Things I had seen in war,

Never prepared me for this;

Finding my son to be something I abhor.

A poof, who could enlist.


A sorry excuse of an arse.

That in my own head, I had disowned

Discovering everything I believed to be a farce

Swirling apologies made as we were stoned…


A bet was placed for sufficiency

One that will haunt the worst of wartime nightmare

Of course the misses is on board. Thanks Nancy.

Not an ounce of self worth will remain; fuckn’ fairy flair


A g-string became the white flag

Far from white in the least. Bright orange is my sentence, fuck me.

To calm my nerves I lit a fag

Thoughts of having to flee


But in the end a bet is a bet, and

So I gathered the fierceness of a sniper

Snuffed the fag under my boot, hand

Fisted on the bag, with the grace of an actor


I bent over to put the food

In the bed of my truck

Allowing my cameo to slip down my bum and allude

To the fact of my indiscretion…fuck!


The orange atrocity now in plain view

For strangers to point and laugh

Judging me for something they had no right. I knew

nothing of what my son went through. War gave me no clue.


War brought a sense of honor

but took my dignity.

Warped my mind

Almost causing me to lose my baby

Boy.


I love you…my son.

I am the arse… could you ever forgive me?