trophy room , and other less than worthy trinkets of poetry

Mind fuck


I've spent the last four weeks with shields up full, diverted power to vital only, and by Christ it's been lonely as hell.  
  
Father is fading fast  
and in-between the short visits home  
I've tried to mourn his passing  
before he goes  
so I can show strength and composure  
when the time comes    
  
[ those words deserve ridicule, because I stand here facing a path I've never walked and I balk at the thoughts of it, try to run down it and re-define the lines to suit my own mind and all the while I'm running out of precious time ]  
  
She's gone mad again  
thrown everything away for a stone  
me, the kids, our home  
and she wears that damn ward  
like it was built for her  
  
[ I've sat there, where they smoke, looked into the eyes of crazy to see how much of me is with them, it's un-nerving so I leave to catch a bus that'll not be there for an hour so I can cower in a cafe away from the reality ]  
  
who am  I  
  
who  
  
am  
  
I  








Save Your Pity                          
                           
Look away now                            
this day is hard enough to suffer                            
without the added weight of your pity.                          
                           
 ...........        ..................          .......                          
                           
More genocide than famine    (Black 47)                            
                           
Faced with starvation we ate the grass                            
died like old dogs on the side of a road                            
you Britannia,you sailed our food slowly away                            
                           
                           
 .............        ................        .........                          
                           
Plod n the dead horse                            
                           
clearly sir, your horse is dead                            
you might be wise to bury it                            
rather than drag it hither and thither                            
and flogging it until you whither                            
                           
ahh, but officer don't you see                            
this horse sir is a part of me                            
like it or not we two are one                            
please put away that loaded gun                            
                           
A likely story sir                          
                           
Let's have it then,your explanation                            
afore i march you down the station                            
and throw you in the darkest dungeon                            
for cruelty with no air of reason                            
                           
Well sir i'll tell it from the start                            
this is the horse that pulled my cart                            
to fetch me to and from the mart                            
it's not that i don't have a heart                            
                           
so why flog a dead horse                            
 
 
i was on my way back just this after                            
to find my wife so i could shaft her                            
when i got home i heard some laughter                            
and found her blowing my mate Aurthur                            
                           
i don't mind saying i was in shock                            
to see her blowing my mates cock                            
and it was indeed another knock                            
that she was in her wedding frock                            
                           
at this point sir well i was fuming                            
voices in my head were booming                            
to kill them both you are assuming                            
Well o.k sir that thought was looming                            
                           
t'was a double murder in the making                            
but i walked out though i was shaking                            
no,the piss sir i'm not taking                            
see for yourself that i'm not faking                            
                                                   
I think i'll have to stop you there                            
it's not my fault your wife's a whore                            
the fact is sir i know your sore                            
but you cant flog that horse no more                            
                           
                           
now take it to the knackers yard                            
cos i have surly marked your card                            
get over it it's not that hard                            
it'll all be fine once you are *jarred                            
                           
                           
..    ..      ..        ..        ..                          
                           
 night line (with dr krane)                            
                           
hello is that dr krane,i'm going insane                            
i cant get this chick outta my brain                            
i guess i am saying, i'm in so much pain                            
i cant tell the sunshine from the rain                            
                           
i gave her my heart and she ran away                            
its all so awful i just have to say                            
i thought of a hitting the rope today                            
but i coudna do it,am i o.k?                            
                           
caller, i think you've lost the plot                            
i hear this sorta thing a lot                            
wipe your tears and clean your snot                            
she probably wasna all that hot                            
                           
i think you should try drown your sorrow                            
you might feel better on the morrow                            
and if you dont, well dont bother me                            
i coudna give a shit you see!!                            
                           
..      ..       ..        ..       ..                          
                       
                       
                       
Byte  Me                        
                         
It was never my intention                        
or a cunning plan set in motion                        
god knows i needed love                        
like i needed a hole in the head                        
                       
did i say love                        
                       
i would never say love                        
outside of cold inebriation                        
or a drunken conversation                        
easily laughed off                        
                       
