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