The Irish Summer (i.e. when you  only get the sunshine) is a very elusive thing
But having lived in Ireland all my life I figured it out many years ago
Although there may be some freakish weather events like the occasional heatwave
The Irish Summer lasts from the end of the English soccer season to the start of the Wimbledon tennis tournament (when the covers go on)
Those few short weeks
Then it reverts to being a mixed bag of sunshine and showers
So whenever Wimbledon starts up I always get out my thin flimsy shower proof coat
It's lovely and light so you won't be sweating
And I also have my little umbrella handy too.

Now I'm always telling people my theory of the Irish Summer
Whether they believe it or not
There's a young guy I work with and I told him my theory
Then awhile later we had to attend this big work event/meeting
It was held in Croke Park (the Gaelic football stadium) in Dublin
We were up in the Executive boxes overlooking the pitch, was really cool
We had walked there as it wasn't too far from our office
I had my showerproof on and had my little umbrella
My young workmate was just wearing a black leather jacket and had no umbrella
I thought to myself "Man, you're living dangerously"
Sure enough when we're walking back to the office
The heavens open and it ****** down on us
I'm standing there under my umbrella smiling in my showerproof
While my young friend is standing there like a drowned rat, the saddest sight
And I say to him "What did I say, didn't I tell you about the Irish Summer ?"
Then I say "Did you ever read the story of Noah's Ark ?"
I felt sorry for him and let him share my umbrella.

And the ****** still hasn't bought a showerproof
He's impossible.... he's obviously still... a non-believer.

This isn't a poem at all, I mean
  seriously,
There is no poem to be viewed here,  
If I was the police I'd be waving you
  on saying
"Please move on, there's nothing to be
  seen here,
No! there are no poems in this
  vicinity,
I'd be holding up a sign "No Poem here, please go elsewhere to view a
  real poem",
But I bet some of you out there are
  nodding your heads thinking
"Hey! This is something different, this
  is really good,  yea! really clever
He's saying there's no poem here
It's a poem about No poems
A poem saying it's not a poem when
  really it is a poem"

But it's not a poem, it's not!!! (the
  author)

But they'd retort "Yea! A poem going
  thru an existential crisis,
A poem that doesn't believe it's a
  poem
A 'ghost' poem, a haunted poem
The poem that never was
Like a ghost ship floating thru
  the mist
Brilliant! I see what you're doing
  here
Man, that's genius, High Art,
This could be the best ****** poem
  you've  ever written!"

But it's not a poem, it's not! It's a
  mistake, an error (the author again)
I was just amending an older poem trying to make it look better on the
  page
When the Site saved it as a new poem
But it wasn't a new poem, it was an
  old poem
So I went in and deleted all the text
  hoping it would delete the poem
It deleted the text of the poem but gave the poem a title called "Untitled",
And then people went in to view the
  poem entitled "Untitled"
And they found nothing there
And then they got onto me informing me that my poem called "Untitled"
Wasn't showing up on my page
And they thought the Site was acting up.
So I had to write this explaining how
  this wasn't a poem at all
But now you probably think  
  it is a poem
You'll be thinking, "Sure when it comes to Poetry anything goes
It's like Shakespeare, "to be or not to
  be
Poem or no Poem, that is the
  question"
The Ying... or the Yang.
But it's not a poem, it's not !!!
But then I bet I'll hear
" O yes it is, don't be modest now
What a great poem!!!
No, it's not! "Yes, it is!"
No! "Yes!" No! "Yes!"
You just can't win can you???

Y'know if ever I was on a TV show
And the guy was gonna introduce me as 'a Poet'
I'd tell him No! **** No!! They'd all switch off... immediately
Or flee to another TV channel...quick!!!
You'd wanna introduce me instead as the person who was definitely 'not a Poet'
Call me a writer or somethin' else
Tell them, this guy he's OK, yea he's alright
Definitely 'not a Poet'.

'Cos I can remember being taught poetry at school as a kid
How it scarred a lot of us
You'd be given a poem to learn off by heart in one single night
And of course you'd never be able to do that
You'd need at least two nights
So you'd be up all night trying to learn the ****** thing
And you'd be thinking to yourself "surely this Poetry it's an Evil thing
Some strange grown up guy's peculiar words
That don't make any sense to me".

And so you'd go off to school the next day dreading it
And then you'd be called upon to recite the thing
You'd stand up and immediately be distracted by everyone's eyes fixed on you
And also by the teacher's withering look
You'd stumble through some of the words, then you'd lose your place, get stuck
You'd flounder about, look lost and panicky... Then you'd lower your eyes...you'd give up.
Then the teacher would humiliate you in front of the whole class.

Yea, Poetry was a ***** word to me as a kid
And to a lot of other kids besides (I bet)
It ought to have been hauled up before a Crimes against humanity Court.

I've been too far out all my life I think
And not smiling but... but agonizing.

They rang to see was I alright, was I
   OK
I smiled down the phone, told them I
   was fine
That I was reading a bit, watching TV
Out sunning myself in the back
   garden
What I didn't tell them I suppose, was
   the real truth
That my Demons they were keeping
   me entertained
They were sitting on the fence right
   now watching me
Like great big Birds of Prey.

"Are you keeping yourself fit", they asked, " getting enough exercise ",
" Yes!", I smiled again, "I do daily runs
   around the garden"
Of course, this too was a fib, a lie
The truth was it was really my
   demons again
Who were chasing me around the
   garden
No! Me! I wasn't smiling, I was just...
   just agonizing.

"Are you eating enough ?" they asked
"Yes, I am", I replied again smiling, " I
   had lots of food in the house
What I neglected to tell them was of
   course, the truth
That really it was my demons who
   were eating me
And Boy! were they having a feast.

"O!", I thought to myself, " when this
   whole thing is all over (the virus
     crisis)
I gotta get myself a woman
Some lovely sweet pretty lookin'
   thing
She'll save me from my demons
They'll find her more appetizing
Can eat her first instead of eating me".

