New Year in Freetown

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One New Year I spent in Freetown

it was a time of blood and fuck

I was with some friends

two now dead one gone mad

best friends I ever had

 

Hands chopped and boiled in pans

sea like milky heaven

traumatised girls

madmen gnashing black blood teeth

we were dying quickly underneath

 

I fucked away six months of life

I fucked away a loving wife

the best days I ever spent

were days that left me this much bent

 

 

For Stephen.

 

 

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New year in Freetown ►

Comments

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suki spangles

Sat 31st Dec 2016 18:34

Powerful stuff David. There isn't much I can say about the poem apart from it was a good kick in the gut; no holds barred.

Regarding your comment about the runner - back in the 90s I worked in a few homeless shelters. Some homeless squaddies were a nightmare but also living in one; others ended up just so lost, bewildered, while a few like the runner others pulled through. These were Falklands vets. Totally forgotten. PTSD is a horrible thing. God bless politicians..

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Wolfgar Miere

Sat 31st Dec 2016 17:21

Outside my house this morning very early, mist low and bloody cold. I see a runner coming closer out of the gloom, I see he has a prosthetic right leg..the stump beginning somewhere mid-right thigh.

He's running freely, looking good. I stand in awe watching him pass, I know he lost it in Iraq..I don't know him but I know that about him.

When my boy gets in the car (I'm taking him to work) he ask's me "whats wrong dad?"...I must have a tear in my eye. I say nothing.

Further down the road we pass the runner, my boy seems to buckle, I ask him if he's OK. He says nothing.

It was a great moment of unspoken truths.

David.

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