For some, it's fireworks and kisses,
For some, it's an ambulance and a fire truck.
I guess for a new year's wishes
Some get all the luck...

‪I had a vague goal for 2016 to have written 100 of these tweet verses by the year's end. I imagine it'll fall short which, I suppose, is apt‬

My eyes gaze through the stuttered blinds,
And cast a pan across the place
Of golden, hazy meadow days
As smoke chokes from the fireplace,
And I behold a sea of gold
As it competes with emerald grass,
A sea of frosty emerald-gold
That casts itself against the mass
Of endless, dimming Christmas lights
As mid-'noon soon comes fading in
To dim winter's late-'noon delights,
But not before, with golden grin,
The sun sprays wonders through the land,
Wonders atop the chimney stacks,
The grass, the houses, and the blinds
As golden tears go gleaming back.

We are waiting at the same bus stop, but only for one fleeting, heavenly moment, before we depart, apart. I dream it's soon stuck in traffic

‪It's hard to care about women and their silly, little crushes when most people are so painfully boring and you are so transfixed on your own‬

On asking me why meeting you was best,
Naturally, it draws a laugh and a sigh -
So obvious my life with you is blessed,
But I will do my best with a reply:

You have given me hope about the world,
My heart has grown double because of you -
Falling in love with those two eyes impearled
With kindness and warmth and passion's there too.

You have made me want to better myself,
Given me strength and a new thirst for life
To better the world and better my health,
Which was dwindling like an old, blunting knife.

You've helped me fall in love again - a treat!
You brighten up my days and my dreams.
It was you who made me cut down on meat
(Arnie was just a good excuse it seems.)

And now that I have weighed up all of these,
I guess the next step's learning Portuguese.

Some days there is a huge sense of achievement in reaching the end of them to fall asleep. The ability to get through the hard days is power‬

‪I could never try to **** myself, not again. But maybe if I'm lucky, which is a different question, I'll get hit by a bus on the way to work‬

‪Depression is being so down you want to stick your head in an oven. Anxiety is spending the rest of the day worrying about that logistically‬

‪The beauty of innuendo is that as long as you don't try and force it, it will always fit wherever you like. Just make sure there is consent.‬

She is fire. She is gold.
She is the stories left untold.
She is lightning striking wood,
The chaos in chaotic good.

She is the sore, red raw of slaps,
The echo of thunderstorm claps,
The blast of air on winter's days,
The salt-crazed fury of ocean sprays,

The pulsing radiance of suns,
The heated smoke from fired guns,
The steamy sweat from summer ***,
The magic of a witch's hex,

The sweet and sour tears of sadness -
Beautiful madness

They travelled the world together to expand their minds and live fulfilling lives. Today they return to discover - they have learnt nothing.

She swears in multiple languages.
But in such an adorable way.
While I just sit there stunned by beauty
Without knowing what the **** to say

The summer's rain starts smashing down,
Battering the seasoned ships.
It wouldn't quite be an Irish town
Without some sodden fish and chips.

The girls wear lipstick - red or black. They wear it for themselves or at times so like dogs or war criminals they can mark their territory.

Epiphanies appear in various forms, and, on rare occasions, they even come at three thirty in the morning with your pants around your knees.

It's a rare thing these days to meet someone who makes you feel better about yourself. It's hard to process that feeling in any way but love

The world is dark but it is also a place full of life and within those lives there are good people and sometimes one of them makes you smile

It's often on chilly afternoons when you think of mundane things like warm blankets or if a banister could support a rope to snap your neck.

I had told her about my pin badges -
It was that kind of intimacy.

I had written poems about her -
It was that kind of intimacy.

She returns with another present,
In fact, more than one,
Despite being a woman scorned -
It was that kind of intimacy.

One, a postcard, to return my gesture,
A memory we shared together -
It was that kind of intimacy.

Two, a pin, she travelled to find,
Searching to fix something that
Was never broken.
To her, this was a failure,
To me, it was
Our kind of intimacy.

And three, a notebook,
Because she knows what I love,
And that words lie deep inside of me,
Screaming to come out.

I write this to her to apologise
For being a fool, and to thank her
For her undying encouragement
And her endless inspiration
And her kind, warm words -
A beautiful friendship married
By the endless embers of
Written words -
Our kind of intimacy.

Burying my head in a book
Has a truly remarkable feeling.
There's a deeply personal ecstasy to it.
Still, it's not quite between your thighs

She always liked the romance of
Slow dancing in a burning room.
I did too, but now I can't imagine
Doing any of it with a dancing partner.

