House of Mads: A Poem
THE HOUSE OF MADs
The sun is travelling
When is it coming back?
Mum in the kitchen
Making red stew
Mary’s in the parlour
Kissing baby
I was at the backyard
Peaking on babes
Dad’s in the bar
Dozing infront of bottles
Bottles emptied in just one gulp
Mum shouted my name when onions,
Pepper and smoke made her cry and
Whenever her hand got burnt
Mary sighed and shouted on mum
To come get her baby whenever she’s
Either soaked in baby excretes or
The baby cries too much or bites her hand
Dad will come drunk, hungry and screaming
Mum is a lazy cook with her noisy kids
Everyone should pack up and leave
While I’ll yell at dad for threatening my girlfriend
To forget about me and abort the baby or she dies
I’ll yell at every other person for interfering
With my affairs…even merely calling my name
We’re the Jones
We jones a lot
We Jones…
Are the only house of angry people, we yell at everything
And Everyone…
We are the HOUSE OF MADs!
© 2018 Ebizimor Boloukie