Let It Bern

All things must pass, come to an end, everything’s temporary,

Common clichés that we hear on the daily, ease of acceptance also varies,

Youth and athleticism fade eventually, so can looks, money and status,

Change is constant and immune to resistance, some sit back and accept it while others fight hard to delay it,

Relationships are no different, not all remain rock solid,

Some friendships are permanent while others last only for a moment,

Not all couples make it to the altar while others learn that vows won’t always last forever,

Maybe the decision’s mutual, an expiry date’s slapped on some unions, it’s unfortunate but neither party’s left irreversibly wounded,

Then there are couples shattered cuz one half committed the ultimate betrayal,

It need not be a death sentence if the guilty repents and reinvents, both sides pick up the pieces and become whole again,

But more often than not it can’t be salvaged, call it dead on arrival,

It’s flat lines on the life support system, 9-1-1 ain’t resuscitatin’ nothin’,

The Scorned reacts in one of two ways, both on extreme ends of the scale,

Maintain the stoicism of a trooper or embrace the path of the hurt and enraged,

The former quietly turns the page, busy working on starting over to give in to the rage,

The latter trashes their ex at every opportunity, often through methods nothing short of cringy,

Warning the masses of that jerk’s true colors, metaphorically tarring and feathering ‘em,

Putting up signs around town and debasing their cars and prized possessions,

If all goes well that coward’s crimes will go viral online, sending them duckin’ and dodgin’ but with nowhere to hide,

No one loves a cheater, therefore the masses must sympathize with the former lover,

Revenge served cold and the audience will cheer and applaud you for it,

But going overboard will leave some disturbed by your actions,

Since when do responsible adults resort to childish tantrums?

We get that you’re mad but was airing your dirty laundry part of the game?

No one asked to hear the dirty details, have you any ounce of shame?

We get that they pushed you head-first, fully-clothed, into a pool of indignity,

You could have climbed out and stayed out, instead you done cannonballed back in there willingly,

You eschew a dignified response in favor of bitter, obsessive behavior,

Now you’re bleeding supporters, but rest easy, they ain’t siding with that cheater,

But some may wonder if your shortcomings drove ‘em into the arms of another,

And they’ll surely be concerned ‘bout your kids, this can’t do ‘em any good,

You’re setting ‘em up for ridicule from their peers ‘round the hood,

Gotta be tough coming to terms with parents living separate lives,

Yet you compound their trauma as you vent to them constantly like a bitter ex-husband or wife,

Juicy gossip spreads faster than wildfire, ‘cuz of you other kids’ll be pointing and whispering,

Wondering aloud why their Mom or Pops were hoein’, it’s a recipe for humiliation,

‘Twas you who done bleated out loud ‘bout how your other half thirsted then flirted,

Simped over then snogged another before fucking ‘em behind your back many times over,

Fuck any good that they’ve done previously to you and the children, strike that shit off the record,

They deserve to burn for eternity, tortured in the Ninth Circle by The Devil and his minions,

But it’s your fault alone if your actions render your kids misguided and damaged,

An environment of toxicity and anger will lead to severe consequences,

Bitterness towards both parents, trauma manifested in an inability to love another,

Passing on the curse of family dysfunction, compounded by severe anxiety and depression,

Infidelity hurts and wrecks lives, it’s the actions of selfish cowards lacking the balls to break-up,

Your anger’s understandable but force-feeding others your feelings is hella fucked-up,

Move on with your life quietly and with dignity, work hard and let your successes do the talking,

Make that fool regret their actions, you’ll come out a winner while proving yourself a true role model.

Saturday at mid-day, on the western line inside a packed train,

Typical cast of characters filled the seats, couples young and old, Mommies and Daddies with energetic kiddies,

Young adults and teens, the jaded and upbeat, some occupied with social media and selfies, others readin, buried under Marxist theory,

In the midst are a group of women, on the cusp of middle age but they ain’t trippin’,

Bits of their anatomy not quite what they used to be yet their personalities remain kinda bubbly,

Laughing and carrying on, at times competing with children for excessive noise,

The others trying to stay poised, got no other choice,

Back to that group of gossipers, in a past life must’ve been high school cheerleaders,

Dressed to impress, complete with bags and bling, veterans of conspicuous spending, somewhere out there Thorstein Veblen’s spinning,

Their laughter and chatter a stark contrast to a woman seated across from ‘em,

Aged in her late 50s and maintaining a quiet dignity, got her eyes closed and meditating though the noise around her is deafening,

The leader of the loudmouths spies her, sizes her up like a lioness eyes its prey,

Turns back to her girlfriends, the cheer squad captain within came out to play,

‘Take a look at her,’ she sneers, ‘don’t you think she’s kinda ugly?’

