The One They Call Feral-Rhyming Poetry Version

1

Born... Why?

I was Born in the West of Melbourne, in the year of sixty-one

and I guess that was the start, yes my life had just begun,

born in a town called Sunshine, on a cold and wintry day,

I don't know why it’s Sunshine when you rarely see a ray.

My father was a drunkard, and a violent one at that,

he always seemed to treat me, as if I were just a rat,

I had two brothers and three sisters; two had died at birth,

I sometimes envied their deaths, they were lucky to leave this Earth.

A white three bedroom house, with patchy paint on walls,

a quarter of an acre and grass four feet tall,

A house filled with demons, of the human kind

filled with Ghosts, that caused me to lose my little mind.

An innocent kid, so tiny and frail,

I stayed in my room and so often I wailed

my father was tough, a hulk of a man,

he drank so much beer out of a can.

my mother was tiny, about four feet ten

and never did I see her, with even one friend,

her life was quite hard, while he was on top

but what happened to me, she seemed not to stop.

I felt like a misfit, an intruder right from the start

like a porcelain dummy, with no beating heart,

lost in a world with no right only wrong

a big giant world where I did not belong.

I got punished for speaking or wetting the bed

with vicious blows that pounded my head,

I got punished for laughing, for talking too much

the punches would start or my throat he would clutch.

My eye would be black, or my mouth filled with blood

and I'd hit the floor with one hell of a thud,

I often missed school, for a day or a week

about all of this horror I was never to speak.

My Father had power and powerful friends

who thought that the sun shone from his rear end,

I had myself, my siblings had gone

to live at their boarding school, where I didn't belong.

But I had my bed and my window to see

and I had my dreams to one day be free,

he nailed it shut, so I'd not escape

and in there I stayed in pretty bad shape.

I prayed for his death, or that of my own

and then I could leave this unhappy home,

but he did not die, while I was still young

so, persevere I did with his fists and his tongue.

#

Chapter 2

Shame

Kept in a cage for the first eight years

like a circus freak, but one with real tears,

the cage that I speak of was in my family home

it was almost like I had a heart of chrome.

The father I had, was no father in deed

he left me to die, to serve his own greed,

he hit me and kicked me like I was a toy

and never gave a chance at life to his little boy.

The boy was so tiny, so gentle and soft

and always prayed, for his father to hold him aloft,

Instead, I got kicked, and punched in the head

when all I wanted was to be read to in bed.

People told me that this was not right

so I told the Authorities about my young plight,

and what did they do, they just pushed it aside

as though my father had nothing to hide.

So I carried on, as best that I could

and spent the next years being misunderstood,

I went into a shell, but no-one could tell

that this little boy was living in hell.

I tried to make smiles for rich and for poor

even though my young heart was so sore,

in hospital I stayed, for many long days

with all bones broken and my mind such a haze.

A teacher once thought that I'd wet my pants

much to the delight of other kids chants,

so I got up and left, my tears were a flood

left on my school chair was a pool of dark blood.

My pants were all red and so was my face

all I wanted to do was get out of that place,

I had to go home, because the teacher was weak

so I have to assume that she did not speak.

I tried to tell others about this, even my mum

it was like every adult was struck deaf and dumb,

I figured I'd die, with so many breaks in my jaw

I had no idea it was against the law.

The police were great friends with my father you see

and on the first plane to leave Melbourne was he,

with the Prime Minister and Co. all flying so high

and left me in the Children's hospital, to simply just die.

I think it was twenty-seven, breaks in my face

and with some surgery, my looks could replace,

but out of the ward and home I did go

to wait in peace for the next old man show.

#

Chapter 3

Grandpa

Grandpa came to live with us, when I was six or seven,

this man was my hero, he was truly sent from Heaven.

There was a man before him, he was my father's boss,

my baby sitter and Uncle, he didn't give a toss.

He thought that I was beautiful, a really sexy type

the pain that he inflicted, my tears he did not wipe,

perhaps I was his playboy bunny, or maybe just a toy

the inner and outer wounds, would destroy this little boy.

One night while I was in his 'care,' he decided he must play

that night has remained beside me, and I walk with it today,

he made me wash his dishes, while dressed in my sister's clothes

I think I need not say more, for you know how the story goes.

He put my head under the water, all filled with grease and fat

then he made my body bleed, as abusiveness he spat,

he sat down at the table and poured himself a beer

my Uncle and my babysitter, the man I came to fear.

Then one day, when home from school,

there was an old man on a stool,

I just thought Oh My God, I am sick of these old men

my heart began to pound, not another sexy friend!

My mother said come here son, there is someone new to meet

so I walked up to him and my Grandpa I did greet,

'he will be sleeping in your room, in Uncle Wilfred's bed"

I can not begin to say, what went through my head.

