O Father
 

my

father left home before becoming a man
at age 16. hugged his brother once and hopped in his van
pseudo Kerouac freelance pursuing faraway lands
36-cent cigarettes and 6-string case in his hand
Aunt Susie at rehearsal. swan lake. nightingale dancing
while their parents sat in leather loveseats, emptying glasses
stony mansion. Lincoln park. late 60's grainy refraction
interior designers and a maid for the mattress
full-time indentured babysitter paid for distraction
who taught my papa language in her Englewood accent
my father left home without a word of goodbye
to the man who taught him hate and how to fasten a tie
made him cut his ponytail and straighten his spine
curling fists like snarling lips to bridge the divide
private schools and jaguars for saturday's ride
slacks and loafers, cherrywood the hallways inside
a home supported by pride. whiskey wisdom and wine
Grandma took her misery on rocks with a lime
her oldest son left without a thought on his mind
fighting back teardrops as he shifts into drive
found himself Milwaukee-bound and feeling alive
locked the motel door. laid in bed and he cried
for the sake of ventilation. 2 parents, 20 patients
psychiatrists with offices and bars in their basement
wealthy vagrants. thin oasis next to Michigan sands
less generational gap. more so distant attachment
it was Summertime in June when all the flowers are bright
perfuming 2-wheel voyages back home every night
Grandpa smashed the records that my father would buy
Beatles vs. Beethoven when the volume was high
i was taught that you can never run away from your past
less shape-shift, and more so generational gap
my father gigged the city for a pocket of cash
my childhood was microphones and ashtrays and amps
but fleeing from his father was a father-to-be
i can't forget November 4th, 2003
we watched my Grandpa die inside a hospital sheet
telling papa he had tried to be the best he could be
held hands. their silence echoing as loud as a scream
staring at each other. lost inside of a dream
they were nothing alike but shared this moment the same
there's no one to blame. the only constant is change
so they say. acculturated in a spectrum of gray
children never follow everything their fathers will say
my son left home the other day and never returned
while i sat inside the basement with a camel to burn
drowned in office politics and woodford reserve
marveling how everything continues to turn
in circular swerving motions on a singular spoke
revolving repetitive via youth in revolt.





DEADMAN

i'm reposting this because it's something i love and cherish and i want to share it with you guys.

thanks

This was awesome man, probably one of the beat drops that I can relate to a bit that I've read from you. Wording was crips as always an flow was steady an on point. Good shit bruh

It's good. Well written. Feels. Good job, sir.

GRANDMA TOOK HER MISERY ON ROCKS WITH A LIME

too dope my friend

loved it.

nom'd for you

Thanks dood

Didnt this come from a league battle? I strongly remember this verse, specifically

Second hand smoke kills bro

I've had to inhale 100's of stogie bogies off reading your
shit bro

Motherfucking king of the chain smoking poets lol

Dope piece

Wink

What's good Yoda, thanks for the wisdom.

This is as timeless as they come. A powerful backward glance and a testament to the power and ambiguity of life. I got more sap out of the maple tree this time around, glad you used the force on this shit. When I pulled my lightsaber out that shit was oscillating full force and I was nearly knocked back by the technicolor triads emanating from the sith lord's evil horns as he sat behind you, failing to penetrate your buddhist aura, losing futiley the battle against your near integration with the fabric of the cosmos itself. The pungent aroma of rose petals wafting slowly down under an azure sky shrouded your vicarious and first person nostalgia in a resounding crescendo of lilacs. The woodford Reserve's neuron-impairing, aphrodisiac essence allowed me to embrace the "spectral" grey that a shriveled green man inevitably comes upon after several millennia of concentrated astral meditation, hovering over various asteroid belts and nimbus clouds. nomd

I really enjoyed this descriptive verse. It should have been on T.R.O.Y or at least Reminisce '03.

Cimm.

this was a well weaved verse my vivacious fellow
you really capture the eye with this piece, a stream of consciousness
the flow is very well done & it carries throughout the piece
I really enjoy the story when you take us Milwaukee bound
I felt like you added a very smooth transition from then on out
it brought all the proper elements of great storytelling
the word choice kept the pace of the piece in motion & better for the reader
nice work brah...

you have an impeccable ability to provide almost every other word with something so descriptive, it's like i'm dancing in your head of family history and reminiscing. every line served a purpose, and like most of your pieces, came full circle by the end. it feels complete even though it still leaves you hangin, ya know what i mean? like whether or not the vicious cycle eventually stops.

but yeah, this was a great piece. nice read, as always

this is really good obviously.
@Lars is inside my head I think, because he knows about "everyday multies", and because I also specifically loved
Grandma took her misery on rocks with a lime

Kind of was a sick closer for the "setup", before delving into story


my childhood was microphones and ashtrays and amps

also sick. probably unfair to pick out lines cuz it's dope in entirety,, but dats what i do

Still cherish this heavily. Making time to write becomes so difficult sometimes.


Thanks again everybody

This is impeccable. Something that can be read over and over again. I would definitely revisit this piece in the future. This verse is everything our art form ought to be.

Yo this shit was dope and I barely like OMs

one of my favorites as well. can't believe it's been this long. time flies

always come back to read this.

Hello, Dead Man.

This was a good tribute piece to your father; it was quite riveting and cool. This was a cool read; and I enjoyed it. You're quite a nice writer and poet. Honestly, you're dope; you're on your way to something here. You're dope; remind me of the underground scene; pretty cool. You're really dope.

TIPS/ Start broadening your topics; write about fantasy things; and you'll see cool results.