Monday, March 19, 2012

My Daddy's a DJ...

My Daddy’s a DJ... nothing is his.
An enthusiast’s view
In an admirer’s biz.
Fusing together
A melodious muck.
Arguing the difference
Between the bad and the suck.

Through dust and through board
Are stacks of his wares.
A collection of things
And he knows what's there.
From passion to fashion;
From cut to create;
Every song, every word,
Every flaw, every date.

My Daddy’s a DJ...
A talent for zip.
A fondness for pop,
His achievements a blip.
A platter of spin,
A needle to spark.
The conversation a blur,
The relationship stark.

Our connection not there,
His attention remiss.
Our bond's episodic
As we hug or we kiss.
I wage my rebellion,
My path’s looking bright.
His soundtrack is all
He can offer my spite.

My Daddy’s a DJ...
And his passion’s missed out.
Though expert in sound,
His life is in doubt.
His hours invested,
His ears taking toll.
His lack of a presence,
Leaving a hole.

I grew up too fast.
My days turned to years.
His songs speaking sadness.
My face streaks with tears.
Still immersed in the noise,
Still in love with the sound;
My life moves ahead,
While his spins around.

Letters From A Tapehead

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