She claims she loves children,

Has certificates to prove just so

And people believe what they want

To believe but hide themselves

From truth,

     Aye I could talk all night me

But nothing of any relevance to you

Would be said unless,

Unless you asked me to - and

How are you feeling are you

Still reeling from jilted days

The summer haze caused sweat

Upon your skin,

     Are you still the damsel

Restricted conflicted – inflicted with

Saying too little and meaning so much,

 

Where were we if not here,

Where were we to translate all youth-full

Expression of love,

     Not here I wonder

Where lives mean so little and

Death costs so much,

So much and so many

Sad in their days when

The life that’s presented

Hasn’t had time to live,

     Aye,

She says she loves children

But my love was lost

When the first singe of the whip

Touched my infantile buttocks,

Then she just wouldn’t stop,

     Funny how women point

To men as exponents of violence

But don’t tell what they do

To their children,

     Don’t let the world know

What happens in Britain to

Children born men,

    

     Are you still reading this

And if so, have you learned anything

Yet about human behaviours

And powerful endeavours

Where the design is not to teach

But,

     There goes the whip again

Stinging my six years old flesh,

Searing the pain that was

To return in adulthood;

     Those psychiatric wards

Where no-one is healed but

Kept on tranquilisers

And ‘shut me ups’

     And still those boys of

Misfortune are never heard

For their tears and excuse me

Darling but rather than snarling

Men too are emotional wrecks

And hexed,

     The skinny is,

We ain’t never gonna make the world

Better with expletives

And discrediture,

     And while we all have our own

Cross to bear the stare in my eyes

When my mother strides off

This mortal coil will not just be

For her loss,

     It will be for the sad fact,

She never made an apology,

Never acknowledged the disturbance

And hurt so become and to top it all,

The biggest hole is not knowing my own

Father.

     Don’t hold back, say what you mean

And mean it so well and let the words

Haunt you if must but get it ‘out’

Out of your system like all us

Fragile wrecks,

      Then maybe, life for

Our kids will have meaning

In depleting the child abuse

Still going around for

If people knew what violence to kids

Does teach,

     They wouldn’t be pointing

The same sad finger at each other

But on the generation that said,

‘free love’

     And beat their own offspring

While the neighbours weren’t looking.

 

Two up and two down,

You were rich,

Two up and that’s it

Apart from the stairs I leapt

Fell and was pushed just

To try and escape at

Three years old –

But that,

      Is another story.

 

Your turn!