Tag Archives: childhood

Drifter

Watching a Father losing his son in front of his eyes.

Seeing the screams barricade his heart in the name of strength

Like the last drop of water rung from a spun load

A tear fell

Traffic stopped, my eyes gazed sky wards

Watching my Father like a worn watch

Praying for time, wondering what will happen when

It happens

There’s a first time for everything they say

He hugs me now with more strength than he ever disciplined me with

We are old friends that once were foes

It’ll soon be time for me to complete the circle

I hope we can hula hoop, if but for a moment

Though some stone him, his shoes I have grown in

Shunning the shade of shalom with my mother’s tongue

I am my Father’s son,

Enlightened I wonder when that which will be has come

Will I be bound or free

Torn between his life and my existence

Conflicted.

A little boy lost

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Filed under Just Living

Bearwood Pick Nick (52/8)

bearwood high st

Every Saturday morning when Des Lynam’s moustache was doing it’s final stretches during the weather just before Grandstand we found ourselves…

In sniffing distance of the Kings Head
Blunt’s shoes? you’d never wear them unless you smoked, were barely out of the cot or closing in on retirement.
Where cash machines are places of worship and the church on the corner is a convenience store outliving us all.
As chips a shade of oompah loompah that fish pouting glamour pusses would bathe in are trophy dinners.
If traversing that red and grey bricked hill to purchase 105 of the 5-a-day was deemed a winner.
I’d grow up fruitless, a damned sinner
See once raiding freezer heaven was finished….we’d head there……
To the land of the A-Team branded Cornflakes, peaches and rice.
Where stealth entry to this economically viable leviathan was vital.
Where purchases were disguised in Safeway’s and Tesco bags to avoid being seen as cheap.
There’s nothing special about this rabidly chavvy anti Monaco
16 years tasting traffic jams instead of tavern pies, doing bicep curls with bags of cabbages.
Drowning in trolley fountains and blue rinse eruptions at the temple of torrential tedium
This wretched hamlet conspired to feed me the beauty of Anneka Rice.
She was round the corner but hey, for every pleasure, there is a sacrifice.

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Filed under 52 Week Challenge

19 Stone Smile (52/9)

19 stone smile was bad, like Mike in 87
Until I met the real miss jackson with her hips and twisted melon
Quiet dog and a fruit cake for whom love was a never.
18 years were two words and (an) escaped life sentence
The mirror separated the pedant from the peasant.
In the future an atheist would bring a Christian to repentance
Dating was a time of the month, lust seemed so feral
It was perpetual rebounding until I found my level
If you’re travelling without moving, how do you know haven’t settled?
The love of love was a drug and for pot I never kettled
Not a man united but experience made for a read devil
Making music without producing, I lied to heavy meddle
Hope my nemesis forgives me for being the herb to her petal
Not everyone’s cup of tea but she knew I deserved better.
Would have loved sons but clouds didn’t produce our weather
My love story’s a challenge
With every page I’m counting blessings
I thought my 19 stone smile was bad like Mike in 87
I was a child then and a child then
After 36 months of emptying my vessel to find my forever
I grew up and realised she was simply the start of the lesson

With the examination my ties were shredded
In 6 years of wrestling I’ve done turn buckle swallow dives
My heart learnt to swallow knives
To see if they would cut it I found myself to lose my mind
Sometimes you need a bare soul to grow into your shoe size
Now my 19 stone smile is someone’s 10 or 25
As my smile
Is now mine
For life

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Filed under 52 Week Challenge, Relationships

Flagged Offside (52/7)

United 92 away

I was just young and black, in gold and green cuffs.
Sent to the wolves, a young cub full of cereal.
I was a serial offender, great pretender
Midfield or defender, I couldn’t remember
I just handed out oranges.
Water boy before The Waterboy
The captain was the manager’s son
A right little Lord Fauntleroy
Bib master, ball boy, cone king
Occasional substitute, should have swapped oranges for another fruit
Dammit I was everything!

Was there something they weren’t telling me?

King of the spelling bee wasn’t helping me
This thing called football required a different type of memory
I could dance better than any white kid raised on chicken, rum and reggae
I had the running man perfect but with a ball?
Ermmm okay…
I was not Steve Staunton or Stan Collymore
Ladies and gentleman in one game I nearly scored
I was young a foolish villa fan
But could I run with a ball?
Could I hit it true like I gave a damn?
Not even Obama would say Yes He Can!

