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A tubed syringe and rain.
they stick it to you again
and aware of the pain
it'll bring

I'd like to stay in bed
but being abysmally paid
I have to struggle to work
to get my daily bread.

What a way to start the week
playing hide and seek
with London's
underground.
 Jan 2017 Damian Murphy
ryn
He doesn't see past the horizon of his life
He doesn't indulge in the myth of the hereafter
He doesn't believe he is worthy of such a notion
He doesn't make it a habit to put pen to paper

But with her...

He envisions the future like he's lived it before
He sings of his plans that span several lifetimes
He romanticises his thoughts as soon as they're conceived
He converses in paintings and writes only in rhymes
 Jan 2017 Damian Murphy
martin
Slumping back in your chair
You hardly move your head
Gazing straight ahead you look
Like the living dead

Your feet are swollen like balloons
With little piggy toes
How you stayed alive this long
Heaven only knows

Your belly looks as though
It's about to pop
You're looking nine months pregnant
And about to drop

I'm sure you're very clever
But hardly very wise
When's the last time
You took some exercise?
Thought it but didn't say it.
Everyone's in a bad mood
blame it on fast foods
slow traffic
and no tubes,
but
it's not my problem
although
I often solve them

today
I can't be fussed,
rushed like the rest of them
and
dashing young men turning old
before my very eyes
(sighs into his chicken soup)
on the bus now
in a book

nothing more can worry me
I'll get home and
she
will make it all
alright.
only small minds believe
putting others down
makes themselves bigger
HOW MANY MILES. .?

I try to
get back to

the you
before you

died.

You flicker
in the candlelight.

I am trying to
not let the forgetting

happen
to you

but you begin to
fade and falter.

You tell me to let you
...go...

That it will be easier
for me.

But I would rather own
the pain of this love.

Hold you all the tighter.

Smuggle you in a dream
across death's border.

You are beyond Babylon
...the many miles to...

The childhood rhyme
I told you.

"Can I get there by candle light..?"
I ask the dark.

"...there and back again..."
the emptiness echoes.

Each night I fetch
your ghost

feeding it my pain
to keep you here again

only to have to
return you

when morning brings a new day
you can never know.
How do you explain
to people
who ask "what's wrong"
when really
it's nothing,
but your own mind
that's the problem?
There once was a lady in waiting
Who still enjoyed all the male baiting
When one was too daring
She slapped him with a herring
and chided him for not abating
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