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David Noonan Sep 5
Somedays that's all i got
And sometimes it's enough
Like a teenage recollection
Of a last picture show
Through a cinematic haze
Of blue nails and red lips
You're still with me here
These are my memories
These are my days
I can't even tell if it's love
But i always seem to reconnect
Just to know that magic dies
Buried deep in glass grey eyes
Yet they see that you're happy
And there is nobody here to say
If i'm really sad or just doing ok
There will be a light, a night
In a white sequin dress
Together we will be
Hours before your wedding day
Maybe i will read my bad poetry
Maybe i'll say, all i needed to say
Or maybe, we'll sit in a silent way
Captured as a series of polaroids
On a screen that's seen better days
Illuminate night as our northern star
I still need to breathe, i need to feel
And i want to still know your mind
I want to  still see the world thru you
For sometimes that's all i got
And somedays that's enough
Somedays that's more than enough
Written with thanks
David Noonan May 29
I met you for the first time
Rather unexpectedly
On a Thursday night
An upstairs gig in town
Hadn't been in quite some while
And you, no never before

I arrive before the show
A lone man and concertina
Play a weeping lament
For the lost children of Aran
And the hopes they carried
To the devil of a western sea
It was standing room only
Save a few lonely seats
At occupied and chattering tables
For which i dared not tread
So I slunk to the shadows
To a half wall
Left side of the bar
And watched it all
As another now enters
I swear he's wearing my coat
He's younger but shorter than me
My soul knows that i wear it better
Yet it is he that unifies tables
That I but watch from afar
As introductions are made
Strangers transform
To like minded souls  
No more lonely seats remain
Only lonely half walls
And half sentences of the mind
As once again,
I don't want to be
Who it is
I am left to be
Of who it is
I am meant to be

The show commences
And it does not take long
For the singer to introduce you
Through words and through song
Violet Gibson as Irish as can be
But it is to Rome
In a year long gone
That you go
To leave your mark
And to a fascist dictator
You fired your shot
Grazing Mussolini's' miserable snout
You aimed to ****
But it was not your day
As the crowds howl  
They lead you away
Mad as a box of frogs and old rags
That is what they say
As they expel you back
To dear old blighty
Our old colonial foe
Not ten years since
Your country rose to be free
You find yourself back
Incarcerated in an asylum
For life and for death
A window
A blackbird
A rose garden
All that you are left to possess
For you never get to go free
Unrepentant and unbowed
A violet not a rose
As once again,
You remain steadfastly proud
Of who it is
You were left to be
Who it is
You were meant to be
Violet Gibson was born in Dublin, Ireland, in 1876.  On 7 April 1926, Gibson shot Mussolini, Italy's Fascist leader, as he walked among the crowd in the Piazza del Campidoglio in Rome.  Gibson had armed herself with a rock to break Mussolini's car window if necessary, and a Modèle 1892 revolver disguised in a black shawl.  She fired once, but Mussolini moved his head at that moment and the shot hit his nose; she tried again, but the gun misfired. She was almost lynched on the spot by an angry mob, but police intervened and took her away for questioning. Mussolini was wounded only slightly, dismissing his injury as "a mere trifle". At the time of the assassination attempt she was almost fifty years old and did not explain her reasons for trying to assassinate Mussolini. It has been theorised that Gibson was insane at the time of the attack. She was later deported to Britain after being released without charge at the request of Mussolini. She spent the rest of her life in a mental asylum, St Andrew's Hospital in Northampton.
David Noonan May 8
we learn then unlearn
how to be free  
as we trade secrets
with the magpies
of Arthur's Quay Park
it's' on these summer days
such promises are made
keeping us warm
through seasons change
as we dance
to The Golden Horde
where a two for one
concession on the door
grants access to Termites
and its' cider soaked floor
here in this world
we have all that need
we feel it through
of music and heart
we won't want for much
once we don't lose our senses
our senses of touch

the years would give
what the magpies stole
to a lakeside hotel
where the clinking of glass
greets a grand hall
wedding guests align
a ballroom of romance
two friends move
so lost in time
trying to adult
whilst never growing old
we won then we lost
and we won again
but i never promised riches
i never promised poems
so here is our world
and all that we have
we feel it through
of our music and heart
we don't want for much
for we never lost our senses
our senses of touch
"We are two friends lost in time
when your eyes are passing mine
I see we've been through
so much in our lives
We are two friends so in love
the times we've been together,
We're true friends in time"
David Noonan Apr 17
Last night once more
I ventured beyond the pale
To find Nanci Griffith
Awaiting me there
She's pushing E's
On her drum n' bass knees
Pleading with me please
To be the last
of the true believers
But I can't and yet I can
Feel her watching over me
From a distance
She is just another no one
That's been sent to deceive
Yet another love for sale
Beyond this pale