For St Faith and St Laurence I was offside on the touch line
A whole lotta heart not skill was my punch line
When I tried to read the game I was tongue tied
Aston Villa couldn’t inspire pride
When they passed to me they looked petrified
Why couldn’t the clumsy demon be exorcised?
I was too much of a saint to pray abusive parents drank pesticide
Wearing claret on my sleeve I became blue
Praise would be wonder land but cats just asked
Who…are …you?

I am the black Vinnie Jones
A Roy keen to see red
Devil in a new shirt
Not that ugly black red and green striped
Muller branded
Would look better if puked yoghurt was splashed at.

Villa Park will never will be better than my hell on hallowed turf
Old Trafford is more than a theatre
When I watch them I am a dreamer
Scoring Hughes screamers
Weaving the blood of ogres with Ryan’s wing wizardry
My long legs will be David Gower’s bat on a tricky wicket
When that ball comes I’ll know where to stick it
Call me Michael Ricketts and you might hear crickets
I will be a chocolate Alex Ferguson with the master plan
12 years old I will be the man because I am
A United fan

They’ll no longer scold chocolate green and gold.
Paid my dues in the freezing cold
If I tackle you, reach for that 3 digit call
999, see you at City Hospital
Not arrogant just better, yes I’m that bold
I’m a united fan, don’t you know
Trap a ball, head it
Let’s take it slow
One day I might have Tor Andre’s flow
I might score a great goal or swing and slip
Then again…. running for number 10 …
I might just end …in the premiership

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You didn’t know

Have you ever been picked at
Like Prince, Hendrix and Santana fighting for the best solo at the same time on the same guitar
Have you ever been kicked around the park because you couldn’t see in the dark
Pinched every time you flinched because one finger held a fork wrong
Been stabbed by a forked tongue,
Bruised like fallen apples though you’d barely been a seed
Have you ever started to bleed so much your heart screamed in silence
Caressed by looks of violence
Wisdom deemed disrespectful to age
Pulped in a bloody rage because manhood was not a life stage and
Now they choose to perform….on you
Travails dismissed like the truth in a court of kangaroos and Joeys
but
Nobody wants to know how you doin
Cold shoulders 360 below zero only warm to being a hero if like a fish
You are battered
Warmed to proving that the only demands that matter aren’t yours
When all you remember is the pause while you got played
Have you ever faced war on your best earth for not being the right gradient
For achieving Palladium not platinum and for them its embarrassing
Have you ever
Ever been made to work now and play later because it will pay later
Only to end up in debt to time
Spending all your life on the grind and rarely flowering
Showered in towering cynicisms because even when its not a sin it, just isn’t
Good enough
Find yourself good at stuff but you ain’t rough and tumble enough
Too humble, too nice, you help folk walk
Youo stumble through sacrifice to sacrifice and all they do is
Ink a black mark over a bad start
Nobody holds a ladder or a door you look to the river for help
All you see are black stars
Have you ever,
Been picked at like a vulture and an eagle fighting for antelope
Only to find with your best qualities folk elope into the distance
Like all your time and persistence and divine given visions were stolen
And all those principles they told you never to break were broken
by those who broke you and built you to know them
Have you ever
Had to provide a tour through a city of many gates and turns
Where road burns and cuts gave way to the if’s and buts yet still
You found a way to feel until the moment they got real and left
Have you never
Wanted attention despite being nurtured ot be pensive
That when you cry danger folk call you defensive or overly sensitive before they
choke you
I don’t know if they told you that I have
I don’t know if you know how if feels to be the last one earth in an overcrowded citadel
I don’t know if you will ever know like I do but now
You know me well

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Blood Will Reign

Their blood will reign yet kings abandon their thrones
Leaving bemused queens raising princes alone
Takes more than bricks and mortar to be making a home
Yet they lay the foundations then to new projects they’ve flown
Declaring the season wasn’t right despite the seeds they’ve sown
Finding reasons to treat the field like a weed that’s grown
Their blood will reign yet kings abandon their thrones

Sitting pretty getting fed while queens cry alone
Declarations of kingship drown out weary groans
The kingdom is the queens for she builds alone
Who’s the king where’s the king the prince wants to know
Looking him in the eye as he sits on the throne
Where’ve you been what’ve you seen of my growth
Don’t you love me or really didn’t you want to know
Your blood will reign when you’ve been overthrown

Love can and will reign yet blood run will cold
For a king who ignored their heir till they were 20 years old
How can a king be a king when the queen ruled the throne?
He wasn’t even the power behind it he wasn’t a king at all
But to the queens who get big and want their kings dethroned
Check yourself to make sure your truly giving your all
To my kings who simply think that rulings a ball
Stop playing the game or your house will fall
A single mothers cry isn’t nice no, no
Fathers your blood will reign so take control of your throne

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Filed under Society