Old Man Bill

Old man Bill,
Ever since I was a boy, there
was an old man in my life who
came and went with poisonous
tongue and fists of steel.
The whiskey and beer flowed in his veins
as tobacco ringed his soul and whiffs of it,
could be smelled throughout
our nights of hell.
Blood stained shirts were left on
the bathroom floor, for mom to pick up
and clean by hand, with ringer washer hands
and scrubbed bare knuckles, bent over in shame.
Sometimes puke was left clinging
to the toilet bowls and blood was mixed
inside, spawned from his cancerous soul, and
piss was left not in the toilet bowl.
He slammed the doors and
slurred his words cussing, wobbling
knees, and bumping into tables
and chairs trying to find his way
to another shot of whiskey or beer,
he pulled from secret places
hid under the floor.
Children slept yet woken in
beds confused by cursing tongue,
we cried in fear,
and pulled the blanket further
up over our heads, and prayed
he would not enter our room to
pick someone to play
his filthy game of abuse.
The froth flowed from the side
of his wretched lips, like a rabid dog
needing his fix of colored pills
he hid under the stinking mattress,
stained with piss,to stoned to get
to the bathroom so he slept in it
with his shit.
Mother would bow to his will and
feed him bacon, eggs and blood sausage,
the smell was rancid and made me ill
to see him feed, his gut that hung over
his belt like a fattened
walrus going to slaughter.
Not a day or night went by that
I wished for his demise that he would
find a knife stuck like a pig, while drinking
his ale at the local bar, and is found
in the alley where he belonged
among the infested diseased laden
rats that licked on his swill.
This old man scarred and pocked faced
and given the name Old Bill, was a demon
who terrorized our young lives?
and brought us nothing but pain
with the yelling of four letter words
a constant companion within our paper
thin walls of tormented shame.
He found the end of his rope when
we matched him up in a prison cell to
those who found him a child molester
no more who deserved what he got
to be choked to death for the
taking sweet innocence of the
poor children he abused without remorse.
To all the children in our world
who fear their safety and hide
in their nightmares from Old
men like Bill then find some solace
knowing that he will leave in
the end kicking and screaming as he is
dragged by his heels to the bowels of Hell
and freedom will finally be yours
and Angels will sing praises and
hallelujah from God’s throne on High
All for the Sake of the children.
© Copyright Vincent Moore 2012. All Rights Reserved.
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Sad but beautifully penned with emotive phrasing and stark imagery. Well done Vincent. Cheers!
Indeed the imagery was stark for very young eyes and minds. We lived through this brutal demons fury and vowed never to treat another human being as he did to our family. This happens all too often in families where alcohol is prominent and easily consumed by reckless animals such as he. Appreciate your comment Tony.
Very well penned, Vincent. I remember reading this long ago and it is still just as emotive as the first time. Well done, my friend.
Thank you Phyllis, it’s one that I remember writing with a very disturbed soul. I appreciate your reading it once again. Cheers.
Vincent, Old Man Bill lived in my house also. I walked in the same shoes and slept in fear in that same bed. Nothing good has ever came from someone who abuses the drink. You either have to follow the same path as our Bill’s to try and cope or you learn to rise above all the misery and trail blaze your own path. In my case I have never drank.
I’m sorry to hear that your had such a demon as an Old Man Bill ruling in your home as a boy Kurt. Living in fear and tear filled nights was horrible. I remember it all to well, huddling with my siblings under a bed in fear with tears running down our cheeks. I vowed to my mother when I was a child that I would never treat a woman or child like we’ve been treated. I lived out that promise, never lifting my hand to either. Although I have had drink in my life I was always a moderate drinker, new my limits and kept my fists to myself unless provoked by another man. I’ve lived a pretty decent life except for not being able to keep a marriage together, but I’ve lived with that as well and in my senior years have accepted my reclusive conditions. I’ve loved and lost like many, but I’m left with great memories my friend. Thank you for sharing and your comments on this piece. May all children and mothers never have to go through what you and I have Kurt.
Sad story indeed. Such a bad addiction which usually gets coupled with violence. Monsters like that deserve so much worse than what they normally get. Sorry you had to live with such a nightmare.
Thankfully it’s all in my past Paul, although much of it comes back to haunt me from time to time. Some things in this life a vivid mind can never put aside entirely. I’m just happy that me and my siblings all survived this monster. He died in a prison cell, strangled to death with his own filthy tee shirt. No tears were ever shed for this demon, his soul belongs back in hell where it came from.