Beating God Into Your Child – Corporal Punishment 101

A tragedy has stricken me, I certainly do believe
How it could happen, I could never quite conceive
It started with a little twitch, a simple minding switch
Putting the beliefs of religion into my son which
was too young to comprehend chapter and verse
I was the parent trying to keep him from much worse
Teaching him young was the plan from the start
Keeping his mind from straying away from god’s heart
An infraction occurred that was not to be dismissed
I felt the pressure as the devil’s word he hissed

And so I took up the rod from an unknown book
I switched his behind until I could no longer look
Feeling fine and justified in his religious training
It was then that reality and justice began raining
Corporate punishment was not allowable by the state
Even if scripture told me that his spirit couldn’t wait
Taken in cuffs my son denied that I’d done something wrong
While his pants were still chafing from my religious sounding song
Repeated as an honest gaff of my own upbringing
My time in jail set my mind to irreligious singing

I had to face that what I did was so terribly incorrect
That physical or verbal abuse was no way to gain respect
Treating my child with a belief that might is always right
Leading him to believe that a cause was worth a fight
That a little beating now would cleanse him for later
But instead of being good he became a better hater
Thrashing sinners was a way to cause repent
So bullying and threats to others he had often sent
Until I grew to regret his righteous actions
He kept up with evil but with righteous factions

Pulled into the crowd who believed in using fists
He never doubted that religion had its lists
of sins that could be beaten from their possessor
That if you were right it was good to be the aggressor
And he was at his best at following his daddy’s ideal
Behind it all was the church’s bell and its faith’s appeal
Along with the rule stated that might would make it right
Was another that should have been kept out of sight
The thought that the ends always justifies the means
Leading to many ignorant, and sometimes bloody scenes

Once I was behind bars he never returned as my son
I was released with regrets but I had mainly one
That my words and punishments had so occurred
Instead it ripped his mind from being loved and nurtured
Never could I convince him that love and hate disagreed
A sinner of a different set of beliefs I started as a seed
He took from me righteous pain and a fear of sin
Until he had thought too long that all costs deserved a win
Instilled within him no spirit but only fear that was king
And the death of my son was now my only conscious thing
I didn’t spare the rod and then I lost the son
From the truth of that teaching fooling everyone
I look back with such great remorse for my sin
Remembering at the age my own teaching did begin
How I learned at the severe beating with a stick
Lessons learned that way were learned very quick
Wondering where my punishment should start
I only wanted my son to have a goodly heart
Instead I trained him to be righteous and also very rash
Until he met his match in a very deadly clash

Barbara Blackcinder


About Barbara Blackcinder

I am a poet/writer with a need for words. There are so many out there that I haven't used yet. They define all reality and mine when you read those from me.
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