If I want my gypsy life,
My solitary dream
It does require a sacrifice,
More than I can exprime.

Car dans ma vie bohémienne,
Je dois me tenir seule
Même si mes sentiments m’amènent
À vouloir être en deux.

Je sais que dans ce jeu de rime
Je râte ; quand-même, j’essais
Car sûr mon cœur tes yeux s’impriment :
La lumière that day.

The candlelight that twirled and danced
And lit up eyes and hair
As deep inside something woke, pranced
And breathed a fresh, new air.

This was something I'd never had:
Un sentiment profond
Regretfully I leave, though sad;
Mais l'route gitane, c'est longue !

If one is a foreigner, we are Piston’s,
but the village Cranks are never Shafted.

To be exhausted by omission is to be
expected, we are, beside The Points .

Bright Sparks are rarely found in these
positions, only bureaucrats, function 'ere.

Not in The Hub of things, is refusing to
wear the Dust Caps, then, you are Estrange!

When a Head Gasket blows, chances are,
it will be by a Francais, mais pas grave.

A meeting of minds to discuss a local
SDF (neer do well) Bohemian, A Gitane.

Mr. Ron has an idea to help the Peu Jo but
Le Mayor said, Sit Ron, to the Do Ron Ron!

The timing is not right, can tell by the idling,
so, the Do Ron Ron's concept is filtered.

To be Re-Tyred en France is not a Re-Mould,
it is a birthright, (issued with a spare) for time.

Dynamic people are replaced by Alternators
therefore, what is current, is usually oscillating!



Ryan O'Leary.
Poet Author Playwright Humanist Vegetarian.
Currently living in Lacoste France. © 1st/July/2018

They are coming to take you away, aha.

I hate corners know he will be standing there
A Parisian Apache, one leg resting on a wall
Of a closed-down factory.
Smoking Gitane a cigarette.
Sharpening his stiletto, cleaning his fingernails.
Or a farmer, stony ground fed up, takes his *****
and cut my throat,
A geyser of blood that will fertilize the floor
it could also happen walking home after an evening
at the pub, falling face down in a puddle where yellow welly floats.
It could be so banal, as falling when going to the loo
with a broken nose, no one hears the muffled screams
dying and not saying anything divine.
I have to buy a coffin it must be wide, sleep in it every night
wake up in the morning dead, with sunlight on my pale face.

Je suis dans une petite
pension en France parce
que je ne avoir assez d'argent
pour une maison ou logement classique.

Quel dommage après toutes mes années
un ouvrier est en plus je devais quitter
mon pays d'Irlande. Je suis comme un Gitane.