I have been asked to give equal time to the no-happy father's day sentiment out in the blogosphere. Given that our Democrat controlled Congress is soon to mandate equal time (how that squares with freedom of speech and the press I have never understood), I figured, well, why not. So here it is.
I have posted a poem of Philip Larkin's previously. He is a very complex and interesting figure in modern British poetry. An atheist with a sense of the divine, he has the knack of penetrating below the surface of things and showing the inner aspects of life. He also can be richly ironic and pungent. Here is a poem that knocks parents, parenting and parenthood.
This Be the Verse
They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.

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