himself

He claims to be average! But really what he alludes to is normal. He boasts he is size Regular for underwear, and clothes still fit off the peg. But I can see tightness around the girth. He has two daughters and a stepson of which only the Stepson and eldest daughter and family he is in contact with.

The conditions of the orphanage aged him and for most of his youth it had been useful to look older, especially underage in pubs, clubs and the pleasures of the cinema. He no longer sees this as a gift. He claims to be a youthful eighty-year-old with energy levels to suit. In fact he has not reached state pension age.

He has divorced twice but had a number of failed long term relationships, not all his fault. The failures are written on his face.

He never thought of himself as handsome or good looking, and claims his face denotes character. Character is a term he often used instead of homely, an Americanism that means women do not have to worry with other competition. His face the window to the world, and signature of recognition has few scars but after fifty years shows how he has lived, it is the face he deserve. His eyes are narrow, face oval. Nature has been generous with the nose. His eye brows more than anything else show his wayward spirit, the right eyebrow refuses to follow the contour of the eye, but flies off rapidly in all directions. His left eyebrow is curtailed and stopped from escaping by a scar, so typical that only outside intervention can moderate him.

The working of mind and brain, sadly are not average.

He claims Stowlangtoft Hall made him what he is. The orphanage of abuse and injustice gave him two choices, to conform or rebel. Rebellion to him is sweet, if measured and controlled can be constructive, uncontrolled destructive. His life mission has been not whether to rebel, but to what scale, and amend. He could have become criminal and wayward, but his rebellion was against injustice, abuse, and dictatorial authority. Each rebellion justified by a principal. He has too many principals none of which he can afford.

The average mind flows in a logical direction, his does not, it wanders. Flatterers call it lateral thinking. Until recently he talked with pencil and paper in his hand. Finding it easier to draw symbols and use pencil movements to indicate what he wants to convey. He often draws a start position and where he wants to go with the conversation, by drawing symbols and directions he see quickly when he veers off track and adjusts. If his tongue was cut off he could still communicate, but tie his hands and he is lost.

He says he is self-taught, what educationalist of the time called a late starter. True he did not go to school until he was eight thus was instantly below average. Being bottom of the class was his average being above bottom meteoric. Slowly, in spite of many teachers, he improved, then after years of struggle two inspirational teachers crossed his path, too late to propel him in school but enough to interest him beyond formal education. He has no recognisable educational qualifications, but managed to pass for naval officer. A promotion the admiralty rejected because of his character. A term that means too rebellious and congenitally incapable of obeying orders

At a certain age you are no longer described by your potential but by your health. After years of perfect health and few illnesses his health crashed spectacularly at the age of fifty-nine, a good average innings. He has struggled for five years to cope with the illness most suspect as fraudulent and government departments fail to understand. For those fleeting moments out of bed he appears healthy if a tad slow. Therefore has no justifiable reason not to find work or contribute to society. Although there is no medication, and he is not a drain on the health service, the quality of his life is greatly diminished. During waking moments he is in constant pain and the waking moments do not exceed three hours, unless boosted by an adrenaline rush. That extension of activity has to be paid for by rest, before, and after the event. Days now have to be planned, he has to conform to function. He can no longer rebel against bodily limits. After all these years he is forced to comply, to do as he is told, and be average.

