Longing for the land of my lineage
I am dying here, in Beggar Country
Here, where fools act the wise
Pseudo Intellectualism steadily on the rise
Where the disease celebritism has took hold
Forced out the tried and true for the shiny yet old
Where the idiom
The more things that change, the more remains the same
Is unquestionably fact
I long for Ireland
I long to go back

Give me land that's green
And rolling countryside
Give me tide to rival hell's fury
And people that mean well, amid gales so dreary
I miss fog
Like that kicked up by the mire

Give me land that's hungry
Give me people that's tired

No one to remember,
no one to forget.
I watch him take a final breath
and his eyes show no regret.

It’s the end of one story,
the start of another.
Just know, long ago i’d
naively call him a lover.

You’ve given no reason
For me to feel this way
But all reasons aside
You’re such a cliché
The cheerleader type
You run and you play
But I remember a time
Your type would betray
Your voice pitch is high
Your IQ count can’t match
I really can’t see why
You’re considered a catch
But maybe I’m petty
Or jealous, or insecure
I think I’m just ready
To be called particular
I don’t like your type
I don’t fancy to be friends
I don’t follow the hype
You give me the bends

OUT 4



Dave was his name and he plays rugby,

he wants to see you and share a drink with you.

Will that be all you share, as you see him every Thursday?

I know how these things work, two months as mates

“See you next Thursday Danna…” and then

you’re suddenly lovers.

He noticed me, the week before, needing to be with you.

Patience was his game and yourself was his cause

as he hatched his little plans.

Now he will think, when will she be mine?

I know it will work. All it takes is a little time.

OUT



So we went out to see a film, with cars and music:

The Fast and The Furious. It’s like old times, you know,

Nick and Danna, when we had that thing.

Now the film ends and we go to your house,

reality hits home in the usual way.

The bloke you met sends you a text “Hello beautiful…”

and then I know it’s time to leave.

The trauma starts as I realise, this is it,

it’s finally over and I have to move on.

The passion of my heart.
Could wear the river rocks to dust.
Relentless like the tides of moons.

The passion of my heart.
Could travel any distance.
It knows no barrier like the fading Ozone.

The passion of my heart.
Could melt with invisible fire.
Like the polar ice caps.

The passion of my heart.
Could feed the hungry.
Full of Endless substance.

The passion of my heart.
Could be inconceivably large.
Rivaling the Sun and the stars.