Mr McParland;
our Primary 4 teacher lived in Newry,
Northern Ireland.
Not a City in those days,
but a dangerous border town.
He had wiry hair like a blonde Afro.

Pat Jennings;
world class goalkeeper for his country,
was also born in Newry.
Our man claimed to know him,
and went to school with the green giant.
We believed without reproach.

Yours truly;
age 6 & 7, in the years of the Hunger Strikes,
born in Belfast.
I was enthralled because Pat was of another
world to kids reared in our divided times.
A symbol of hope on an island of doubt.

When past comes knocking
I am most aware
to decision taking
and ghosts reappearing
past is always
pink and gold glitter powder
best untouched and
messy in open envelopes

From the time that Billy was a kid
There was evil in the things he did
His mama knew it
And I knew it too

I told her that he needed help
I tried to avoid this evil whelp
I had to find out
Something I could do

Billy's teachers said he's bad
In fact the worse kid that they had
They sent him home
And kicked him out of school

I told his mama, he can't be mine
She blamed the Mogen David wine
we had when
we were on our honey moon

As he grew up, he wouldn't change
He'd spend his time out on the range
doing things
we didn't want to know

I told his ma, I've had enough
We can't keep hiding from this stuff
the folks about
will run us out of town

It's bad enough when I go for beer
The bartender serves me with a sneer
And the other's look away
Or just look down

I know Billy has a dedication
To certain kinds of medication
But nothing ever helps
The way he acts

We can't blame the Mogen David wine
I said Ma, I think it's time
That Billy left
and that's the facts

Mama cried, but knew the truth
He couldn't live beneath our roof
Or we'd end up
in an early grave

One night I went and said to Billy
You may laugh, and think I'm silly
but, son you have a week
you have to go

Billy nodded and kept on eating
This was a short,  family meeting
He looked at me
and said real slow

Pa, I know you don't love me
And ma as well, it's plain to see
We ain't the same
and I ain't moving on

I didn't argue, just got up
I couldn't eat, I couldn't sup
I had to end this
I had to get a gun

I knew I couldn't take him down
But, I'd find someone around the town
someone who would
Rid me of my child

No one came to help us out
I even gave the lord a shout
Help us god
our kid is just too wild

A fellow came, in a week, ten days
His name was Pat, to change Bills ways
He said he'd help
tomorrow night

He faced down Billy at high noon
Bill, dropped like a lead balloon
His ma and I just knew
That this was right

Pat, said things will work out fine
It wasn't Mogen David wine
that made Bill bad
It's just the way of life

He rode off in the setting sun
He'd killed our boy with his six gun
with Billy gone
it's just me and my wife

Come to me love, come to me.
Only for a little while that
We may hold in a warm embrace
and remember that the world
is not as bad as the bitter
Taste left lurking on our tongues.

Come to me love, come to me.
Only for a little while that
I may shelter you from the
Scorn of lovers looking to make
your face mirror that of the
Torn egos they fail to hide.

Come to me love, come to me.
Only for a little while that
We may share this blessed day.
Loved ones gather to hear me
Say the thoughts and feelings
I once kept locked away.

Come to me love, come to me.
Only for a little while that
I may see your face, for only in
Dreaming are we not apart, but
Lonely years have rejuvenated my
Heart and renewed my steadfast grace.

Come to me love, come to me.
Only for eternity. My
Reflection aged and withered, I
See you standing by my side, still
as strong and soothing as the day
You left this world behind.

She read my journal
My internal thoughts spewed out of her mouth like *****.
Anger. Regret.

I saw him as a book then
And he was easily read
Flipping through his memories, I found tainted history
Tears

Oh, woe is me
this girl, she knows everything.
My incestuous mind
unkind and dark
genuinely written without hesitation

Yet here I stand
Confused, taken aback
Stricken with...
...curiosity, perhaps
Sadness and unknowing
And his eyes apologize while his frown regrets

Perhaps she now feels closer.
There's nothing to hide inside
A relief.
I am disgusted by your actions.

I wonder if he still loves me
He won't take the words back
Ink never erases, and scars remain
And so does my heart
Rooted to my sleeve yet chained to his palm

"I'm sorry", I forget to say
Words so typical end up filling the room
breaking all glass
You made me like this
my words are a byproduct of your insanity
You're sad.
Yes, sad. We are all sad.
You are not entitled to read such things
wretch

I peered into your soul today
Something twisted and half alive
Fault?
A face, my face to place blame
I'll never walk away
Without another war wound
But I'll bleed you dry
Should I question morality? Am I human?
What happened to us?

You seek knowledge, yet cower in its presence
" all loving" I mock the idea
for you despise my words.
My work.
What are they, but a part of me?
Your voice is timid
Your despair, unsettling..
speak

Silence is all I want to hear anymore...

In his monochrome home
Postman Pat
Has a black and white television
To colour co-ordinate
With his black and white cat.

As well as
Secret love children
Who also match.

He christened them all Foam.

As befits an autodictat
With a comprehensive
Collection of
Black and white combs