A blow torch just went out
The smell of burning - no doubt
Will follow as I wallow
In the pain,
Which yet again makes me give
A silent screaming-shout.
I close my eyes and your face
Is in my face, anger and hate
But it’s too late
I’ve asked for help from you
And something has burst in you
And the flames come out
Word-knives,
You give me a clout
How am I supposed to thrive
To grow and to know new things.
“You are in charge - not the bloody pen!”
“Your handwriting is like a spastic spider’s”
You scream this again and again
And again, and again
When I try to write all I know is the fear and the fright Asking you for help just leads to another wet-bed night.
I smell of piss and my teeth are dirty
I’ve been up since 04:30 making the fire
Alone with burnt little hands warming
The shaving water for the man
Who goes mental and mad
When he has to boil a kettle for a shave
He rants and raves
And this man is meant to be my dad
Then he leaves me alone
Shouts to my ever-sleeping mum
‘Don’t leave him to his own devices!’
“Use a bloody dictionary - are you THICK!?”
I just wanted to know how to spell ‘contradict’
I liked the sound of it, the shape of it,
I wanted to write it with this spastic-spider
Blistered little hand of mine
I just close off and remember not to ask again.
My little legs are bleeding
My shorts are not concealing the bruises
And welts that have been dealt
“If you spare the whip you spoil the child”
Your garden cane comes out again
And again
And again
And again
You are standing over me - a demon
Not a daddy, more like a slave owner
I feel scared of YOU, SAD for YOU - and I fucking LOVE you TOO!
One day I disagree with you
Your argument is leaning by the fire
Warmed by the burning coal - burning a hole - in the soul
Of a beautiful 5-year old boy
You point to the cane, so I know that the argument is over
I mull it over, and over, and over, and over
This can not carry on, I know it now
If it does I will be permanently cowed
I will roll over, bend over, and be broken
A token of what I am meant to be
I make a plan for the man who can hit me with impunity
The man with immunity from a family and community that sees me
Alone, not cherished, perishing under the weight of the silence
And the hate that is growing within,
The sin locked within that little mind
Committed by those who should be only kind
To me, protective of me, nurturing me not torturing me
I need to be free of this misery,
Break out of that which binds me before it cripples and blinds me.
So I piss you off on purpose and you get your cane
I’m lying on my back hearing the whack, feeling the pain
I look you in the eye and laugh out loud
Not cowed, not crying not shying away from the reality
I laugh, and laugh and you whack and whack and you only stop
To drop the broken cane on the floor, this roll-over role is over
“I’ll not hit you any more you little bastard.”
“I’d kill you if I hit you hard enough to get through that thick skull of yours.”
You deserve an applause because, guess what...
I’m dead in that place in my head that can connect
That can trust and respect,
But miraculously the garden cane goes back to growing
Sweet peas and tomatoes again
The welts on my legs heal, and I feel numb
I know I’m not dumb so I walk alone
Get what I need from books and TV
And the odd teacher who seems to have respect for me Too small to reach the front door key
That you gave to me because no-one is ever there for me
Just my mummy - the TV - and my daddy - Terry Wogan - in the morning Singin’ Joleeeeeeeeeeeeeeen!
When the neighbour came round and bollocked you
You did not hit him, whip him, shout and swear you just stood there
You took it - fuck it dad - it was true - I was in danger because of you
I had to ask strangers to let me in the house at night
At risk from murderers, pedophiles and thieves
Sometimes there was no light at night because the meter had run out
So I sat there in the dark and cold, five years old
When the neighbour left, you smacked my head and called me stupid
But you gave me a backdoor key - I could reach that high
At least no-one would see - but I’d just like to ask why Mum could not have just been there for me
To protect, nurture and care for me
Someone could easily have followed me
Someone could have fucking murdered me!
I was lost and alone, but, at least, I had the fucking TV!
Dad you changed, rearranged, what the fuck had happened to you
The sins of the father will be visited upon the son
Even to the third and fourth generation
A war-torn nation, bombs, guns, bullets and rations
An alcoholic father who killed your baby brother
A mother bitter from his cheating
A burnt bed from his cigaret in his drunken sleeping
To hurt me like you did you must have been fucked up
You must have been feeling the rage that I feel
The same deal of the cards - the same hand for me - You played to lose
I prayed and played to stop the pain at yours-truly
I embraced the word - a God in your image
My prayers were heard and the pain ended with me
You were the perfect grandad
My heart beat with gladness, even though the sadness crippled me
My girls loved you and you loved them too
Your eyes shone for them - when they had always flashed at me
Your words were kind for them - when they had only slashed at me
You created loving memories and they LOVE you still
They spoke of your good qualities at your funeral
And I was proud, so very proud that the demon had died
Thirty years before and I could cry and tell them
About the dad who loved me and who I loved too.
I miss you now, shaving you was the most intimate thing
You were weak and helpless so I washed you,
I lifted you and wiped you when you needed to poo,
I stayed with you for night after night,
Holding your hand so you would not be alone
So you would always have water to drink,
And never think that I didn’t care
Right until the end, your eyes would light up
When you saw my girls there
I understand dad, I just didn’t do it for you
But you were the perfect grandad
And for that we are totally square.
My cards are too heavy to carry now,
They are burning my five-year-old hands
I need a new deal, a fresh start, a renewed heart
I need to remove the rage, the fear, the self-hatred
And the sheer weight of trauma
My temper is short, my fuse needs to be quenched
My cheeks are always drenched in tears
Exhaustion drives me to bed, to the bottle and to the war in my head
If you could not love me that does not mean I am what grandma said
If you could not love me then I will love myself
I will be my daddy, my own mummy - I will cherish me until
The wounds that bind me perish in the light of day
They must go away - I’ve protected and provided
But NOW it’s fucking TIME FOR ME!
Time for me, my time, my heart will beat with love
I will be loved, loving is easy, being loved is hard
All I need is a heart in my new hand of cards
And I will play life like a pro - my kind face - free from your rage
These memories that left welts on my soul - locked me in that cage
My goal will be to look them in the eye
Laugh as they run away and die - burning up
Just smoke rising up to the sky - BYE BYE - bye bye to this roll over role!
(c) Cosmic Gorilla, 2018
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