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Modern Poetry | The Friend That Was

Modern Poetry – The Friend That Was. I had a good year as a friend of this man, I have omitted his name to preserve his privacy.   His favourite saying was “Money talks, bullshit walks”.

My friend

Trapped twixt two worlds.
Cypriot Village life
East London.
Honest, open direct
Loud, profane.
F and Bs punctuated by
Random spitting of phlegm.
 
A gentleman
Not confident.
Nor educated
Not intelligent he says.
Speaks three languages
Fluently.
Generous to a fault
What you see is what you get.
 
Over the edge
Mountain road.
Scars of body and of mind
Skin and bones healed.
Mind still there
What have I done.
To others, my Son
I wish I could make you whole.
 
The hurt takes him by the throat
Copious amounts of drink.
Keeps his life afloat
Searching for his answer.
Cannot forgive
Nor find salvation.
Trapped between states
And his guilt.
 
Prior mistakes, a dubious past
Haven’t most.
Responsibility he takes
Laughter he makes.
Life he lives
No quarter given.
Many sensibilities
He has riven.
 
Many steer away
Too honest you see.
People do not like
Vulnerabilities.
Open book, open heart
Many hide from this.
Not a weakness
His strength.
 
Sleeping, riding high
Becomes an Imaginary Pasha.
Rich and powerful
Harem of one hundred.
Grumbling daily that
This evaporates.
When he awakes
Money dictates.
 
He has other riches
Therefore greater wealth.
Life’s lottery winner
Remaining sad.
Give him strength
Lift him high.
To those who wait
Allah Kareem

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