Left to right he is always telling me something
And it is the same with his sighs all over the place.
Eating when I am eating and guessing what I am guessing at,
This man is also a father and he needs to know the human race.

“What a disgrace!” He says so as I sassily sit on the rocking chair appeasing the graveyard of his soul: #SoOld
“Too old to SexText dear!” He said so from the downstairs kitchen while he was bitchin’ with his #MilesDavis trumpet blaring.
Down the aisles they once betrothed
Told becoming how they were growing old
Too old to listen to the waves by the ocean floor
Alone, like a doorstopper, who knows the bitchin’ kitchen door!

Loves like a dove and fair enough to be wise,
They showed me the album when a car was my prize.
They said my chores were good and the mirrors were clean,
And my brother has cleaned the rooftop like a soldier being mean.

Leaf Blower
Dishwasher
Carrion Pigeon strain: Sing to me, cold embryo of the collagen brain.
Hope floating in a milkshake as fresh as froth from some vacuuming pipe
Cleaning up after my mistakes when my old self is not right.
Richer than i-Tunes
Farther than the Tweets
Faster than WhatsApp with you
I cram before my Resits.

There’s a Temple with my name of good behaviour
And one when I am wrong,
But I am not paying for Grandmother
If… after all this praying and Good Day to you SIR!…#OnandOn
#MountainDew
What’s in it for you …
#DriftingbyHarryConnickJr
“Are you Lightworker Senior?”
…
…
… Aaargh: “What’s that Dad?!”
“What time did your Mum say she’ll be back”
#ArnoldSchwarchenegger brain reaction
// No time for Myocardial Infraction || The West Boys want a heart attack:

Cups
TEA
Rugs
Wooden Sheaths
Something he wooden say
#IPManToday
Wooden it have been Gud?!
Thank you son, I love you very much…

AI Summary

Your poem paints a vivid portrait of living with an ageing father whose habits, sighs, jokes, and criticisms fill the house with both irritation and affection. It moves between kitchen noise, chores, music, memories, and hashtags, showing how the past and present collide in a home where love is expressed through nagging, teasing, and shared routines. Beneath the humour and chaos is a deep tenderness: a son trying to navigate responsibility, identity, and adulthood while still being pulled into his father’s orbit. The final line — “Thank you son, I love you very much…” — lands as the quiet truth beneath all the noise.