The Bastard

Kingsley Eneh


His countenance was moody
His containers were woody
All he has not gotten
Were left to rotten
Always received harsh treatment
Like the package of an evil shipment.
He never asked to be born,
but now he has to face the horn.
A guiltless guilty soul;
A faultless faulty sole
He is innocent, folks
Yet he received many pokes
To make him choke.
His days in the bloody darkness,
Wrapped in the floody daftness,
On his throat was kept a knife
A drug attempt, to take his life.
A threat he always wears as a coat.
His tears, forming an ocean for his boat,
He never sanctioned the illicit pleasure
He is now an unwanted implicit treasure.
When he came alive,
In their eyes he was a bee hive;
He has developed no sense
But already viewed as nonsense
He received great hostility
It swallowed his positivity
That which he received
Marred the things he perceived.
All of his frailty
A combo of severe cruelty
Paled his mind
His visions made blind
The unfortunate misfortune is the badge
He would always hang in his garage.
His mother has no suitor,
She claims he's murdered her future
"You are just a mistake
Forever, you, I dissipate"
She wails and she laments.
Not aware he was in torment,
For all her comment
Are like a fiery dart
Piercing deep through his heart.

His attention wasn't proper
They never wanted him to prosper
In a sincere grading
He received a terrible training
Always deemed surplus
Even when he seems scrupulous
They see not his good
They deny him his food
His pleas they refuse
His tears, they diffuse
He has been pushed to the cliff
As if he was a thief,
They have an evil intention
To take him into detention
Let his spirit be cast down
And make his hopes drown . . .
. . . The environment helped not his plight,
"Who is your father?" They ask in fight.
He does not have a clue,
This makes him stuck in the glue,
He never received it from Mama
Oh! It would have been a manna
To keep his breath in his lungs,
He skips their bread and takes his runs.
He left home
With no phone
To keep out
And sleep out.
Soon he found some folks,
Who offered him a coke.
They were rough
And in every turn tough,
Like rascal niggas
Chewing raw gingers.
Crowned in dreadlocks
Dangerous like the hemlocks.
They gave him a coat
And they rode in one boat.
They removed his rags
Made him a member of their gang.
He is so bitter
But doesn't care the litter,
Because he's received a crunch
That took the appetite of his brunch.

The members of his gang
Speaking with the cobra's fang
Are teenagers of timbre and caliber,
Who were once flogged with the timber
And tortured with the calliper.
They have one business,
Born not out of laziness
But a vendetta
Of their harsh encounter.
The streets get bloody
And they go strict on everybody.
Houses are burgled
That possess so many baubles.
They become fraudulent
In the society, cause turbulence
A pure nemesis
For all their enemies.
We cannot but say;
"They are inexcusable
And very accusable"
But let the truth be told,
They were pure gold
Precious priceless destinies
Wasted by abysmal entities.
Had they been accepted
And wasn't intercepted,
Forgiven, though they did no crime
Before their prime;
Oh! perhaps,
They wouldn’t have needed a rehab.
For that single act of neglect
And treatment like a piglet,
We have men of the underworld
Who fancy women's underwear
Dare to call them Bastards
That will surely be your last card.
~~~Kingsley Eneh is a writer and poet. He is a Certified Public Speaker, Content Creator, Relationship Coach, Marriage Counsellor, Good Parenting Advocate, and A servant of God. He currently resides in the United Kingdom. Email Id: [email protected]

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