beer thirty

Beer Thirty.
______________

My Father was a
Good man, in his
own kind of way..
Who sometimes
used His Fists to
Teach lessons he thought
would keep me safe.
(from making the
same mistakes he
made.)

I remember it was
always Beer-Thirty,
Morning Night and
Day.

With Mom in The
Background sweeping
Floors, or Cooking Meals,
and teaching us to Pray.
_

I was The Clown...

Who Read Books
and Told Jokes
to conceal my Sorrows
from Everyone.

The Kid who didn't
really Grow UP,
so much as DOWN.

(with Passions
Burning like The
Sun.)
_

My Friends were
Dead Men who
(in their own lives)
often shared my
Plight..

I Read their
Wonders
Every Night!

Consuming
Tales Of
Chivalry until
The Morning
Light!

Wondering
in My Jester
Heart if I would
Grow to
be a Knight?

(who Set The
Wrong Things
Right.)
_


My Dad died
while I was
a Young man
still trapped in
His Mental
Prison..

in his Hands
was a can of
Pabst Blue
Ribbon..

(we
Buried it
with him in
His Grave.)

But it's
still Beer-
Thirty Here...
morning, night,
and day!

(Because his
Fists taught me
to Make the Same
Mistakes He Made.)
_

J.Stephen.H.
____________

This piece is a
matter of perspective,
and does not reflect
the life of the Author
by any Means.