So time went by and I just cried, with fear of the night

I prayed that night would never come, I think I'd lost my fight,

so night time came and night time went and the sun began to rise

for the first time in my short life, no tears fell from my eyes.

Pa stayed with us for five short years, no sign of Uncle Wilfred

no stinking, drunken' psycho, with my body on which he fed,

then I got the news, after school, at home when I arrived

Grandpa had passed away, cancer he'd not survived.

I never knew that he was sick or that he suffered pain

I did not know at that young age, that we’d not meet again,

he was my hero this old man, the best friend of all time

and it is to my beautiful Grandpa that I dedicate this rhyme.

#

Chapter 4

Four walls, two windows and a door

Sitting here in my little prison, which measures three by four,

for a crime I did not do; four walls, two windows and a door

I searched my mind to try and find, what it is I did

it must just be some punishment, they give to little kids.

The heat in daylight hours, soars above the norm

although it does cool down a bit when there is a storm,

ants, they all surround me and bite my arms and legs

my toilet is a plastic bottle, which I place beside the bed.

My food gets delivered up to me, every day and night,

but after this unknown crime I did, eating don't seem right,

perhaps I should be breaking rocks, in this solitary confinement

or building roads or washing clothes or some other prison assignment.

There's a Devil waiting at the door, just for me to move

an alien from some strange land, with some alien point to prove,

it yells and screams and carries on, if I leave my pit

and when I mount the stairs again, it spews a poisonous spit.

It only stands about five feet two, with hair of grey, like clouds

but when it screams all day and night, it's like twenty rock band crowds,

to leave my cage and face the rage of this filthy hate filled beast

would be to break the rules of sanity and risk my life at least.

Maybe when my time is done and when I'm free to roam

I’ll leave my cell, and repair my dreams of my prayed for happy home.

I don't know how long my sentence is, or what my time is for

all I know is what I have; four walls, two windows and a door.

#

Chapter 5

The dehydrated baby

Unwanted as a child, despised as a little kid

punished day in, day out for everything I did,

no matter how I tried to do the best I could

even my best behaviour seemed misunderstood.

When I was four or maybe even five

a nightmare came upon me, I was lucky to survive,

I used to wet the bed, as many children do

but I found out how wrong it was and let me tell it to you.

My father he was bad, as mean as mean can be

and he decided that his job was to toilet train me,

so he said he had the cure and he'd fix it in a blink

he decided not to feed me, nor could I have a drink.

I used to catch some rain at night, while my father slept

in a little tiny tin, that by my bed was kept,

he locked my bedroom door so I could not escape

so I'd open up my window and some droplets I would scrape.

I had to be so quiet as this crime I did commit

or my life it may have ended with one almighty hit,

so I got my drink real quietly, as quiet as a mouse

so neither mum nor dad would hear, it was silence in the house.

I went to bed quite hungry and thirsty as can be

as this plan he put in place to toilet train me,

the first night was not so bad, the second went quite fast

but after almost fourteen days I thought I'd breathed my last.

I couldn't talk or stand or even see a thing

my body shook, my back was sore, a really painful thing,

so, my mother took me to the doc to see what he could do

it looks like dehydration ma'am, and perhaps starvation too.

When questioned at the hospital about how this occurred

the untruth that my father told was really quite absurd,

he said that I refused to eat or drink and he did the best he could

the doctors there were kind to him and said they understood.

They checked my height and checked my weight

then thanked him for taking me before it was too late,

I had lost a bit, yes I'd lost a bit of weight,

two-thirds of my tiny frame because I never ate.

They said they’d have to keep me there for several weeks or more

and after half an hour my parents walked out the door,

I was sad to see them go, but, I couldn't see so much

and my entire tiny body was really sore to touch.

So, time went by and maybe two weeks down the track

my mother and my siblings came, but dad did not come back,

I’d made a few great friends and I even fell in love,

with a pretty nurse named Jasmine, she was my little turtle dove.

She was always very kind to me, smiling when she came

and she'd stay with me for hours and we'd often play a game,

so, I started to pull loose teeth out and hide them in my bed

and when the tooth fairy gave me money I'd save it so we could wed.

But, all too soon, after seven months of cheer

finally came the words that I did not want to hear,

you are all better now, we'll send you home today

I will never forget the tears I shed I really wanted to stay.

#

Chapter 6

Killer butterflies

I went outside to play one day when I was five years old

I had to put long clothes on, as the winter was so cold,

I climbed aboard the big green swing with a smile on my face

and my older sister pushed it so to-and-fro' I'd race.

Next thing I knew I was on the ground with a thumping in my head

and as I opened up my eyes my life was filled with dread,

this giant white butterfly had pushed me off the swing

it was flying close around my face and flying with some zing.

It had teeth just like a Crocodile and legs like a giraffe

six feet across the wingspan, about the size of an Elephant calf,

my sister just stood in shock wondering what to do

I just screamed and shook with fear at this monster from a zoo.

Back then, as a little