Cozy Walls

Cozy Walls

 

Home is where the deadbeat father

is absentee

and the drug addicted mother 

cannot handle kids who are 

innocent victims 

of a parlay for which they had no vote

 

Home is where the paint is peeling

the yard overgrown

the trash can by the garage filled

with needles and hypodermic sins

of the present

 

there is heart somewhere far off

maybe in a desert of abandoned sand

a lone cactus is a voyeur

the kids are on an interstate

of collision heading nowhere

everywhere

and somewhere 

a place where survival of the toughest

rules

a heart where there

was never a home.

 

erin-cilberto

6/27/25

Reviews

[Julie McCarthy (juliesp..]

Yes not everyone’s home unfortunately is happy safe secure and sadly without abuse
You did the message well

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you, Julie, for the understanding comment.
j.

[John Sullivan]

Jacob, you've always been one of the Cafe's most consistent writers but I fear... you may have outdone yourself this time. So much said with so little... of a country's condition, maybe. Great write.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you, John, for your very very kind words.
j.

[Vol]

Jacob,
I read once, when I was temporarily worried about the dak dark world faced by, apparently most of us alive on the bright blue ball... I thought about it long and hard, suffering being the fate of us all... and what can i do about it? How can I help?................................. I can't, so me being me, where I am, with what resources I have, I've ound that the only thing left to do is find a little beauty, and thank God for it... What's weird is the following appeared in my FB feed this morning...
H.P. Lovecraft
THE PATH OF THE OUTSIDER

Happiness has never been my aim.
I'm not too interested in the
anesthetized comforts that so many
mistake for fulfillment. It is a pale
and transient thing, happiness, a surface
glimmer that vanishes the moment one
gropes for it.

The soul needs fire, not ease.
Trials and tribulations of an agonizing
passion that propels it toward its destiny. It
needs adventure, daring shenanigans, and
a fierce audacity to transcend that
culturally-defined, yet loathsome
word we call "expectations."

I'm not here to squander this brief life
on vain preoccupations or foolish ambition,
chasing the manufactured ideals of success that
so much of modern society idolizes. That's
not where it's at. These are all but mirages,
distractions that lead us away from the
wisdom of the blood.

True success is not found in conforming,
nor is it measured by wealth and shiny
possessions. It comes as a derivative
of an uncommon vitality, by following
one’s deepest instincts, by obeying
the subtle whisper of the soul
rather than the clamor
of the world.

I chase no approval, no validation—only
a little freedom to create, to become. With
little, I am more. Life is not about
waiting to be shaped by circumstance, or
accommodating the whims of leaders
and charlatans, it is about shaping oneself,
carving one's own name into the
weathered stone of being.

We all stand at the eternal crossroads
every moment of our lives.

Either we yield to the illusions of this
fabricated world, allowing it to mold
us into passive onlookers, dulled by empty
distractions and half-baked ambitions, exchanging
the fire of our own becoming for the false
gods of security and routine, forsaking
the deep call that stirs within.

Or we will choose the path of the outsider—
a rebel in the truest, most
metaphysical sense.

We will uncover within ourselves a deep
and unshakable truth, and we will cast
our lives into the tumultuous sea of fate,
denying ourselves no experience, tearing
away the veil of artifice to see the world
as it truly is.

We will either become benumbed spectators
in the arena of life or impassioned creators
we were born to be, unapologetically alive
and in harmony with the primal force
that called us into existence.

Vol

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Yes, we don't find peace by conforming if we don't like what we see. We fight to be ourselves.
Thanks for sharing this, Vol.
j.

[DIVYA]

These walls do not sound cozy at all. It makes me think of misfortune and missed chances. Of potential stars crushed into the dust before having a chance to rise. How many wonderful children go through it? No words in my wretched cache to describe how sad it feels.
Dear Jacob, this poem so starkly describes the ruins of addicted, dysfunctional homes and the lifelong, sometimes generations lasting fallouts of bad choices. As always, your words go deep and stay and keep speaking.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I appreciate your review, Divya.
Thanks for your understanding words here.
j.

[Betty Hermelee]

Dear J….this goes right to my heart…. when i worked as a Guradian Ad Litem…. representing abused and neglected kids in court… almost all of them had druggies for parents, or absentee parents….. it was heart-breaking for me… i did it for 27 years and recently retired…but the memories are still there…. and your poem brought this to mind… such tortuous lives….
Warmly, B😊

[jacob erin-cilberto]

That was a wonderful thing you did for all those years. I admire you for that.
j.

[Betty Hermelee]

After a while I was glued to this because some of my outcomes were positive, yet some were not and kids were left hanging from one foster home to the next; these are very troubled kids
You get attached and hard to leave them no matter how the case is settled….
Warmly B🌷

[Ayesha Faiz]

This is a very strong and deep poem. The words are real and full of pain. The pictures you paint like the broken home, the cactus, and the kids, really touch the heart. You wrote something that truly makes the reader feel strong emotions. Nice work as always, Jacob!

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you, Ayesha.
j.

[Lorry]

Kids are always the innocent victims, held to pay the price for their alleged parents misdeeds.
Like life isn't already hard enough to begin with they have to be tagged with the blame of others that just don't realise how very lucky they have it and there but for the grace of God...
Everyone should have the basic human right of cozy walls to protect them, but it seems that is a lottery too, with more losers than winners.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Way more losers....thanks, Lorry.
j.

[John the Baptist]

The situations described in this one are reality for many. Such lives are devoid of joy and hope. I must wonder what the "Big, Beautiful Bill" will do for them.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I imagine it will do little or nothing for the poorer people but a damn whole lot for the richest...
the usual trickle down economy that really never works for the average joe.
j.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Not much I fear.
thank you, John.
j.

[Soren]

A sad truth for many, too many. Reminds me of a song by John Prime where he says "there is a hole in daddy's arm where all the money goes" A gritty and all to real write Jacob

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you for your review, Soren.
j.

[Chris Shaw]

I have rescued children from similar. No child should have to experience that chaos. A hard hitting account of what is everyday life for some. You bring it all to life with your descriptive lines j. Poor kids. They didn’t ask to be born.

Chris

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you for your words and what you have done for children yourself.
j.