"A Word On Discipline," A Poetry Post

If my son didn't need discipline,
God woulda dropped his behind
out the sky,
6'5,''
with a
license to drive,
his own G5,
his perfect bride and a
job to provide for his family.

But since he was born here an infant,
I don't see no reason to listen to folks who
think he must have rights to his
own decisions.

Sometimes,
my boy need his whippin.

Ain't no need in me bein' his friend.

I'm his momma,
and if I don't whip his hip when he
slip and
use his lips to
diss wisdom,
he could use his fist to
whip THIS pretty brown face in his
shrewdness.

Sisters,
I can't have that.

I got at least
thirty more years to be a
bombshell.

Let the belt sear his rebellion and
drive out his ill will.

Then in the future,
we will all be sittin'
pretty.