Dear bastard,
You are the mistake of a failed love affair
Your mother wasn’t aware of your existence
Till your father decided he wanted out
You were just a tiny clot of blood
But it was all your fault.
Your father tried his best to stay
But your mother kept crying at his door at night
So he left
She never saw him again but in your face
Poor bastard
You were never meant to live a life free from rebuke
You were never meant to taste the metal of a silver spoon,
Much less see it
Poor bastard
You will dig through the muck of the gutters and arise with a bottle clutched in your fist
And your eyes reddened by the drink
Your vision will never focus enough to handle the bastards you will beget
Years to come.
But, bastard, right now
You are just a tiny boy
Chasing tires along the streets of Accra.
It’s barbaric thorns rip and shred
Screaming without a whisper
Every lead meanders to a frayed not
Scratching and scraping the numb
Drowning on the air
Kneeling as it command me to stand
Sadness withers in its face
Fear bathed in its beauty
Want shakes it’s head in derision
In the darkness it glimmers like a candle sprayed with wind
Always near but never close enough
In the eyes of the lost it cowers
whispers of never to be
Life’s favourite joke
always less than more
laughing manically at you as you crumble
at its feet on the floor
PATIENCE AND IMPATIENCE.
Patience is morality they say,
That: does not function with a noblewoman whose man is far away.
Won't she alleviate her fever with another man?
Perhaps the one who is not apt of being with her.
Impatience they say wrecks commodity
Not when they slap your father in your presence
And you say, patience is life.
You shall be tagged a bastard.
This life has its own vices.
Patience works when needed
Yet, impatience complements your patience when you are off guard.
For, the world is filled with evildoers.
Patience cools things down
While uncertainty makes things aggravate.
Yet, Impatience solves a case in the court
For when an attorney is too cool, he is tagged as a lout.
©Fawass Olalekan Adelabu
Things you know not about a carnivore
Are many like the goods in hoarder’s store,
Some of them quick at baring the skin pore,
Some much harder than Steel or Iron Ore,
Still some knowledge you could pick from walked floor...
To start with, it adores its ugly jaw,
With it readily breaking The Law;
First, a prey seizing with its cursed paw:
Mostly, The Unsuspecting Herbivore,
Though, does as much to Weaker Carnivore,
Left-over from the quick meal An Eyesore,
Normal Man, who this in their theatre saw,
To himself a calming glass of gin pour,
His safety double or make times four:
If there’s an escaping boat find its oar
None speedily build a hut with tough door!
Each carnivores enjoys just going to war
But finishing of its target quite core…
Each carnivore is A Bastard or Whore!
Bastard Car
The car drove along the block slowly
Looking for something but what?
Not from round here or the driver
Was the driver looking for his lost love
Or ready to kidnap another forced lover
He cruised along eyes picking out the gals
Not this one nor that one the one over there
Was he for real this guy in the Toyota
He's been to other towns doing things
Gals going missing hidden actions unpunished
One of a network doing the towns and cities
Looking for new trade send them to Mexico
Get paid then do them when they're spent
Hey it's only a gal why should we care?
Part of the events in this nation right now
Sanctions and okay'd from up above
The leaders take part and use them
Stolen gals for nefarious illegal fun
Then killed disposed never existed
Time and again it starts with a car
Driving by scoping out the gals
I yelled like a banshee
that night as rain mauled a tin roof.
She laid as if dead on the bloodied bed,
already slipping wall-eyed into indifference.
The midwife shouting over the drumming,
the Irish priest humming a prattling prayer;
my gums screeching blue murder.
Inside the shack a lit-up secret
and a shrinking Catholic dogma.
They feel it, the odor of unsanctified sex,
that salty itch that made me,
while under their skins
as if I were a rash,
I crawl over their exposed nerves.
They are all gone, the hypocrites,
the abettors, the judged,
all down under the peat now,
except for the hushing rain,
the last dim-day whispers.
Well here comes the Sun again
Guess the world desided not to end
The birds tell me it's time to see the light
But I can't seem to get
Over the
Traumas of the night
I head out but my heart stays home
And all I want is to
Be left alone
But the fire in my soul burns on
Telling me
Chase your throne
You Bastard of Babylon
Ooh so you
Better listen for the battle song
Kuz here come the
Bastard of Babylon
When time loses its hold
do you choose a new father
Free of place and all station
even freer from blame
Your mother is now
and your mother forever
But your father is a choice
much more than a name
Do you wrestle in torment
as he calls out to you timeless
Beyond the past and the future
—where you forever remain
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
It was a rainy cold winter’s day
The black polished hearse drove by us on its way
There was a long line of cars behind
But the thing that stood out was not so kind
You could see the flowers on the coffin clear
Written with the words not so dear
‘Bastard’ was so clearly spelt
Which made made think about what was felt
About the deceased lying sleeping now
Did they lack the know how
That was needed for a life well led
So that this was the only sentiment for the dead.
© Paul Warren Poetry
The Rough Slouching Beast
has been born
in Washington.
Upon its birthing
what bastard sunrise
were we promised
to relinquish our souls?
What white dawn
in darkness
was actually
immune cells
rallying
to fight
a growing cancer?
Now that it has begun
metastasizing
upon our national flesh,
tell me,
O toothless sages
of our faith,
what is your plan
to restore
our birthright
of azure, blush mornings
while we can still live
to see them?
Love you bastard devil to be;
I know because I am God and
you are insect; when before there
was no bang or street corner gang…
you lovely bastard Satan angel.
From sin to speeding galaxy,
I’ll not be fooled….
SALACIOUS BOY!
Conceived in earthen tomb
when she was young,
and in our time,
we missed the signs;
old faithful contractions.
For we are doomed
to be consumed
in ashen tomb.
From crust of earth
she'll soon give birth
to a beautiful bastard.
Our time on loan;
from Yellowstone.
She mastered a bastard custard
His husband was a bit flustered
He invited friends
And forgot his lens
He saw a plateful of mustard
Surfing her parks hanging out at the johns
Playbook play writes recipricated his southside
Invasion rock their dock in red rag love make-up wardrobe ?
We knew of a bit it was your solo show and she really likes her numbers
Makes the _itch feel somehow secure while their slobbering about someone's
Fornication playing songs as cutting lines desperation pegged in tears surfing this goodbye.
"All Children Are Beautiful"
His heart of white, deep shallow wells, -yet beautiful
He smirks with a grin, an ego that won't let me in' -he's beautiful
Bastard of beauty, running ashes without a name
A face with no claim, a young man pound from shame
What is his sin, -he's beautiful!
I want to breathe from his ashes, swim through his veins
I want him to come into my light, like a good man
I sing and tell a tale, "A Bastard through the night"
His eyes I wage a thousand times, young and poor, I felt saved
Lying down in the arms of my white knight
My hair perfectly caressed, he came to my light
The furnace burned, the night was fast becoming trite
A lover, he did it well, then went back to his wife
A moment of gold, the ages live, his son is born
"He Was Beautiful!"
Another Bastard brought into this world
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