Father’s who run off and leave their<\/p>\n
responsibilities far behind<\/p>\n
leaving a mother to carry on<\/p>\n
clearly they have ,underlined<\/p>\n
their inappropriate behaviour<\/p>\n
and must realize and understand<\/p>\n
really there was little left<\/p>\n
as the eggtimer’s run out of sand<\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n absence is no quality<\/span><\/p>\n and time alone won’t justify<\/p>\n the void perhaps the distance<\/p>\n all of that is undermined<\/p>\n as years pass infants become older<\/span><\/p>\n schooling and the whole domain<\/p>\n where mothers work the oracle<\/p>\n despite the rampant strain<\/p>\n <\/p>\n child support the agency<\/p>\n may then assess the price as to<\/p>\n whatever the father’s means may be<\/p>\n or what the father aims to do<\/p>\n his damnedest for his child or not<\/p>\n the birth certificate mean’t a lot<\/p>\n and does it clearly we shall see<\/p>\n the child part of a parody<\/p>\n <\/p>\n of single parenthood for they<\/p>\n and dependent on much more each day<\/p>\n the mother has to try to be<\/p>\n mother and father consciously<\/p>\n this can be hard but many do<\/p>\n manage it and look back to view<\/p>\n the child who has become the man<\/p>\n when essentially it all began<\/p>\n <\/p>\n with just an act<\/p>\n with just an egg<\/p>\n a sort of non existent peg<\/p>\n perhaps a feeling<\/p>\n perhaps a pain<\/p>\n of what had happened<\/p>\n was all in vain<\/p>\n <\/p>\n the months rolled on<\/p>\n a lonely wait<\/p>\n manifested to relate<\/p>\n to this beginning<\/p>\n and to this end<\/p>\n truthfully we<\/p>\n now could defend<\/p>\n <\/p>\n the right to be<\/p>\n the right show<\/p>\n the right to see<\/p>\n the right to know<\/p>\n the toll was heavy<\/p>\n it was bound to be<\/p>\n through out the babies infancy<\/p>\n <\/p>\n each birthday<\/p>\n yuletide celebration<\/p>\n every solstice<\/p>\n a magnification<\/p>\n of reason<\/p>\n and of guilt holds true<\/p>\n for the mother who new what to do<\/span><\/p>\n the absent father<\/p>\n the piece of shit<\/p>\n the arse wipe who sort<\/p>\n of let rip<\/p>\n <\/p>\n swanned around<\/p>\n believing he<\/p>\n was godsend to infinity<\/p>\n the yoga guru<\/p>\n clad in gold<\/p>\n the buddhist<\/p>\n had his story told<\/p>\n <\/p>\n of how the infinite<\/p>\n and why he was<\/p>\n if asked of course it was because<\/p>\n his mind and body<\/p>\n was honed on sin<\/p>\n his child, the mother<\/p>\n knew the spin<\/p>\n <\/p>\n took \u00a0the knocks<\/p>\n and suffered so<\/p>\n as arse wipe joined the<\/p>\n constant flow<\/p>\n clocked up the miles<\/p>\n an avid stare<\/p>\n Australia, India<\/p>\n France, aware<\/p>\n <\/p>\n he taught the yoga<\/p>\n unchained and free<\/p>\n no thought of his son<\/p>\n and how he be<\/p>\n no support through Winter’s bite<\/p>\n birthdays come<\/p>\n the constant fight<\/p>\n <\/p>\n to keep their heads above the water<\/p>\n this is really what it taught her<\/p>\n remaining resolute ,all the time<\/p>\n the mountain on its upward climb<\/p>\n <\/p>\n the torrid state<\/p>\n of their affairs<\/p>\n how time in fact<\/p>\n clearly impair’s<\/p>\n the fool who would<\/p>\n a roving go<\/p>\n and who used the internet to grow<\/p>\n <\/p>\n art modelling<\/p>\n and yoga man<\/p>\n in every monastery<\/p>\n there’s a fan<\/p>\n a women ready possibly<\/p>\n to bear his grief<\/p>\n and feign to be<\/p>\n <\/p>\n a harbourer for his taoist core<\/p>\n it was his implement of gore<\/p>\n another child<\/p>\n another son<\/p>\n unknowing truly<\/p>\n of what he’s done<\/p>\n <\/p>\n his followers they only saw<\/p>\n the purity now at his core<\/p>\n the buddhist parlance<\/p>\n the sepia