High above the bubbling crowd,
the merchants,
privileged,
and crown.
Laughing at the fighting crowds.
Underneath their poison shroud.

High above the city square,
the people
all the ones that care.
They're laughing,
as we try to fight.
**** each other
every night.

Every situation,
dictated by a righteous sense.
Confused with admiration
when there's no time to recompense.

Shadows that need light to filter,
their own darkness,
seeking light.
They're the shadows,
we all hide from,
when we close our eyes tonight.

Then there comes the morning,
the mourning of the night before.
It's hard to shine in this life,
seeking out who's soul is pure.

Yet every situation,
finding our place on the shelf.
Will lead us to our stable,
lead us to our inner self.

Minutes, graced by hours,
graced by days, graced by all the years.
With every single breath you take,
the happiness,
and all those fears.
Every moment for a reason,
each one to their own.
Every smile that isn't forced
is something, something you can own.
Every smile that isn't forced,
projects those feelings
that you own.

Faces reflected,
blood through time,
even though this face is mine.
I think its been here once before,
maybe twice or maybe more.
Reflected in the streams that flow,
through the ages of this earth.
Shadowing the soul that grows,
nurtured,
from the time of birth.

"It's great to be alive,"
she said......

Then she went
and broke his heart......

A hook,
upon each line
that's thread....
Catching out
each word that's fed.

The memories
the darkness.
That seem to swallow up the night.
Fall into a broken space.
Nothing's wrong
and nothing's right.

The weight
of the unknowing,
So different,
inside every mind.
The want
of love and growing.
The hope that follows
every fight.

Swallows swoop
upon the green,
before they say
goodbye again
Wings upon the same old skies,
feathers
and an empty pen.

The penny dropped
the fountain stopped.
Forever, at the end of May.
The farmer praying for his crop,
praying for the rain to stop.
Forever, at the end of May.
The Angels flight,
not lost to sight.
Forever, at the end of May.
And we might close our eyes tonight.
Forever, at the end of May.

Fossils ,
storms,
eroded coast.
The shadow that I miss the most.
A lonely voice, lost to the waves.
Singing in a hidden cave.
A silent hum
upon the shore,
a voice that's never heard,
no more.
Maybe on some other plain,
somewhere lost inside my brain.
Words transcending from the grave,
somewhere lost inside my brain.

Free as fire, left to burn.
Sweet desires churn and churn.
Inside our hearts, our vacant minds
As the blind lead on the blind.
Through the puzzles, mazes deep.
Searching for the truths we keep
Messages that fall through lucid dreams,
nothing's ever as it really seems.
Messages stitched in every moment.
Remember your the only one who owns them.

This world is full of angels
full of devils in disguise.
Like gargoyles faces on the wall,
blending in before our eyes.
The Christmas traffic,
shuffling past...
Young ones clutch their oul ones hands.
Oblivious, to the worlds strange ways.
Lost angels in a broken land.
And the poor ****** on the corner sings,
about a policeman from New York.
A song probably older than his mother
I'm hoping they still have each other.
I'm hoping that his words fall easy.
Gently,
upon her ears.
Cause he's looking kinda lonely now,
Maybe no ones listening!

The melting *** and rolled up snot,
gathered,
underneath the tables.

That old high stool,
that graced this fool,
was winning,
willing,
always able!

A tender ear,
tendering!
with his shillings for a smile.
That tenderness, he always sought,
but was never! gonna find.

The dreams that seemed so reachable,
always after one more glass.
The moments that he longed for,
moments that had long since passed.

Every man must faulter.
Live in the shadows,
shadows cast.
Those moments that he longed for,
hidden,
  lost upon his path.

Old Slim Jim
all soaked in gin,
his cards upon the velvet cloth.
The Candle burning at both ends,
with everything he's ever sought.
Smoke obscures the mirrors.
A cheap view,
to the other side.
Old Slim Jim
is holding bullets,
something that his eyes can't hide.
Reaching for the bottle,
hand as steady as the wind.
A ghost upon the shadows,
passes, and it makes him grin.
Old Jim Believes in omens,
pointers from a different realm.
Cards upon the table.
In that old place by the Thames.

