"you'll never know what it's like to be a mother"
"Oh I didn't know you raised your brothers"
"Hmm, as well as your cousins?"
I was in California youth connections fighting for fosters by the dozens
I was the child left behind
But I was never blind
I knew my bind
My grind wouldn't stop
Making sure no child was left at the bottom
Made sure they could always shoot there shot
I knew just because I didn't get it
Doesn't mean I didn't want them to win it
Raise up the next generation so they can do better
Cross your t's and dot your I's
Make sure they can read every letter
Because it's not about how good or bad you did
It's about making sure they get through the stormy weather
So give them a jacket, some gloves and a hug
Because you can give them the world
But what a child needs most
Is love

In pubs with bar flies.
Kronenburg, Becks, Carling, Stella Artois and Fosters,
Dancing in our blood,
Utterly inured; we are endured by all:
The solipsism most profound.

And when Johnnie, Jack and Jameson join,
The sentimental and the morbid
Are conjoined.

And ****!
In the custody of beer halls,
The shadows that draw, fade,
And calls – e’en Death’s! -- are put on hold!
No time; instead, before the last, another pint.

For in this hallowed inn,
Drinking what’s in the glass,
And espousing the glow within,
Cares regress.

No woes,
Or loaded psyches,
For when the pressure builds,
The best: a jet of yellow bliss,
Relieves the pain,
On Armitage Shanks' porcelain.