The Help Hoax

THE HELP HOAX

Left alone and homeless, an abandoned bum,
Now knowing what I want, or where I can run.
Rejected by family as a prime criminal,
Who pretend I’m able, ignoring me fall:
Suggesting my power and success above them,
To cancel the kick from their door and them:
Engrossing my weakness, and tantrums of pain;
Portraying the picture that I’m all to blame;
That at their expense, I’ve climbed in the world,
And must now turn tables to repay, or be spurned.

Maddened in anger, I want to break free,
To find some real friends, but affection blinds me:
Tightly held by the bonds of old laughter and warmth,
There’s amnesia in the wish to be back with them swarmed,
From that isolated shelter, sharing so close –
Now the cold toil and strangers, rose-tints that doss-house.

Taking charge, catching courage, to be bettered, I call,
A social authority, but meet a brick wall:
Official and pompous, seeing only a child,
Pampered, whose pride, for help here must yield;
Who have set strict structures – once to stray is a sin,
A reason for banishment – they’re worse than my kin:
‘Cos crawling low to them, I can’t be myself,
But a worshipping worm, or a false, spellbound elf.
When sick in the gutter, I grasped at their promise,
Of parental protection, seeking retreat and rest.
After harassing pressure, to play saving sacrifice –
Sure, reliable loser – my homespun disguise.
Here there’s slight change, but it’s just outward show;
Sacrificial script stays: God, from clan to here, goes,
To sanctify Pharisees, and bolster egos,
With belly-low thanks: God! They’re equal foes.

Recognising me thus, as a shadow of self,
In a sad situation, missed by Fortune’s swerves;
I think – this ain’t no jail, someplace I needn’t stay;
Though betrayed once more, I’ll again get away.
Inside is a voice, clear, deep and true,
Reinforcing my thrust to keep trying to get through,
To the radiant ring of free-given solace,
Knowing my spirit within – sure acceptance to relish;
To some folk where the whole of me – diseases with strengths –
Is considered and cured, one with world, paying my rent.
- goinghome (26/2/’87)