One afternoon in the kitchen listening to some of my favourite old songs from my Punk Rock days
The *** Pistols God Save the Queen, Pretty Vacant, Did you no Wrong and Silly Thing
Then I started listening to The ******'s New Rose, a great riff and then Neat Neat Neat
Neat Neat Neat doesn't have as good a riff but it has this mad guitar piece in the middle where it just goes crazy...wild!!!
At this stage I just had to get it out, yea! I had to get out my air guitar
I'm a virtuoso Air Guitar player, if there was an Air Guitar contest I'd win easily
So I get my Air Guitar out and suddenly I'm whizzing around the kitchen
I'm doin' a Wilko, a Wilko Johnson (RIP Wilko)
I'm flying around goin' crazy with the music
Now I'm wearing these casual Work Pants that I like to wear
And they have pockets everywhere, and they also have funny hooks and loops coming out of them, I never knew what they were for
(Probably for hanging tools)
As I'm flying round the kitchen doesn't one of the loops from my pants get caught in one of the cupboard door knobs
And suddenly there's this Big tug and an awful Wwwrench!!! Noise
I stop and wonder what the **** was that...I look
The door of the cupboard's been ripped off its hinges
****! I say to myself...Ssshit!
I'm after tearing one of the cupboard doors off
Then I stop and wonder for a moment and slowly a smile creeps over my face
"Wait a minute", I think to myself
 Now that... that's Punk Rock!".

She was a lovely looking thing,
A beautiful young blonde girl/woman
She hadn't been with us long... at
   work
She was smart and sassy, even a little
   scary
Held strong opinions on some things,
She lived close to where I lived, only
   a few miles away
So I was sitting amongst them one
   day, the girls/the ladies
They were a little bored that day and
   for some sport
Were trying to draw me out, to get me    
   to open up a little
To reveal some more about my ways
   and my life
So I thought I'd have some fun with
   them
I told them I did some painting as a
   hobby
And that my speciality was 'the
   female ****'
But alas! I had a problem, I had no
   one to sit for me
"If only I had some beautiful nymph, some haughty Queen, some dazzling princess", I lamented
And then I'd gaze over at Her, give her
   a longing look,
Then of course, someone upped and
   said the obvious
" Jen....don't you live close to where he lives, would you not go sit for him "
My face it lit up and I smiled
"No! I would not!!! she said
   emphatically, disgusted
Now I knew from the Christmas party
   she liked to drink Gin
So I said enticingly "I'll throw in a
   few bottles of Gin"
"I'd never pose **** for anyone", she replied again emphatically, "it'd be embarrassing, it'd be degrading! Sitting naked before some man!",
" But ", I replied, " you wouldn't be embarrassed sitting for me
'Cos when I paint a **** I insist on
   being in the **** myself as well
So as to make my Sitter feel more at
   home, more at ease
Yeah, Me! I'm very... Avant Garde"
(said with a devilish twinkle in my eye)
Still she resisted my painterly
   charms
So as to further entice her I said
"I'll even cook you breakfast, no one can resist my lovely sizzling sausages".
I felt as though I'd dangled my carrot
   right in her face
But still she wouldn't take the bait.
I suppose I was lucky she hadn't for if
   she had of (agreed)
I would have had to have learnt how
   to paint Nudes real fast
And how to cook sausages and other
   breakfast repast.

(A Definition: OCD is a mental disorder where people feel the need to check things repeatedly, perform certain routines repeatedly or have certain thoughts repeatedly).
        ---------------------------------

Well, I'll tell you once
Better make that twice just in case,
Maybe even a third time to be sure
To be sure it's securely in place
Because you never know, do you, you
    never know.....

When I was young I worked for the
    man
I didn't have any other choice at the
    time,
A strange man, aren't they all
Had a funny way of going on
Had pet names for things, his own
    private little vocabulary
And there was always this one, this
    one little proviso
No matter what you seemed to do
You! you were always wrong.

If you were to ask him for directions
    you'd surely end up lost
Be left scratching your head or driving
    into a wall,
Even if you thought you knew what he
    meant
It was like he'd just turn it around,
    stand it on its head
And suddenly it wasn't what he meant,
    it wasn't what he meant at all!
But was something completely
    different
And you! you were always wrong.

"Where are your eyes, can't you see!"
    he'd say
I could see alright but not what he was
    saying to me
Everything was upside down, every
    which way across
All jumbled up, awkward, out of place,
I could never please him anyway,
In the end you'd just give up, just
    give in
Admit you were stupid, admit you
    were dim
Playing a game only he could win
With its ever changing rules all made
    up by him,
Maybe it was just the mood he was in
He was a man though and I, I was only
    a kid....only a kid.

                           II

Now its hard to live when you've
    always been wrong
When you don't trust yourself or the
    whole world around
You grow unsure about things, you
    start to check things,
Where others see things for what
they are, you simply don't believe it
Reality isn't reality you've learned, it's
    something else entirely.

Whereas the other guy can check
    things once and let it go
You gotta keep on checking & checking
You look and you look and you look
    again
You strain to see what isn't there really
Strain till your poor eyes are nearly
    popping out of your head onto the
        floor
And even then it's not over, there's a
    punchline
When you finally do get something
    done
You still don't believe you've done it
    right
A ******* doubt remains & it follows
    you about
A voice from your past comes back to
     haunt you
And to remind you, that "You! you
    were always wrong".

How could you ever hope to win
Working three or four times as hard
    just to stay even, just to keep up
        with the next guy
And it's hard, real hard, all that
    indecision
It's no great surprise when you start to
    fall behind
You look up & suddenly they've all
    passed you by
You look at them like their some kind of Supermen, the ease with which they
    can do things, like real men
But you, still like a little child who can
    never get it right
You feel such a failure, feel so small, so
    small and so inadequate.

And you stick out, others begin to notice you & your little peculiarity
They snigger and laugh behind your
    back
They joke about you and call you
    names
Their not like you, no one's like you
Nobody wants to be your friend,
No! Nobody wants to be a friend to
    that.
You feel you don't fit, you don't belong,
You feel so lost, you feel so alone.

Bosses too, watching you work, they
    shake their heads and say,
" He's not very productive, is he? He's
    very slow
No! We can't keep him, he's no good,
    he'll have to go ".

                          III

But where do you go? What do you
    do?
When all the doors are closed on you,
If you're not all worn out by then,
    your health all gone
Well, maybe....maybe you seek another
    reality, yeah,
You take a drink and then another and
    then wow!
What's all this? a world gone crazy,
    out of control, spinning & whirling
         around
And it's funny and you'd be laughing,
    laughing at the craziness, the
       absurdity of it all
And the great thing, you didn't care
    anymore
You'd say to yourself " this is great, this
    is amazing,
Maybe now I'd found a world I could
    live in
Where things were always funny and I
    wouldn't always be wrong"
You'd made a new friend, and a friend
    worth having
Here was someone who could really
    help you
That could ease your pain and dull
    that crazy brain of yours
Someone that could fix you and
    maybe, carry you home.

And so, you managed to get yourself a
     job, then rising real early every
           morning
You'd put some music on, then get the
    drinks in
Have yourself a little/ wee party
Wait for the effect to kick in, the click
    in your head to come
When the seriousness would all
    dissipate
And the funniness come around
    instead
Then you'd head off to work, you'd be
    high but careful to conceal it
So as not to give yourself away
You'd be like an actor playing a role,
    the part of the 'normal person'
        whatever that is
But behind it all there was you,
    watching yourself
And you'd be sniggering & laughing,
    far away and far out of it;
And you'd be able to keep up with
    them, the others
Keep up long enough until lo and
    behold, surprise of all surprises
You'd see one of them make a mistake
And this would give you some
   confidence
And you could build on that
You'd start to think, maybe I wasn't so
    bad after all
And maybe they weren't the
    Supermen I thought them to be,
And slowly bit by bit, you'd start the
    long trek back, back to sanity
Till one day, suddenly you wouldn't
    need it anymore, the drinking
You'd have realized the truth, that you were as good if not a whole lot better
    than any of them
Yea, you'd realize the truth, that you'd
    been robbed, you'd been duped
There was nothing wrong with you,
    there never was
It was Him! all Him those many years
    ago
And that crazy way he had of going
    on.

How he always liked to make you feel
  that it was such a really big deal
Every time you made a mistake, did
    something wrong
It was something terrible! something
    heinous!!
O! It was the End of the World!!!
His words, how they'd hit you right at
    your heart's core, leave you reeling
Made you feel you weren't human
    anymore
You were hopeless! Impossible! Like some kind of freak, some alien being...

You know, sometimes I look at great
    structures, big buildings, bridges
         and the like
And I wonder what kind of mind
    made such a thing
It wouldn't have been me that's for
    sure
I'd have been too afraid they'd
    collapse or fall into the sea,
And I think again of him who made
    me this way
His parents died when he was very
    young
He had awful teachers who scared
   and beat him mercilessly
He had to emigrate to find work like
    so many others
Had to work with foreigners far
    from his own home and kin
Who knows what he must have gone through to make him the way he was
What crazy world created him and
    made him do the things he did
He never wrote anything down, no!
    not like I could
And so it is...and so it goes
(When one person bullies another and destroys their perception of the world)

Now I know it's going to **** me one of
    these days
This penchant I still have for checking,
    this overconcern for things
When I think of all the energy I must
    have wasted
The things I could have done with it
(I could surely do with it now)
What might have been... if only... if
    only.

O! the lives I've wasted
The lives I could have led
If different paths I'd taken
And different people I'd met.

O! what friends were lost
When just around the corner they lay
Their voices heard but their faces
   hidden
O! why had Destiny to steer me this
   way.

                              II

With my life here in my hands
My impulsive moves and slow
   meanderings
My efforts regulated by my will to
   abstain
In gaining my present position
What have I lost elsewhere
And what have others lost
Because of my absence there.

Out of a **** he made Great Art
It was no ordinary **** no!
It was straight from the heart, that
   ****
It had lain too long in the dark
Now was it's time to start
To make its bid for freedom... and for stardom.

It flew like a dart that **** from the
   heart
Like an arrow strung from Cupids
   bow
Little did it know how luminous it'd
   glow
Becoming one of the Greats in the
   Farting Canon.

It was probably the greatest **** poem
   ever written
In my own humble opinion
It was very daring and it smelt of
   onion
It was certainly the fairest fartiest
   poem I ever seen
If it was one of the three Musketeers
It would have to have been
   D'artagoine.

It inflated like a balloon, blew up like
   a great glass bubble
Then it popped and headed off
   toward England
Flying further afield than any ****
   had ever flown
It touched people's hearts, bewitched
   every nation
Resounded around the world
Yea! was heard in every Kingdom.

It flew long, it rounded the Horn
Like a Lark, that ****, it soared and
   sung
It was no boring old ****
It was far fartier and fruiter than that
It was a King of Farts
Way above the fartiest of farters and
   all the farting Arthurs
It was the real King Arthur
The King Arthur of all farts and
   Farters.

A real Belter was that **** that came
   from the heart
That had all the Angels singing in
   their cloisters,
A real work of Art just like Mozart
Or remember... remember your
   Shakespeare
"Hark! A ****, a ****! Whereforth art ?
    Thou ****"
It played its part, that ****, yea! it
   wielded its Excalibur.

O! there's nothing I'd rather do than lie here blowing sweet bubbles next
   to you
You! on your little flutey flute flute and
   Me! on my big Bass Trombone.

On a Friday afternoon, in the Burger joint for my weekly treat
Celebrating another week in, that I'd survived another week in the job
I ordered my usual, a Veggie burger meal
They have this lovely Veggie burger, it's a burger made of potato with a lot of other vegetables through it
Is very tasty, this and some nice big chunky chips/ fries along with it, with some sachets of tomato sauce
All rounded off with a nice Black coffee... very nice...
The restaurant was quite busy that day for some reason, my usual seat was taken
So I had to find somewhere else to sit

As I sat there feeling happy with myself
I was reminded of something I'd once read  about the great Irish poet W.B.Yeats
He was sitting in a teashop once looking out the window at the passing crowds
And he suddenly realised that life was good, that he could bless and be blessed
I thought to myself "I knew what he meant"
Then suddenly out of the corner of my eye I notice someone looking over at me... looking directly at me
Indeed they seem to be staring at me
I thought to myself "Better not make eye contact, might be some kind of ******"
Then I noticed someone else was looking over at me too
"What the **** are you looking at!" I thought to myself
And then there was another person and then another
"What the **** are you all looking at??!" I thought getting a little flustered at this stage
Every few moments a head would pop up and start looking straight over at me
I was beginning to feel very uncomfortable
Suddenly it seemed like they were all looking over at me... the whole feckin' room
"What the hell are you all looking at, you bunch of feckers", I thought
"Had I turned into the elephant man or something !!"
Finally I said I'm getting the hell out of here
Their all looking at me
So I stuffed my bag of chips in my pocket
Drained my cup of coffee and wrapped what was left of my burger in a napkin to take away
As I stood up to put on my coat I turned around
And noticed for the first time there was a big TV screen up on the wall right behind me
So that's what the feckers were all looking over at
It wasn't me at all!!!

"**** !" I thought, "spoiled my whole feckin' lunch
W.B. Yeats my ****".

I was at a funeral recently, a work colleague, a nice lady
Her father had passed away
I was surprised to learn that she was an only child
And that her Dad...her Dad was a 'steeplejack' of all things
Yea he used to climb up and repair church steeples or build church steeples, whatever steeplejacks do
I wondered amusingly Did he ever try and get her in on the trade
"C'mon up here Sarah, there's a great view from up here" He! He!"
Later on in the service one of his nephews got up to give the eulogy
He talked about what a special man he was
I thought to myself, You'd want to be a special man to be a steeplejack
Me! I get dizzy standing on a chair
You'd want to have your head ******* on the right way doing that job
One mistake and you're... you're history
I thought his poor wife must have been a nervous wreck waiting for him to come home
He'd lived into his nineties (90's)
His wife had died just a few years previously
He sounded like... like quite a character.

I was reminded then of an old school Pal of mine... Tom from primary school (kindergarten)
When we used live by the sea
Tom was a great swimmer he'd won loads of trophies
There was an outdoor swimming pool in our village
And you'd often see him heading up to the pool
He'd have his towel and togs under his arm
He used to walk on top of the sea wall when he'd be going up the village
And there was this part of the sea wall that was very high
There was about a 15 to 20 foot drop onto the road on one side
And an even bigger drop of 30 to 40 feet onto the rocks on the other side
And the width of the wall was just around a foot and had little ruts in it (uneven surface) that you could easily trip on if you weren't careful
And he used walk on this like a tightrope walker yea!
And we used to watch him in awe with our mouths wide open in amazement
Asking ourselves 'How could he do that ?
What the hell was going on in his head that he could do such a thing ?
If he fell he'd be killed outright or certainly crippled
And no one would ever say anything to him, they'd just say "Oh! That's just Tom"...
One day coming home from school he took me into the swimming pool
He knew all the people who worked there
On this day they were cleaning the pool and had emptied out all the water
So what does Tom do but go out onto the 'diving board ' and starts bouncing up and down on it
And there's a drop of 20 to 30 feet onto the hard cement of an empty swimming pool
If he fell he'd be breaking his neck or his legs
Crazy!
He came to our house one time, now there used to be this big rocky outcrop that used come right up to the back of our house
We used to call it 'the Cliff', it was made up of all these big rocks and loose slatey type rocks and sand
It was as high as the house itself
We were all soccer ⚽ mad in those days, we used run up the steps to the back garden to play (was on top of the cliff)
We'd be looking over at the chimneys on the house
Tom came visiting one day, when we went out the back and he seen the Cliff
He announced straightaway "I'm going to climb that"
We said "You're crazy!"
We left him there bemused and went off to play our game
About 30 minutes later Tom appears at the side of our soccer pitch having climbed up from below...
And he could hardly kick a football, he just wasn't interested in that... wasn't interested
Inside his head he had...he had his own way to go.

Roddy's Rooster, man! you couldn't
  oust her
Standing up there on his dunghill fair
Announcing to the whole world, to All
  everywhere
My ****! He's the greatest doodle doer
O! that Roddy's Rooster.

He don't need no booster, does
  Roddy's Rooster
He'd even go after the goose sir
Don't you fouster with this Rooster
You'd only lose sir
Now vamoose sir.

Very dapper and quite the scrapper
Patrolling his perimeter
Strutting around the farmyard pound
Invariably, henhouse bound
If you were to meet him
It'd be "Put up your dukes sir
Me! I'm Roddy's Rooster".

With his tail feathers all fluffed up
Like a feather duster
And his chest all puffed out
Quite the Dandy and always randy
What a Suitor that Roddy's Rooster
And O! what a Wooer, that wooey
  doodler.

                         I I

He came a cropper though one day
When he fell in the Hopper
Now he's a good deal shorter
And not half as cocky as before,
Now he sits on his wall lamenting his
  fall
Thinking of the days when he used to
  have a ball
Has Lady Luck that Grand Old Duck
  deserted him I wonder.

Sad to see, now he's a bit gammy
More Bandy than Dandy
He still South's in the Summer
But has doubts in the Winter,
Now he likes to crow his woes and
  lows away
Climbing up onto his dunghill, he
   greets the day
But now in a high shrill falsetto
  voice
He sings  in a whole different way
" I've been round the Ringer but I'm
  still quite a Dinger
**** a Doodley Doo"
Now... now he's a ****** Blues singer!

O! that Roddy's Rooster.
Roddy's Rooster Yeeaahh!

You find yourself in a strange street somewhere, a busy street of a big town or city
There's people going around about their business
They pass you by paying you no heed
You'd think you'd feel lost, an outsider here
But no! You don't,
You've been here before
And what's more you seem to know your way around
And there's this wonderful excitement inside of you
This delicious expectation of something
You know there's great delights to be had here.

You seem to know exactly where to go
You turn off the street into another and walk a short way
Then there's another street with some shops
And there's this one particular shop
Outside it's not much to look at
Even inside there doesn't seem to be much going on
There's other people there but you're not interested... you're not even curious
It's like you're on autopilot
You walk right up to the counter
And the lady comes over
And you whisper "I'd like to go in the back please"
It's just like a Speakeasy
She tells you to wait, to take a seat for a second, then she disappears
A few moments later a door opens over at the side
The lady is standing there, she beckons you to come over
You go and suddenly there's this long hallway/corridor
You go down it and there at the end
It's the Salon !

You can ask for whatever you want in the Salon, whatever you desire
And it's all... it's all totally free
Suddenly you find yourself in a room
There's a beautiful lady there
She's naked and she's smiling right at you
Then you realize that you too are naked
She comes up to you and caresses you, she's so soft and gentle
You can feel her touch, feel her body pressing against yours, and then she kisses you
Her tongue in your mouth
It's like licking an ice cream...an ice cream cone
She's so...so sweet
You can really feel her like she's something... something totally real.

(I remember when I was younger I used get these nightmares all the time
There was one and it was like this claw around your throat suffocating you
You'd have to really fight it, make an almighty effort to wake up, to escape it
It was something real, a force you had to fight, you could really feel it
The feeling in the Salon, it was similar but it was like the opposite of that
Instead of being something threatening it was something wonderfully pleasurable and thrilling).

She's so amazing, so soft and so gentle
You start to get aroused, it's like a lovely energy running through you
Like a wonderful slithering snake, so pleasurable
You feel like laughing at the joy of it all,
Normally now you'd come to a ****** and that'd be it over
But this time, no! this time I suddenly stop her, and I start to talk to her (I find I can talk to her)
"You know", I say, "you're so beautiful, so gentle and soft and kind
You're too good for the likes of me, I don't deserve you
Where I come from, I haven't met many really nice girls, not like you
It's always been like a battle, the Girls I've known,
They run you down, rip holes in you
Talking loud, trying to shock you and embarass you, control you
Have one eye on you, the other on their gang behind you
Their in no way genuine
You're nothing but a plaything to them
And y'know... it's all I've ever really known
I've never met any...any soulmate
And what's really sad is now I find myself gravitating towards those kinds of women...
I mean the cruel heartless ones
Why...why is that?

Me! I'm like that song "I don't know what Love is (I want you to show me)"
I don't know what real Love is, I haven't the faintest clue, the faintest idea
Hell! I don't even know what a girl, a woman is
I never had a sister and when you don't have a sister
It's the media, the world that tells you what a girl, a woman is
Their just pretty faces and nice *****, lovely legs and shapely bottoms
Then I look at her and I ask
"You don't have another more strict, more harsh severe kind of Lady
Some demanding imperious black leather clad (or rubber clad) *****
Maybe some superior cold aloof glacial goddess type,
Or what about a beautiful black booted stiletto heeled nice blonde **** girl, beautifully cold and merciless ?"
With this she gives me a knowing smile
"I know just what you're looking for" she says
Then she brings me to a room and tells me to wait there
She smiles when she's leaving me and there's so much in that smile she gives me
It tells me I'm in for an amazing time.
When she's gone I think to myself
"Well, this is a first, this never happened before
Now I'm gonna meet some awesome formidable lady, some terrible haughty domineering Queen
Y'know she might even talk to me, I might learn something
She might tell me why things are the way they are.

Anyway I'm waiting there pacing excitedly up and down the room
I can hardly contain myself
I can hear voices in the next room
Suddenly then, right out of the blue, suddenly this Bell goes off, yea! this bell starts ringing
What's that! I think to myself, Is there a fire! Are we being raided !!! What's going on ?
So I look out the door and there's this girl talking to another girl down the hall, their smiling and laughing together
They seem oblivious to any bell that's ringing
What the hell, I think, what's going on, that's really annoying
What's... what's that Bell ?
Eventually my eyelids, they start to flicker
Until finally they open up altogether
I find myself lying in my bed and my alarm clock on the bedside table... my alarm clock it's ringing
"Feckin', feckin' alarm clock!" I think to myself,
"Now that's what I call... that's what I call Bad timing".

I was at a funeral recently
A work colleague's father had passed away
It was a lovely ceremony
There was a lady in the choir who sang beautifully
All the lovely hymns
And then she did this wonderful rendition of 'Danny Boy'
Jeez! I could feel myself welling up
And I didn't even know the guy... the deceased
And then suddenly amidst all this sadness and celebration of his life
Suddenly this funny thought it just pops into my head
It says "Y'know when you die, at the funeral you should get the priest to do the reading
Of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead
A wonderful story
Lazarus's relatives come to Jesus and implore him to come and heal Lazarus who is sick
But by the time they get to his house they find he's been dead for a couple of days
But this news doesn't deter Jesus
He tells them to roll away the stone of the tomb
The tomb keepers protest"But he'll smell, he'll stink!"
But Jesus persists "Roll away the stone " he commands
So finally they agree and roll away the stone
Then Jesus cries "Come forth Lazarus, come out of the tomb"
If this was being read at my funeral
It'd creep out the whole congregation
When the priest would say "Come forth Lazarus, come out of the tomb"
They'd all start looking nervously over at the coffin
And maybe suddenly there'd be this sound of wood giving way
And then the coffin lid would slide off
And a hand would appear on the side of the coffin
And then I'd sit bolt upright in the coffin like a lovely little Count Dracula
I'd have a big smile on my face
And I'd say to them all
"Hi everybody, it's OK
I'm back for another round".

The sea laments while the hooded
    moon he harrows
Harrows the countless unknown
    graves of men
Who fell among stormy seas,
Men who today are remembered still
By tall stories
Told in their honour to bedtime
    children
Before they journey out to sleep
Into the wide realms of imagery,
    colourful and wild,
Breathing shadows onto a night of
    deserted streets
Drenched black slates and steeples.

I used to work in a factory once with a lot of girls
One day the girls they were talking about this guy who apparently used to **** sheep
They called him a Sheepshagger
Of course being young at the time and coming from a rather sheltered background I suppose
I'd never heard of such a thing, and was well... amazed!!!
Hell I thought, you could really get an education listening to these girls
(I'm in with a fast crowd here)
I didn't know you could **** a sheep,
Just goes to show if you don't know about something you probably won't indulge in it.
Anyway, the girls went on "Typical men, disgusting, a bunch of animals, they'd jump on anything, no better than dogs"
The funny thing was, the way my mind works or turns things around
I couldn't help thinking
'But isn't it a poor reflection on the women of this town
That a guy would rather go out with a sheep
Than go out with one of you guys'
And then I thought, imagine your girlfriend bringing you down to a field
And you're standing there at the gate the two of you
And then she gives you the Big... the Big Ultimatum
"Choose!!! It's Me or the Sheep!
And you look at her with all that intensity and drama on her face
And then you look over the gate at the sheep grazing peacefully and idyllically in the meadow
You look at her and then back at the sheep
The answer to her question in the balance,
Suddenly a ray of sunlight comes down through the heavens
Illuminating one particular sheep
You watch in awe and think... it's... it's the Golden Fleece
You turn to your girl and say
"I got to be true to myself, to my Nature's promptings
Darling! I'll always love you
But those sheep their just so...so irresistible"
And with that you hop over the fence and start running after your favourite sheep
A picture of unbridled Joy and Happiness as you pursue your dream love.....

Y'know, just in passing, there's some very **** looking trees close to where I live
But you gotta be careful, yea! you don't wanna catch the old, the old dry rot.

I dreamt I was just walking down a street
When suddenly a lot of people came rushing out of this building
They were all shouting madly “Shooter! Shooter!!
They were running past me quick…frantically screaming
I thought I better start running too
So I turned around and started running after them, following them
But I felt somehow that I was slower than they were
A lot of people seemed to be passing me out
I thought I must be really falling behind
I felt I was bound to get hit…bound to get shot
I was almost waiting for the bullets to rip into me
I thought maybe the shooter himself was coming…maybe he was right behind me
Then suddenly I heard these shots ring out just like firecrackers
I thought maybe I should fall down and pretend I was dead
If only I could rub some blood on my face…on my head.

Well I ain't stinking rich
And I ain't stinking poor
I guess what's important is
I'm still here stinking
And I ain't a pile of manure.

It was like a perfect storm
All the ingredients were there
It was like all the pieces had fallen into place
Taylor Swift was coming to Dublin for some gigs
My niece was a big fan of hers
I was a bit of a fan myself, she had some great songs and videos
She had just put out a new album and it was called
"The Tortured Poets Department"
Now I'd once written a funny poem (Electric funeral) and mentioned Taylor in it.

So my niece comes down to visit
And she asks "What have you been up to Uncle, I haven't seen you in awhile ?"
I looked at her a bit weirdly and then said real mysterious like
"It happened !"
"What happened ?" she asks a bit concerned,
"Taylor Swift happened".
"What! You mean you were at the concerts".
"Well, not quite... kind of".
"What do you mean ?"
So I explain "I once wrote this funny poem and Taylor Swift was in it, I posted it online
It has a lot of views"
Then I say "She must have read my poem and then read my other poems. Y'know she has a new album out, you know what she's called it ?"
"Yes! she replies "it's called... isn't it called The Tortured Poets Department"
"You see!" I say as if it's self evident, "my poems they inspired her new album. So of course when she came to Dublin she wanted to meet me...  I was summoned... to go up and see her backstage
I was ushered into her presence
She had this lovely friendly welcoming smile just for me
And I could feel straightaway there was this... this chemistry, this spark there between the two of us
So I said to her "Careful now Taylor, if you ever fell in love with me girl
You'd start writing even better songs".

I left photograph albums of her out on
    the coffee table
Thinking the neighbours might like to
    see and so, celebrate her life
Her youthful days spent at home,
playing among the fields, by the river,
In the little country village where she
  lived,
Her time in England and in America,
Her joys, her loves, her hopes,
I thought it was a good idea.
But when the neighbours came by
They talked only of their own families,
    their kids
About their hobbies and what Clubs
   they were in & what they were doing
      the weekend,
About their cars and how big they
    were
What horsepower the engine was,
They talked of Life and of getting on
    with life
And enjoying life,
Maybe they had it right, trying to be
    positive in the face of sorrow
It must have been awkward for them,
Maybe it was my own fault too, for not
    drawing their attention to them (the
        photograph albums)
But I was busy getting drinks, making
    sandwiches, serving tea
(And had a fair bit of drink taken
    myself by then)
But the photograph albums they were
left their untouched, not a single page
was turned like no one was interested
Like no one wanted to know, like no
    one cared at all
I thought it kind of sad, and my Dad
    who had sat there silently for a long
       time
Listening to what was being said
Suddenly got up and walked out in a
    bit of a huff.

We needed a suit of clothes to lay her
    out in, in the coffin,
I thought rather foolishly I suppose,
    that I should put them on the
     radiator first to warm them
It would be cold in that coffin, and colder still down in that deep dark
    clay.

In the Nursing Home she had
    complained of being very hot
I used to take her in a little tub of ice
    cream
And give her a few teaspoons every
    night,
Now when I open the freezer door,
    there's still one tub left inside
The last one, the final one I'd brought
    in
But never used, that same fateful night
    she died.

It's funny but I try not to think of her
    that much
Because I know if I did, it'd only upset
    me, make me all sad & teary eyed
And I'd be no good then, no use to
    anyone,
There's a time and a place I suppose, a
    time and a place to grieve... to
         remember.
I know she wouldn't have liked to see
    me that way either,
She would have wanted me to get on
    with my own life
She used tell me, "Don't waste your
    time on me, my life is over now,
        my days are done,
It's your turn now, go live your own
    life and find your own happiness".

It only hits you when you go into her
    room & see her clothes still hanging
       there
And you realize she's not around
    anymore to wear them,
I bought a lot of them for her myself
Used to embarrass me going into the
    Ladies Section to get her stuff
The pyjamas, their the saddest, they
    hurt the most
The ones with the little woolly sheep
    on them, the ones with the nice
        bunnies
( Heh! they always used to joke I had
    such poor taste)
The one with the bright red flowers
And the one with the little penguins
    on skis
With the scarves wrapped around
    their necks.

We had to write a final farewell
   message to put on a card
To go on the bouquet on her coffin
I struggled at first, looking over at my
    brothers, not knowing what to say,
My mind, as always, wanted to say the
     'right' thing
But luckily, my heart got in the way
I said, I wrote " Thanks for all the
    Years Mom,
It was a great pleasure knowing you,
Enjoy the next life, you deserve to,
I'll be seeing you! "

At a funeral recently I met a lot of people I hadn't seen in ages
Like from a hundred years ago (so it seemed)
What got me was, some of them it looked like they'd hardly aged at all
They looked....they looked nearly exactly the same
Now Me! I'd changed... I'd aged a lot
The trials and tribulations of this life had taken their toll
I said to one of them "Y'know you're still as young looking as I remember you
Is there some kind of Dorian Gray thing going on here
You don't have some mysterious portrait hidden away up in the attic"
I went on "Y'know you could do a movie and you could play yourselves
And when you go up to the attic and unveil the picture
Me! I could play the part of The Portrait staring back at you
You'd recoil in horror O! It's my true self, it's... it's so decrepit, so terrible looking (LoL)".

Me! when I look in the mirror all I see is a ghost
The very distant memory of a once beautiful looking kid.

The sun it shone all too briefly for him
Before the darkness came
And the smile died on his face.

His was a bad school I guess
Let all the monsters out of their box
To grin and leer like gargoyles on a
   church.

That'd haunt his dreams at night
Leave him dangling over the edge
Staring down into chasms deep.

With a mind a maze of cul de sacs
And at the end of each
Some horrible apparition to drive him
   back.

Yea, they taught you well
To run forever/ on a hot coal floor
Sleep on a burning bed
(A desperate man in a desperate land).

You must have known you were
   different
Looking at others, seeing how they
   were
Must have known something was
   amiss.

No wonder you sought to escape
Through others.... in drugs, in drink
Anything to escape those awful
   shadows.

And your only crime ? ....You wanted
   to live.

