Good Zen, Good Poetry, Some Naughty Words

Good Zen, good poetry, some naughty words. Hopefully this is fair warning to any potential reader…

HOMAGE TO MY FATHER

My father said:
Fuck Father Farrell,
what does he know, that old bastard!

Study all the religions. Learn Italian.
See Venizia, Firenze, talk
to all kinds of people
and never, never think you know more
than someone else! Unless,
unless they’re full of shit.

And if they are, tell them;
and if they still don’t get it, fuck it,
there’s nothing you can do about it.

Learn how to bake bread.
If you can make pasta and bake bread
you can always feed your family,
you can always get a job.

Keep your house clean
and don’t worry what anyone else does.
Cut your grass,
prune your fruit trees
or they’ll die on you.

Don’t drink too much
but don’t always be sober —
it makes you nervous.

A couple glasses of wine,
some anisette now and then,
a cigar never hurt nobody.

Nervous people always got an ache here,
an ache there, they get sick,
they die —

Look at Father Farrell:
he’ll be dead in a year.

Fuck him!

Raymond Ronci


(And a tip of the Hatlo Hat to good ‘ol Adam for his pointer to the poem, and to that notorious rogue Brian for his on point art…)