Dad spoke of his father today.
I listened with Friday
Beer breath and keen
Ears, as he said:

I hope to God your brother
And you won't remember
Me as a ****
Fool when I'm gone,

Then coughed that gurgle-rasp
That promises significant
Changes in a son's
Life within

Not too distant a
Future.
Those **** cigarettes.
Half a lung gone, surgery

Scar a part of that back
That I remember I thought
Would carry me
Forever.

We never spoke too emotionally.
He does it more and
More, and all I can do is
Prepare,

And to speak such truths as:
Dad. You've impressed our
Friends, charmed our women,
Driven us through snow storms

And late nights
To get us to -or home from- either.
Fed us, chopped wood through
Summers to keep us warm through

Winters.
Taught us languages and carpentry,
History and poetry,
Classical wrestling and chivalry.

You've made us laugh since
Before we knew how to.
I think of you whenever I smell
Sawdust, new guitar strings, and smoke

(Only minutes old, his cough
Was the first sound I reacted to...)
Your memory is safe.
Whenever your time comes

To leave us to the strength of our
Own arms and souls,
Trust that your rest is well earned.
He laughed a little,  

Eyes wet from coughing
And whatever.
I could die content tomorrow,  
Having told him.

Some giants don't fall.
They just lie down.
Not to wither away and die.
But to retire,

The way oak trees,
Mountains, revolutionary ideas
And gods
Retire.

My girlfriend's father turned
Sixty. The party was legendary.

I remember everything.
By the sea.

She was beautiful.
The microphone stang my

Lips as I read the
Worrior's Poem.

Her dress was the closest I came
To pyjamas this morning.  

Now her father won't stop
Laughing.

Bailey's and IPA for breakfast.
Sometimes eggs deserve to

Remain unbroken.
She's warm and naked in bed, and

I'm laughing all the way
To her.

Your lies so killing,
This morning in May.
My screams internal.
I cannot stay away.

I must statue on,
Must parade this good day.
As your lies dismantle
This morning in May.

There is this deep, evasive emptiness
that never ceases to lack control.
That conquers and escapes,
that stirs quiet chaos in my soul.

And there is this voice of vacant words,
which implore me to find structure instead.
But the broken writer cannot rebuild.
The unabridged poet is dead.

And I look at this self pity,
embodied in this girl.
And I have no inclination-
no desire
to be her.

The monumental smile
on your continental eyes.

And the impossible question they pose.

I pine in sweet denial,
and build cities from goodbyes.

And reminiscence paves the road.

I watch the blade pierce my skin, yet I feel nothing

Pearls of blood gather in the seams of the wound

An errant thumb smears across the coppery beads of life

Staining the subtle, spidered paths of my palms

I lack the courage to push deeper

I try not to curse the steel as I feel my hand shaking

A crooked "T" forms out of the scar tissue

An odd accompaniment to the fading india ink smiley face I so proudly engraved at 12

The angry pink flesh of my grief cries out for recognition

With a pasty blue grin, the naivety of my youth only mocks this unspeakable pain

Tears fall quietly down my face as I prepare for another wave of pretending...

Another wave of forgetting
   Of regretting...
      Of blood letting.

Tis,
     I rose from the ashes of the sheathed moss mirth,
Tis,
     I woke from mine sleep,
                                                Yet still I feel cursed!!
Tis,
     I entered the atmosphere by way's not known to human!!
Tis,
     I lost mine wings , the feather's of cupid's!!!

Flowers in mine hair
Flowers in her voluptuous smile
Herbs to be ourn elixer
For mine queen I'd walk a million miles!!

As we shalt both be unshamefully naked,
  
Under the crescent of Da-Vinci and Rembrandt Empyrean's,
Her dusk hair shalt guise me in envelope form,
As ourn benevolence shalt be ourn coverlet!!!!

To the man who made me who I am

Being with you was like learning without a textbook
I just watched and copied and made it my own
From gardening to maths
You made me my own genius

I didn't have to speak for you to know what was wrong
You didn't judge me for the silly things I said
Or how I never learnt at school
You taught me to teach my self

You were my Mr Miyagi
With less riddles more jokes
I learnt that laughter can flood rooms like tidal waves
And we were leaves to float in it

And now you're gone I wont mourn
You would tell me to stop crying and cut my hair
I will use laughter to put a smile on raggedy dolls
And the stories to keep the dark days down

Thank you for being the Godfather of giggles
Making Sunday dinners not the day to fear Mondays
Having gardening not be a chore but a way to think
Rest well Granddad.