Roger Lee

Roger lee has ginger hair

Roger lee has skin that’s fair

Roger lee is not all there

Poor old Roger Lee




Roger Lee walks home alone

Roger lee friends are none

Roger lee has a head of bone

Poor old Roger Lee




Roger Lee is followed around

Roger Lee by boy’s surround

Roger Lee will be beaten to ground

Poor old Roger Lee




To the rescue my fists flying

Kicking butting scratching biting

Roger lee is now escaping

Poor old Roger Lee




I now have both eyes swollen closed

There’s a pool of blood from my nose

Unbearable pain in the private zone

Forget Roger lee

reading aloud

The teacher started reading out

From the book he was to imbue

At the sentence stop did shout

Stephenson continue




The fear started to race my veins

The dread of what to come

Each boy will read a part again

No escape no where to run




Five boys away the sweat breaks out

Four boys away the dryness

The stench of terror wafting about

The tongue swollen with shyness




Three boys away can’t see the page

The terror now is gripping

The teacher will be in a rage

The class’ll laugh not stopping




I am next oh where’s the bell

To save me from this torment

To deliver me from hell

And the accursed ferment




The story I think has flowed till now

The falter soon is surely due

The story lost to me I know

I hear my name, continue



The page is white I see no words

I see neither lines nor spaces

The whole thing is just a blur

My heart beats are in races




The teacher walks down the aisle

Swinging with his cane

The heads turn as in file

Salvation down the drain




Hold out your hand

The pain is swift and quick

But it’s not the end

The punishment is six




He points to the first word

From which I must continue

It’s clear now not so blurred

But what it is I’ve no clue




I try to stutter and to stammer

This works mostly can disarm

Cane slams desk as a hammer

I shoot bolt upright in alarm




Continue boy he shouts in fury

I am sick and most unwell

If only time would hurry

Saviour at last there goes the bell




Noisy pupils making for the door

As you were be still don’t move

He bellows loudly from the floor

A finished Chapter he has to prove




The hooded eyes once hostile

Now have malice intent

I am holding up the break time

On revenge they will be bent




Brian whispers softly

The first word of the line

I listen quite closely

As we finish in short time




That is enough the teacher comments

Pleased with all his actions

Can be done with encouragement

In this mild form has attraction




The class file out the doorway

I am safely in the rear

The problems caused I will pay

Is more than just a fear




It’s years since school hegemony

I read books slowly through

The ones to read are many

The ones I’ve read are few




What makes mind drift way back

I was Car booting for electric’s

I see that book upon the rack

Emile and the detectives







I pick it up and have a look

Book will cost just 5 pee

Would you then buy that book?

If you were to be me

fresh start 2

Wake up with a start and what a surprise

The bedding is bone dry I feel as I rise

Head for the toilet run as fast as I can

Is the new life a fresh start or am I a man




From wearing shoes my feet are still throbbing

The blisters and raw skin with fibres rubbing

Do I go for breakfast of stay in my room?

I don’t want to be late or even too soon




What would you like for breakfast she asked?

I look blank thinking is this such a task

I normally have porridge with big lumps in

Sweetened with syrup from a five gallon tin




I need to get out, need to explore where I am

To find my way back I must make a route plan

The green door with glass a step from the road

Cracked tile on the step in shape of a toad




I walk the streets with gardens barren of trees

Hedges, coloured bushes and flowers to please

No place to play no spaces gone wild

Fine for the adults boring for a child




Three big boys walking coming my way

Where is your house the biggest did say?

Over there the end of the road

Cracked tile on the step in shape of a toad




This is our street we say who plays here

House number said the one with small ears

We never seen you down this road before

We don’t believe you live here any more




One in the front and one at each side

Look for a corner for my back to hide

Back to the hedge no where to run

Sweating when thinking of what will be done




I punch out, kick, scratch, bite, poke in the eye

I hit them all first so they can’t reply

Lash out at each one in their turn

Ensure they can’t hold me is what I learn




I don’t know about fighting how does it stop?

