The Lousy Fathers

Here's one for all
The Lousy Fathers:
I'd like you to recount your selves
Rethink your pasts with all our mothers
Those dusty widows on your shelves


An age-long trend
Of male persuasion,
A jaded fable every time -
Young Love
Then sourly cold Evasion
(Of course once she is past her prime.)


But what of us -
The tattered baggage
Of your vulgarities,
Her rage?
The products of your
artful damage -
Did you forget we're bound to age


Like children do?
Come asking questions,
The ones that clearly make you sweat,
Or maybe play with your digestion?

                                   ...D'you wish that we had never met?


'The Christmas Father'
- Festive email /
A tainted phonecall just to say
You and your new,
Much younger females
Wish us that best on Christmas day!


The Birthday specials
- Texts /
A postcard?
A line or two, with love from 'Dad.'
The gift - a wad of cash /
A toaster.
And most of us aren't even sad


By now its something like tradition,
And families loathe to break up those -
So we'll gulp down our inhibitions
And you crack out thast smile
And pose.

Quit

I smoke until I get a headache, I smoke to think   

I smoke to stop.

To build a world of better remakes...

I smoke to live –

The penny drops. 

I guess it true about the Good Things

They always said ‘Don’t have too much.’

But all the greyness of each day brings

Battered thirst and thinking such 

As

       ‘Your legs are sore,Your arms are aching!

You must be tired, Never Mind –

Spark up, and watch your worries flaking’- 

Reason and thoughtlessness combined.

I quit.

Its time.

I’m quite decided.

I’m reaching for a glass of wine...

A thing was good

But now I’ve tried it

And somehow it feels almost fine 

To say –

                  Okay, you’re worth much better

And frankly ‘You’ won’t go to plan,

So write your future self a letter

Then get out quickly while you can.  

When

When a day drags slow

Though your life feels short.

When the worst of liars 

Are never caught.

When you can't believe.

When your vision's blurred.

When Kings deceive.

Its all too absurd.

When your friends are dolls,

Wear a painted face

And you're always cold

For the human race.

And these strangers live

In an altered realm,

When you're overthrown -

But you're underwhelmed.

When there seems no cause

To defend today,

Because no one looks.

When its all cliche.

When the mirror glares,

And you see a crack

Swallow up the world

That could not go back. 

Tired

The dawns make me tired
I'm sleepless and wired
I hide in the silence
And rot
New books lie untouched
One day's just too much
The time is a thing I forgot

I don't want to stay.
No, I don't want to leave -
For today this white room
Is enough.
These heavy clothes weigh
On my skin, which looks grey
And for once, I'm too small to act tough.

Getting dressed is too slow
And its only for show -
All those Little Things aren't  going to give.
Whilst the sane one you knew -
The Practical you
Isn't saying 'It's time,
Go and live.'

Though your life is still yours
There hang locks on the doors
And you won't leave the house for a week.
So you smoke yourself stale,
Wait and shiver
Feel frail
Only open your mouth to feel weak.

The Man and his Suitcase

Between stormy mountains

And across rain-drenched valleys

There lies a small village 

In puddles and gloom

And in a dark little house

In a dingy old alley

There lives

A small man

Who just sits in his room.

He sits all alone

Watching out through the window

At small passers by

While he listens to jazz

And feels blue and quiet

And so uninspired

All thanks to the

Suitcase of Troubles he has.

His Suitcase of Troubles

Is heavy with worry 

He fears it could drive him 

To madness quite soon

He lugs it around

But its painful to carry

And he feels so alone

With his luggage of doom

The man and the Suitcase

Are always together

It follows him glumly 

Whereever he goes

At work, at the market,

Whatever the weather

Its hurting his fingers

It falls on his toes

"Why me?" He cries out

To the walls in frustration

"Am I really destined

To forever be sad?

Why do I deserve this 

Suitcase of Troubles

While the rest of the nation

Seems so joyful and glad?"

He went to the mayor 

Of the village and asked him

He saw many doctors

(a dozen at least)

He called on professors

Politicians, magicians, 

The village Headmaster

And even the priest

But no one could help him

Get rid of his Suitcase

It seemed that his troubles 

Were with him for good

Until on one evening

His front door creaked open

To the drizzly alley

Where a little girl stood

He asked what she wanted,

And where were her parents?

"You're the man with the 

Suitcase of Troubles?" she said

Then, after he nodded

Without the man's consent

She ran in the house

And jumped on his bed

"I've something to tell you!"

