This be the verse

Ok, I’m not being angsty here or miserable or melodramatic but if I were to die tomorrow then this poem has to be read at my funeral or on my gravestone or urn or whatever because it sums up my thoughts without me having to actually sum them up myself (which is also a nice reflection of how lazy I am).

This Be The Verse – Philip Larkin

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.
 

One of those well-known-ish poems and has one of the best and truest opening lines I have ever read. Because they do, they fuck you up, and you fuck up. And you’ve gotta get out of this fuck up without going “This is your fault” because that gets you no where. They may have fucked you up, but when you fuck up, it’s your fuck up, not theirs. Does this make sense? Basically, I’m in a question of “Is this your fault? Or would I be like this no matter who you were?” I watched a documentary and the woman described her childhood as being scared of everything and that was me. I was scared of everything and I don’t know whether it was their fault or mine. Whatever it was, I’m proud I’m not scared now. I’m not fearless, but I’m not frightened by all. Just about. Anyway, that line “Deepens like a coastal shelf,” how amazing is that. I really like it, it does deepen, it deepens massively, as massive as the coasts, the plates, the largest movers on this planet and it just slowly, slowly pushes. Deeper. And there it remains, you have a tectonic plate of misery pushing through you and the generations. And what does “Get out as early as you can” mean? Leave life (die) or just move out from your folks? That last line is such a zinger, but I’m not so opposed to the idea of having children (later in life). I’d kind of see it as my mission to give them an incredibly, incredibly happy childhood. Ok, I wouldn’t be crazy and controlling, all making sure they’re happy every minute of the day. But I mean, shitty things that happened to me that could’ve been avoided, or solved earlier, yeah that crap ain’t gonna happen to them. I don’t know, things don’t go to plan, but it’s all in the future and I’ll deal with it when it comes. For now, I just love this poem.