PANSY STAG DAD

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

institutional rituals

Arsenal

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/

Drinks in

What Ya having?

Beers? I’ll have a MALIBU and coke.

(Fucking Queer)

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

Until now.

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.

Internal battlegrounds
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

Homophobia
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

PANSY!

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.

Damien

Arness

Dalton

Copyright 2016

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