Sometimes when I think Of Dad,
I wonder if he really cared,
weaving between stories and memories,
I look for the signs if any are there.
As a baby I had a patch,
so proudly my parents displayed,
young little Black Power,
gonna follow Daddy's ways.
Between 4 - 5 I use to go with him often,
to the pad a lot of the time,
he'd introduce me to all my uncles,
as his little boy.
Quite often i'd blow my uncles out,
with my Dad's florescent blue pipe,
all I had to do was blow on the end,
and smoke came out the other side.
Most of the time I was stoned myself,
so i'd just lay by his side,
he would put his hand on my head,
tell me everything was alright.
Yeah I got a few hidings,
I figured my just deserts,
wanna steal and lie that's what you get,
I expect a punch in the head.
Mum left Dad When I was 7,
when he was inside,
he didn't come around often after that,
but when he did I was always excited inside.
We always had lots of fun,
always an adventure to see,
throwing stuff over the prison walls,
to the pad and clubbing scenes.
One of my fondest memories,
was a scary movie I watched,
I his arm I felt safe,
not a care in the world.
He may not have been the best example,
of what a parent should be,
but I"m pretty sure deep down inside,
he really did love me.
M.Mahauariki © 2012