Because                        
                       
she is so much more than a word                        
typed in the heat                        
of some frenzied exchange                        
how can one even begin to explain                        
                       
she knows                        
                       
but then she would never say                        
well maybe a subtle hint                        
that could be taken a few ways                        
leaving enough room for a dignified retreat                        
                       
and we talk                        
                       
of all things life                        
of struggles and strife                        
of things that were                        
and things that will be                        
                       
we laugh                        
                       
because she's as mad as a box of frogs                        
deep as a north sea oil well                        
loud like a great brass church bell                        
smooth as the motion of swiss watch cogs                        
                       
i try                        
                       
oh i try every day                        
to shoo those foolish notions                        
lock those silly thoughts away                        
but they stay                        
                       
did i mention love                        
                       
because i would never mention love                      
                     
;;;;;;      ;;;;;;;;;;;;;       ;;;;;;;;;;;   ;;;;;;;                      
                     
                     
  Wilde, Smoke and strong brandy                      
                     
                     
I sometimes think you are trapped in the wrong time                      
imprisoned in a world marred by it's own decadence                      
your art almost an antiquity on conception.                      
                     
                     
I picture you                      
                     
In a suit you bought from Savile Row                      
cut and tailored from the finest tweed                      
dutifully laid out by your man servant                      
for when you alight from a hot bath.                      
                     
I can almost hear you give a hearty laugh                      
while you point the stem of your ivory pipe                      
at the gentleman in the red smoking jacket                      
sitting in London's Albemarle Club                      
among the greats and the not so greats                      
gently swirling your brandy in playful                      
debate about the latest scandal to break                      
                     
                     
I see you                      
                     
                     
suffer the tongue's of the stupid. the fools.                      
and watch you cut them down with words.                      
silencing all who dare give voice to bigotry.                      
                     
I wish you                      
                     
The courage to climb free of your trenches                      
to stand down your defenses,                      
breath the cold crisp air of a man free of fear                      
and savor a bottle of rare brandy                        
                     
(it doesn't matter what year)                      
............        ...............      ............                    
                     
                     
        Bilderberg's  inc.                      
                     
  for the love of a flag we stand to attention                      
       raise our hand to salute,then shoot                      
     and march into certain death with honor                      
  there is no crime in the killing of children                      
   or no harm in the odd rape here and there                      
   one two three four we aint human any more                      
                     
   for the fear of god we cower in the temple                      
  or turn one blind eye while closing the other                      
  when the pope goose steps around Vatican city                      
hording its knowledge it gold and its stolen souls                      
 blessed are those who see no evil,hear no evil                      
                     
 for the love of power they kill those who question                      
   or have a heart and brain to take a stand                      
    or share a dream of a new promised land                      
   and have the imagination to break the mold                      
if its inherently good then its contagiously bad                      
                     
  for the love of money they raise the flags                      
 and pull the strings of the hands that bless                      
they plot and plan against the great dreamers                      
we are just play things to their wicked games                      
pesky disposable sub-human's we deserve no brains                    
                   
...........        ..................       ..........                  
                 
                 
                 
                 
         King For A  Day                  
                 
                 
What a tangled web this game of thrones.                  
                 
that everyman genuflects and offers words.                  
                 
still keeping one eye on the prize,the crown.                  
                 
seeking private coronation with the prospect                  
                 
of softly whispered condemnations,passing lips                  
                 
made of ivy to make their way through your                  
                 
Queendom.                  
                 
And oh to be king for a day, then come what may                  
                 
i'll say ,will bring it's own fleeting reward.                  
                 
i can sheath my blooded sword and hear the choir                  
                 
sing in hallowed voice and they can watch me                  
                 
and rejoice. when i am king for a day.                  
                 
'''''''''  ''''''''''''     ''''''''''''''                
               
               
"Why must I hide from myself, when I need a crowd? Bring on the crowd. I love the crowd." *                
               
           The Electric Co*                
               
It's all fun and games 'till the lightening strikes                
and when it does,it's only fun for them                
my mind explodes and I swear I can smell                
Saturdays barbecue even though it's Monday                
               
               
They look at me like it's them doing me the favor                
like I don't know that i'm feeding                
some deep dark hunger inside them                
a taste for inflicting pain                
they picked up during med school                
i imagine them rubbing their hands together                
when they see me walking through their damn doors                
               
some day I'd like to see how they feel                
at the receiving end of this miracle                
see how they like being tied down flat                
and fitted with all that expensive hardware                
               
I'd like to see them bite down on rubber                
see them shudder every time a light goes on                
and i'd like to laugh in their faces                
when they ask me if they've had enough                
because they feel as rough as coarse sandpaper                
               
I'd like to see them watch the world pass by                
through a closed window,clean on the inside                
and it's no wonder I wont venture outside                
when every fucking time I leave the house                
there's another shock lined up for the taking                
yes it's making me bitter because i'm no better now                
than i was this time last year or the year before                
and furthermore I can suggest,                
that I think it would be by far the best                
if I just sit here in my room and watch the world                
pass by through the window, clean on the inside                
               
               
...        ....        ...      ...        ...              
Eureka !              
             