So I move on at least
To my fourteen year old self
Weak arms and weaker will
Holding back a door
All in vain
As the screams grow
The knives and living dead flow
My father at the kitchen table
Silver bangle adorns his strength
He laughs at his son
How could it come to this?
A useless seed born with
a breathless kiss
Leave it to me comes his hiss
Tough love is for sale
Beyond this pale

To a foreign city
With the few friends I've left
It is anxiety and fear
That begin to whisper in my ear
You do not belong
You should never have come here
As the skies start to tear
Separation comes next
The rain empties the nest
Two by two, one by one
Friends and companions
To this city are gone
Desolate in a storm
Lies a desperate man
With a lonely love for sale
Beyond this pale

Tonight once more
I shall venture again for sure
As I pray to the gods
That I will not see you there
For my ecstasy would dissolve
At the closing of a door
As you walk out on me
Towards a rank only you see
That last cab to set you free
So tonight do not appear
Nor take to their stand
To settle their score
Let them be the ones
To finally understand
True love is not for sale
Beyond the pale
And oh my dreams
It's never quite as it seems
'Cause you're a dream to me
Dream to me
David Noonan Apr 9
Criss Cross
Moments arise
Thoughts and life
Perfectly align
One true life
Felt effortlessly
So seldom seen
To scarcely believe
Life more ordinary
Thoughts roam free
Running wild
To Dissipate
Fragments form
Ghosts of War
David Noonan Apr 2
Meeting below Shannon bridge
under April skies
From where
we could just about see
your Da's office in the
National Bank
They say he did the State
some service there
but as far as you were concerned
you didn't care

Sur' why else would you be here,
mitching school
with nothing to give
or leave in this world
Twenty John Player Blue,
this boy from the council estate
and a mark to be made
from a golden can
of aerosol spray

We laid it there beneath that bridge
with those of others
that had gone before
Above "Iron Maedin" spelt with the
e where the i should be
and the i where the e
And to the left of that
"Brits Out"
"Up the Ra"

I wanted to place a ****
before the Up
but sharp as a tack
you realised
that we had left our names
and it wouldn't take a genius
with or without
an i or an e
to figure it out
so I just
let it be

We joked that you
had the looks and the brains
and if only I had the brawn
we'd have been sure
to make lots of money
and opportunities
Instead we sat back
and enjoyed our craft
How I marvelled
over the beauty of your name
next to mine
added to a date
that now goes

But recall I do,
how when the April breeze
would blow
even just a little
that that bridge would whistle
and how it would seem
to carry
a song of hope and expectation
over the river
through the underpass
and straight onto
a promise
from my lips to

Looking to the past
it seems as perfect now
as it was perfect then
and yet it passed
without that kiss
that had been dreamed for so long
now held up
in the breeze
of crippling fear and the ease
of not knowing
could have beens

I consoled myself
with the notion of stages
and building blocks
for closer binds
but blocks
they build walls
that blind
as they get too big to climb
and moments do pass
as dreams do die
under whistling bridges
April skies

I still have occasion
to walk that bridge
and still it whistles
fainter now than it used to do
a more distant song
carries a nostalgic air
for I don't dare
to go under
nor wonder
of the existence
of a golden mark
of an April day

For the ease of not knowing
our names go unseen
two more
long since lost
could have beens
The Shannon Bridge in Limerick City, a popular haunt for those of us wishing to bunk school for the day with nothing but a pack of cigarettes and a head full of teenage dreams. Built in 1988 it is the last bridge on the River Shannon, Ireland longest river. The bridge was also known as the Whistling or Singing Bridge as after constriction wind would blow through the gaps under the bridge making a whistling sound.
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