From there one snide remark after another nothing short of cringy, talking smack about someone while they’re sleeping, it’s childish and petty,

They’re from different backgrounds, too, the bullies and the bullied, the former hiding behind probable language barriers, talk about cowardly,

It’s like Mean Girls in this joint for those within earshot,

Suddenly the quiet one’s roused by a phone call and here’s where things get hot,

“Hello?” she addresses her caller, “I’m still on the train,”

“Apologies for the noise, the crowd here’s insane,”

Turned her eyes toward the loud bunch, stared holes through them all, perfect set-up for the almighty coup de grâce,

“I’m just sitting here,” said she, “apparently looking rather ugly,”

Four words with a catastrophic effect, those noisy broads silenced in an instant,

Their faces beet-red and blushin’, penetrated their heavy make-up,

Y’all thought she was sleepin’, y’all should’ve known better,

So much for your flashy threads and expensive jewellery, no one gave a fuck it was a waste of money,

One ignorant move was all it took and now they’re staring and y’all are shook,

Those within earshot wide-eyed in astonishment, shit was cold but well-deserved,

Enjoy the ride, still a long way before your respective destinations, ‘til then people are gonna pass schadenfreude and joy at your misfortune,

Should’ve kept the beast in its cage, now y’all got eggs in the face, it was never gonna end well, y’all done played yourselves.

The sun beats down over the park, another glorious day at hand,

The cool breeze in the air compellin’ the tall trees to a gentle dance,

Birds soar through the sky, looking down at the strange earthbound juveniles,

The offspring of those strange humans running and frolicking,

Keeping the adults entertained and laughing but sometimes testing their patience,

Among the young families, weekend warriors and retired couples a lone figure’s emerged from his rabbit hole,

Attracted by the picturesque outdoors, a welcome change from the hermit life indoors,

Left the apartment, dressed in plain shirt and slacks, sunglasses on and hair slicked back,

Thirty minutes to be spent wandering, maybe forty max before returning,

Nature sure is invigorating, enhanced by the healing touch of sun,

‘Perfect day for a walk’, thought he as he filled his parched lungs,

Made his way to the park where the party seemed to take place,

Fortunate that it’s still mid-morning, surely by afternoon there’ll be very little space,

Circled the vast patch of greenery within the concrete jungle of the city,

Three full laps should suffice, consider this a dose of weekend exercise,

Passed the obstacle course where the young performed like monkeys in the circus,

Hanging, swinging and jumping, occasionally got their parents panicking,

Joggers comin’ from all directions, made like Roadrunner with no signs of slowin’

‘Mirin’ the flowers and trees, their movement’s mesmerizin’ dictated by the wind’s constant blowin’,

Meditated over the fountain at the center, on which stood several sculptures posin’ for photographers,

Buskers doing their thing nearby as kids prowl the fountain wanting to touch the muscled marble warriors posing with drawn weapons,

Our walker trudges towards a glade of trees lined with benches, found one that’s vacant,

Sat down and started meditating, happily on his lonesome among fellow weekenders,

Unaware his momentum was about to be rocked, rolled, shaken then flipped over,

She came from out of nowhere, sat on the same bench, away from him, mind you, way out the opposite end,

Blocked off the world through plugged ears, head bouncing gently to a tune that only she can hear,

Wearing a pink long-sleeve despite the warmth of the sun, shiny raven hair tied into a bun,

Fringe held back by a clip, away from her eyes, lips a bright red and her skin a pearl-white,

Several vacant spots nearby, why sit in one already taken?

Paid her no mind at first, he went out for relaxation and not socializin’,

Let her and the rest carry on while he minds his own business,

His powers of resistance were soon challenged and her scent was the catalyst,

Sweet and fruity yet hardly nauseating, slowly he turns and observes her movements,

Playin’ with her phone she seemed oblivious, occasionally looked ‘round all directions,

Relieving the stiffness in her neck and back, waiting for a friend, perhaps?

Her head bobbing to the beats within her plugs, her upper body dancing too,

The hair bun shook slightly as she hummed, gotta admit it’s kinda cute,

Couldn’t deny these feelings, she’s the flame and he the proverbial moth,

After years of flying solo he might have found a potential co-pilot,

Tried to gather his train of thought, time to get back on course,

‘You’re on the brink of derailment,’ muttered he, ‘full steam ahead and floor it!’