In the land of plenty.
In the land of throw away.
All the silent voices,
dancing every night away.
In the land of freedom.
A bigger freedom than the rest.
A place, it seems that colour,
can place you, under their arrest.
A place where freedom
tows the line,
underneath the dollar sign.
In the land of plenty.
Underneath the dying sky.

Synchronicity and simplicity,
emanating from her core.
The kind of light
that shines so bright,
leaves me blind,
but wanting more.
Her words, reverberations,
a chorus to a learning ear.
Sometimes words are hard to find,
and sometimes words can ring so clear.

In time we learn the lessons,
the silly things that lessen us.
In time we dance in harmony,
learning,that love is a must.
Reaping all we've ever sown,
all the good and all the bad.
Thankful for the things we own,
Thankful for the love we have.

King Kalibo sheds a tear.
Waits for Rita to appear.
Sits in pain
and waits all day.
Minutes, hours,
pass away.

Staring at the shaking walls,
waiting for his soul to fall.
Like a star falls,
in the night.
Slowly drifting
out of sight.

Through the ages
and the years.
Swollen smiles and swelling tears.
He learnt this life is just a game.
And no one lives
this life the same.

King Kalibo can't hang on,
Rita cried and now she's gone.
Castle crumbles
to the ground.
King Kalibo
can't be found.

Beneath the rubble,
lies a crown.
A broken heart,
a crying clown.
The earth absorbs remorseful tears.
A kingdom mourns with cautious fear.

Time shall tell,
what lies ahead.
Time will tell,
what had been said.
Words that slit a kingdoms throat,
dwell in the air, as tension floats.

Kalibo now,
no longer heard.
His words,
gone with the stolen herd.
Rita,
woman of betrayal.
In her quest she did not fail.

Standing tall,
forever rich.
Fated, to be no one's *****.
With her new life,
and her new love.
Still she fears, what waits above.

Some leaves fall before their time,
others falling with this rhyme.
Synchronized inside my mind,
everything at one with time.

The breeze which sweeps the forest floor,
the will, the want, the joy of more.
The knowing, that what's right will lead,
to everything we really need.

Like the seasons, passing on.
Each with reason.
Each with song.
Words lost with the fading light,
as me and you walk through the night.

Upon the old path,
travelled many a toe.
With lessons to learn,
and notions that grow.
Ideas and moments,
locked into times.
Lost amongst love,
and lost upon rhymes.
The things that are said,
with a mind full of sauce.
The words that are thrown,
without any thought.
Without any reason,
without any rhyme.
Lost amongst love,
and locked into time.

They'd call her Long Gone Sally.
A lost ship, that has long since sailed.
They knew she had a heart of gold,
but still they'd tease
they'd cause her pain.
Yet still she'd face the darkness.
A lighthouse on a lonely chair.
Something you could focus on,
something, that is always there.
The loneliness
The sorrow.
The way we try to stem the tears.
All written on her ageing face.
A face well weathered from the tears.
Poor old Long Gone Sally,
will she ever really find?
The love that melted everything,
the love that breaks,
the heart,
the mind.

Sweeping up the needled tree.
She wonders,
how things seem to be.
She looks out of the window
to the sky.

She takes her rest
upon the chair.
She thinks about
the ones who care
and then about the ones
that cease to be.

And though her world is troubled,
she's still smiling all the same.
Reflecting on the memories,
the ones that keep her sane.

Her eyes upon a photograph.
A memory in time.
She's reading his old poetry
forever lost between the lines.

The glow worms luminescence,
lighting up the willow tree.
The ladybirds are sleeping,
underneath the dewy leaves.
No weight of expectation.
A simple life.
A simple thing.
In harmony with nature.
In harmony with all that sings.

The shadows,
that the sunlight gives.
The dawning of the day.
The magic spells.
The hope that dwells,
in every word we say.
All out there
with each other.
Underneath a dying Sun.
Searching for a hidden God.
The one that lives in everyone.

On St.Michael's layline,
a dozen miles from Dingles coast.
This was where young Luna May
was to meet the Holy Ghost.
High upon the rocks of Skellig,
awoken by the angry waves.
The ground beneath began crumble
opening the ancient graves.

