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It all happened
Once Upon A Time, like in the fairy tales, but
it went backwards
and backwards
and
backwards,
opposite and upside down
like he was in Alice in Wonderland

and the wicked stepmother was not a stepmother at all;
with no pointed chin or sharp daggers for eyes.
Instead she looked like a princess
with a gentle face and round, brown eyes
like a mother.

She was good at goodness
at being kind
at loving him in front of everybody’s eyes
and making him think
it wasn’t so bad, after all.

But she was also good at
shouting
and yelling
and hitting and smacking,
at giving him the belt
and the switch
and sometimes the slipper.

And in his fairy tale
there was no kind, gentle father.
There was no father.
“Gone,” she’d say of him, “drunk somewhere.
With a *****.
Dying, hopefully.
If he was here
he’d **** you.”

Sometimes he
wished,
hoped
his father would come back and
live up to his promise
and ****
and ****
and ****
and ****

and ****
until there was nobody left to ****
because they were all dead and destroyed
and dead
and destroyed
and their clothes mopped up their own blood
and when he was sobered enough to realise what he’d done
he’d stand over them,
mournfully,
and weep
over his drunken mistakes
over just who he had
murdered
with his own knife, who he had cut
cut
cut
jagged shapes into their flesh,
torn pieces of them away
like he had drunk away pieces of himself;
an eye for an eye;
an equal pound of their fair flesh,
cut off and taken,
stolen,
like a jewel in the night.

But no father came,
and he stayed dissatisfied and alive
and his mother came
and belted him
whenever she pleased.

He grew up dissatisfied,
lived dissatisfied,
and anger grew in his bloodied heart,
furious,
bleeding with the pain of it
growing to despise his father’s ******
even more than he despised his father
and his mother
and himself.

He learnt all their names:
Nichols
and Chapman
and Stride and Eddowes

and Kelly.
And he stalked the streets,
searching
searching
searching
searching

searching,
for they had lain with his father
and had wronged him
by leaving him
alone with his mother
and the belt
and the switches,
and if they wronged him,
should he not revenge?
I wrote this one back in 2017 so it's probably not my greatest work. I'm fond of it though, in the same way a parent's fond of their child's paintings.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sCgUItSbSmo&feature=youtu.be

Scarfaced stripper
hungup her crackpipe & glitter.
Cashcow kielbasa kisser,
now frigid as a widder.

Of her all a giver like her **** was the Gipper,
but now she's living in her slippers, vaping w/ the vicar.
For up to his moniker, who was the liver?
Jack the Willywhipper! Really willywhipped her.

Smellin' salts you better get sniffin
- you been the victim of a serious willywhippin'!
Anyone get the number of that big rig?
By a serious ***** she been whipped.

Phantopera masque
wrap the willywhiplash,
but marked **** w/ a heart
met her Mr.Darcy in the dark.

Seemed a nice fella, neglected to tell her
alter ego expeller were Jekyll's enema.
Hyde-helicockter of her beauty robbed her;
Mr. Darcy's whopper really Jack the Willywhipper's!
She’s burned all her bridges
and boiled all her bunnies,
and her perfect body’s means to an end
now she’s a ******.
But if you see my Treacle,
tell her I’ll settle the speedball bill,
be her doormat doubling up
as her springboard outta hell.
And if you see my Treacle,
tell her I’ll treat her better than Rico
- I’ve got a Crisis Loan to burn,
but he’s the Man With No NINO.

Should you clock my Treacle, I entreat you relay
my mobno and the emotional pull
never changed.
I saw the Suffolk Strangler’s been put away,
but no night’s okay for a babe on the game.
So if she’s sick of the shame,
or does it just look like rain,
O my Treacle ****, your childhood sweetheart
is coming, I’m a-coming to save the day!

And if Tania, Paula, Gemma,
Anneli and Annette were here today,
who amongst us would say
rescue is a reverse charge away?
Who amongst us would say
don't need to see no rebirth,
you 'ready are my shining way?
Who amongst us would say
no souls need to be saved
so long as they’re safe?

And just make sure you tell my Treacle
how my tears did trickle
lacrymal crystal treacle
when grapevine had it gospel
she were down like a hubba pigeon
in last straw ******* act o' suction,
her yale served on a badman’s bell.
She don’t havta turn one last trick
for a top-up card,
text freedom for 17p or just reverse that charge.

If you *** across Treacle in your travels,
set her straight:
she don’t havta love me to stay.
They say Saucy Jack’s long in the Thames,
but life is never gentle for dem demi-monde dames,
ratgirl Roxannes who frequent the needle exchange.
So my Treacle ****, your childhood sweetheart
is coming, I’m a-coming to save the day!

Anneli, Anneli...
NINO= National Insurance number, DWP acronym
Pauline Morris Aug 2016
You walk with purpose down my street
Thought you wanted to taste all my sweets
Like every other man I meet
That on their wife they want to cheat

You choose me, why I do not know
But on me you did bestow
Your surgically sharp knife leave rivers that flows

Me, you saw fit to disembowell
All that was heard was my painful howl
You ****** that knife into my gut
Made a smooth quick upper cut

I watched my intestines hit the floor
You calmly walked right out the door
I was left with the messy gore
Waves of panic hit my minds shore

As the realization that my life was over
No more looking for that four leaf clover
Nothing mattered any more
This act of yours I do deplore

I grab my body's innards, to shove them back
But didn't seem to have the knack
Such a sad way to end my life
By the blade of Jacks shiny knife
Pauline Morris Mar 2016
You walk with purpose down my street
Thought you wanted to taste all my sweets
Like every other man I meet
That on their wife they want to cheat

You choose me, why I do not know
But on me you did bestow
Your surgically sharp knife leave rivers that flows

Me, you saw fit to disembowell
All that was heard was my painful howl
You ****** that knife into my gut
Made a smooth quick upper cut

I watched my intestines hit the floor
You calmly walked right out the door
I was left with the messy gore
Waves of panic hit my minds shore

As the realization that my life was over
No more looking for that four leaf clover
Nothing mattered any more
This act of yours I do deplore

I grab my body's innards, to shove them back
But didn't seem to have the knack
Such a sad way to end my life
By the blade of Jacks shiny knife

— The End —