Sometimes, with a drink, my poetry makes music.
Others, it echoes Hemingway's cry.
I never liked editing, but always did like
Talking *****.

I tried so hard to remain happy.
I truly did try -
For you, as much for myself,
But I fear that true happiness
Is the world's greatest lie.

My face is crammed full with food,
Stomach bursting at the seams,
I feel sick of myself and the world
But it's always been that way it seems

You were the blanket of winter's dusk
Snug beating back an icy haze
But what I wanted was to feel the fire
Of hearts amidst your summer days

I leave the comfort of the school,
I drift down to Dun Laoghaire pier,
And pass the lovers holding hands,
Or sneaking sips of bargain beer,
And I approach my destined ship -
The station always holds the key,
To get a train so I can start
The journey home to Delgany.

It soon creeps forward from the dark -
A worm emerging from a peach,
Gliding past the moonlit sea
Stroking the shores of Killiney beach.
It misses the seals in Sandycove,
Tunnelling through the Dalkey hill,
Approaching Greystones but not before
Bray, Killiney and Shankill.

It chunders through the tunnels vast,
The sea breeze freezing up the carriage.
The light shines brightest when I leave -
The moon and grass make quite a marriage,
And the stars do wonders to the trees,
Who stand bare, posing, just for me,
While I crunch through their pile of leaves
On my way home to Delgany.

Can you hear the drums Fernando?
The slow, pounding sounds of my heart
As it transcends the circles of time
To find that nothing has changed

Trying to assemble a completely blank jigsaw puzzle, I am torn - am I missing a piece or is this just a naturally difficult puzzle to solve?

It's only just November and I'm already dreading the inevitable loneliness, the capitalist greed, and eventual meaninglessness of Christmas.

In Wicklow, the stars shine brighter.
You'd think they would offer some inspiration,
But all they do is remind us how *******
small we are.

A horrible thought wanders by, as I dream of my fellow HP writers who have put pen to their pain, and wonder how many I've hearted are dead.

He could write endless books about the curl of her lips when she smiles but they would be futile in expressing truly how they made him feel.

The more he thought about it, the more Audrey she became, until her class, grace, breathtaking good looks and her smile were just cinematic.

Now it dawned on him why he couldn't get his mind off her. She had that Audrey Hepburn air and like Roman Holiday he just couldn't look away

Surrounded by such eternal happiness, there's a soul-crushing, heart-breaking loneliness to it all. So I drink and wait for the pain to end.

In a world where horrors lurk on every corner
When terror's found on every news report
When violence is celebrated at the movies
And death is seen by elders as a sport

It's no surprise that Halloween is hip
That costumes and liquor are our daily bread
And that the "scariest" 'guise people can think up
Is a ****, whorish version of the dead.

Anxiety is the thought of people as scary
And the thought of death or loneliness as comforting.
In 2016, look around and tell me it's odd.

I came to the beach today because I've so much love to give.
I came because I've nothing else good to spend time with.
I came because it's healthier than getting drunk on ***** -
Better for your health than watching movies or the news.

I came to the beach to feel the breeze brush across my face,
To watch the foam fizzle and the memories erase.
I came to the beach today to feel completely free
To escape the many wrongs of life and all the tyranny:

To see the sea, you see, is just a free therapy session.
Unfortunately salt doesn't quite cure depression,
But what the hell's a cure going to do to change,
To change a world that's doomed to always stay deranged.

The beach is ever-cloudy and is always filled with stones.
It's cold to the point you cannot even start to feel your bones.
There are too many people to put my mask on to...
Too many people with stupid questions to ask you.

Girls in bikinis , having a swim, who clearly are psychotic,
While I'm just sat here watching, writing, and being neurotic.
I came to the beach today to try to help escape my pain
It didn't work but, hey, at least I did escape the rain.

I came to the beach today to try to look at life anew,
But really, I just came to the beach today because of you.

