those were the best days of our lives
those were the days
tomorrow shall not shine brighter than yesterday
but i still believe in you
an angel on a pin that pricked my skin
coursing through my bloodstream evermore
etching your name upon my soul
endlessly spun and wove around my core

i will always try to help you through this maze
although the path you've found is true
you've begun to shine like those same stars
so much more than i could ever promise you
sometimes i may seem carelessly distracted
sometimes you may wish to call me blue
as the lights go out and on once more
i'll always and forever believe in you

now looking and living through another's eyes
for my place with you could never be
your happiness must depend on someone new
as mine dissolves in this darkened morning hue
where descending devil beasts begin to breathe
in a familiar tale told once more
yet my veins will swell and my heart shall repel
for my angel on a pin, you'll call as you live
   for now
                      for always
                                       forever within
David Noonan May 2018
And i don't own a piano to blame for my drinking
But there's something about an Irish summer sky
That smiles like Luke Kelly with a tear in his eye
Ballads of clouds float over a burning blue desire
You could travel the world having never got higher  
A slab of Polish cans cobbled from a cities loose change
This place is our kingdom, this place is a cage
Never feeling so trapped, never living so free
As when I set you down at our favored midday tree
Where a charm of magpies promise silver and gold
And us two more, with secrets long since told
Effing and blinding for all that we've missed
Soon to forget how long its been since we've kissed
And i swear to you darling, we'll never see the dark
This here sun, stay true to us beggars of Arthur's Quay Park
David Noonan May 2018
If only you'd take me for a fool
And not take me for granted like you do
I would rather live on in some ignorant bliss
Than taste the reality of this deathly kiss
For this is too easy to understand  
This is too easy to lose ourselves in
If you would only take me for another and not as I am
To lay me down on this cold hard ground
Pick up my pieces in some different form
A brand new me raised from your ideal storm

If only you'd take me for a fool
As fools are the ones who fall in love
Whose words seem to fall from the stars above
Dancing till dawn under cider filled skies
They are the ones that carry life in their eyes
So rescue me from this vagueness that consumes
Our daily routine of me versus you
And yet maybe you do, at night when i dream
Delivering my innocence rebirthed anew
For only a fool could keep returning to you
David Noonan May 2018
she sat at 2B
Ljubljana to London Stanstead
straight and still
immaculately dressed
a lady of a certain age
intent to carry it with grace
hair so blonde
and inappropriately long
makeups filler
thickly clung to lines
of a life lived in simpler times
her fingers encrusted with jewels
decades of love adorned upon
  now seated amongst
  the business trough
here she was
beauty queen of her day

this is not to objectify
but differentiate
the greatest of all artistic endevour
to be respected
admired from afar
but above all
may it appreciate within
so take us back
some 30 years or more  
to Yugoslavia
and talks of revolution
from this beauty queens
city retreat
let my whispered words
seep through the ages
for that you may feel
all that you are
then and now
with ferocious pride
let you love this beauty possessed
so that future mirrors
senses and memories
may to you never portray
the ravages of bitter time

now this flight
is destined to land
as the stewardess she calls its' time
you ask my assistance
to retrieve your case
thanking me through
a cracked half smile
two strangers their turn
to disembark
as now we must end
this inconsequential affair
David Noonan Feb 2018
another door closed
another community mourns
a macabre picture on a frame
for a tear stained love to find
once crafted by his own hand
not twelve months since
now a final resting place
marked by a note in steady pen
and why should it take
an angel of the epihany
to deliver a man in a plastic bag
to teach us of cbt
of an emotional intelligence
to be mindful of ourselves
while church, state, school fails
this country's young men
for generations and on
the silence does creep
so many futures in the past
too many paths closing so fast
there are so many questions
that sustain this male disease
silence never speaks in answers
or hears society's griefful pleas
today in another village
tommorow yet another town
a young man fits an attic joist
with silent eyes so cold
for jesus he was a carpenter
or so at least we're told
death by suicide continues to a nightmare visited on so many towns and villages of rural Ireland for generations and on with next to no supports of state ever prioritised to tackle this disease of predominately young men
David Noonan Jan 2018
And i can't take my mind
From that hairdresser i frequent
Just had her second baby
Right after her father had died
To leave her care for a half brother
That is lost to the angst of teenage pride
Unknown a mother on a drug fuelled ride
Stacey the one to pick pieces as they fall
For she is beautiful, she never cries.
She only ever smiles, she only smiles

To her my coat of colours i do gift
On a hook does it hang
As her life she strips bare
With an ease of fallen discarded hair
Her colours unfurl in humility and grace
Her red is of creation, of a burning fire
Not one of foolish unrepentant desire
Her blue a reality, a living breathing sky
Not the word of a poet, not of you nor of I
Her green is her renewal
Of the fertile lives that she now tends
Jealousy nor envy no means to that end
Yet evening falls, in who will she confide?  
No one to turn to, nowhere to hide
For she is beautiful, she never smiles  
She only ever cries, she only cries
David Noonan Jan 2018
lying here waiting to wake
may unconscious streams return me home
as a gentle flow succumbs to riverbank
meandering drift through memories of yore
aromas of sweetest royal fern consume
my days now passed for this night I long
to wrap me around a reed buntings song
so far from this storm of rattling gates
destined to tear through a fragile facade
reality she rides late on a January gale
entrapping my dreams in her deceitful fog
riverbank night heed a compassionate plea
o let sleep announce that I may finally wake
only when we sleep are we sometimes truly awake to the beauty and possibilities of living...
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