Father Poem by Stephen Gradwell

Sickly sweet people,
Dirty and grey faced,
Ill and dead by eighty,
If the liver don't give way.

Live for today would be your motto,
If you had one, but you don't plan ahead,
You moan and make others miserable,
For your misgivings.

Its all about money,
Its what we learned in school,
Working class won't take kindly to queers,
Its an unspoken rule.

You drag us in, like its a rich reward,
Under the guise of caring fathers,
You stick us on that slippery slope,
And show us the way down.