Father And Son... Poem by RIC BASTASA

when i see a child
with curly hair like that of his father
trying to grab my phone
and uttering my name
and then begins
his crying game
i am beginning to feel that
usual pity
for this young member of
humanity
for time and time again
nature knows how
to inflict its pangs and pains
to this little brain
but he is not at all that powerless
or helpless
for he knows also how to invent
his own defenses
with nature's abuses upon
his youth
he also knows how to strike back
with his fist and bites
and wild bickering

and soon it becomes more
like his own dead father
damned, and reactionary
rebellious and
too hurting

he hurls what he has received
makes the wars
and never learns how to keep
back that inner peace....