PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

What if its a sibling being thrown at the wall...

Do you jump up and grab the kid,
knowing you'll get beaten,
black, blue, green and red?

What if you do,
and for you,
an early night,
is being punched, kicked, throttled, stamped and pissed on.

Blood in your mouth,
a boot in your rib cage,
unable to breath.
Till you black out?

Would you get up again,
bruised and blackened,
and do it again? 

Would you do it forever?..

Your whole childhood.?

How would you tell someone?
If the teacher tried to nonce you,
knowing there was no one to look out for you?

What if you found out the police,
knew & ignored it?

Would you call that a traumatic childhood?
I'd call it monstrous.

..What if that's the mild stuff.

A kid that would go through that.

Well, I don't think it would be a good idea,
to beat on a kid within arms reach of him.

Do you feel safe?

Do you feel black uniforms,
white pressed shirts and lots of paperwork make you safe?

What if there the ones wearing the uniforms?

What if they refuse to read the paperwork.

What if... What if.. Your wits.. Your heart,
Knowing who they are,
and your fist is all there is to stop them?

As long as you got those things,
your safe. 

Until social services have accountability through a version of pace law,
like the police and until family courts are open,
this shit will continue.

It is legal to lie, it is illegal to tell the truth.

That's the society you live in,
Your Alice in wonderland.

Fed whatever bullshit the walrus and the carpenter want to spin.

What did the walrus say today?
How cleaver you are?..You Don't look cleaver to me.

Truth is like truffles,
its not a pleasant smell,
hard to find,
and very valuable.

Its like the first time you see a police officer,
beating up an innocent man.

I remember my first time.

I was at the Barbican.

I'd called the police as an idiot had blocked
In my beautiful silver Mini Cooper In a private car park.
I was dressed up, roll neck, dog tooth,
expensive Italian shoes.
(OK. I liked the sixtys, fuck you. :) )

My girl looked hot as hell.
Absolutely gorgeous.

I had a big wad of doe and I intended to spend it..

He was shouting, he was deranged,
He tried to kick my car.
I could have kicked his arse.
He had a hockey stick,
Kept swinging it at me.
I had to take it off him.

But I called the police.

They turned up and beat shit out of him.

I stepped in.

I said, I could have done that myself,
Either nick him or get him medical help.
He obviously has mental issues.

They hand cuffed him,
then kicked him in the face,
..I almost got arrested,
I couldn't just stand there and watch that.

He looked up at me,
as I stepped in front of him.
This old fart,
confused, bleeding and said to me,
..thanks Son.. Sorry I was a prick..

I said don't worry mate, I'm a prick too.

I called up the police afterwards to make a complaint.
They traced the call, but couldn't identify the officers..

I'm thinking.

I'm thinking, I've been a good boy.
I've tried to be warm hearted and genuine.

I've always done my best,
and never classed it as an excuse.
Just an explanation.

I'm thinking I bored.

I do whatever I want.

But I don't do what I want.

I know what I want to do.
I know what I can do.

..I Don't like rice.

Funny that. Of all the things in the world,
I could dislike... Its rice and curry with sweeter in it.

Not that stink of soap.
Or the fighting over a rizla paper.

Or the showers, or the iron beds,
or the fights or the bullshit.

I got someone straightened up to get me anything,
coke, smokes or whatever takes your fancy.

I said, look. Get me something nice to eat,
and a decent coffee.

He, just looked blankly at me.
.. Are you kidding?

I wasn't.

It was the best meal I ever ate.

Not the nights at Mossimans,
or Harrods tea, sitting in the same restaurant as a princess who smiled at me.

Not The first bite of real food after a week of fasting.

It all boils down to perspective.

You need to look at both sides in this world.

Then you need to look again,
When its not expecting it,
And you'll see what I see.

At that point, either run back punching and kicking,
..Or walk away.

Neither works.

Nothing worse than a monster pretending to be a victim,
Or a victim being painted as a monster.

The monsters now days, 

Not in my experience.

There are some terrible mothers in the world.

Did you read that and think it was a man who did the worst of that?.. 

Why in the world would you think that?

Didn't a man ever hold a door open for you?
Or ever show an ounce of kindness to you?

We smell bad,
We talk a bit gruff,
We're all boys at heart.

So, to all good women out there.