I am a walking contradiction.
I am six feet, five inches tall
But I feel microscopic.
I am a proud Englishman,
Disgusted by his history and absent
Of allegiances to any land, any country.
I am a nomad, but there is so much I haven't seen.
I am filled with wanderlust,
But also crave routine, and hate change.
I am a passionate writer,
But it pains me to write.
I am so very concerned by the world,
Its people and emotions,
Yet I distance myself, want no part in it,
Thrive off any psychopathic habits I develop -
I enjoy the disdain I have for most people.
I am well-educated, above-average intelligence,
But I know nothing... and always will.
I am surrounded by people that I love and care about,
But I feel so often, so desperately alone.
I crave my own space, my solitude,
The freedom of my own head and my mind's
Undivided attention, but it haunts me,
And I miss the feeling of warmth beside me in my bed.
It taunts me. It makes me want to die.
I am a walking contradiction because I desperately
Want to live, if only to achieve something worth
Being remembered for, worth dying for.
There's no poetic justice, beauty in death of
An ordinary man with uninteresting achievements.
That is wasted oxygen to me, and wasted talent
(if you can even call it that for)
I crave success, but fear I am talentless.
I am a walking contradiction.
Sometimes I think I am delusional,
But, then again, I am one of the most logical people
I know. I'm boring. But I want to excite, to entertain.
I am not funny, but I want to make people laugh.
I want to live forever and die tomorrow.
I am a walking contradiction.
Nobody mourns the poor - of pocket or of soul.
I fear that I am both.
I fear that I am a walking contradiction.
Completely devoid of purpose, of meaning
But so hopelessly in love with the beauty of it all.

"Turn off the television set"
"Switch off the films in your head"
"Disconnect the internet"
"Put away the books you haven't read"

"Wake up and go outside and see,
And stop all this hiding from the truth -
See the world as how it's meant to be,
Sunbathe in the garden; on the roof."

I think I'd rather live in fantasy
(Even if my eyes melt down my face)
From watching films, to escape reality,
Than wake up to the horrors of this place.

She doesn't realise I'm madly in love with her.
She's so in love and it's beautiful
and it kills me...
I guess it's all out there now. ****.

If God exists and he is great, fair and just, why does my nose always start to itch when I'm in the shower and my hands are full of shampoo?

Ten word poems - what a load of meaningless ****!

The world needs a hero.
Someone who can steer us
In the right direction.

The world is ******,
Out of luck, divided by factions,
Borders, rules, laws and orders,
Created by selfish *****.
***** politicians.
Men who treat human beings like fractions. Corrupt.
The kind of over-the-top villains you read about in comic books.
Or maybe it came to be by the Almighty all-seeing ****.
Another dastardly, ******* who is as ridiculous as he sounds or the world looks.
Who decides who lives or dies like a dictator murdering for sport or kicks.
He (because it's always a "he") picks which child kicks the bucket
And which rich, white man gets the luck.

The world needs Batman.
Not a bad man with a bad plan
To rid the world of different colours, customs, looks.
We don't need several bland, blonde shades of white.
We need the Dark Knight.
Someone to fight and rid the Joker from his rise.
Someone to take back what was taken, what they took.
Bad jokes everyday that make you choke
On the water that you **** as you watch the morning news.
A fish dangling on the media's hook.
You can't breathe but contradictorily you can't help but be amused
At the crazy things he's said or done.
The media controls our mind, our thoughts.
We've been bought by the capitalist system that we took
To be our salvation.
We need to look forward as one world, one nation
And fix all the massive cracks and little nooks.
And pray that when it's time he doesn't win.
And pray that the Earth doesn't reject it's kin,
By punishing the people who did it wrong.
We need to learn from our perpetual mistake song
And act before the world dies
When big business lies, and the waters rise,
And we continue to drive and live off burgers and meat pies.

We need a hero who can fix the mess
Who looks like Christian Bale or Adam West,
Who can fight for human rights and save the day,
And still have time for dinner by candlelight
With ladies without groping them for kicks
For not all men exclusively think with their *****.
Just the ones with big egos, small brains and smaller ******.

So we need action, we need a plan!
Some way to finally stick it to the Man.
A way to fix environmental disaster,
A way to feed the starving and the masses
Without death and destruction fattening our *****
And eating up the planet on a platter.
We need to find a way to cure disease
And stop the greedy, bring them to their knees
And act to put our collective minds at ease.

So what's my grand suggestion for this plan?
When you vote, you vote with what feels right
Not what's comfortable or written on a t-shirt -
At first it could be difficult and may hurt,
But it's essential for the future to be bright.
Look to the skies at every possible night,
And give the stars and clouds a thorough scan,
And when you find that eerie, striking, stark light
That issues the coming of a dark knight
Make sure you give your vote to Batman.

The better *** is so obvious on a night out,
Where there are always men
Walking around, sad and alone.
While the women always hunt in packs.

In times of extreme stress -
My peak anxiety,
I come out in terrible spots -
Just one or two
strategically placed.
*******, why tonight?

"What's the worst that could happen?," he said, praying she wouldn't say what he had feared.
Her eyes said it all: "We could fall in love."

Scholars debated for decades
The meaning of those words
He had written.
He couldn't quite say
But knew they had been important at the time.

Happiness is like a chocolate cake -
When it's in front of you, there is no
Greater feeling or thrill.
When it's gone, there's just nothing.