pick one out of billions
and stick to it
like spider bait
in the spider web

although you never know
when you’re caught
until it’s too late
and you’re in
too deep

the heart fills
with betrayal
and deception
or worse
the heart fills
with truth
when our beliefs
are based on lies

it’s hard to comprehend
and/or overcome

the ego gets scratched
or the connection
gets snipped

and finally,
a plumage of misconceptions
is what we’re deduced to:

that something is lost
that something has failed

but when the perspective
is turned upside down
and the lens adjusts itself

it reveals that something
is gained and/or returned

and this time
with a fresh start,
a new beginning,
a better outlook

maybe a lesson can be learned?
maybe a mistake can be avoided
by it’s reoccurrence?

maybe?

but listen,
I’m no love guru,
couples therapist,
marriage counselor
or divorce attorney

I can only guarantee that
there is another pair of
sweaty meat sacks
encased in decaying flesh
waiting for you
somewhere out there,
aching to ruin your life
all over again.

“I look at you,” he told me, “and I think to myself; now here’s a guy whose got it all: he’s over fed, has a nice watch on his wrist and his shoes, although not my style, are brand new. The only thing he doesn’t have are troubles and worries.”

“bartender,” I shouted, “I’ll take one more and the tab.”

“hey man what about me,” he asked, “mind topping me off?”

“and another one for the poor sap next to me.”

“you see what I mean,” he continued. “you can afford to buy drinks for yourself and for others. as for myself, they forced me into a war I didn’t support and I also got my *** shot off for a cause unknown. I was stripped of my emotions, gutted from my life, they sodomized my psyche, carved the dream out of my head and I was never given a chance at having children or a future. and all this happened before I ever held a beer or tasted a cigarette or had a woman in my bed.”

I didn’t bother responding
in hopes that he’d get the hint
but as expected, he was as
clueless as my ex-wife
and as he carried on
with relentless persistency
each word dug in like a cat scratch
and all I could do was clench my glass tighter and tighter to contain myself.

“I’ve been spit on, kicked out, beat up and let down,” he further continued. “the streets are hard and unkind and everywhere you go you’re unwanted and everything is locked. why do you think I pour into these bars late at night? to drink? naw man, I just need a place to go, a roof over my head you know?”

that was it.
I had enough.

I finished my drink,
got off the stool
and headed toward the exit.

“hey buddy,” he shouted, “can I get another one for the road?”

“no.”

“just one more?”

“NO!” I screamed.

“c’mon man, you’ve got everything and I’ve got nothing. what makes you better than anyone else?”

“now look here you bumbling idiot…”

“but…but…but…” he interrupted.

“I’ve heard your tales of woe and now you’re going to listen to me,” I said sternly. “I look overfed because of poor diet and lack of exercise caused by working 60-80 hours a week with no time to take care of myself. I have a nice watch and new shoes but it came with a price. I’ve traded in my freedom for comfort, my time for materials and any chance of love for success. you say I have everything and you have nothing? I say you’re wrong. you’ve got something I no longer possess and that my friend is soul. don’t lose that. don’t buy into the mold. don’t conform. don’t become like everyone else. most of the people you see in here have imprisoned themselves into their own personal hell. that’s the way society wants it. but you’re free. truly free. and another thing… don’t worry about sorrow. everyone’s got problems and nobody wants to hear about it. why do you think people are in here? for the enjoyment? no, there here to forget. just. like. you.”

“******* *******! I don’t need a lecture from you or your cheap advice. all I need is a ******* drink!”

…and with that,
I walked out into the
dark and empty streets
where they greeted me
with their silence.

Like a lot of Irish people born back in the 1920's
My parents came from off small farms down the country
Usually their parents died when they were very young... just teenagers
When the parents died the house was usually left to the eldest son
And when he took a wife then the other siblings would have to leave the house
They'd usually have to go live with a cousin
There wasn't much work in those days, there was an economic war with England
And there was no social welfare either, no government support
People often had to emigrate to England or America, they had no alternative
My mother went to live with some relatives
And to learn dressmaking
One of her brothers though had gone off to America (the U.S.A)
He sent her a letter and told her to come over to America
That it was a great place, there was plenty of work and great prosperity to be had
She went on one of the old Liners/ ships that used cross the Atlantic in those days
She probably saw the Statue of Liberty in New York harbour
She loved America, she told me a funny story once about how she liked to eat bananas
There mustn't have been bananas in the shops back home
Or maybe they were too costly
She got a job in a biscuit factory Nabisco, on assembly lines
She couldn't get over the big medical test they gave her before she started
And then when she went to work she said she was working with people who were half blind
She loved going out with her girlfriends to the dances, there were lots of Irish over there from back home
They'd have parties, celebrations, go to the beach, go to the movies, eat out
It was the 1950's, a time of optimism and growing prosperity
She met my Dad over there and they started dating
She got this lovely grey fur coat, probably as a gift, a present
It was like something you would have seen Marilyn Monroe wearing
She loved going to the movies and reading about all the big movie stars
My Dad though wanted to return home to Ireland, he was getting homesick
So they returned home, Ireland was still a poor country then
Hadn't opened up to the world and allowing foreign companies in
There was still a lot of unemployment and finding work could be hard
At first my Mom used wear her lovely grey fur coat to Sunday Mass
But she probably received a lot of funny looks as if to say
"Who do you think you are, a movie star with your big fur coat, some rich *****"
Very soon my mother's fur coat was consigned to the wardrobe never to be worn again
When she passed away my two brothers came down to the house, they were telling me I should get rid of all her old clothes, they then seen the old fur coat in the wardrobe
"Oh, there's Mammy's old fur coat, you should throw that out as well"
I was looking at the coat and it reminded me of the old Red Indian movies
Where they'd be sleeping with a big bearskin over them
I'd taken to sleeping on the couch in the Wintertime in my TV room where I also worked as it was lovely and warm
I said to myself "No! I'm not going to throw that out, I'm going to use that as a blanket over me, it's like a big bearskin just like the Indians"
One day at work I was telling some of my work colleagues the story of my Mom's old fur coat
I was embellishing the story a bit
Instead of saying I was using it as a blanket over me
I said I'd put it on sometimes as it was lovely and warm
One of my colleagues was shocked by this, she said "What!! You wear your dead mother's fur coat !!!
I smiled a funny smile and said "It's a bit like that old Alfred Hitchcock film, isn't it ?
Yea!...  ******! LoL

My grandson will be eighteen this July,
He shares a birthday with Mr.Nelson Mandela on the 18th,
He asked me,"Dadi(granny) what is the difference between you and me
My Love, you are the sunrise,
You have to shine  brightly a long  way,
Giving your best to life,
Whilst I am the sunset
Retired,
Both beautiful and unique  in our own ways.
21/5/2025

Hook him up to the machine.
Shock his brain into
mediocrity.
Death stalks him;
he is aware.
There is too much
flash in his eyes.
His brain needs a reboot;
he needs to forget,
like a goldfish, like
a monkey in the zoo.
Hook him up to the machine.
He is too sentimental.
Salmon swim in his blood;
he has a paisley heart,
and a tie-dye soul.
He can smell colors.
Hook him up to the machine.
He has Van Gogh eyes, and
a Bukowski gut; he walks
like he's lost in a maze;
hunchback sadness,
butcher knife nerves,
Hook him up to the machine.
He believes in love,
and has too much trust.
His vivid green memory
is a curse, we need to
crash it, **** the eternal spring.
Hook him up to
the machine.