Drinking in Alleyways

An Irish Beat Poet's Dilema

2010-06-29T06:29:00.001-07:00

About to put pen to paper
it hits me, and I wonder
how many poets have wrote
about going to some party
with a guy called Dean Moriarty?

My recent visit to Yeats' grave
when Benbulbin hid
in low cloud
I found confusion in the question
of why someone so profound might want
to be buried with a gift shop so close by?

I, no horseman, still passed by.

Don't Be Too Nice

2010-06-05T12:56:00.000-07:00

Let's not ignore the kicks
that swing wildly past us
they might strike yet
on their way back.

Let's not use bricks
to defend ourselves from the fuss
our only friends our pets
let's use them to attack.

I Don't Like You Any More!

2010-02-01T09:31:00.000-08:00

Can you not feel my pain!
Your words sting
I am falling
soaked with tears
like being chased by bees in the rain
each of us looking for shelter
but we harm each other
because of nature
we fall to drown
me and the bees
they stung my heart
I broke their knees.
because I mistook them for you.

The Ballad of Robson Green

2009-12-06T10:36:00.000-08:00

I am watching the tv
Robson Green is a cop.
There is a man pointing a gun at Robson’s head
But Robson isn’t scared
He is calling the man a coward.
I am fearing for Robson’s life
The man might shoot him in the face.
But I am not so scared
I read the other day
That Robson has signed up for a new series
Unless they plan to do something shit
like make him come back as a ghost
Robson Green will live.
But then the window smashes
as a cop fires a bullet through it
And the man’s head explodes
And his brains splatter all over Robson’s face.
What an ending
What a great fucking show.
I CAN’T WAIT FOR THE SECOND SERIES.

When I Am In Da Club

2009-12-05T10:27:00.000-08:00

With every grimace of pain
And reddening of skin, as blood.
Flows in to localised areas of
My arms and my chest and my legs.
I hold in my head, a dream of days
When I will decend from the ceiling
Into your line of vision
Like a pseudo 50 Cent
And though I know what you will see.
I wonder what you will look like
And indeed under what circumstances
Such a situation could come to be.

Selective Memory

2009-09-23T10:44:00.000-07:00

When you knock

the righteous chip on your shoulder

and it sends you flying

it is only me who notices

your stumble, or

maybe everyone else

just can't believe it happened.

So they delete as is appropriate

to their choice of perception

of the events in question.

Why I Deleted My Facebook

2009-09-13T11:06:00.000-07:00

I won't do a quiz on which member of The Saturdays I'm more like
Not will I plant fake crops and rear pretend pigs on farmville
I won't make friends with that tramp that won't speak to me at school
just so some guy she's after can see that lots of people think she's cool.

Nor will be "become a fan" of some band of skinny jeaned
roly smoking, scruff bags who mince round my school
pulling sickies to go to sick bay and slyly wank
while waiting for the final bell.

I don't want people who've never spoke to me
to know what my favourite books or films are
and I won't have anyone posting photos of me
falling drunkenly out of some shit bar.

That I only went to because it was that
or stay at home and go on Facebook like a twat.

Worm

2009-09-12T17:16:00.000-07:00

My friend is a worm

he lives at the bottom

of a bottle of tequila.

He is unstoppable

leaves a trail of shit behind him

but the girls all love him

even when they see him

standing up alleys saying

"smell the fish"

and waving his index finger

and middle finger together

a gloating gesture

the smell might waft casually over

hit you so hard

you'll have black eyes all week.

But he's a worm

he'll play until he's

on a fish hook

or carried away in some bird's beak

You're Way of Repeating

2009-09-09T17:56:00.000-07:00

Saying what I say

after I've said it

would be less impressive

if people wouldn't respond

like it was the first time they'd heard it

Inside on the Outside.

2009-09-06T06:25:00.001-07:00

Reminding me that her friends are her friends

and that some of mine are now hers

I see them gather outside the shop I'm in

and all go away together laughing.

The overactive blow heaters whir between

drying out the air and letting it soak

The sun blasts through the windows

dividing shadows up between itself and the strip lights.

I won't walk home when I leave here.

I can have wine in the park by myself.

In The Park

2009-09-04T13:45:00.001-07:00

I've set this website up to share my poetry with everyone.

When you and I near meet together lip to lip,

Through the intoxicated haze of mingled breath,

what seemed inevitable is interrupted

as your parting mouth let’s slip

a question whether this would be clever

and what felt like it could only be true love

or something seen on television

becomes suddenly something unshared,

and tomorrow, to avoid embarrassment and upset,

we will agree to forget it, as a drunken thing.