Not just another dead word from a
   book
But a magical word...straight out of
   childhood
Gathered from a fascination with
   looking at maps and Atlas books
And globes of the World
All the different countries in all their
   different colors
With all their fantastic sounding
   names
All spread out in wonderful greens pinks and oranges, yellows reds and
   purples
And then... that wonderful blue sweep
   of the Pacific...the Pacific ocean.

Through the eyes of a young small
   child
The wondrous...sweet Blue Pacific
   ocean
So vast and so full of romance
With its mermaids, its whales and its
   dolphins
Coconuts and palm trees and
   treasured islands
Its flying fish and grizzled pirates,
Its blue skies forever smiling
   overhead
The surf rolling up onto its sun kissed
   beaches.

.....There long ago I glimpsed the lovely
   blue of her blouse
And the wonderful patterns on it
As she lifted me up and spun me
   around
Just like being up on the swing boats,
And she laughed with her laughing
   smiling face
And her laughing smiling eyes
And I laughed too, out loud and
   unashamed
This was how it should always be
And I didn't want it to end
Wanted it to go on forever,
It brought me a Bluey Bliss
And suddenly all this world it was a
   magic place.

She was like Life or Love itself
Wanting to embrace you and kiss you
And sweep you off your feet
Life, it held so much promise and
   beauty
So much wonder and mystery
Yea! all was magic in those Summer
   months
The coloured pictures in our comic
   books
The kicking football on the lovely
   green lawns,
The fluttering and flapping of the
   clothes on the clothes line
Were like the sails of a Great Ship...
Sweet dreams and sunbeams as we
   ran out to meet the tide.

And still she calls to me today, wild
   blue ocean
How I love... like that sweet feeling of
   blue
The sight of her on a globe or Atlas
   still
And that name like some ancient
   spell
It sends me up into the sky
Delights, makes me feel so peaceful
The sweet blue Pacific ocean
You can...can almost taste it.

Sweet intimations of a world that
   came before,
A world underneath...that still lies
   there...somewhere
Whispering like some sweet lost
   Atlantis
Forever calling you back, calling you
   back home.

I'm afraid I can't be more specific
About the wonderful, the beautiful
...The Blue Pacific.

See this one here, look at the teeth on that
Would rip your mind to shreds if you ever let that inside your head
Yea! If you ever bought his *******
This one over here, this one's good, this one breathes fire
Look! Spits it out like a flamethrower
Would burn your whole world to a cinder just like that
(If you ever read his book)
One moment the sun is shining and you're smiling
The next... your whole world is in shadow and you're dying
All snuffed out... just like that
Depressed!!! Ha! Ha! You wouldn't be depressed
You'd be ******' suicidal, waking up every morning to face that... his words
Man! Your Life is over
Better get some bottles of whiskey and some drugs quick
You ain't going any further -
See this one here, ain't she cute but look again, look closer, ha! ha!  fooled ya
Just look at those gnashers, those gnashing teeth
And those claws, the nails on that
Once she gets a hold of you there ain't no getting back.

Yea! Just taking a stroll, a walk among my monsters
The monsters this world threw my way
This Zoo of horrors
(Some of the many rotten ideas that roam this earth).

                             II

O! They did terrible things to him
(But they would never do them again)
They had been harsh severe, mercilessly so
They had terrified and petrified him
Squeezed all the joy out of his life
He bore it all and the terrible weight of it so nearly crushed him,
And no one came to offer him any help.

But he didn't die...he nearly died... probably should have died... many times...
But somehow he found a way...a way to survive
And to come back... and now it was for him to dictate terms,
They were in trouble now and what's more they knew it
And one by one they began to sneak, to run away
All those who had ever offended him, caused him even the slightest degree of anxiety
The slightest hint of uneasiness or worry were now going to pay for it,
They'd had their fun, their time in the sun
And now they would answer for it
One by one he sought them out, one by one he tracked them down
They didn't scare him anymore, he caught them and put them all into little cages just for his amusement
So he could look at them sometimes... look at them and remember
Remember what they'd put him through.

                             III

O! Listen! Listen!!! Hear them howl, hear them roar... what lovely outrage
"The Children of the Night
O what sweet music they make...eh! Ha! Ha!"
See them grind their teeth against the bars
See them snarl and spit
With their beautiful red eyes of hate
You don't laugh anymore do you Big Fella
And you ain't so Big anymore
It's only me who does all the laughing now
Ain't that right !!!

(And the days and years they go by
But still, it's a beautiful looking sky
You'd hardly think anything bad went on underneath it).

And I look at you and am baffled
Was your experience...was it not the same as mine,
You say you'd like to know me, connect with me
You reach out and want to take my hand,
But how...how could you ever know me
The things I've seen, the places I've been
Live through this like I had to do...
(But isn't it the same for you also maybe).

Hey!!! Ha! Ha! You wanna meet some of my friends!

Snuggy ****** of a curled up cat by
   the fire
Furry faced, smiley headed, svelte
   purveyor of the big meow
Purring away like a Geiger counter,
If you seek Nirvana then seek no
   more, it's here
The Cat, she knows.

Maybe it was a dream, maybe not, I can't remember now
Walking homeward across town
Suddenly there came this fog in from the sea
It covered the harbour and the streets, enveloping everything
   so it seemed
A fog so thick...so dense, I'd never seen its like before
All you could see was the slow drip of car headlights
As they'd emerge from out of the street next to me
Eventually I had to stop, I couldn't go on, couldn't see anymore
It was like everything had just faded away until all that was left,
   all that was left there... was me
But then - suddenly! Looking up. There! Right above me
The huge spire of a Church, towering up,
Like it was coming out of the clouds
I was amazed... awestruck
"Surely this was it" I thought, "surely I'd found it
(That which had been lost... lost for so long)
The Church at the End of the World looking down on all
    Eternity",
Even now after all those years I still had a memory of you
You were there... right at the beginning, right at the start, you
   were there
Those nights when I slept as a little child
You used come to me, come to me in the quiet, in the still of
   the night
I used enter and roam your hallowed halls...look out on your
   golden city...with eyes wide with wonder
It all started to come back to me
I grew excited, so excited
Because I knew! I remembered! I recognised you still!
You were there, all there just like you had been all those years
   ago
And you were the same, the exact same, you hadn't changed in
   any way
I saw the old familiar road down to you open up before me
And then the Bridge across appear
And then entering through your Gates
My heart it leapt inside me and my eyes they were filled with
   tears
I'd found it...found you again
The Church at the End of the World.

