Stranger Than Fiction – The Rights to Write!

006

An Ocean of Echoes

Bam, bam, bam!
Again doors slam!

The nightly chorus has again begun,
When blind silence and untroubled nights would be bliss,
Yet living here at times is not really that much fun,
And even eggshell walking can kick off a crisis,

Upstairs l listen to the shattering peace from the under floors,
Shuddering and praying that perhaps it will not last that long,
Tiring of a being a keeper of darker secrets behind closed doors,
Scared that the singer might decide to include me in his song,

As far as memory allows l can remember this bustle from my childhood,
Living in a constant fear, of wondering if it would perhaps ever cease,
And more concerned that perhaps this too might be my manhood,
Growing up and becoming a similar nightmare on another person’s peace,

Even back then, truly l was astounded that she could love him so,
With his hard loving brutality and dried up emotion,
Yet outsiders knew not of this nightly show,
Nor of the inner turmoil’s and mental commotion,

When nothing was ever right, no matter how good it was,
A troubled and stained mind that only lashed out,
Impossibly hard to please the master with his strict laws,
Who ruled with an iron rod and viscous shouts,

Yet despite the hidden shades and yellowing hues,
Still she worshipped the ground, in which he trod,
Always endeavouring to make excuses for the abuse,
Covering up for him and his blatant fraud,

Oh what it must be like to be a pained Father figure,
And living within the confines of a loving family,
Oh how hard it must be to be a worker, drinker and a gambler,
Never mind an adulterer and a nightly thuggee,

At school, l would listen to those who talked of happy times,
My hurt confusion was in a head spin all of its own,
And l would sit there silent thinking of domestic crimes,
Wanting to share, but knowing l was all alone,

For this was my Father, a man l admired and loved so,
Yet terrified of in many more ways than one,
There were times when he was good and this would show,
But the bad times seriously outweighed the fun,

And now am l to recall with fondness my growing up days,
When l worried for my Mother and sister and the strains,
Of knowing that the wrong word here or there would betray,
Further the dignity that was trying to be maintained,

That we lived the normal life of a loving close knit unit,
Yet behind closed doors, we lived in continued fear,
Worrying constantly if the house was clean or if the credit,
Is sufficient to pay the monthly bills, or that we were sincere,

And that the homework was done, and the garden was tidy,
That the dinner was ready and to be on the table,
Where we all sat and listened to the laws we had to obey,
Providing ample information to ensure to him that we were able,

It is not easy living ones’ life in fear of a bully,
It affects you from the time that you leave the home,
And takes a very long time indeed to rediscover and trust the beauty,
Mentally staying with you as you age and forever present as you roam,

Wondering if the hidden anger that you witnessed when young,
Should arise when the pressures of life hit you when low,
And that they too will make you strike upon,
Those that you say you love but are unable to show,

And now many years on, echoes of my past,
That makes up the ocean of my thought,
Are ever present, but l can say with hand upon my heart,
That those memories are just quiet footsteps that have gone unwalked.

[December 2009]067

 

4 thoughts on “Stranger Than Fiction – The Rights to Write!

Add yours

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: