He looks at me with disgust my company and presence…
an annoyance to his organised fun.
Oi oi football talk, tits and crotch thrusts… Slaps on the back and Misogynistic chat
I don’t join in the masturbation of their masculinity
N all that bruv – alright love !!
Phowaor , they roar !
Eyebrows arch, sharp eyes dagger the primal nature of the pack mentality … As I fail to engage in festivities.
He identifies me
The weakest – I won’t survive
Alcohol slips through lips stretched across glass pints
They perform their gender under the dank pub lights
rugged dry hands wipe the mouths and slaps tables.
An uncomfortable rope tightens around my throat
I’m on the periphery of their score board, lowest rank in their social order/
What Ya having?
Beers? I’ll have a MALIBU and coke.
He orders and delivers me on one breath
Six pints of Stella and one Malibu n coke for the Pansy
Was only a matter of time…
His words fall around my ears like electric feathers, tickling stinging vibrations that reach my heart.
In silence you give consent
My father leaping to my defence
His son the victim of his own circumstance.
I don’t want to be here
Paternal love and pride provides me with a protection I never valued
His attack overheard by my pops ears
Zero fear – 100% wounded
My dad bravely interferes
‘That’s my son! ‘
His words completing me in sound
I have won.
Alpha displays placate the enemy.
In my maturity and years I recollect that memory.
My Dads love for me
My Dads acceptance
My Dads intolerance of
Breathed life in a balloon trapped inside me for years.
Stag party anxiety
A negative memory popped by a sharp pin
Sparkles of glitter shower from within.
I’ve never told my Dad how much that moment defined me and how proud I am to be his son
His actions spoke louder than words yet
There are no words to
Begin .. To Say
I love him
Call me what you like
In the name of my Father
And of his Son
This poem is for you
And now I am one.