BTRIPP (btripp) wrote,
BTRIPP
btripp

More Poems! 3 of 4 ...

Not only was this well hell from the whole damn bank aspect, but in the middle of it, my Mom dropped a fucking bombshell on me about a thing that has been up in the air for nearly two years. Not to get into too many details, but she gave some stock to my eldest daughter, and from the get-go has been CONVINCED that the reality around said stock was 180° from my reality on it. My initial recall was that no certificate was ever issued, instead being in an account with her investment people ... SHE insists that I insisted that we wanted to have the certificate issued and sent out to us (and anybody who knows anything</i> about my so-called "filing system" would immediately recognize this as being laughable). Since we could not locate the stock certificate (uh, having never been sent to us ... ya know) she started a whole process on getting a new one issued. We went through this last fall, did all the damn paperwork, and ... waited. Nothing. It appears that the paperwork "got lost" in the process of the account changing from one financial entity to another. Note ... I have NO CLUE of any of the details of this since I NEVER DID ANY OF THIS. I signed the papers when told to (being the custodian or whatever) and perhaps also mailed the forms ... but NEVER had anything actually to DO with this. Well ... she started up the whole process AGAIN when I was already in school this Spring. She tracked down the new place, cut a new check (to cover the re-issue fees) and got everything rolling on this. Again ... I was "out of the loop" 100% ... no idea of who/what/where/when on any of it. Well, on Wednesday she launches into me about "WHERE IS THE CERTIFICATE???" ... and, when I told her I had no idea ... that she had handled it all, she rips me a new asshole about how I had handled it all and how I had all the paperwork on it. Hell, I wouldn't know what the damn paperwork looked like if somebody was stuffing it down my throat!

Needless to say, being in "damaged psychological condition" from this weekend's bank onslaught ... I went over the fucking edge. I have tried to not mention suicidal feelings to her since my Aunt killed herself last year ... but, for pity's sake ... DOES SHE HAVE TO KICK ME OVER THE DAMN EDGE OF THE FUCKING ABYSS??? The next poem is more about this than this one is, but this one pretty much sets up "where I was" emotionally when THIS crap hit.


Visit the BTRIPP home page!






                    JUST UP FROM THE GRAVE


                    things grow vague,
                    perception blurs,
                    we find ourselves fading
                    into a dawn
                    without any reason,
                    with no need to be,
                    an empty and sad place
                    just up from the grave

                    systems decline,
                    function decays,
                    what had been real
                    flakes and splinters,
                    pain consumes all;
                    we ache for sleep
                    as an escape,
                    a way to flee

                    so much damage
                    imposed by the world,
                    we can barely stand
                    to suffer through the day;
                    we are so broken,
                    so driven down,
                    there is nothing left here
                    which sustains life

                    every promise
                    of the mundane
                    is a snare, a lie,
                    a trap that's been laid
                    in hatred and malice
                    to lure my kind in;
                    never a pay-off,
                    never a place

                    our will is fractured,
                    we have lost the drive
                    to believe in tomorrow;
                    all acts seem pointless
                    in the face of doom,
                    all striving useless
                    in a world which takes away
                    whatever you might build



                             - Brendan Tripp
                                06/18/2002

                    Copyright © 2002 by Brendan Tripp
 
 


visit the BTRIPP home page



Subscribe
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    switch
    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
    Help
  • 0 comments