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.


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