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And mug of muddy tea in hand, I look out, at the evening sun,
Watching it fall like a melted toffee
You came to the house,
At the Wake,
Joining the mourners in the front room.
Tea and sandwiches on
What on earth has happened to this site?
Most of the stuff I see here is a steaming pile
I love Jesus but I like to drink.
Do I disappoint?
I do, I think.
I love Jesus but I like to tell
I have no fine words to say,
And nothing to show,
For my sins.
Ach it’s a long road, littered
I’ll never forget the day that you and I went down
To the lazy river.
Early summer, it was, warm
My precious girl is sixteen,
And she is everything to this weak man.
God but I love her and it’s
I took the road home the other day.
See the folks, hear the craic.
Visit the sick.
My wee car
Ye’re a daeless boadie, aye ye are!
You ken richt an proper.
I taul’ ye to red up but naw,
I was half asleep at the time,
Slumped in my chair at the Friday round table of area
To breathing a new day, and all its possibilities,
To the thought of having options,
I can say what I like,
I can think without pain, or confusion,
Believing and loving,
I found the old stuff yesterday,
Tucked away in a cubby-hole.
A bit tatty and like the cat chewed
I’m just going outside for a good healthy smoke,
Escaping the sanctimonious chatter, lest I’ll have
Ah yes, upon the lake where we once stood, your heart in mine,
Together in the shimmer of
I turn against the night, unthinking, slowly driven mad,
The air is thick with memories, and I in
WALL OF SILENCE
I hear the Earth breath, as I wait on you,
And thus my heart beats.
I pass the spot on Main Street on occasion when I visit,
Its empty now and nothing marks the spot –
I hate this job and its driving me nuts
Killing my soul by a thousand cuts.
I can’t stand the
‘Neath Beech and Sycamore,
Through the peppered shadows, flickered patches of evening sun,
It was actually closer than I had thought.
I left the hotel, slipping furtively past the gatehouse,
I remember sitting there in the front,
Beside my driver,
Zooming up the Ayrton Senna
It’s another Tuesday and I’m still here,
Yellowing at the edges,
Stumbling and staggering
Gosh but it burns here,
Sun, sand and flares.
Day and night, lighting the sky in a swathe of
The coffee burns as I dip,
Peppering the plastic beak of the cup lid,
With my scrawny
Dank and boggy foreland,
Caked in frozen mud,
The Hounds of Hell are all astir, they catch the
Fast fade the days, empty and cold,
Our summer has long since gone, my dear.
But still I hold them
It’s a long list this,
My executable backlog,
Loading up the stress on my creaking bones
My but this is a decadent jolly,
Business Class, no less, once again.
I’ll have a Champaign
I wish I wasn’t such a numpty,
Plodding around other peoples conversations with size
I remember that first time I sipped.
Well actually the second.
The first time…ah then…I was just a
Sure what would I know about anything?
I have to read books, I’m so thick.
Thick as champ, my old
Fortune smiled on Derry in the end of fifty six,
When a little field of nothing much was added to
Clandestine, secret, furtive movements,
Out the back, and away to the shed.
Snatching a quick look
I must resist the urge to run,
To brace, to cringe, to shout and hurl abuse, to still the quiet
Come with me my friend,
Bewildered there, with eyes that cannot fully see,
Come to where the noise
Months of pouring out my words in seeming endless stream,
Laying bare the naked fury of my
All is still.
And in the quiet, I feel the air move, in fluid lines,
In and out, and in.
There in the corner she sits,
Amidst sunlight dancing in a flutter, on blue petals,
Floating on a
And here in the stillness of the evening,
I sit in the back room, thinking about my predicament,
Would that everything was yesterday again,
When twilight’s breeze was felt upon my face,
Just thirteen grand, was the price.
A wee lad from St Mirren.
Not much to look
Head down, heavy and tired, brain in overdrive,
Imagining everything and nothing.
Mouth dry as
Drawn with Cartesian symmetry, the Adversary stands,
Proved, defined, indefatigable,
And as I sit in the gutter, and pat my wee mud pie,
Broken, bandaged stick stored beside, ready for
It was the summer of dreams alright,
Mad-dog, mid-day sun type of dreams.
There was I in Dublin of
High above the clouds,
Eyes set like flint, gazes Christ The Redeemer,
With arms outstretched, he
You stood there, just stood there laughing at me,
As I made a right balls of it. Again.
Ah now, but it was a hard auld station all right,
Holding back the wild thing, straining at the
No-one likes a smart-arse, that’s for sure,
Least of all me.
Unless, of course, it is me.
Sauntering round the shops, doing the man thing,
Duty, but oh heck bored rigid.
Elbows on the
What goes around must come around, and so it’s come to this,
No more in pomp and glamour found,
It’s not that I have anything against the youth, no,
They can’t help how they feel, all victimised
Forty three years.
Forty three long years actually, but who’s counting.
Finally, I’m here.
Brown-stained mug rinsed, but not washed, tay-bag in.
Oh bury your face if you like,
Push it down into your hands there.
Look out through closed
I look for you, but I cannot find,
I feel like the straggler that gets left behind.
I long to know
I don’t know who you think you are,
But you don’t fool me.
No, not with what I know about
Ah yes…feet up, hard day at the office.