Had no intention of fishing but one can’t predict the ocean’s patterns,

Maybe her presence is a sign, it’s now or never, he’d be foolish not to seize this moment,

‘What’cha gotta lose?’ asked his inner voice, ‘man up and talk to her,’

Sounded like a double, the fear of rejection’s a heavy one to bear,

He eyes her once more, just as she looked towards his direction,

Their eyes cross and paralysis hits him, she smiles back in response before playing with her phone again,

Could this be an opening? Suddenly confidence is sky-high, gone are the ever-swirling presence of butterflies,

Gotta shoot his shot or forever wonder what might have been, put it all on the line and go all-in,

Three deep breaths and a silent prayer, summoned all the courage he could muster,

Silenced the nerves by focusing on a potentially brighter future,

But alas, she looked to her left and waved joyfully, jumped to her feet excitedly, ran towards a handsome gentleman and threw her arms around him passionately,

“You’re finally here,” she cried, “Hope you didn’t wait too long,” he replied,

“Not at all,” said she, “well then let’s go,” said he,

Off they went, the gentleman and his lady,

Our guy stands up and heads back, slowly,

Enough of the outdoors, gonna head back inside,

She was someone else’s catch, better luck next time.

Eddie lay in bed, all ten years of age, waiting to drift away,

Recounting the day that was and like all young’uns looking forward to Saturday,

Eyelids feeling heavy now, the sweet embrace of sleep ‘bout to settle in,

Another school day comin’ up tomorrow morning, the interruption was most unwelcome,

In walked Momma, little brother Mario in tow, tears running down his face like he’d just seen a ghost,

Traumatized ‘bout a story teacher read to class, no blood or gore but nevertheless shook him to the core,

‘Can your lil’ brother sleep here tonight?’ asked Ma, ‘something teacher read to ‘im seemed to give him severe trauma,”

There was room for two but Eddie wasn’t having it, all that space taken by the little squirt, he wasn’t goin’ for it,

Then he took one look at Mario’s tears and wobbly mouth before he reluctantly relented,

‘Climb aboard, Bro,’ he invited, ‘but don’t take up space, you kick me once I’ma smack you in the face’,

Lil’ Bro complied and immediately latched on, pulled Big Bro into a tight embrace, that little kid sure is strong,

“Not so tight,” protested Eddie, “I can’t breathe!”

“But I’m scared,” answered Mario, “they’ll kill me in my dreams!”

Too sleepy to wrestle off the kid, got too much pride to tap out,

Then much to his frustration, Kid Brother was the first to go lights out,

How’s he off in Dreamland while his grip remains tight?

Eddie squirmed and shook but couldn’t shake him, try as he might,

Tempted to smack that lil’ fool but fearful of the repercussions, he’ll hear it loud and clear from the parents, little siblings are masters at dobbin’ and snitchin’,

Arms are feeling numb, that kid’s cuttin’ off circulation, gotta do something now ‘fore he runs out of oxygen,

He wriggled like a gator crushed by an anaconda, careful not to knock Mario and wake him,

Limited arm movement meant that legs did most of the heavy lifting,

Miraculously the snake loosened its grip, remained in a deep sleep,

Blood rushed back into Eddie’s limbs before leaving a feeling of needles and pins,

From there he finally drifted off, melatonin finally kicked in,

Another day ended, not quite as expected, gotta get up early to do it all again.

Picture this: Two or more kids are play-fighting or playing a rough sport together, one kid gets hit too hard and immediately, their mouth locks open, tears well up in their eyes and they begin a long, weepy, drawn out groan that gets louder and louder until their cries sound like the distress call of a wounded animal that had fallen into a ravine and broken its legs. Quick as a flash and with their once youthful boisterousness now turned into stone-cold horror and panic at the thought of being punished by the adult tasked with looking after them, the kid’s playmates do everything they can to placate the hurt child, apologizing profusely and gently trying to calm them down. When that plan fails they try to coerce their friend into shutting up and adding some empty threat of further bodily harm or stealing a prized possession for good measure. More often than not, though, the only real remedy to the problem is to let the poor kid cry it out until they’ve gotten over the pain – hopefully before the adult in charge catches them and then punishes them for acting the fool.

I’m fairly certain that everyone, as children, had been the hurt kid that cried bloody murder after sustaining a hard knock. Or perhaps they were the guilty child that tried to calm the crying kid down in a panic.
But more than likely, they’ve played both roles.
Me myself, there have been times where I shed a few tears as a kid after being socked too hard while roughhousing with my friends in the playground at school or with my cousins but I can’t say I reached in deep enough into my reservoir of emotions where I completely lost it and caused my playmates to scramble and attempt to shush me. I preferred instead to suppress any pain I felt so as not to give them the satisfaction of having reduced me to a crying, screaming mess though I did let a few tears fall. I mostly saved my emotions for losing while playing video games, missing out on a gaming session or whenever my favorite TV shows were cancelled.

