Arbitration It Is Not Enough Poem by James McLain

..........arbitration it is not
by is it poetry

and life is but one big happy family of arbitrators,
it is not,
then you, i ask pray tell/you tell me what it is.
perhaps it is attrition too some point
long forgotten what her child hood was.
knowing that......i don't..
another man hung himself in Pasco county
last weekend.
being falsely accused of touching his child.
the truth came out to late
better left it as it was before i'm told
the dead can not
and i only thought about it every other day and,
of course i was insane.
yes,
i knew she was mentally defective due to alcohol.
it was not her,
that i was worried about it was the the
attorneys,
D.C.F.saying it happens every day.
did it happen too you? or too you or too you
then shut up.
have you ever been afraid that some politically
motivated person,
may send you to prison for the rest of their life.
yes, more than a few now will wish i had not jumped
or shot myself.
give me those last three years that were stolen
from me and my daughter.
tell me not to be afraid, so afraid i almost can not
trust another woman.
but i will.
and if you think my daughter will be better off with
a person of that much standing,
standing deep inside her once i know you did. for what?
before i came you did, so what.
sleeping with my sister did not help my daughter
either,
what say you/say you to that, pray i say it naught.
i propose that the home on the gulf be given over to
greed and all of the other properties as well.
i piss on them.
not having been of sound mind to accord them of such
being of unSound mind you did what
because:
of that of which i 'said' she said, you said,
who said to whom once more again,
she now will say for what?
and still i tremble at the thought of seeing you.
Judge' with all due respect you can have it all.
it may take me a while to fill her head with more than air
but i'm alive.
and too the person whom could do, such a thing,
a thing that is worse than the very cut, when seen
and healed.
inside our heads you see nothing but blank cotton walls.
you may 'Give' it all to her,
i will take my daughter and go live on welfare.
having nothing left too steal, we should be safe, from
the rest,
would you not think.
i did it my way, offending no one but the fish i fed
our neighbors.
You may see as far back as one millionth of a second
in time before,
before the truth you see it was and being what it was
it is i am.

is it poetry