The ocean calmed,
as angels fluttered,
danced and sang beside the sea.
Young Luna May just watched in wonder,
shedding tears of disbelief.
She checked her pulse and shook her head
cryed out loud "how can this be?".
Blessed herself before she fell,
gracefully onto one knee.
She looked up to the skies above,
eyes filled with fear
and filled with love.
The clouds gave way to brilliant light
and she could sense that God was near.

She asked "why have you chosen me,
what is it that I can do?"
This is when the Ghost appeared
forming from the morning dew.
It led her up the ancient steps
Clasped her hand,
yet she felt free.
Sat her down upon the grass
kissed her gently on the cheek.

As it did, her life went flashing,
like lightening bolts before her eyes,
thunder roared inside her soul,
as she slowly realized.
"Am I here because I've wondered?,
doubted all I felt within"
This is when the Ghost would speak,
telling her "doubt is no sin,
all you need, has always been".
"All you need, has always been".

Then suddenly..........
her eyes shot open,
jolting upright in her bed.
This is when she was to realize,
"I've spent too long living dead.........
Then with grace she was to realize,
"I've spent too long in my head."

A shadow fell across the plains
as the air grew cold.
Thunder rolled up in the sky.
The day and me
both growing old.
And as the lightning pierced the clouds.
My tired eyes were on the road.
A lesson lived
A lesson learned.
We can't live on love alone.

Up ahead a diner.
A respite from the cold and rain.
Shelter with a greasy spoon.
A place for time to while away.
Upon the foggy window
I scrawl a heart around our names
And as the waitress brings my food,
I quickly wipe it all away.

Maple syrup pancakes,
foreign to my Irish tongue.
The bacon here's to crispy,
and everybody has a gun.
I wonder what I'd do with one.
That danger in my hands.
Shoot my way to glory,
or fall upon the promised land.

A rumble of thunder brings me back.
Reality ensues.
All the madness leaves my mind,
then it's left with you.
Seven thousand miles away
waiting on your own.
I leave that thought there
with the tip.
and return to the road.

Outside the air is crispy,
like the bacon in the bin.
Now its time to focus,
channel out a way to win.
The road ahead might bring the rain.
Alas I must go on.
The jukebox through the window
singing out our favourite song.

May in Clane, and all the rain,
plays melodies,
upon the pain.
Upon the soil,that soaks it in,
I sit and watch ,all soaked in gin.
The tapping on the sill outside
distracts a mind
that's trying to find.
Reasons not to laugh out load
among a lost and vacant crowd.

Then it calms and brings the morn,
reflections of the day we're born.
As summer takes the joys of spring,
rejoice the truths that bloom within.
For truth alone will set us free,
help us live in harmony.
See harmony,
it makes the song
that carries all of us along.

That mist on the Mississippi,
lay heavy,
like those angels tears.
That brought a flood of silence
whispers falling on deaf ears.
People being trodden on,
like pebbles on the strand.
The poor old Mississippi.
A slave,
just like all those men.
Working, ladden on the barges,
the steamboats and the trains.
All for one
and none for all,
seems to be the way.
There's 99% out there,
just waiting for their day,
yet still that 1%, it seems
always get their way.
All the sweat, the blood,
the tears, shed down through the ages.
Can't be found in old books bound,
their history or fables.
That history, which the victor writes
on those blood stained pages.
Make us grateful,
for this life,
grateful for these wages.

99% My friends,
surely we are Able?..........................

Sitting still with twilight
high above the Celtic Sea.
Not a soul to stir my thoughts,
each one on its own with me.
Sitting by the old grey stones,
among the lost forgotten graves.
Not a soul to stir my thoughts,
gazing down upon the waves.
Each one replaces the one before,
new life making old life's passing,
easier as you mourn
New life makes old life's passing,
easier when it's sore

A wandering soul,
upon the rocks.
The Oceans
never ending churning.
Seaweed, cast upon the stone.
Cast with thought
and constant yearning.
Once upon a lullaby.
At least a thousand years before.
A desperate secret
once was buried.
Underneath the soil and stone.
Where the dunes
begin to falter.
Where the sands
and forest meet.
Treasure buried in the long grass
hidden from the passing feet
Gold and Diamonds,
Sacred Sculptures.
Scriptures of an ancient tongue.
Hidden underneath the long grass,
lost beneath the burning sun.