strand<\/p>\n the light he held<\/p>\n in either hand<\/p>\n <\/p>\n the perception he was good and pure<\/p>\n the fury that would be the cure<\/p>\n his son would grow<\/p>\n his partner too<\/p>\n in spirit<\/p>\n she would<\/p>\n know what to do<\/p>\n <\/p>\n so much would be<\/p>\n the truer soul<\/p>\n strengthened in her honest role<\/p>\n to love and care<\/p>\n and be loved each day<\/p>\n by the poet whose tender words would say<\/p>\n <\/p>\n that take her \u00a0to a new<\/p>\n resolve<\/p>\n a sharing base<\/p>\n in which to, evolve<\/p>\n around her she became the one<\/p>\n the maiden of the moon and sun<\/p>\n a warrior that plied her way<\/p>\n across the world<\/p>\n and everyday<\/p>\n <\/p>\n the search was on<\/p>\n for yoga joe<\/p>\n the inflated pratt<\/p>\n with the old banjo<\/p>\n his lies<\/p>\n his infamy<\/p>\n his lack of guilt<\/p>\n would never shield him<\/p>\n and he would wilt<\/p>\n <\/p>\n through out his later life and be<\/p>\n overcome by tragedy<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Karma stood the test of time<\/p>\n within the pit<\/p>\n he could not climb<\/p>\n some saw him as an avid soul<\/p>\n the yoga man so in control<\/p>\n <\/p>\n but memory and true esteem<\/p>\n would trounce him<\/p>\n and destroy his dream<\/p>\n his partner who he had destroyed<\/p>\n attacked and sacked<\/p>\n seemed ever joyed<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n to hear<\/p>\n one day \u00a0alas he died<\/p>\n a broken man<\/p>\n who had defied<\/p>\n all logic really<\/p>\n and who was found<\/p>\n in the buddhist<\/p>\n pool \u00a0where he had<\/p>\n drowned<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n suicide well who can say<\/p>\n at last a blast took him away<\/p>\n on his grave what do we see<\/p>\n a flaky headstone there he be<\/p>\n no more journeys to beyond<\/p>\n squandering the ancient bond<\/p>\n in the ground he rots away<\/p>\n a toxic arse<\/p>\n who now does pay<\/p>\n <\/p>\n the goddess feels him<\/p>\n his shadow leaves<\/p>\n once \u00a0upon her<\/p>\n it retrieves<\/p>\n on winter days perhaps she shook<\/span><\/p>\n to be awoken by the rook<\/p>\n <\/p>\n but now she feels that inner glow<\/p>\n Ostara’s hand<\/p>\n and Beltain’s blow<\/p>\n at Samhein she<\/p>\n gains symphony<\/p>\n her sons and her<\/p>\n both are now free<\/p>\n <\/p>\n as arsewipe rots<\/p>\n the maggots chew<\/p>\n they splutter on<\/p>\n the acrid dew<\/p>\n and choke and leave his fetid hue<\/p>\n the hatred and the vilest brew<\/p>\n <\/p>\n but she the goddess<\/p>\n she’s now free<\/p>\n sable haired<\/p>\n because she dared<\/p>\n the poet he<\/p>\n has gone to sleep<\/p>\n occasionally she’s heard<\/p>\n to weep<\/p>\n she had loved him<\/p>\n he was true<\/p>\n and he had really loved her too<\/p>\n <\/p>\n the tears ran slowly down<\/p>\n her face<\/p>\n onto her leggings<\/p>\n and black lace<\/p>\n behold her son<\/p>\n was tall and he<\/p>\n visited her now constantly<\/p>\n <\/p>\n the lines were deeper<\/p>\n her spirit strong<\/p>\n she was his mother all along<\/p>\n a firery spirit<\/p>\n a warm refrain<\/p>\n a life worth while<\/p>\n the bitter chain<\/p>\n <\/p>\n arse wpie 1 forgotten he<\/p>\n for the poet in Summerland he be<\/p>\n writing his sonnest and waiting to see<\/p>\n <\/p>\n his goddess in all infnity<\/p>\n * Written in Birmingham \u00a0took exactly 1 hour*<\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Father’s who run off and leave their responsibilities far behind leaving a mother to carry on clearly they have ,underlined their inappropriate behaviour and must realize and understand really there was little left as the eggtimer’s run out of sand … Continue reading