father

I bought a bike on Sunday to get some much needed exercise. My Father couldn't have been happier to the point you would have thought it was his bike since he went over it with a fine tooth comb, examining every mechanical part and cleaning it.

The following is inspired by him talking and the incident in the garden.

I have known Dog over fifteen years and we have shared some harsh times between us. A few months ago I had the day off and dropped in on Dog unexpectantly.

Dog explained that he was taking his twelve year old cousin bowling and told me about him, along with his father. Not the ideal father to say the least. I won't go into detail but the result was Dog had taken his cousin under his wing.

Dog invited me along and what he said has stuck in my head ever since.

"It will do him good to spend some time with real men".

My father often says, "People don't accept death today" . To accept death is to accept life

Thinking on this I have attempted to write something I have tried to do before without success.

It is a piece inspired by the quote, my father and the day yet to come.

Grandeur

No repetition raised on irritation
Nor mythering lost between the walls.

Here, photos have become Today
tomorrow, the restless butterfly in the eye

Greatness no longer has a delicate beauty
only steel on stone

Without notation.

Women in general get broody at some point, particually the older they get with the body clock ticking but you don't often hear men openly say they want kids of their own free will. It is almost as if its expected of you regardless when you are in a relationship and you toe the line.

There are of course men out there who simply don't care or are trophy fathers but there are others who have the desire to put some roots down, make a foundation and it is something very important on an emotional level.

We take a lot of things for granted in our day to day lives without much thought. Perhaps we are too preoccupied livng our lives or we avoid facing the fact that one day we will loose those we love.

The following poem was influenced by the day, as silly as it sounds, I realised my father was walking towards the end of his life. When a number became a count down on a clock I couldn't ignore anymore.

I have not written for two weeks as I have been decorating. Now, out of the paint pots, brushes, wallpaper, floorboards and oh my god its never going to end, I thought I would return to the pen.

This is a personal poem about someone in particular, who I won't put here for the moment. Inpsiration comes for the poem from the word "Formaldehyde".

I have tried to right about time with "tick tock" in it for some time. Never managed to nail it.

Time is a relentless rhythm, it stops for nothing, not even death, it just keeps on going and going. It has no care only that it ticks ever onwards.

The following is a doodle to exercise the brain cells. Not had time to check this. Lunch is over - back to work.

Careless Shepherds

Time is not a lover but
a wanton womb and purple prick
an orgasm to light a wick
to flick infants in the dock
smash their heads in with a rock