prostitution (Remove filter)
A poem for my late father, Bernard.
Twas the dawning of Father's Day, so said Facebook
Not a feeling was stirring, not even a fuck.
No flowers were planted by the headstone with care
Cos a mad pauper's grave can have no headstone there.
The children were restless, and not in their beds
Cos visions of suicide danced in their heads
Of white overalls and of tablets and shame
And sickness and pimping, a life quite insane.
Th...
Monday 6th January 2020 4:49 pm
Recent Comments
Greg Freeman on Saturday Night and Sunday Morning
32 minutes ago
Tom Doolan on Celebrate St George's Day
46 minutes ago
rob1967able on _____
3 hours ago
Graham Sherwood on A Boy and His Boat Named Bill
6 hours ago
David RL Moore on Words of Love
6 hours ago
Tom Doolan on One Tear at a Time
6 hours ago
Nigel Astell on Synchronicities of life
8 hours ago
Nigel Astell on Happy Hours for the Edgeley Faithful Extended
8 hours ago
Tim Higbee on The Wind Whispers........
9 hours ago
Larisa Rzhepishevska on Celebrate St George's Day
9 hours ago