A Funny Little Angry Man: My Father’s Name is Lloyd
If he needs to speak, he’ll be sure to let you know
My father is a salesman, and he is fifty-three;
With my Mum he made my brother, as well as making me.
As a bloke
He’s quite short
But he’s got a decent head of hair.
As it goes I’m fairly tall, so my height is not from there.
Unlike him I am most particular;
I don’t think it is genetic, or indeed molecular.
Where I got my habits from I cannot really say,
But I am almost certain that he didn’t make me gay.
I like that he won’t much care, that it’s not an issue,
Because after all, there is very little he can do!
I am what I am, and he seems cool with that,
So thank you, Dad, for trying not to be a twat.
There are many poems read, given voice at open mics,
Where people take up words as spikes,
To express contempt for that awful man
Who left their mother, slapped their brother, never gave a damn.
