Man With a Stick - Fish

Old man checks his rear view mirror, wispy hair, familiar eyes

Journeys alone, unsure of the exit, straddling lanes his signals ignored

Deaf to the horns, blind to the anger, stalled in the traffic of a fast moving

world

The Man with a stick

Long rod dipping fishing hollows, short sword slays the ranks of weeds

Bat of ash on the edge of a diamond the kiss of willow before tumbling bails

Rock n’roll snares, cheerleading batons, the pencil scratches on an empty page

A pointer raps on a cloudy blackboard, a cane taps time on an outstretched palm

Learning the lessons, reciting the mantra that sparing the rod is spoiling the

child

Says a man with a stick, watch the man with the stick, the man with the stick

And you force back the tears;

stand in the corner listening to the sniggering

of so called friends

Hold the pain in a fist, stare back in defiance, and vow to yourself that they

won’t hit you again

Stifled your hate, channelled the anger, snuck in the system and bided your time

You tightened your lip, accepted the beatings and they measured you up for a

uniform, you fitted the uniform

Then they gave you a stick

A Knobkerrie and a bloodied shillelagh in calloused hands take the lions down

Pick axe hafts and hickory truncheons cracking the skulls on the picket lines

Bamboo staffs and sjambok switches, cudgels bludgeoning hearts and minds

Clearing the streets of a burning township, scattering crowds from a city square

Herding the queues of the weak and the hungry, testing the will of the few who

dare face the man with the stick

You dealt out the blows following orders, the questions were left for another

time

You held it inside;

absolving your conscience laid all the blame on the ‘powers

that be'

You gave them your all, got a watch and a bungalow, mothballed the uniform and

faded away

Lost all you loved, withered and vulnerable, abandoned your car at the side of

the road at the end of the road, your fate unavoidable

The son becomes the man

The man with a stick, a man with a stick

Old man follows cracks in the pavements, leans weary at the end of days

Unsteady, checking his balance shuffles along on his lonely trail

The man with a stick