             
It's quite something watching someone                
when they have a eureka moment.              
all depends on the moment                
and what's floating              
in the bath.                
                
                
It's a totally different story though              
if you're soaking in your own bath              
and you gradually notice                
you're bathing with                
a build up of                
your own              
shit.              
                
                
for one thing the stench is overpowering              
and it's hard to get out of it              
with out at least some              
shit sticking to              
your skin              
                
                
                
My compliments to the great oracle              
wise and profound that she is.                
there's a lot to be said                
for speaking subtle.              
that's for sure.              
                
                
.............      ....................      .............          
           
The Fall of Pendragon          
           
Even Morgana of the black heart            
who commanded the banshee's wail            
never foresaw that the power of love            
would break Pendragons Utopian realm            
           
enter Lancelot abreast the white steed            
shining armor, glistening steel            
how the darkness jumped for joy            
when his eyes met the fair Gwenivere            
           
rendezvous by the fountain of hope            
shedding silken robes and dress            
lost in lust, trapped in love            
the spirits watches with envy            
           
with each kiss on the lips            
another death knoll sounds            
Arthur, oblivious for now            
will soon be a mess of rage                      
         
.....      ......        ......       ......    .....          
         
         
*sigh* This place again,this place with its restrictions  fallacies and fictions and freelance connotations flying back and forth.          
         
Groundhog day          
         
that voice, an extension          
of the acrid tension apparent in your walk          
yes,it's good to talk and throw things out there          
or even shout about every little thing          
that holds us here suspended like flies in a web          
just waiting on the lethal injection          
of a hungry spider          
         
or an event,          
the real decider that throws a blanket          
around the head of the corpse of us          
         
these days it's the thoughts that count          
depending on the amount of apathy          
they can be few or plentiful          
         
......        ........       ........        .......        
         
         
Blanket          
         
         
         
It takes a certain kind of something          
to shut down every feeling          
and wander aimlessly through every day          
one numbed step at a time          
         
It's a bums life,the lazy way out          
no doubt about it          
sometimes though it's the only way to go          
build oneself back from scratch            
and I know the score with that          
         
you can get the measure of people,passers by          
who will lower their eyes as if          
it's all their fault you're sitting on the ground          
with a thin blanket wrapped around your legs          
or the suits who would run past          
only it might scuff their new shoes          
         
mostly though the money, the notes          
would come from the twenty somethings          
wanting to impress their honeys with the gesture          
making a big scene akin to a Broadway play          
and I'd say "hey! thanks man you're one in a million"          
then they'd go on their way          
all set for whatever reward they'd be getting          
later that night          
         
I still recall the Wednesday night mid December          
when the rain fell thick and slow          
the old couple who passed then stopped          
they walked on again          
towards the many shops stocked for the festivities          
after a while they came back to me          
gifted me with a brand new winter coat          
and a crisp fifty note          
         
then we talked and he handed me his phone ,said          
"for god sake man swallow your pride and ring your home          
this is no time to be sitting alone in the rain          
you have absolutely nothing to gain from this          
it's time to stop taking the piss and grow some          
you know, our son died two years ago          
we never even knew he was sick"          
         
then they hugged each other          
and I thought of my mother and father          
how I'd rather be in front of a blazing fire          
so I rang, I said I was sorry          
they said they were too and "we miss you"          
         
nuff said.          
         
.....     ......        ......       ......     ....          
       
Wow is it that time already? time is dragging by        
       
It's late,sleep is an ocean away and a good drive        
far better to busy himself doing nothing        
than to close his eyes again to see        
he's too cool for all that jazz on a Tuesday        
       
so whats next, a hot cup of tea and a stopwatch?        
or a meaningful chat with a ham and cheese toasted        
either way it's just filling time till the bells ring        
as bold as brass in the old church tower        
       
"This is the early morning news, the world is still in chaos"        
when did the t.v get to be so honest?        
seems like yesterday it was trying to sell him pills        
for a digestive problem he didn't have        
       
He sticks his hand in his pocket and has a search        
there must be three quid there in change        
he thinks to himself, if he had a pound for every time he fell        
there would be five quid there instead of three      
       
       
...........        .....................       .......      
       
