Words of un-wisdom

 I remember the old man

With his cans of beer and

Shots of whiskey,

Splattered across the furniture

With his ill fitting dentures,

And mountain range beer gut.

He would tell me of affairs

He’d had behind mum’s back,

Of past and distant loves

He’d seduced before I was born.

And as I was now older

And he and mum had split up

He really believed that,

That made it all right,

In his backward warped mind

He really thought it was ok,

To tell me about these woman

In his pathetic macho gaze.

And as he toasted to lost lovers

In Southampton and in Hull

He thought he was winning my approval

He reasoned I’d understand…

But, I never did understand…

And, I never ever forgave…

We’d return from East Lane

With sarsberella and weary feet,

Cockles and muscles and Neil Diamond

Tapes, then he would brag,

With the TV sound on,

Reminiscing about slags he’d shagged

Behind mum’s back,

Reveling in the glory

Of the lust he once had…