A bastard born without a name
an’ abused ’till he fought back.
Been fightin’ since for always found
on the wrong side of the track.
The cops done had it in for him,
he a lowdown no-good punk.
When sober, just another bum
an’ a rebel when he’s drunk.
They turned him mean, got liquored up,
dredgin' madness out of rum.
Them tremors ’fore the loaded din
an’ who’d have him on the run.
A ragin’ ’gainst what drove him bad,
in a bar of stale disdain.
On the dark side of his tempers,
in a port without a name.
Made foul the air with curse an’ scorn,
of his tongue, none could abide.
A night of hooch an’ fisticuffs
’till they kicked his arse outside.
Where found himself a heavin’ bile
in the throes of self-torment.
Mid losers, thieves an’ sewer rats
where the likes of him frequent.
Come morn an’ tide, to sea once more,
of a mood to rile the main.
To foreign shores, another bar
in a port without a name.
His like an’ worse, he’d take ’em on,
them who’d bleed him of his pain.
Who’d stick him good an’ bury him
in a grave without a name.
-
Author:
Tony Grannell (
Offline) - Published: October 8th, 2026 14:18
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 10
- Users favorite of this poem: Teddy.15, Kevin Hulme, Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments6
A great poem of a type of guy I would not want to hang out with. Despite the entertainment his type would bring more trouble than I bargain for. Nicely written it speaks of nurture being more of a cause than nature. Loved it my friend
Good day, Soren,
Not the nicest of fellows, unfortunate in only knowing the rough side of life. Always my appreciative words when you drop by, my friend.
Wishing you much happiness,
Tony.
A pleasure to read your poetry my friend. I have known such and just being around them some rubs off. Have to bath afterwards with holy water. Have a great day
We are not asked if we want to be born so when we are born without love a hope of existence is very rare, the fact we do not belong and we are alone is a huge factor in our choices, when one is born in the gutter it's hard to rise above it. A very powerful and emotional poem dear Tony. š¹
Dear, Teddy,
A blaggard and yet to be pitied, never got a chance and never gave himself a chance. Lovely to hear from you again.
Fond regards,
Tony.
'Allo 'allo ''allo sailor. You are comming with me to sober up. And repeat. A cycle hard to break when the subject (sailor) is so mobile.
I don't lnow how arduous it is to write your poetry,Tony, but it is an easy and rewarding read.
Good Day, Dave,
From one despicable port to another to find escape in rum and the inevitable fisticuffs. It's not really arduous but it does take me a long time, time well spent knowing that you found it rewarding. Thank you very much.
Wishing you all the very best,
Tony.
Quite a Story there Tony. And of course a lot of these People were 'Press Ganged' into the Navy in days gone by.
Enjoyed.
Hello, Kevin,
Press gangs indeed and treated like slaves. Many never saw dry land again, ill health, overworked, overboard and shipwrecked. Delighted you enjoyed this one.
Kind regards,
Tony.
My Pleasure.
Ports are destinations but also are points of displacement and the lack of a human port or point of disembarkment brings disenfranchisement, namelessness and anonymous erasure in the end. It is a tragic inevitability that goes on from time immemorial to today. Very moving.
Hello, arqios,
An empty dry dock for so many a poor soul - never known to have even existed. Your response is deeply moving and inspirational, very much so. Thank you ever so much.
Wishing you all the very best,
Tony.
Damn, Tony...I wanted somebody to give him a chance before Iād even finished reading. š¹š¤ššÆļøš¦āā¬
Hello, Tristan,
Never a break, always on the wrong side of the track, as is oft' times the case for many a poor fellow. Your words are very much appreciated.
Do take care now,
Tony.
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.