Revenge is best served with a side of pollution        
       
       
The clock says half three        
but the thing about clocks        
is that they tend to keep their own time        
this time, I'll take it's word for it        
and if it turns out to be wrong        
when I get back, I'll fix it for sure        
       
Noah, the one who had the world on his boat        
and sailed across vast expanses of flood waters        
must have thought it strange that the fish underneath him        
gained so much, when every animal on earth        
suffered total annihilation        
       
well, it's clear we've never forgot        
that little discrepancy        
because it won't be all that long        
'till we have to collect them two by two        
and store them on dry land        
       
       
but why stop there        
them animals have been dogging us for years        
the sheer arrogance of it all        
prancing about earth as if they own the place        
we saved them, remember!        
they should be eating out of our hands        
       
       
I'm not sure about that clock anymore        
but if I don't go now        
I'll not be able to catch the bus        
and if I miss that one        
might as well miss the ten of them      
     
     
...........       ..............        ............    ...........      
     
We The People      
     
so many are we      
mere mice, toys to them fat cats      
with white collah, and black bowler hat      
     
we, be the means of them's crust      
because without we      
them be lost, with none money      
with none people, with none pow-ah      
     
them lust for high place      
throw eyes on we      
see every move, ear every speak      
     
we be born strong      
then made weak by them's vaccines      
them's water and we's greed      
or them send we to war      
to do them's mass slaughter    
     
''''''''''''      '''''''''''''       '''''''''''''''''      
     
Conception    
     
I wish      
that just once, I'd remember more about that place        
than the precious few      
split second feelings I get      
every now n then      
     
because I know      
It's where I left all the answers.    
   
.......... ............... ............... .............. .......    
   
Savannah    
   
   
My heart is heavy      
even for all the fresh air I breathe      
with walks up around and down the mountain      
it's idle, save for its pumping of blood      
      
most of the time      
I can't even feel that it's there      
      
it's hard, in the interludes between busy      
not to compare this day      
with the same one last year      
the one before that       
Christ, then when I woke up      
my heart was thumping like crazy      
and the falling leaves    
meant something other than decay      
the daytime rain was soft      
and the wind whispered things at night      
that made me smile      
      
oh Savannah      
now the days build themselves on memories      
used to be's      
and I find myself lost in them    
   
----------- ------------ ------------- -------------- ----------    
   
cúpla focal    
   
   
sometimes, words are meaningless    
thrown about    
like confetti outside a church    
after a staged marriage    
    
uttered, written, carved    
no matter the format    
they're just words in purgatory    
cold, dead, but visible    
   
other times    
words uttered or written    
are so strong    
they can lift a million times their weight    
and the author probably never knew    
the words had muscles    
in the first place    
   
Go raibh maith agat, bhean álainn  
 
......   ......  .....   ...   .....     .....     .....  
 
 
Glory to the revolution  
 
 
 
 
They'd gathered for a revolution,  and fought with bravery for a victory that struck me as far too easy given the stakes. not to take away from the people power or their dead. although perhaps just maybe, it was the people who'd won and not just another case of puppetry played out on the streets for territories.      
    
    
    
    
The battle of Independence square    
    
Molotov plus polystyrene    
makes for a good hand held napalm bomb    
but does nothing to stop a sniper's bullet  
dozens of protesters found that out the hard way  
    
at least they know that now    
and are setting tires alight for some cover    
    
"the people on the streets are angry    
because they want the stability and democracy of Europe    
and not just mere money from Putin"    
    
which sounded odd to me, cos there's not much stability in the union    
perhaps they don't watch tv    
    
change comes in many forms    
but today's norm seems to be rivers of blood    
because strongly worded letters just dont bite like they used to    
    
this morning the people celebrated, cos the president had ran off in a hurry    
left his mansion, boathouse and presidential zoo    
the people walked around the grounds    
and they wanted to know where the money came from    
then they gathered on the streets and waved flags    
chanting glory to the revolution    
    
until the trucks rolled up    
filled with all the men and women    
who'd survived the barricades on the frontline    
still dressed in their makeshift uniforms, stained with blood    
and carrying the riot shields the police dropped    
    
the people they got nervous, because they didn't want reminding    
about the dark side of their revolution