Poem 303 – Bastard

You bastard.
You utter bastard.
How I hate you, you total bastard.
God, I want to rip out your bastardly eyes
And feed them to your bastard dogs
You bastard. Did you not think,
Bastard, that I might realise what you’d done?
You bastard, did you think that I was stupid,
Bastardising my trust with all those bastard things you did
(you bastard)
To me?


Dear readers,

Apologies for anybody who finds this too offensive – it is a rare occasion to find so many swear words in anything I write. Indeed, I would not normally have published something so… fruity, except for two things I like about this poem. Firstly, how different it sounds when read in different tones – try reading it angrily, then formally like a lawyer, then jocularly. It is worth noting that in my social background, ‘bastard’ can both be a terrible insult and a tone of great endearment, because Britain. Secondly, when read as it stands, the breaking of the, uh, motif in the final line is something I find beautiful.

Kind regards,

The Hapless Neo-Romantic.


Tell us what you thought, or if to you these words are naught.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s