BAD BARD POETRY
On The Wharf
It was a simple and fleeting encounter
As I strolled along the wharf
Mouth open, jaw dropped, eyes questioning
A man half turned to scoff
As we passed I turned my attention
To the object of his display
A man and his wife were walking
In a strange, unfamiliar way.
Unsteady and ungainly
Fair rooted to the earth
Lifting each foot, as though from aspic
Carefully negotiating their massive girth.
With a stiff and arching rotation
Arms scything from rotund sides
They ponderously plodded the boardwalk
The movement, chafing their thighs.
It was indeed a strange sight
And unpleasing to the eye
But at that moment I was struck
And stifled an audible sigh
For in that instant I was returned
To a callow youth on a site
Where anyone, or thing, was game
For humour, sarcasm or slight
“It’s all bought and paid for” he’d shout
As he stroked his enormous gut
To our ribbing and our insults
Of which he was often the butt
Now a man, my conscience won’t bear it
I will make amends for such hurts
And keep in mind such entrapments
For which we should all be alert.
For that man and wife are a symptom
An expression of deep gnawing despair
Of an enemy within us
An encumbrance we unwholesomely share
The homeless, the crazy, the beggars
The vagrants, the desperate refugees
We are perpetrators and victims
Like the broken, and the morbidly obese
We hurry by, as if to avoid infection
A guilty glance, ignore, look away
Smother the traces of mutual misfortune
And certain knowledge that we are all prey
Overdosing on food, drugs and blame games
Indulging our anxieties and upsets these ways
Crowning Bacchus and gorging the lotus
We uselessly squander our days.
We conspire in unspoken agreement
Not to unmask our source of undoing
Easier to condemn, get angry, be offended
And continue the slide to our ruin
Our petty minds blame others
For our corrosive colluding ways
Whilst behind our useless self-pity
Our jealousy and suspicion hold sway.
We know in our hearts we know better
Yet won’t alter the course of our lives
Usurped by our blind self-importance
Our shameful indifference will thrive