suicide (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
Auracle on The Magic in Mundane
3 hours ago
Bethany Sallis on Against the background of a Winter Sky
3 hours ago
David RL Moore on Against the background of a Winter Sky
3 hours ago
Bethany Sallis on Against the background of a Winter Sky
3 hours ago
John Coopey on THE NOB NURSE 2
3 hours ago
David RL Moore on Against the background of a Winter Sky
4 hours ago
Rasa Kabaila on The Magic in Mundane
7 hours ago
Bethany Sallis on Against the background of a Winter Sky
13 hours ago
John Coopey on The Gift of Words
13 hours ago
Stephen Atkinson on The Gift of Words
13 hours ago