Old Man Bill

 

Ever since I was a boy, there

was an old man in my life who

came and went with poisonous

tongue and fists of steel.

 

The whiskey and beer flowed in his veins

as tobacco ringed his soul and whiffs of it,

could be smelled throughout

our nights of hell.

 

Blood stained shirts were left on

the bathroom floor, for mom to pick up

and clean by hand, with ringer washer hands

and scrubbed bare knuckles, bent over in shame.

 

Sometimes puke was left clinging

to the toilet bowls and blood was mixed

inside, spawned from his cancerous soul, and

piss was left not in the toilet bowl.

 

He slammed the doors and

slurred his words cussing, wobbling

knees, and bumping into tables

and chairs trying to find his way

to another shot of whiskey or beer,

he pulled from secret places

hid under the floor.

 

Children slept yet woken in

beds confused by cursing tongue,

we cried in fear,

and pulled the blanket further

up over our heads, and prayed

he would not enter our room to

pick someone to play

his filthy game of abuse.

 

The froth flowed from the side

of his wretched lips, like a rabid dog

needing his fix of colored pills

he hid under the stinking mattress,

stained with piss,to stoned to get

to the bathroom so he slept in it

with his shit.

 

Mother would bow to his will and

feed him bacon, eggs and blood sausage,

the smell was rancid and made me ill

to see him feed, his gut that hung over

his belt like a fattened

walrus going to slaughter.

 

Not a day or night went by that

I wished for his demise that he would

find a knife stuck like a pig, while drinking

his ale at the local bar, and is found

in the alley where he belonged

among the infested diseased laden

rats that licked on his swill.

 

This old man scarred and pocked faced

and given the name Old Bill, was a demon

who terrorized our young lives?

and brought us nothing but pain

with the yelling of four letter words

a constant companion within our paper

thin walls of tormented shame.

 

He found the end of his rope when

we matched him up in a prison cell to

those who found him a child molester

no more who deserved what he got

to be choked to death for the

taking sweet innocence of the

poor children he abused without remorse.

 

To all the children in our world

who fear their safety and hide

in their nightmares from Old

men like Bill then find some solace

knowing that he will leave in

the end kicking and screaming as he is

dragged by his heels to the bowels of Hell

and freedom will finally be yours

and Angels will sing praises and

hallelujah from God’s throne on High

All for the Sake of the children.

 

© Copyright Vincent Moore 2012. All Rights Reserved.

 


Comments

Old Man Bill — 4 Comments

    • Thank you for the visit Glenda Chambers and the comment. Yes indeed there are such monsters abusing in homes all over the world, I as a boy and teen lived under such conditions, what I share in my work, most of it was lived, sad to say.

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