Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2022
A hardnosed product from the Gorbals in Glasgow
had washed blood from her knuckles in the river Clyde
ran the poliesh ragged and spent days in their cells
she, who knew Robbie Cut-throat and slept with all the bad boys
and can sink drams of ales better than Jimmy-no-limits
here she was now, shaken, still trembling like fleece in the wind.

By the thistle of loch Whistle, she was mad, apoplectic, incensed
the best whiskey from Glenfiddich Speyside wouldn't calm her down
right now
His words ran rings in her head, did somersaults in her brain and punched holes in her guts only to the pour burning lava in her dry mouth
but most importantly it was the searing truths of every word that
kept onΒ Β burgeoning into her fat solar-plexus mercilessly

" look at you, ;ppk at what you are, a common thief, a prime wastrel,
a ***** unwashed drunkard, a useless piece of a woman, a morally bankrupt thing, reduced to stealing from a neighbour who had borrowed you money a hundred times, given you food, helped you out in all your frequently sad and desperate moments."
" look at you, in a civilised Nation, with opportunities a-begging, you
and your delinquent family would rather beg and steal than go find a job, all you do is sit around getting drunk on your Welfare cheques and then come borrowing, when your doles run out.
Have you ever seen my wife and I hanging out on the landings and corridors, smoking and drinking, No, we are out every week day at seven, running to work, not back till after six, have you ever seen us going around borrowing anything from anyone...No, we know you work hard to get what you need and want, You don't go around stealing from people. That is wrong, you thieving wastrel"
" I am going to set up a petition to have you evicted, burglaries started the minute you and your family moved into this Estate, you are nothing but trouble and I am going to make sure the Council know about you and your crimes!"

Those words kept on ringing in her head, running through her veins, Nobody had dared spoken to her like that, how dare he, thieves have rights too. She did what they've always done, that's their profession, he believes in working, she and her family steal.
simple, all he has to do was go claim on his Insurance, There was no need to confront her with TRUTHS, bitter truths, who deals in truths these days?

And to make matters worse, to add insults to injuries, this truth talker is a black man...just imagine that. She thought ruefully...if this was America, she would have got a gun and go shoot him dead, right now!
But no worries, he's dead now anyways, the word is out, she has marshalled her contacts, a contract on him has been taken out, Its Slow death for blackie, slow and painful, he will suffer like never ever and wish he was dead every day. How dare that ******!
Yenson
Written by
Yenson  M/London
(M/London)   
43
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems