a chip off the old block

He was not my father,

but he should have been;

he was the one who showed me

that words don’t have to be flowery and sweet,

that sometimes they can be rough and real,

that rules can be broken,

that life sucks and it’s ok to talk about it,

that shit happens and sometimes

there’s not a damn thing you can do about it,

that dreams die

but you keep on living,

that friends come and go,

but a good shot of whiskey

will never let you down,

that dogs may be loyal

but women are really man’s best friend,

that you can sit on your ass all day

waiting for the end to come,

or you can run headlong to meet it,

sticking up your middle finger and

screaming profanities at the top of your lungs

the whole way;

that you can write poetry and

still be a man.

Yeah he wasn’t my father,

but he taught me all the things

that a father should teach a son

so sometimes I feel like maybe he was,

and deep down inside I know

that every word I write is done

seeking his approval;

I only hope that someday

I can become as big a bastard

as he was;

a chip off the old block;

thanks dad.

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