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Sore butt - A life lesson



Hope you are well in the moment you read this. 

This is based on a real person. It occurred after I completed my short film, Born in a Storm.

(This poem written in 2012)

Put your head between your knees, brace for impact


I was making video transfers

For a living

Fairly standard stuff

On the fringes of Film and Television

Yet I wanted in

To the Real Thing.

I made a short film

That took many months

Work, money and heart

The latter, being the most important

Yet had few avenues

To pursue at the finish.


It was harder to make your way then

I was unconnected

And a little guileless.


He was a salesman

In our company

Who said he had contacts

I knew he was slippery

Yet gave it up

Like a broke whore.


I looked after him

And his clients

Above all others

Lost in hope

And smoke

Of the dream.


In short

I raised my ass

To be pounded

Again and again.


My belief and self esteem

Diminished each time

Yet my doubt grew

His excuses for the delays

Are probably referenced

In the Salesman’s Handbook

And finally

As the truth settled on my corpse

I knew

I had to let it go.


Nothing ever came of the film

But I had learnt some important lessons

Like a Hollywood cliché.


Yet there was no subsequent

Punishment for him

Or enlightenment for me.


I grew to respect caution

As I avoided

A further pounding

Down the line

In other forms

With a justified disdain

For salesmen.


I wished death upon that motherfucker

Though I’m long over it

And went onto make other short films

Better ones

And wrote stories and novels

And poetry

About assholes like him.


And yet


It still hurts to sit.


Speaking of assholes, I'm sure you've known a few too.

Have a story to share?

More Poetry

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