My father died, Tick Tock.

All in to reality
beyond the fearless
scope the surface of sensuality
check out the breast
of life
scape
inescapable
palpable
tense
tenable
weirdness
Arabic
where the brick
that will build,
the house of pain,
where the Hell, of the insane
membrane
tap in to the
world of the perhaps
of the inebriate
associate with
all that you will
left to the grandchild,
on the windowsill
because of who you are
drive the car
left to who
in the right view
mirrors tissue
fabricator
of lives
and lies
of monumental
abdicated
remove the man
and the emancipator
of the balls of testicular cancer
of his bones
that only go so far
do not ever question the answer
for the surprise is around the corner
it will hit you square in the face
like beating on the law
and receiving the mace
a good sense of tumour
is all that we have
so accept and involve
with savvy and save
we are bigger than that
when it comes to the father
the mother and sons
it will set with peace and anguish
the bigger man wears the hat
of discontentment
of discontinue
i will draw together
forever
the noose around the blood tie
why?
because i have to
that is where
part of the pi
equation
persuasion
to that god we don't believe in
part of the sin
that punished
my father land
to this
He will not fall in
the bin of life
and be taken away
on my damn watch
not here
not today
so with will
and the power
we will un cuff the handcuff
and release the wrist
why?
because I
god damn insist
that my children will enter
and he will see their chubby face
it don't matter what breed with
don't matter what race
it is all inconsequential
part of the colour jigsaw
like a giant bird swooping down
catching prey with its claw
to feed its young ones
the family
to teach
to explore
My daddy will live
he will teach sponsors of mine
fuck the diseases within him
address and rewind
I slap the face of God
and remind him of why
He will not be able to judge
this passage of mine
for i grant me
this judges wig
for its my fathers land
that will wilt amongst the cotton
that will last grip my hand
dare not let him go
not without my permission
enslavement
of needles
without the
indecision's, incision's
he, is more towering than I
because of all he has been through
his blood may be black
but he hums all so true
i often wish that i go before him
that's selfish i realise, that's part of the sin
in confession to a priest
behind the red curtain
I openly admit
that is the part of the certain
I will not bury my daddy
before i am buried myself
I will sacrifice my life, my will, my health
yet i will also fight
to be the solid rock
that the blood
that is my father
will out live
the tick, tock.


Dad died, i felt useless. m j martin