I have had bad days, when my words

have been misinterpreted, my actions

mistaken, my shame and hatred

of my own self carried around for ever

after, pinned to my chest

like a gleaming medal sparkling

on parade, polished with pride

by some other shmuck in my skin

and specially made

for the stupid, crass,

ignorant and argumentatively

stubborn. I have been all that at times.

 

I have kicked downwards when pain

was bad but I have also kicked upwards

when the ache threatened to send me over,

I have done stupid things that I thought

were right, I have allowed beer and whisky,

fine instruments of the beautiful flirt,

to let my mouth catch my trousers unaware

and I have fucked up…

 

…but you big man, with your head on back to front,

with your weasel face,

with weasel lies,

with weasel teeth gritted

telling me to go fuck myself,

to fuck off,

to play innuendo

with my life, you

are even lower than I

could ever stoop,

you must feel pride this morning…

 

Ian D. Hall 2016