FÉACH AMACH!(WATCH OUT!)

gan guth
i measc guthanna
gan focail

(without a voice
amongst voices
without words)

gan réaltaí
cén áit é seo?
báthadh faoi ghloine

(no stars
what place is this
drowning under glass)

ag breathnú amach as
an taobh mícheart
den scáthán

(looking out from
the wrong side
of the mirror)

ag faire ar mo mhachnamh
ag siúl amach
ag gáire

(watching my reflection
walking away
laughing)

'WELL, WELL. . WELL !" SAYS THE GENERAL

Time falls
like snow
gently slowly

our footsteps
showing where we
go hour by hour

a statue
wears a cap of snow
it cries bitter white

pigeon **** tears
gazing at the years
that come and go

remembering when
it was a man
and snow falling

in this vey square
and he a child who
did not care

about statues
of the famous men
he threw snow ***** at

until he lost
an arm
a life

and became one
looking better than
he did in life

became the statue
of him self
and now some child

hits him dead
in the eye with
a well aimed snowball

and if he could laugh
he would laugh at
how it all

came to this
death now by tourist
oh the shame

the bells of the town
announcing another
new year

THE USELESSNESS OF MAPS

You were always
the bit

where the map creased & tore
leaving us unsure

looking through a hole
at our own big toe.

You were always
the bit

where the map was folded in four
and had to be awkwardly unfolded

just to see
where you were.

You were always
the bit

that was just off this map

ending in mid air...

...see next map:

...the missing map!

You were always
the lost map.

You were often
the wrong map.

The map that there was...

...no map of:

HOW NOW RED BALLOON?

the balloon
crossed the road
on its own

cautiously at first
then becoming
a little braver

there wasn't a human
in sight
the balloon was red

why did it cross the road
you would have to
ask a chicken

it made its way
into a nearby field
just out of reach of

a host of thistles
angry at the invasion
of their territory

a bee followed it
across a ditch bemused
at  such a  solo flight

the balloon came to rest
on the back of a huge
black and white heifer

and there it remained
as I passed
and hurried by

cow and balloon
as one
living on in

my mind
all these 40 years
later.

*

Wish I had a time machine and could go back..get out of the car and see if the red balloon and the black and white cow ran away with each other and had cow/balloon children and lived happily ever after.  

There was also, now you mention it, a laughing dog. And when we went to eat we were both dishless and spoonless. The cat on the fiddle was playing the Divil came down to Cork.

"THE SMALLE RAYNE DOWNE CAN RAYNE?"

you bloom
in my mind
like a fast forward

film of a flower
going from seed to blossom
in a second or seven

I looking down
from on high
as you pass by

under the bridge
you " no bigger
than your head"

that line from Lear
a chestnut red
flowing over your shoulders

you the only one
with head uncovered
everyone else

suddenly become
an umbrella
with legs

a river of people flowing
down the street
like different coloured leaves

and you look up
and even from this distance
of several

years or more
your smile
the only thing

I see. . .
Death
unable

to take
that
from me


*

Westron wynde, when wylt thow blow
The smalle rayne downe can rayne?
Cryst yf my love were in my armys
And I yn my bed agayne!

SHORE LEAVE

the sea louder in the dark
throwing off its shackles
walking into town

mystified seagulls
flying over with a caw
a sea no longer there

a tram screeching
on its points
the sea jumps aboard

the sea sat at the bar
somehow getting its vast bulk
perched upon a high stool

the sea enjoying the karaoke
singing along to The Honeydrippers
eating bag after bag of peanuts

"Have ye no beds to go home to!"
barks a barman
his belly slopping over his belt

the sea happy
to escape itself
even for the time being

drunk on being
human if only for a while
the sea staggers back to the shore

*

I don't think this really happened at all. I think the sea got drunk on the idea of being a person...what it would be like to be human...and fell asleep under a witching moon and dreamed the whole kit and caboodle. It did seem like it enjoyed the experience though.

MISS PRUFROCK REGRETS

in the loo
the women come and go
talking of Michael & "Oh...Angelo!"

knickers down around
her ankles
she pees& weeps...weeps&pees

her running mascara
turning her into
a giant panda

she tries to put
her smile back on
the Shady Lady lipstick breaks

her mouth
a jagged ****
making her a scary clown

she locks her self
in her golden compact
it snaps at her fingers as it shuts

"Oh fu..fu...fu..!"
she bites her bottom lip
endeavouring not to( "Feckit!" )swear

the loo door opens
she can hear THE MERE MAIDS
singing...singing

"Come with me my love
to the sea
the sea of love..."

the loo door closes
THE MERE MAIDS fade
"oh oh oh...oh. . . OH!"

her friends come to
powder their noses
***** about her

she stops peeing
in mid-flow
a solitary tear trickles over her nose

their vicious laughter
stabs at her heart
their cruelly coloured chatter

"And her dress that
trails along the floor..."
And this...&...so much more

"And ah ha ha when
she spilled the yogurt over her
shirt...skirt!"

"It looked like someone
had ohhhhhhh
come all over her!"

"I know...I know
I almost wet
myself!"

"How her hair is
growing thin"
a squeal of high pitch giggles

"And her arms and legs as well!"
these her friends
putting the knife in

"She's such a bore!"
her best friend chimes in
"Et tu Bunty?"

they leave en masse
the many headed
beast

THE MERE MAIDS
are murdering
Kylie's CAN'T GET YOU OUT OF MY HEAD

I have measured out
my life in facebook friends
do I dare...delete them?

And do I dare...
go back in...greet them
false face to false faces

in the lamplight
her upper lip downed with
light brown hair

I am..yes...I am
that cockroach
scuttling across these toilet tiles

she pulls her knickers up
the elastic snaps
they fall to the floor

she steps out of them
sniffles...sniffs
tries to maintain a stiff upper lip

"Let us go then you & I..."
she tells her reflection
her reflection doesn't budge

"Just...what is it...about me!"
overwhelmed by her own
question

she prepares her face
the mirror
sniggers

she parts her hair behind
puts it up in bunches
smile...scowls

I know...I know...I am
almost at times ridiculous
almost at times...the Fool

she goes back into
the solitary confinement of
the toilet cubicle

smokes her last
crushed cigarette
flushes the **** down the loo

"Toilets is an anagram for T.S. Eliot!"
the scrawled graffiti informs her
she doesn't get it

lapses back into
her native lingo
"J'en ai marre d'en avoir marre!"

the Disco ball
tears the shadows and the souls
out of the dancers

THE MERE MAIDS are singing
'I'M TOO **** FOR MY CAT!"
her ****** friends sway together as one

Mademoiselle Prunella Prufrock
has left
the building

in the loo
the women come & go
talking of Michael & of "Oh...that Angelo!"