists said my father was a primate
and my mother was a protozoan
(a paramecium, perhaps).
Desire and Longing
mother and father.
I am their Son, Suffering.
The Earth said she was my mother.
She and my father, Time, conceived me
in their imaginations
when they were both too young to be
parents. Luckily, I sprang
from the mud a full-grown man.
Am I Adam?
With his duty done, Time marched on
leaving Mother Earth a single parent.
The truth is,
none of these things.
neither mud nor monkey.
not a latchkey kid suffering from the desire to know my father, while my mother spins aimlessly through the cosmos.
matter and energy
never being created nor destroyed
I was not imagined by the world, I imagined her.
not the son of Time
I’ll always be around.