Anyway, there is one particular memory from my childhood that comes to mind when I think about this scenario and on this particular day, I was the panicked kid trying to calm a friend down after our play-fighting went too far. It was lunchtime at school and me and my friend (let’s call him Mark) decided to fight like the characters from Street Fighter and Mortal Kombat, despite the fact that his arm was encased in a sling due to an arm injury he had sustained after falling off his bed a few days earlier. It was the early 1990s and those two games were the talk of the gamer world and we were among those hooked. While I’ve stopped gaming a long time ago, I remain a fan of both series and still follow them to this day.
Common sense would have dictated that Mark should have kept his inner Ryu or Scorpion locked up tight but as a couple of eight-year olds neither him nor I had any semblance of caution and he was probably eager to prove that, even with a wounded wing, he could kick my ass.

It was on.

Ok, Bud. You asked for it.

He had a height and reach advantage over me but what he had in height he lacked in width and girth (he was rather lanky) and so as the shorter kid, I decided that the best way to combat his reach would be to get inside, rough him up and try to wrestle him to ground.
We started off feeling each other out, circling one another like a couple of young wolves preparing to duke it out for leadership of the pack. Mark made the first move as he lunged at me with his healthy arm in an attempt to jab me but I slipped over to the side and grabbed him and we ended up wrestling and grappling one another, trying to force the other to yield. He was coming at me with everything he could muster while I was nice enough hold back so as not to accidentally hurt the injured arm. The grappling ended up a stalemate and so we separated before going in for round two and somewhere in that second round our feet became entangled and we began to tumble towards the ground. I reflexively grabbed onto Mark’s bad arm on the way down and in doing so, accidentally jerked it hard as we both hit the ground with a thud.

We both sat up immediately and as I began to dust myself off and check for any cuts or scrapes, I snuck a quick peek at Mark. He was sitting where he had fallen and I watched as his face contorted and tears began to well up in his eyes.
This was not good.
Mark’s mouth quivered before opening wide to turn his whimpering into banshee-like screaming that threatened to alert any teachers on playground duty. Panic immediately set in and I tried to help Mark to his feet, attempting to grab the hand of his healthy arm but he wasn’t having any of it. He yanked his hand away, content to stay on the ground crying and show everyone what I had done to him even though he was a willing participant in the scuffle and was foolish enough to think he could fight while injured. I could only watch in disbelief as he continued to wail.

Man, shut the fuck up! You’re gonna get us both into trouble!

I knelt beside him and apologized, resisting the urge to place both hands over his mouth as he continued howling and sobbing hysterically while rubbing his bad arm.
‘I’m so sorry, man,’ I apologized, ‘I didn’t mean it, it was an accident.’
‘I wish you didn’t do that!’ he shot right back, ‘I think you made my arm worse!’
Well shit, it’s not like I ripped the fuckin’ limb off and more to the point, he should have known better. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. Still, I did feel genuine remorse towards him, it sucks to hurt a friend no matter the circumstances.
Luckily, he calmed down after a few minutes of letting his emotions out and I gradually helped him up to his feet before we dusted the dirt off from our uniforms, breathing a sigh of relief that our little commotion didn’t alert a teacher or any other student wanting to play the snitch. Neither of us were the type to hold a grudge and once the adrenaline had calmed down and Mark’s tears had well and truly dried out we were all laughs and jokes again although round three would have to wait for another day. The rest of the day went by smoothly and by the end of it, our little tussle was ancient history.

Yeah, that’s one of the most vivid memories I have of long, agonized, screaming crying that comes with being hit too hard by a sibling or friend during mock-fighting, a staple of many funny childhood memories. Mark and I sadly went our separate ways following primary school and I haven’t seen or heard from him since, though I did reunite with a mutual friend of ours a few years ago (let’s call this friend Andy). It was during another friend’s bachelor party at a strip club and Andy happened to be one of the guests.
Of all the settings to run into an old friend, huh?
Anyway where was I?…..Ok, after the strippers at the club did their thing and they were in intermission, Andy told me – or rather, shouted at me over the loud music – that he, too, had lost touch with Mark but still got to see him get married and then become a father before they drifted apart.

‘Good for him,’ I thought. I was glad to know he got his own happy ending.

Mark and I probably wouldn’t even recognize each other now if we crossed paths and I’m sure he had long forgotten about that little scrap of ours from when we were a couple of rambunctious eight-year olds doing our best impersonations of Ken and Ryu and I unintentionally tugged on his injured arm and made him cry.

But I haven’t!