childhood

School scraps

School scraps

By jfarrell

 

“My dad’s bigger than your dad!”

…... remember that, from school?

When I got home from school,

With cuts and bruises,

I’d get 7-8 slaps and hits, before

…. “Did you hit back?”

 

Once,

I hit back.

Can’t remember what the fight was about.

Jason was a year younger than me,

A neighbour, a friend, on my estate,

On my block.

 

I beat him up;

His two teenage brothers beat me up.

 

Should’ve ended there.

 

After the customary 7-8 punches,

To get me talking,

to get me to ‘share’…

He stops hitting me…

Squares his shoulders…

And storms out! “No-one gangs up on my kid, like that!”

 

I watched a hero, my hero,

Storm off down the balcony

And start hammering on Jason’s door…

“I WANNA WORD…..

“WHAT YOUR KIDS DID TO MY SON….”

…. the door opened….

 

…..I’d never noticed Jason’s dad before…..

….He was short, nose to chest, with my father…

And my father was not tall…

…..SHOUT, SHOUT, SHOUT….

One punch…

My ‘hero’, my dad, out cold.

 

I saw it all there, don’t know how;

7-8 years old;

Dad gets drunk hits wife and kids….

He’ll only hit… stand up to…

People smaller than him….

Coward… but I still feared him.

 

In 3 days I will be 50….

You know what….

I think I should stop fearing him…

After all…

He died over 25 years ago

And I’d seen him only once since I was 14.

 

3 days before 50 I, finally, realise…

I’m better than you…

And always have been!

I may not be the ‘man’ you think of….

Beating up littler kids to make me feel better….

I am MORE…. greater… then you ever were.

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

my dragon's bigger than your dragon ;-)

In loco parentis

In loco parentis

By jfarrell

 

The October, before my CSE’s…

My ‘parents’ went on strike;

My children’s home was closed, overnight….

Very violently.

 

I cut my ties with my family, that night; forever;

And my coursework, homework projects and text books

I didn’t realise the ashes floating past me was my future;

I didn’t even know a fire had been started.

 

Who’d worry bout all the ‘A’ grades they were expected to get;

Who’d say goodbye, forever, to mum, dad, and younger sister?

Who’d be so arrogant? So stupid?

A 15 year old kid, scared of growing up to be his dad?

 

I have always been my ‘in loco parentis’;

You see a nearly 50 year old man;

I am 6 years old, trying to talk my dad outta beating me

Learning that the ‘very free sweets, toys and comics’ have a price;

 

 

My parents were not fit enough!

And the children’s home…. I need parents… politics? Strike?

In this world, this life, that has never made any sense….

How have I done? As a parent?

 

I think, I’d have had me locked up, long ago.

 

Not fit, to be near children….

Or anyone.

 

 

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

i wasn't much of a brother when our children's home closed... or long before then..

my staying away from her and her family now, makes me the best brother ever...

but, it doesn't make it right

and nothing ever will...

sorry..

this is poetry, not psychotherapy, or drunks are us....

i reeeeeeeeaaaaaallllllly love you... go on, give us a kiss....

 

;-)

 

All Hallows Eve

All Hallows Eve

By jfarrell

 

Tonight, many will dress as monsters

And go to parties and balls;

Three foot tall werewolves and vampires

Will ‘trick or treat’, door to door.

 

Mummies, zombies, glow-in-the-dark skeletons

Will bob for apples and eat soul cakes;

Pumpkins and fairgrounds everywhere;

And a constant litany of fireworks, in the background.

 

I think my scariest hallowe’en,

Was when I read ‘The Amityville Horror’ by candlelight;

Looked up at the window to see

Two ghostly eyes staring back at me.

 

Enjoy your ghostly antics tonight,

But, please try not to wake the dead, hehe;

Happy All Hallow’s Eve

To you all.

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

happy hallween everyone

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Childhood bedtime stories

childhood memories reoccurs,

Mom reads stories that has been written by famous writers,

she sings lulaby songs to make us sleep,

Abraham lincoln,

martin luther king are indeed for hope

And she recites the poems of langston huges- Democracy, 

But I always misheard as Demo-crazy,

And she whispers to our sleeps;

One day you will have no one to tell the stories,

That make you to sleep to wake up brave tomorrow,

That day I cried and all you 

but Your father kept sleeping

another day you will cry 

and I Will keep sleeping,

and bed stories and your favourite -

langston huges.

