With Privileges

118

There have been times in my life that have been undecidedly uncomfortable within the environment and its people. Such a time was from 2009 – 2012 when l was living in Lincolnshire with my two dogs. 

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With Privileges

Too many know not who or what l am,
Hidden away out the back, away from society,
Some lonely and misunderstood man,
Keeping to himself, harmless and otherwise ordinary,

To be seen but most assuredly not heard,
Lost in the shade and kept in the dark,
With a voice that can only be censored,
For fear that if listened to it might hit the mark!

Out of sight out of mind, think it’s safe to say,
With abstract friendship used as a ruse,
For timeless unpaid satisfaction each day,
And with complicated denial or ability to refuse,

Known only as the ancient white boy at the back,
Living behind the stables with his two dogs,
Residing within the long ugly metal shack,
His home a run down caravan nicknamed the ‘hot box’.

With its’ low level amenities and no luxuries,
Fit only for the ancient white boy of way out back,
Surrounded by the backwaters’ growth of serenity,
He who tends the horses and cleans the tack,

On call for most of the day if needs so desire,
All the seasons through without reprieve,
Sweeping the garden, or logging the fire,
From early morning, past dusk into eve,

‘Tis not as bad as it may at first read,
Can be peace found even in times of conflict,
But mind has thought of mutiny,
Yet sense betrays guilt as the would be verdict,

For l am just the ancient white boy that lives out back,
Society would list me as a paid up member,
Paying for solitudal pleasure, yet under constant attack,
For being a single white bachelor,

Nay to those whom think that slavery is dead and gone,
Or that the class system is a thing of our historical past,
For both are still present, not at all withdrawn,
Just hidden in backwater ways that are set to last,

I am an ancient white boy that lives out back,
That seeks happiness and an easier living style,
Matters not to them whether l am white, yellow or black,
Just as long as l can slave each day under the guise of the gentile,

Too many know not who or what l am,
Hidden away out the back, away from society,
Some lonely and misunderstood man,
Keeping to himself, harmless and otherwise ordinary,

Yet will they ever come to understand or learn,
That way out back ancient white boys like me,
Who pay to live like this because of a long yearn,
Are still subjected to underpaid slavery?

November 2010

12 thoughts on “With Privileges

    1. Yes it was a dark period, and yes those days have passed. But it was also enlightening, and a real digging deep experience into human resource and reserve in so far as my journey.

      I don’t miss the landlords or their abuse and mental cruelty, but at times l do miss the serenity of where l was, the peacefulness. I certainly don’t miss the 40 foot hellbox, that was never repaired and the winters there were a real test on me.

      But thank you for commenting here today 🙂

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