Billy Doesn'T Do... Poem by Kevan Taplin

Sitting, slouching shoulders.
Never talks just sits and smoulders.
Billy doesn't do talking.

‘HATE' encircles glass
Sipping, then gulping pint
Billy doesn't do, polite.

Then moving through the estate
as if in some computer game.
A game where the outcome is always the same.

Always frowning, always short.
From the flatscreen he had brought.
Now there's nothing coming in,
and she gets nothing for the tin
…Yet the food is still expected
Billy doesn't do, reason

He rolls away relived
She lies in the dark awake
Staring as her body aches
Tomorrow she must hide the bruises
On the body that he uses
Billy doesn't do, love
And so the cycle limps round again
"Billy has a temper see…
and sometimes he takes it on me"
Billy doesn't do, control

Tomorrow, life goes on
Back to normal.
Whatever that maybe
"If anyone comes they musn't see
Billy says.They'll take the kids away from me…"
Billy does do. emotional blackmail.

(The Barman's lament)
You wonder what goes on home,
when he's with her… alone.
There have been whispers around the estate.
Perhaps I should do something?
Before It's too late…
But I don't wanna get involved.
Bad for business you see…
And it's really nothing to do with me!