For me when I stop screaming or they give up

I punch them and kick them to keep them down

A parent has grabbed pulled me to the ground







Dragged to the house and the end of the road

Cracked tile on the step in shape of a toad

Voices are raised complaints by the tome

Just you wait till your father comes home




He comes home they talk in the hall

Enters the room angry punches and fall

The punches and blows keep reigning low

Stop when the blood from the nose do flow




Freezing cold water fills up the bath

Thrust in and under water until I gasp

Pulled out dry yourself and off to bed

Lie on my back hands under my head




Wake up with a start I’m feeling damp

Off to the toilet quickly I tramp

Strip off the bedding its only the sheets

Wrapped in the blanket the chair I do creep




Slumped in the chair wait for the day

Get to my knees and begin to pray

Lord you bastard I’m only a lad

It wasn’t my fault I was born bad

fresh start 1

The dark oppressive building is out of sight

Hidden behind the oak and chestnut trees

I languish on the bough basking in the light

Nature watching, mind wondering free




The distance clank of wood against the metal

The Noise I hear is Peter hobbling my way

He is calling excitedly the shouting primeval

I jump from my branch that continues to sway




Peter did not look right his eyes were red rimmed

It was more the caliper or the abrasion of the crutch

These pains he lived with daily endured and grinned

Something else had happened that hurt very much




The house you are due searching for you near and far

We shuffle along at Peter's slow pace defiant in my disgrace

Parents day some will go away for me it is quite bizarre

It can not be true I am going away with parents I have no trace




The road with sharp bends and overhanging by trees

Gives no open view from gate at the end to the hall

The facade of the hall in clearing of gardens that please

Behind holds the terrors known to only inmates’ appall




Where the grounds end to house front car park starts

We can see them all, the welfare, fosters, but parents are few

Here boy you fool you look a disgrace get inside depart

Get yourself cleaned and dressed looking brand-new




The scrubbing of hands body and face with malice

The soap of carbolic water cold to the touch

The physical endeavors border on disgrace

It is for their pleasure the actions are tough




The greatest indignity yet to come the wearing of shoes

These past years bare foot no shoes are worn

The crimping of the sole uppers and squashed toes

They are made to fit with the working of a horn




In crippling pain I totter about with shirt and shorts clean

Directed to some parents by the over hanging trees

Matron catches me now explain where you have been

I’ve been playing do I have parents in among these




Your parents are to collect you they are waiting by the bus

I scamper to see three couples, confused now which to meet

Run to the first pair who avoid me declaring you’re one of us

So slowly to the next with a sad smile but with hurting feet







The male his hand waves from side to side, I am not one of those

The last couple must be my parents I have deduced what I know

I walk briskly forward careful not to crease or soil my new clothes

They also reject me I’m not theirs but where else is there to go




I stand perplexed and wondering what else should be done

When a hand claps on my shoulder gently turns me around

I do not recognise them but appear to have found their son

We walk together to the bus that is leaving but where bound?




We walk to the bus there is no holding of the hand

I follow on as if I do not belong with any show of emotion

Walking with a mixture of fear and joy on to the Promised Land

Orderly queue to board the bus, so British with no commotion




The smell of disinfectant overpowering as we board the bus

Seated near the back where the paper bags hang from the seats

As the bus moves the travel sickness begins to overwhelm us

In sickness and discomfort the bus travels on as darkness creeps




Travel through the suburbs the city stretching on ahead

Houses upon houses, streets upon streets, pray for the end of the road

The sick bag full, blistered feet and feeling cold, wish I were dead

Get out, walk to the house with the cracked tile, in the shape of a toad




Kneeling to pray by the side of the bed, oh lord if you’re listening

Please look after Peter, and protect him from the evil house Sister

Please help me to forget my friend, the closeness I am missing

Oh and help me to endure these shoes, and ease this foot blister

guardians of the mind

You should be more grateful

to those guardians maligned

that hide all those memories

to protect your mind

the sexual exploitation

violence you can't recall

abuse done by institutions

like Stowlangtoft hall

they hide away the memories

and protect them like a bank

in the recesses of the mind

your synapses draw a blank

a curse on all hypnotists

and talking therapy

that can not cure the pain

but let your demons free

with their interfering

trying to make it right

you relive the terrors

with flash backs in the night

more vivid than dreaming

the memories you recall

you get the taste the smell and fear

you relive it all

so treat them to opioids

if you think you must

don't try to get around them

they're hiding your disgust

wetting the bed

Suffer little children
have mercy on them all
chanted the nuns in sacred prayer
in Srtowlangtoft hall


for the damage boys and orphans
on Saturday will get a treat
the nuns will get their bacon
and boys will get other meat


the game is called hide and seek
for Hershy bars and gum
the airmen call them special
and treat them like they're scum


they touch the thighs and stroke the hair
and slap them if you cried
they take their hand to the trouser bulge
and told to feel inside


they hold the face in two strong hands
and thumbs open up the jaw
because they are a special one
so often said before


the mouth used so rough and cruel
more satisfaction sought
removal of the shorts and pants
for all the gifts they bought


because they are a special one
his pleasure they have found
they never screamed or called for help
they never made a sound


if they screamed or or tried to fight
more punishment they would endure
a blind eye given is by the nuns
so the soul remains clean and pure


the pillows are wet from small boy tears
when they lay their head
they'll be punishment in the morning
because they wet their bed