Not A Patriot - A POEM

It’s late 2015, I go on holiday,
I drive, 700km with my wife and daughter,
With the intention of,
Spending a week, trying to relax,
Away from all the shit,
Away from it all.
A few days in,
My wife’s father,
83 years of age,
Has a nasty fall,
Some 700km away,
He’s not doing well,
So the next day
We decide to drive back,
Some 700km.
We leave so early,
That even the birds
Are still asleep.
The drive is long,
I’m a good driver,
But I have to make frequent stops,
To nap.
I’m a Type 1 Diabetic,
And I start to worry
About my health.
Anyway, we arrive back home
We go and see the old man
He’s in even worse condition,
In a state hospital,
The shittiest of them all,
The nurse shows zero
Big surprise; fuck all regard
Visiting hours end,
We go home.
That same night,
My wife’s father passes on
They tell us nothing,
But he died; that’s all
They know
Big surprise; fuck all regard
The next day we go to visit
My mother in law
In frail care,
To tell her the news.
We spend some time there,
But I am feeling unwell
I begin to feel nauseous.
I go to lie down, but the feeling
Will not subside, will not abate.
Within moments, I end up
being rushed to hospital,
Admitted, for Diabetic Ketoacidosis
On the day my wife’s father dies,
I am kept there for four days,
First in ICU,
Then in a general ward,
I cannot contact my wife
For the first two days,
In her time of great need,
Anyway, I pulled through,
A few weeks later
Came the funeral,
It was a trying time,
But we made it,
We pulled through,
Thinking, 2016
Will be better.

But it wasn’t
I resigned from the job,
That was effectively
Killing me
When I told them,
I’m resigning with immediate
Effect, they told me
I’m talking shit,
Making it up
To get out
Begged me to work
A month’s notice
Big surprise; fuck all regard
So then I made, a complete career change
From being away from my family,
My wife and kids,
Spending my time with cunts,
Making money for cunts,
Risking my life,
To working from home,
Online, in my pyjamas
If I please,
We learned we were pregnant
Woohoo, it’s a boy
But this boy ate,
And ate, and ate,
Almost ate my wife
From the inside, out
He was born, early,
36 weeks premature,
If he’d stayed in, any longer
He’d probably have killed her
Anyhow, they cut him out
He’s here, a happy,
Hungry little boy,
Yep, still hungry
In the meantime,
I worked, hard
To find a new job
I went through rigorous training
Programs, days, at a time
Only to be dropped,
Even though, I had
All the knowledge, and skill required
Big surprise; fuck all regard
I soldiered on, eventually
I found something
It wasn’t great
It didn’t really fit
With my ethics
Their system was totally,
Unabashedly, unethical
But I tried
Then, our internet went
For a ball of shit
The service provider,
Couldn’t do shit
We called, numerous times
Logging complaints,
Requesting assistance
From July, to December
I had no job
I couldn’t work
Couldn’t pay my debt
Can’t buy my kids, my wife,
A fucking Christmas present
Debt collectors, breathing
Down my neck
Banks, creditors, the works
All after me, sending me
Nasty letters, emails
With arrogant threats
Of legal action
Even after I’d explained
My circumstances
Big surprise; fuck all regard
And people wonder why
I’m not a patriot

© Dean R Boic 2016


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