I knew I never belonged
In this family.
But I didn't think you
Would gang up on me.
Just to take my daughter away
From me to.
Rip my heart out
And watch me bleed.
To destroy a bond between
A mother and daughter.
So you can
Paint me as the bad person.
So you can take all contact.
And kick me out of the family.
Brain Washing her
Into your little minion.
Categories:
ganged, family,
Form: Free verse
This evening in our flat there rose a flood
That made our rooms and entrance hall a lake
As unattended bath-taps churned the sud
Into a foaming torrent by mistake
Our darling daughter whom we shall not name
Had nonchalantly turned those bath-taps on
Before returning to some film or game
Or following the social pantheon
Behind her mobile phone she lay enthralled
Forgetful of the steaming waters’ rise
Which overflowed in bathside waterfall
And blitzkrieged our apartment in a trice
Too late the cry was raised and taps were closed
And towels press-ganged as mops then stemmed the tide
And floors as clean as if they’d been steam-hosed
Emerged pristine as all those cork-tiles dried
“All’s well that ends well” - wrote of old the Bard
Thus did our flood not clean our dusty flat?
Sadly not all; for as those tiles turned hard
The margin of each one grew thick and fat
Alas our hallway and our bedroom floors
That once were smooth and level, now did change
Into a row of bumps, as slowly soars
From crashed tectonic plates a mountain range
Categories:
ganged, children, daughter, home, water,
Form: Ballad
The Musical Lady
I knew of a pavement café where tables and chairs were painted
in different colours, this to lend ambience in an otherwise dreary
street. A young lady, a student at the music conservatorium, came
here for lunch and always insisted on sitting on the same chair,
a rosa one; she was pretty in stern way, long black dress, flat shoes,
plain long hair and big glasses, waiters were happy to oblige her.
This caused jalousie amongst other chairs that wanted her to sit on
them too. In the night they ganged up on the rosa one, upended it
and scratched badly. The owner thought it was the work of vandals,
put the damage chair in the store room, but when the musical lady
came she insisted to sit on her chair damaged or not. Other seats
felt bad realizing it was not the rosa’s fault but the idiosyncrasy of
the artist, so in the night the spruced up the rosa till it looked as new.
But now the pianist didn’t want it, not the same as before, she said
and sat on a yellow chair. Feeling a miffed the gleaming new looking
seat said to itself: “No big shake she had a narrow, cold bum anyway.”
Categories:
ganged, funny, happiness, music, hair,
Form: Blank verse
The many tears I cry form a river around me.
My sorrow creates a current,
And my regret creates a wave.
My happiness was weak so it was first to go.
My anger slowed me down and made it harder to move.
My heartbeat faltered, causing me to go numb.
My loneliness whispered let go.
The broken pieces of my heart slowly drifted away.
My mind was swimming with memories causing the river to flood.
So I gave up.
My emotions ganged up on me and now I'm gone.
Categories:
ganged, me, river,
Form: I do not know?
Rust on padlocked factory gates
from tears of broken men.
Time has stopped on the golden watch,
freeze framed memories of a better past.
Scattered faces breed sour looks
for brothers of nepotism
with handshakes that nearly broke arms.
Crouched in side streets
observing worldly peasants passing.
Slave ganged with vacuum eyes
tripping through life's labyrinth.
Putrid stares of jealous intent
drooling venom; casting adjectives of annihilation,
gouging notches from the family tree
with a calm, icy incision.
Family values dead
incestuous intent
breeding dole queue bastards.
Underground society of leeches
bleeding optimism.
Ghetto laws written in cordite rooms
Switch-blade; preferred method of payment,
for dreams inhaled from crack bongs.
Joining dots of needle tracks
reveals a picture of despair.
Deaths lottery, depression, calling out your numbers.
Jackpot being long awaited sleep.
Categories:
ganged, people, social,
Form: Free verse