The girl declared grinning

"Things aren't half as horrid

As you once thought they were!

You believe its the end

But its just the beginning!

I've had a Suitcase of Troubles 

Just like yours before"

She explained that his baggage

Was a temporal burden

Which follows him only

For as long as it takes

So the previous owner

Of the Suitcase of Troubles

Is finally happy;

He's having a break.

The little girl said

"When it's time for another

To take on the luggage

You just have to wait

The Suitcase of Troubles

Disappears with your worries

You'll rejoice and the problems

Are gone from your plate."

"After you, there'll be others

Who carry the Suitcase,

Relieving a stranger,

Then passing it on

Like this the world knows

There is never a danger

Of one being unlucky or sad

For too long."

The little girl left,

And the little man thanked her

He lifted his Suitcase of Troubles 

With pride

"From terrible misery

I'm saving a stranger,

What a wonderful service

You chose me to provide!"

He would live with his suitcase

A little while longer

Before it would journey to another man's arm

Each day it felt lighter,

While the man felt much stronger

And the Suitcase of Troubles

Had done him no harm.

Self

Some mornings it hits
All these thoughts I'll neglect
Like finding a balance
Between my own Self-Respect
And reaching the standards
The world seems to expect
Some mornings its hard to not sit and reflect


And although I'm not twelve anymore
I'll still question
Why everything tends to 
Boil down to possession - 
Possession. Of people,
Of facts, self expression
And if your hands are empty
You turn to aggression


And you'll wonder how
Somehow you feel so oppressed
By your own life and choices
You'd always just guessed.
Then, questions get harder
And you're a little obsessed 
With mistakes and the fuck ups
And you leave out the rest


And there's always the chance
That you're just Self Consumed
Thats why you'll rethink
Who you are in dark rooms,
And things that mother,
Friends - mostly you
Had assumed
Are just bullshit dreams
They won't write on your tomb


And its hard to describe
But I guess it feels hollow,
When you run out of faith in Yourself
To still follow,
And each day gets harder to 
Breathe deep and swallow
Your ten hundred questions
To Phoebus Appollo


Like since when is just Being
Not quite enough
To make some small difference,
And why do we act tough
When everyone's blind to where
Their life is going - 
But doesn't mind waiting around and
Not knowing?


And I find I'm embarrassed
To my Eight Year Old Self
When I made countless pledges
And threw them on shelves
That I never could reach,
A mistake in itself.
Hair colour, tattoos and opinions
Meaning nothing
If the rest of the world
Is far too busy stuffing 
Themselves full of
Drive and Success
Before cuffing


Outsiders
Not wanting it,
Or working as hard
And I wonder if this is my choice
Or my cards
That we're given
Long before we chose
To keep us all asking
To keep us on our toes


And it hurts that people much younger
Had achieved so much more
While I'm biting my nails
Just outside the door.
Wrote symphonies, novels
Changed methods of thinking -
While I Doubt Myself,
Constantly smoking and drinking


And hundreds find passions
And cultivate talent,
But I'm not all that good
At much that's apparent
Except late nights, Self Loathing
Watching lifetimes go by
With nothing to show
Because I don't really try.

Like Humans
Often we just take.
Make mindless glistening mistakes
Betray or spite
An easy slip
Of thumbs, hot heads
Of brutal lips.
Without a sound
We crash we burn.
Impart hushed secrets -
Never learn.
Lure in, push out
All those we need
Diverted by intrinsic greed.
Like Humans
Break
Drop tears, drop oathes
One day adores
The next year loathes.
Wake up in pangs of hungry guilt
That feeds off
Monstrous walls we built.
Like Humans
Bricking up the past,
Hearts incontent
Our dead eyes glassed.
And torturing ourselves
With pride
To act forgiven
Swiftly hide -
Like Humans will
In cowardice, shame
Forever scrounging
Scraps of blame
To pin on any other fool
Forgetting - memories are cruel.
Breathe concrete promises
All night
Snatch each one back
By one small fight.
Cross out.
Start fresh.
Rip out a page.
With every fuckup
Feel skin age.
Like Humans
Haunted, taunted on.
Chained in regrets,
And always wrong.
Out of our minds
Trying to map
A life line which just
Wilts to crap.
Like humans
Die. Then die again
At trembling hands
Of Human Men.
We're gentle, tender
Hateful, bruised
Never fogiven but accused.