Friday, June 04, 2010

Nothing more to say

About handbags snatched from old women's shoulders,
lies said to his Mother:
"It wasn't me, I never took the money,"
tablets ripped off from friends in the clinic,
20 Roach 'Dottsie' owes him on Friday,
the nice touch that he got in Stephen's Green this morning,
Tommy's lovely gear ,"It's bleeding rocket fuel."

Nothing more to say
about the beatings in school by Mr. O' Brian,
the ribs broken at home by his drunk of a father,
how he had been held down and kicked in the street by the hardmen of the flats,
and had his face slashed from cheek to chin in a dirty prison cell.

He scored today,
cooked up,
put the works
in his arm,
and shot the heroin into his vein.

Nothing to say to the Garda who told him he was a scumbag,
nothing to say to Father Joyce who rapped him in the community center
when he was a seven year old child,
nothing to say to a God he stopped believing in after he made confirmation,
'cause he scored today,
"I love you Tracy"
cooked up,
"And the twins, Stacy and Stephen"
shot the heroin,
"And little Amy"
turned blue
and took a trip down the river,
with two Q's for the boatman
and nothing

by Karl Parkinson

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