Friday, July 29, 2011

Son of a Hit

Auspicious beginnings rear auspicious breeds

Mine began at inception
Genetically infected
By a predilection towards deception
And so a hit man I became

The first hit took place upon conception
Where I died during delivery
As cord bound noose about my throat
Yet I was revived
Blue eyes clouded by a touch of grey

I wasn’t supposed to survive,
This was never the intention of the seed that sparked my life
Therefore fostered I became

As days would follow
Knowledge I soaked
Detailing the plots and the plans
To which this intelligence would unveil

They were a simple lot
The ones who called me son
They were not my blood
But this did not stop them
From loving me as their own
The son they could never have
And so a fondness within me grew
An attachment bonded me to these two
Yet even they could see it early
In my eyes something was not correct
They wished the world for my life
However, I had another path in mind

Investigations taught me well
How I was the weapon used
I was the means to an end
For a man betraying vows
For a man who cared not for morality

My birthing was a masquerade
In fact I was the centerpiece behind a frame
That would live to become both cause and cover up
Yet truth was told, the truth I knew
The planning was ingenious
The paternal forethought was clever
The execution of his plan was careful and resolute.
He pricked holes in his lambskin coats, knowing mother had a tunnel that couldn’t cope.  He understood her greatest flaw was her passion for life that all things happen, for a reason.
Her devotion to religion, her belief system, taught her to behave predictable.  He knew this and more.   

When she found out first, that I was alive inside, she swelled up; I became the blessing she had always sought.  The doctors and professionals explained her life would very likely be lost, if she continued forward down this path.  She wouldn’t stray; it was not her way, even when they said it was an unlikely scenario that either of us would ever breathe after delivery took its toll.  Even then she clung to the faint hope, that a family we would be, as she returned from her recovery. 

As days grew close, the woman saw, a glimmering wonder within her husbands’ eye.  She knew a deception had been played, yet she couldn’t prove the matter.  There would be no basis for any claim.  Yet, the paranoia did not matter much, she was grateful for the wonder in her womb.  She was in love with the idea, a mother she would be.

The day then came.
Blood was everywhere.
Flooding stainless steel
She had no chance- in so much pain
We both knew it couldn’t last
Out of mercy I pushed forth
Ending her journey
Beginning mine
To the much chagrin of the paternoster my father would never see in me.

Feigned grief he shed
Tears trickled down
Method acting at its best
A smile only peaked upon his cheeks
The day he received the return on policy
The next afternoon
He pretended his grief had grown
That I was too much a chore,
Too delicate and fragile for his type to bear

The plot was impossible to prove
Yet the figures added perfect
To the master plot he spun

If it weren’t for me
Vengeful justice would have never swam
For her, she deserved better
So retribution was left to me
I had to become
The hit man I was birthed to be

Many hours
Plotting, learning, watching, waiting
Late nights documenting routine
Swallowing the vomit he induced in me

Then one day he stopped and stared
Approached the car, unaware of who I was
Intently, behind the wheel, I heard the tapping on the glass
Neck I turned as glass beside dipped down,
Between steel and air
He asked who I was and why I was there
 I wanted to scream, “Remember me”
I’ve got his eyes
Perhaps jawline too
“Tired, needed a break” was all my lips could stir
He walked away and stared back again
Shook his head and left my stay

The next day, an anniversary of birth,
And as a gift to myself, an accident I had
For all the years I’ve buried down,
Each vision of impulse
Every plotted point I’ve had

The collision was severe
Crashing metal driving steel
Eclipsed a budding metropolis
At the intersection of Main and 1st
Our cars met head on
Accidental but mentally rehearsed

The police examined me as I recovered.  They took careful notice, of the stitches on both head and hand.  They thought it was too coincidental to be a coincidence at all.  What were the odds, that on my birthday, I should collide, with the man who provided me life?  Too Oedipal to go unnoticed.  Too impossible to believe, but a case like this they’d never before seen.  A man like me they wished well.  For not only did a car betray my lane, the driver happed be the man who had birthed my seed.  Like a crocodile, tears thickly made their way.  Slow and methodically, I didn’t bite; it was all they had. 

And prove they could not
And with one act of will
I made things right, I took away his life,
Inheriting his everything

This was hit number two
But the cogs kept spinning, severe and fierce
I realized that every trace of him must be wiped clear

I searched for others and more there were
Many seeds of his, alive out there
Abandoned sons and daughters
Estranged lovers and displaced kin

Espoused in anonymity
Each year a gift I endow
Simply noting
They’re not alone
That people do care for you
And thus the third hit was done

I’ve since stopped count
Yet continue on I do
Until another figures this all out
The traces and the history
Of a family steeped in infamy
And if that child should concoct
A vengeful plot, in their father’s name
For disallowing them the possibility
 To ask the questions they keep. 
 To which I would tell that child, I know exactly how you feel, where you’ve been.
Completing the cycle, where the last hit, will again be me.


  1. damn man...rough stuff...told well but...good lord...i really hope this is fiction...

  2. Wow I don't even know where to begin with that one. That was one massive poem. A real story feel all the way through. Bravo is all I can say, damn you really outdone yourself with this one. Love how it began and ended the first and last hit. Again wonderful write!

  3. Thanks guys. No this is obviously fictitious lol Just an idea I had for a screenplay but didn't really feel like writing it, have a few others I want to work through before taking a stab at this idea, so I figured I'd write a short story, which when all was said and done more or less resembled a long poem instead of a short story, so i took out a few things, reworded a couple others and let it lay as a long poem. Glad you guys enjoyed it, yeah Pat the ending call back idea was put in after the fact, which I feel on longer poetry it's nice to mirror or call back to the beginning. Thanks again guys, appreciate the feedback as always