Mama must’ve missed me today.
Muddled in the mews and the maze
Of mundanity. Making music
With the murmurs of smoke inhalation,
Mixing spit with her match made
And mindlessly musing through
Mate’s make-believe masterpieces
Called timeline memoirs. Miserably
Making it through work, massaging
Her muscles with marred hands
From painting murals in the boss’
Grey mansion. Motoring on milky
Coffee and managing to make it
Past ten with victory. Middle age
Never looked so magical. Maybe
This isn’t what she would’ve manifested
At my age for herself. More money,
More mates, more time for ‘Me’.
More motives, more motivation,
More months in the year to get
Everything made and finished.
Mauve wool pools at her feet –
Manicured these days. She makes
Professionals look like amateurs
In her mind-boggling, modelesque
Magnificence. Oh my, oh my mama.
Medieval boxsets on modern discs,
So much knowledge and the only one
Who’s fashion advice matters to me.
I marvel at her meaningfulness,
How her mouth is a master at fixing my
Moods and her arms maestros at
Making me warm when I’m cold.
She is the monarch of my heart,
Mama is my safety, she’s my ark.
Daddio’s been working like a dog
This past decade. Days and days of
Draining shifts and driving hours on
Dangerous roads in the dark.
Dealing with dickheads every
Damn day, round every corner
And doing downward dogs
While the rest of the dudes
Dunk into drinks. Ducking through
The delights of the city, dreaming
Of Amsterdam delicacies and
Dripping wet with sweat as he
Dances with delight through
England’s downpours. Diving
Into Dylan, Ram Das, punk clash.
Downtimes are never dull.
Cacao to drown in, DM-something
To drop into and from and up with.
Daytimes spent divulging over
Vietnamese dynamite, dipping into
Dark mugs with delicious but
Addictive disks of diabetes.
Summer spent detangling home,
Digging up decades worth of
Damage and discovering ecstasy
Amongst the dirt. Tan-lines dark,
Disappearing instantly in winter’s
Desperately cold devilishness.
Cat and dog stand-offs, downstairs
He drapes his arms round his
Deserved finding of death to loneliness.
Dinner becomes breakfast,
Our bond is professional now too
As we drive those roads together,
With daredevil racers darting
Through the lanes with daring deviancy.
Doctor for a hypo, deliverer of wisdom,
Date for a darling, dad for a lifetime.
Daddio is my lifeline.
By Lyric Deep.
Beautiful piece of writing …
I Love this poem, you have such an amazing gift with words. Mama and Daddio must be so proud