Thursday, 2 May 2013

LOVE LETTER TO MY KIDLETS by Naomi Elana Zener



Beautiful bouncing babes of mine,
Your futures shine bright in the eyes of thine.
Fear not the obstacles that may be thrown your way,
For Mama Bear shall guide you come what may.
Choosing the path most righteous at the fork in the road,
With learned wisdom propelling you forward, progress never slowed.
Heed my words; keep them on repeat whispering in your ear,
Do the right thing always, and my wrath you need not fear.
Tempted by peers to engage in and photograph premarital sexual activity?
Like a life preserver, remember hasten to hold on to your virginity!
With advanced technology, your acts live forever in the ether of the Internet,
Insufficient deterrent? Do it and Mama’s sex tape will go viral, on that you can bet!
Humiliation unparalleled, you’ll regret having uncrossed your legs,
I will do what it takes to prevent teenage fertilization of your eggs!
And my boy, there will no double standard for you,
Unzip your pants, let sperm free flow, a premature vasectomy will do!
Contemplating using a cell phone to send a racy text?
Forget not who pays the bill; the consequences will leave you vexed.
For each naughty haiku delivered from your number to another,
No criminal charge will set an example like that care of your mother.
Perhaps I will collect each one sent and received, posting them to my blog,
Your friends will disappear once their sexts float in the Web’s fog.
Loneliness is not what I want for you,
But, to teach you a lesson is what I must do.
Loss of mobile, computer and all other devices alone won’t suffice,
Forcing you to educate schools on dangers of sexting will be the price.
As for late-night booze-filled parties you’ll lie about to attend,
“Be a pal, not a parent!” you’ll beg; on that I won’t bend.
The punishment meted out for mixing youth, alcohol, drugs at such fetes I’ll prescribe,
Your parents on the guest list, arriving drunk with baby stories, humiliation never survived.
How you had nervous diarrhea regularly until you turned twelve,
Plans for gymnastic meets and ballet recitals had to be shelved.
Or, how my boy’s nose-picking “foodie” proclivity evolved,
Into now licking his popped pimple puss, a habit we’re trying to solve.
A tattoo or weird piercing you’ll plead for you when you turn sixteen,
A dolphin jumping your ankle’s wave, or the ‘best barbed-wire arm band’ you’ve ever seen.
Promises of great grades, doing more chores, smoke and mirror tricks up your sleeve,
Begging while I am on the phone distracted or from the house about to leave.
Sadly, for you Alzheimer’s will not yet have become my brain’s plague,
If you pierce your nipple or brand your skin, better seek amnesty in The Hague.
Not only will your Prince Albert’s holes close or a laser be your tattoo’s end,
But to each class I’ll accompany you with Care Bear stickers visible on my rear end.
All of your chums told how said adhesives came from your vast collection,
To be commemorated by getting matching tattoos of them inked on our midsections.
Respect and tolerance are the values you are to uphold,
Failing them by being cruel to others, your soul you will have sold.
Heaven forbid despite my best parenting efforts my rules you subvert,
And transform into a bully, your victims won’t be the only ones hurt.
Before descending on your knees for Mother’s clemency, allow me to abate,
All foolish ideas that I’ll protect you from harming those you hate.
For the infliction on you of society’s retribution for mistreating another,
Will tower over any castigation wildly imagined by your Mother.
Remember, I love you always, dedicating my life to yours so that you may soar,
But, over my dead body, will I let you become an alcoholic, pierced, tattooed, bully, drug-addicted whore! 

© 2013 Naomi Elana Zener. All rights reserved.



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