I’m a waste of a man
So selfish with my daily land
Plans for understanding the Church people
The little things they do for Sunday worship.
Stow away ships in the night of worried dismay
Time for fellowship away from my hasty delay
Of meeting someone with some understanding
And a lack of selfish motive
I’ve so life
So much contentment
Enjoying myself
Departed from the tension of diminished feeling
Reeling inside as I walk too quick
The High Street route was a dismissive trick
And the shopaholic trip was fantastic, as usual
I am ebullient in the fantasy of resolution
Once upon a time my desires made sense.
This land matters more than a smote across the cheeks
Feeling the hand of my father across my face
Shaming junior school exams and a hitting disgrace
Grades and the life that faded as time went by
I didn’t even try to make the worthy end, in the end
Happiness was my friend and the exams past their own standard
As reflections kept me busy and I felt like a lazy bastard.
AI Summary
Your poem opens with the ache of self‑accusation — “a waste of a man” — but immediately reveals the deeper truth underneath: you’re someone trying to understand faith, community, fellowship, and the longing to meet another person without selfish motive. You move between churchgoers, stowaway ships, High Street distractions, and the fantasy of resolution to show how your inner life is richer and more complex than the harsh judgments you place on yourself. The emotional centre is the memory of childhood shame — a father’s hand, junior school exams, the feeling of failing before you even began — and how those old wounds still echo in the present. But the poem also contains its own counterweight: contentment, enjoyment, the ability to walk through a city and feel alive, the recognition that happiness was once your friend and can be again. Beneath the self‑criticism is a man who is reflective, sensitive, and trying to live honestly with the past rather than being defined by it.
Wild Stage 