Tight Corners

A Poem by Carolyn Smith for Certificate 4 course

He was a teen when first corrupted, caught and paid his obligation
He had his childhood interrupted with years in subjugation
Now he’s back out on the street, still looking for an answer
Starts to pull life’s threads together, from patchwork tissue paper

 

Now badge man knows his priors, thinks his fear will keep him cowered
Thinks he’s found the perfect patsy who’ll be easily overpowered
“Take the jobs I offer and bring me all the bounty
Or I’ll tell a fairy story, put your arse right back in county”

 

The big man makes his point succinctly, with a punch down to the dirt
Hot anger rises in the boy and he barely feels the hurt
The lawman turns to walk away but then his laughter just stops dead
At the impact of the brick smashed against his piggish head

 

Now once again the black-top is the highway to his freedom
Driving frantic through the night to find the end of terror’s kingdom
Exhausted, finally stopping, dreams of friends and love and laughter
Left behind forever wondering on the truth of this disaster

 

They’ll be told whatever cops must say to cover up this horror
No doubt he’s now a wanted man, no ‘Self-defence, your honour.’
He struck a cop, throw away the key, no accusations of corruption
His only chance is to keep on running, and hiding his description.

“My past will always hound me, there’ll be no justice and no honour”
“Never will the roads I travel smooth out with no tight corner!”

2 thoughts on “Tight Corners

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