My guardian angel

never wanted the job

in the first place, she not only sighed

and whinged, placed her hoof down

with a firm angelic paw

but she gave God the finger when she

said with strictness in her voice

“Someone has to do

and I am afraid

it is down to you.”

 

The saintly finger risen from its paw

has followed me everywhere

and the guardian has often tied my shoes

together, pushed me down the stairs

and then made sure I landed

head first, nose protruding, cheeks scratched

and torn and kicked me

in the back side when she thought

no one was watching,

just for laughs…

just because she could.

 

Always asking for a transfer,

always refused by God,

always in a rage for days after

always…always… she spits

in her own fire and has made pacts

with the Devil who blindly looks on

surprised and who has little sympathy for me

but draws the line of pushing me

into the realms of darkness,

“I don’t want him either to be honest”

is his final say on the matter and uttered

with a kind of poshness in voice

that was reserved for Terry Thomas

at his height.

 

From the moment the finger

was raised like a standard bearing

flag, the shouting match between

a God I had never met and an angel

who only wanted to fuck me over,

I knew I was a lost cause,

a hopeless case, bewildered and bemused

at life, strung along by promises

of a better life…

it is no wonder I just can’t abide sarcasm

and hate in the eyes of those

who just never got to know me

or ask my side of the deal.

 

Ian D. Hall 2016