Big mugga tay, broadsheet of the middle-classes laid out on
If I spoke, would you hear me?
If I was there in flesh, would you come near me?
If I knocked,
Atá suite ann, i síocháin adh,
Tá míle bliain i codlata geimhridh, an codladh is faide
I’ve been to see her, y’know, not that I’d name drop,
But since you ask, I mean Queenie,
Window down, press button,
OK, got it..
Lock, walk, walk,
In sitting here, reminded I,
Of sins past, of slashing cuts once meted out,
The ‘whelming tide
One day, Hell arranged his forces,
Laid them out in strategic positioning,
Lining up the Dragoons
I guess it had been coming a long time now,
After all the comical farce,
Only without the
The lips move and words come out,
Carefully chosen, deceptively wrapped, coated,
They find their
I’m just sitting here looking at you,
And that big bake on ye,
And I get to thinking that your
Diffracting colours, scented honey rose,
Silent symphony of heaven’s angel choir,
Visions of you
Caillte againn Ailín,
Mar a bhí ar siúl againn go dtí an sráidbhaile.
Mar sin, bhí muid bródúil
In your leaving of that morning, we were the ones that you forgot,
Discarded in your quiet rush to
I can barely remember how it was back then.
Even the sound of noise seems such a distant memory.
The scattered bricks lie loose in redness glow of crumbling clay,
Prostrate amidst the weeds and
He stands there, bold as brass, all puffed up and self-important.
Full of shite of
I look at what we have become and I could weep,
And cry a deep and flowing river on the
Mé Pádraig, peacach,
Mac easpag Rómhánach,
Ní raibh mé eolach ar an Dia maireachtála.
Agus i mo
Agus ansin os cionn an ciorcal an domhain,
Breathnú, suíonn sé,
Dearcadh iomlán ar na chré agus
Endless frittering of an afternoon,
Misspent middle age, maybe, yes,
Trawling, trawling, trawling,
I aer criostail, ag an am tráthnóna i mí Feabhra,
Seasamh mé ar an droichead,
Is é mo
Jay swiss nay a Ballymena.
Jay hhhhabit an mayson, dans la campanya, pray de set bell veel.
Above that helter-skelter shrill, of children’s yelp,
Outside, somewhere, down the street a bit,
I remember snuggle-time,
Once so full of bright-eyed smiling funny face,
With no agenda but to
We met among old friends,
In the church-hall.
I saw you there, just ahead of me, dishing out the
I am alone, and bitter feels the coldness of another day,
As I await.
But, I have eyes that look a
I wish I was back
To that summer a few years ago,
To be with the people as I knew them then,
Beset aglow in seeming endless summer fair,
Diffracting light in sparkled sea of crystal
Cold as the night and dark the empty space,
I reach for her as if to touch her face.
My heart is
Through passing years, the numbing recollection never dims,
There I, so cauterised to love’s
The darkened room, in claustrophobic corner,
Holds me entranced, and yet detached, in silent
A mine it well,
The lunch time bell,
That pit us on the run,
Tis aft when I am hungered,
An' I'm almost bluttered out,
In mind o' sweet potates glare
In temperate days of autumn
Before the sun in sinking glow,
The fields lie all in sepia
To inbred hurt and pain,
We closed our eyes to all our sins
The Northern Star
Shines in the night sky,
As children practice a new way to die.
Come by ye freekin' eegit,
Come by tay hell,
What a waste of me hard-earned dough,
For a hound
In raindrops falling curtain,
‘neath the bows of velvet trunk,
Lies in effervescent flush of
Such a sense of disappointment,
Such a pain of introspection,
Tottering about from toe to heel in
The base are safely in the byre,
The sheep are al' but fed,
The Massey's parked in handbrake
Am blowed if Ah can count them
On the fingers o' a han',
The times a've hid to leg
In the stillness of the morning,
Under canopy of beech,
The little ones are sleeping
Once, in an age gone past,
In season's journey,
They stood tall.
Erin's forest of virgin
Its been eight years now,
Since you went away.
Leaving fleeting moments
Ghosting past an eternity
Can we have come so far,
To only fall away again?
Contorted and insane.
I often go to paradise,
When its within my reach.
A chance to gather emptiness
Upon a lonely
Hiss on stone,
Pelting, full of spit,
Deafening in its roar of sweet crescendo.
The night begins
The Waiting Game,
waiting on something that never came.
On and on,
Time denies that golden
Touch my face with tenderness,
For I am frail and weak,
Listen for the whisperings
When I attempt
Hear the sound of crying,
of Children that are lost,
When madmen wreck the cradles
I gaze through crystal hedges,
Light scattered, rainbow hue,
Crisp in the whiteness of winter
I can only quiver,
Seeing in the night
Intruding shapes that haunt my dreams,
Feel the darkness pull our souls
Deeper down as drumbeat rolls.
Touch despair, vomit sin,
Watch out. They're about.;
With well-rehearsed excuses.
The "wise men", they speak in
Close your eyes and sleep,
Your time has come to go.
Chased from your land,
Harried, harassed and
I'm the one in the cage.
And just like my words I'm confined to this page.
Is anyone out
Holding my soul in a rictus of agony.
Oh to be able to run from this place,
Resplendent and tall,
Whispering tales of ancient times.
You were everywhere.