 

But she an asian rural woman 

neither has a sense to all these

but she made

Fairy tales stories of

 to climb tallest trees for our food,

 fighting with the tiger in the bamboo jungle,

Sliped down from the high hill to the " by luck water"

And it is the all stories we hear from the others,

Mother was a big tree climber

Mother was mountain climber

Mother was by luck our food

My mother alive by luck

and we are lucky enough by luck.

I am still hearing her by luck stories

And she makes the authentic.

 
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Job Prospects

Job Prospects

By jfarrell

 

I helped a milkman on his milk-round;

My first job; I must have been about 8;

The milkman, my mum and dad,

Sat in the pub, one night;

Discussing my job prospects.

 

Dad went home his usual time;

Work in the morning;

“I think your son’s got a great future as a milkman;

Wanna come back to my place and talk about it?”

Well, why not?

 

An hour later finds me walking home ‘alone’;

Alone means….

Ten yards behind me my younger sister is screaming at mum;

Who is naked.

Because that’s how we got thrown out of the milkman’s house.

 

The beep-beep “lovely tits” from caveman motorists;

The lights in windows going on;

And faces pressed to the glass;

And the only prayer I can plead

Is “don’t see me, don’t see me”.

 

Along the main road;

Past the pub we’d left;

Past our school;

Onto our estate;

My sister screaming names I don’t need to mention.

 

My going to school next day was like a Clint Eastwood western;

Joyful sounds, giggling, kids playing;

I walk into the playground and….

Silence - blessed silence - for all of ten seconds;

Then chants and jeers.

 

I got bullied a lot at school, still can’t work out why.

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

cognitive behavioural therapy says how i feel about this is, is my choice - forgive me, but i strongly disagree

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A Corrupted Mind

Folder: 
Poems.

A mind so innocent

Corrupted

But the feeling so magnificent

 

A mind so confused

Used

And flat out abused

 

It did not feel

What it was supposed to

It all became too unreal

 

Emotions shoved away

Masked with anger and hate

They always felt justified

It were the emotions that lied

 

Those little hands were tied

Manipulated by the obscene

A corrupted mind

Didn't exactly want them to be free

 

A mind, once innocent

Was lured into a darkness

It all started in that basement

Where the emotions were too much to harness

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Fevered visions

Fevered visions

By jfarrell

 

6 or 7 years old;

I wake in the night, desperate for the toilet

Rush out to bathroom

To see a bright, glowing light emerge

From the bottom of the stairs.

 

Fled in terror back to my bed;

Don’t know what I saw,

But by the time I was under the covers, hiding

It was a glowing skeleton wrapped in chains;

Aglow.

 

Another, flu, bug blurred night;

Awaking again;

This time, the walls and floor go;

As I look, everything recedes, at high speed,

Into an unreachable distance;

There is no floor, just me, the bed

And a dark, bottomless chasm.

 

And the ones I really hate…

I awake to find my bedding is somehow alive,

An intelligent, thinking, malevolent entity

Hell-bent on suffocating me, tying me down;

Holding me responsible for horrid crimes

I can’t remember.

 

Maybe we can’t cure flu,

Because it’s really tiny aliens

Hell-bent

On messing with our heads.

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

fever - the strongest hallucinagen known to science

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Sweet Memories Evade Me

My eyes were addicted to falling leaves and sunsets

Manufactured homes and suburban monoliths

My neighbourhood friends

Riding my bike

Being driven down highway roads at night

The scent of the hallways in my elementary school

Cracks in the sidewalk

And optometrist waiting rooms

Going somwhere new on excursion days

My aunt taking me to video game arcades

Finding four leaf clovers and hidden backyard flowers 

Jumping on trampolines and watching cartoons for hours

-

The faces of my youth

The friends that loved me

Gone from my life

Now a sweet memory

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Life felt beautiful.

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STALAG 17

Remember when you didn’t know about
Death…..
Every day was an adventure
Highlights…
Your Toys….
Ice-cream…
A walk through the fields
Like a trip into the unknown
Just two miles….
Will you get home before its dark?
Dirty knees…
Sole flapping on your shoe….
No resupply…
Till Mams sausage and mash…
Sunday night…..
Bloody bath-night…
Nick your chin…
Dads razor….
Torch on under the sheets
‘JAP KILLER’ in the Commando
Torch flickers…..
I will dig a tunnel
Escape Stalag 17
Lights out….
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ……

© Tony McNally

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