Four tired feet, resting at last.
The old work shoes,
thankfully cast.
Beside the couch,
where now they rest.
A weary head upon her breast.

Silence,
sharing,
just their breathing.
Two souls swimming,
two souls dreaming.
Like a Buddha
neath a willow.
Each ones heart
just like a pillow.

And as each breath
rises and falls.
Candle wax spills on the wall.
  Seconds...
minutes...
fade away.
Tomorrow is another day.

Someday we will be strong enough,
to right the wrongs that we made wrong.
Someday we will be whole again,
with all the birds and all their songs.

Those evanescent visions ,
that seem to seep through all thats done,
waiting like a blade of corn,
reaching, leaning to the Sun.

The light, long there before our breath,
before the things that we regret.
Shining then and shining now
shining before we knew how.

How to deal with right or wrong?,
sitting underneath that Sun.
One of many,
our Sun  it shines!,
as we all try to define.
One of many,
let it burn!
Cosmically,
as we all learn.

Some people spend their money,
trying to buy a piece of time.
Other souls are clocking in,
trying to raise an honest dime.
And sometimes its not funny,
the way our hours are torn away.
Outside, its so sunny,
but we're like birds
inside a cage.
Nurtured with a number,
an I.D, to make sure we pay.
From the first breath that we take,
till the one that meets the grave.
But nowt can't steal the thunder
the energy that carries through.
There's nothing that could ever ****,
our feelings and our right to truth.

Pandora's Box is out of hope.
Empty like a broken vessel.
Washed up on the shores of pain.
Red rust from the lapping waves.
  Silent are the murmurs.
Silent is the voice of man.
As Heavens flames return to light.
Hell's fire cremates all it can.

The steam lifts off the concrete floor
and paradise ain't here no more.
It set sail on a cargo ship
On a never ending trip.

It's out there, near the Bay of Pigs
lost between the reels and jigs.
On its way to distant shores.
Paradise ain't here no more.

Somewhere near the Southern Tip,
It's heard it let its secrets slip,
to a drunkard on the floor,
and paradise ain't here no more.

Lost forever to the stars.
Paradise has gone to far.
Through the clouds, an open door.
Now paradise ain't here no more.

Pictureless frames on aging walls,
a floor that's crying for a sweep.
Wooden boxes, stained and small.
Empty pockets, wide and deep.
Heavenly sounds of singing sparrows,
coming through the courtyard door.
Corridors so long and narrow,
walking feet, thread no more.
That staircase that you couldn't trust,
stands defeated by the years.
This musty place has seen it all,
the joyful smiles, the tragic tears.
How sad to see it now like this,
the first place that we ever kissed.
Its sad, the things that we dismiss,
those days, those days
I'll always miss.

Underneath a Blood Red Moon,
another good one,
gone to soon.
A candle quenched,
upon the night.
Somewhere else,
might find a light.
A flicker,
In the distant skies.
Sometimes
there's no reasons why.
No salvation to be found.
No reasons
for the heart that pounds.

Sitting in the high grass,
praying as the sky turns grey.
Waiting for the cargo,
nervous eyes upon the waves.
Everything invested,
every shilling,
every crown.
His heart
is in his salty mouth.
On the cliff
as he looks down.

His eyes look to the lighthouse.
It's beam
they follow
out to sea.
He holds her locket
in his hands,
prays again,
"just let it be."

But this time,
prayers aren't answered.
The whistling wind,
begins to rise.
He opens up the locket,
stares and cries
into her eyes.

Alas, it is all over now.
He knows
that he cannot return.
The ebb and flow
is angry,
and he wonders
will he ever learn?

The bodies on the rocks below,
signal the sad end.
As lights appear upon the shore,
his dreams start to descend.
Into the rain.
Into the gales,
that blow on Bantry Bay.
He throws the locket to the wind.
Once more now,
upon his way.