my father used to have a phrase,

when life had knocked his pride,

or when things didn't go to plan,

and disappointment pulled him back inside,

he'd dust himself down and smartly,

turn to me and say with his head high,

son we're made of rubber bricks and don't forget it,

nothing can knock you down but they'll try,

and over the years I watched him work,

and watched things go wrong at speeds so fast,

saw the light in his eyes flickering,

but he never once doubted his spoken fact,

mounds of worry piled up on his back,

each step of his life a boulder on his back,

but he took it with a smiling face,

he was made of rubber bricks and that's a fact,

by candlelight

and heartfelt pity,

we ambled down

to croak our dittys,

me on guitar

and mournful voice,

he on drums

the bass your choice,

I wrote down words

and you agreed,

they were ok and good

fine indeed,

the beat was lay

and things became real,

we forced out miracles

totally surreal,

we practised for time

and it became tight,

but things were strained

something wasn't right,

my alcoholism

was ruining my play,

and we bitterly parted

our own separate ways,

that was a long time ago

I recall it some nights,

as I sing the songs

albeit mostly not as tight,

the world of what if's

and stupidities reign,

the cellar of souls

claimed more of the same,

I see her

walking down each hall,

leaving traces

letting breadcrumbs fall,

such an echo

resounding in my bones,

addictive honey

she won't leave me alone,

my eyes follow

mesmerised by her sway,

she turns and smiles

my world softly melts away,

she looks at her watch

then gesticulates to me,

a hello or goodbye

it's never easy to see,

she's like honey

the sweetest I could find,

and my sweet tooth

recognises and opines,

that beauty is there

standing a few feet away,

how long has it been

since I first met your gaze,

shes like honey

the dangerous corporate kind,

way above my pay grade

too beautifully austere to mind,

how much a man yearns

in the quiet of his thoughts,

she's like honey

the kind I wish I'd bought,

when the light kisses gently the shadows you create,

and you cast a sepia portrait in the heart you chose to emancipate,

do you ever sit and gasp as you recall the way things went,

or do you lose your mind in shadow puppets and make rabbits in a glen,

I'm sorry for all those words I said and excuses I gave untrue,

and I'm even more sorry and saddened by the pain I gave to you,

I know you've made your peace and forgive my choice of lies,

to forgive myself I just can't do as I betrayed myself without surprise,

well what can I say

she was an armour plated girl,

with the snarl of a caterpillar

eating the leaves of your will,

she was volatile and irruptive

surreptitious and plainly vane,

she was erstwhile and consumptive

and stupendously insane,

christ...I've fell in love with a landmine

I'd better watch where my feet walk,

I could get blown to smitherines

while she bestows on me her silky talk,

I've never liked that shade of blue,

it clings to my mind as if made of glue,

sticking the pages of shames diary,

to the walls of sadness for all to view,

such an embarrassing choke hold I bring,

I've stolen the birds so you can't hear them sing,

you walked away silently to your pious priory,

as I felt all your warmth and smiles emptying,

I walk around beside you

but you don't even see,

too blinded by yourself

for your ego to conceive,

that others have problems

and things going on,

am I the ghost or you

maybe neither here belong,

I listen as you talk

but you never hear me speak,

you don't care about my anguish

only yours is what should peak,

it's a privilege for me to know you

at least thats how you perceive my life,

I'm a ghost who can only listen

there's only you in your life,

it's not easy being the man you want me to be,

or the father you swear blind I'm not,

I find it more difficult than I can say,

to be the salvation or your dwindling crop,

you cause me to mentally dither and doubt,

could it be she's correct and I'm a fool,

I can't be sure if I'm the glove or the hand,

but one is in charge and the others a tool,

she spends every penny I have on useless tat,

and then complains we've got no money,

won't listen to a word of sense,

when someone else is making her honey,

she boils you down to a fine stew,

and stirs you with her knife,

that double sided tongue she owns,

knows how to be precise,

she'll own you with a look,

she'll kill you with a word,

she's nothing if not unkind,

and your pleas aren't ever heard,

she takes what you need

asks your frown until it's sore,

she give you nothing but disregard

disrespect and more,

she steps on all your nerves

her heel twists into your soul,

and as you lie there dying

she'll make you beg for more,

she'll own you with a look,

she'll kill you with a word,

she's nothing if not unkind,

and your pleas aren't ever heard,

she's never there when I need her

she's always somewhere else,

she never gives me the love I need

it's squandered somewhere else,

and I can't help but wonder

if there's much that I can do,

this garden once was thriving here

and now just weeds come through,

she'll own me with a look,

she'll kill me with a word,

she's nothing if not unkind,

and your pleas aren't ever heard,

I hope for better times to shine

I hope for warmer days,

as winters fallen on my house

and took the summers haze,

and I know I may sound whiny

or querulous and pained,

but that love she gives is empty

and it's all that will prevail,

she's owned me with a look,

she's killed me with a word,

she's the epitome of the word unkind,

please and thank you are just herbs,

the sound of fluttering wings,

hits my nerves with a stark surprise,

the pigeons are back in my back garden,

behind the window nets I'm in disguise,

and I watch them as their usual parade,

spans the sprawl of green and paved congregation,

with a smile I watch them pick the bread and swallow,

I don't know why but it fills me with elation,

then comes the psycho pigeon,

he flies alone and takes what he desires,

the other birds try to guard their quarry,

but their attempts his tenacity belies,

there's an obvious hierarchy at work here,

the same as any place we humans go,

the biggest and most aggressive get the most,

until the smallest and meekest overthrow,