I was thinking if ever I went to Bethlehem for Christmas
Then Bethlehem would have had two Stars
I'd be there shining mightily like I do
And all the people, they'd suddenly say from afar
Look! Look yonder...yonder lies a Star
There's another Star, another Star in Bethlehem
Look! He's in there drinking, drinking at the bar
He's just having... just having himself a jar
The Other Star...the Other Star of Bethlehem.

And then they'd all gather around me excited saying
You're the Other Star, the Other Star of Bethlehem
And I'd say "I'm the what, the Other, the Other Star of Bethlehem
Well that ain't exactly very flattering
Maybe I don't want to be 'the Other Star'".
So I'd think for a second
"Why not call me instead, call me... the Czar, the Czar of Bethlehem
Then the Star could be the Star again
And me! I could be the Czar
The Czar of Bethlehem".

Wow!! they all said in unison,
You're the Czar, you're not the Star
You're the Czar
The Czar of Bethlehem.

As a little child you used dread going up there on your own... to bed
Climbing those stairs all alone, all the time getting further away from the light down in the hall
With every step it was like your fear would increase tenfold
You could hear your little heart beating, pounding away inside
Beyond the bright hall light's promise of safety
Beyond there... lay danger... the darkness
The Darkness at the top of the stairs.

For you knew they were waiting there for you
Hidden a little way back in the shadows, on the landing
Evil elves and goblins, cruel giants, trolls, wicked witches and fairies... the Wolfman
They held nets ready to catch you in
And sacks slung over their backs, to bundle you into
Ready to steal you away from your family,
Like the Ice Queen on her sleigh
Ready to spirit you away to some Ice Palace faraway
To a world all frozen, turned to cold
A great prize was a human child.

Even when you'd got to bed, you'd hide your little head under the covers
Listening fearfully for their murmurs
You knew like in Dr. Who the Daleks they were coming
They were just in your wardrobe waiting,
And underneath your bed, silver Cybermen too
With their cold expressionless inhuman metallic faces
You'd lie there shivering, your little heart turned sideways in fear
You were just a little child drowning, drowning in a sea, a sea of monsters.

                            II

Looking back on it now, looking back
The Darkness, it was innocent, completely innocent
It held no danger, no fear and no monsters either
It was only the world that had coloured it so
Painted them on the screen of your imagination
All those scary TV shows, those dark fairytales and religious stories  
Yea, it was only the world that painted it so
A world so ignorant of the inner life of a little child...a little boy
A world obsessed, a world in love with... with Monsters.

But why then...why did you beg to be let stay up late with them, to watch those scary shows
Knowing you'd later have to face that lonely walk of fear up to your bed upstairs
Probably accompanied by some new monster, some new terror gleaned from that night's show
To add to your burgeoning collection
Why? Why this fascination with scaring yourself, with hurting, damaging yourself ?
Why did you want that for yourself ?
You wanted to be like them, didn't you, the grown ups, the older ones,
This is what they did and this is what you thought you had to do as well
You looked up to them, these were the people you loved, that you aspired to be like one day
So you had to do what they did too,
You wanted into their world and to do this you had to like the things they liked too.

And so, your innocence as a child was overthrown, denied
It was something to be ashamed of,
Something to be reviled and ridiculed and hated
It was pilloried in the marketplace
And all the monsters instead, they were installed.

                       III

I remember as a little child when watching TV if you thought something scary was coming up
You'd rise and say "I don't think I want to see this bit"
And you'd go and hide behind the chair, occasionally peeping out, waiting for the 'bad bit' to be over so you could return.
I remember too when very little, the first time I seen a Halloween mask, a witch's mask my brother put on
How I cried in terror, I was terrified every time he put it on
I thought he'd been suddenly transformed, that some dark kind of magic had been performed
That he'd changed into a witch, that reality had become distorted into something grotesque and ugly and evil
How scared I was.

Just imagine that.. imagine a being so little, so fragile, so sensitive...so pure of heart
That the slightest aberration, the slightest thought could hurt it
(Could this be where we went wrong...the lonely god).

Way up on his pulpit, a ranting preacher raves
About devils and demons and dark things everywhere
"It's the truth, it's the truth", he shouts, " it's in the book, it's in the book!!! "
Before him his poor congregation lies, all numbed and terrorised,
And no god whatsoever, no god at all to be seen
Only maybe a God of Terror, another monster.

                         IV

So, will you not come back then, back to the Old House
And amid all the dust and the cobwebs, find me again... still there,  all alone
Will you not dare lift this veil, this veil of shame
And look again upon my face
That which the world so greatly despises
This terrible terrible innocence
Do you not remember me, once, once upon a time
Am I not fair of face...not lovely... a thing beautiful to behold.

Is there not one who would do battle for me, champion me
Like St. George and his dragon
Shield me from the fiery onslaughts of this world
Is there not one who would come
Is there not one.

Y'know the last cat I had wasn't even my cat,
  he was the neighbour's cat
Yea! He defected... came over to our house
My neighbours they had a holiday home down the country
  and used visit it often on the weekends
So the poor cat would be left behind at home
  and he'd get lonely
So he'd come out to us, and he liked us so
  much
We used give him a great reception
He'd get so much love and attention, nice
  food as well
That he decided to stay with us rather than
  go back home
We even bought him one of those nice furry
  little cathouse bed type things
Put it out in the garage and he'd sleep there.

But whose cat was he now then, was he ours
  or was he still theirs
Did they still have a claim on him
Or was it up to him to choose,
You know it could have caused a
  Constitutional Crisis
Could have gone to Court
Who had ownership of the cat
Could have been a real tug of love affair
A bit like that film what's it's name...Kramer
  vs Kramer
Luckily the neighbours though they didn't
  seem to mind that much.

Of course, the punchline to all this was, one day my Dad was out visiting
  my neighbours next door
When who should he see lying there on the sofa looking very contented
  and very much at home
Yea! You guessed it.

Are you thinking what I'm thinking
Yea exactly! I bet the cat...our cat the Defector
He was probably a Double Agent all along.

The Garden

As the Parent stood looking out the window
At their beautiful young daughter playing in the garden with a friend
They could only marvel at what they saw, a Beauty so delightful, so vibrant and alive
Dancing about, so light of foot and with a laughter so carefree
So youthful and so radiant looking,
And when she smiled it was like she smiled with her whole being
From somewhere deep deep down inside her...
"O! Youth, wondrous youth and innocence", thought the Parent, "such a beautiful time and a beautiful sight to behold
Untouched by this world, all her skies, they were blue
A darling child facing out into a loving abundant Universe"
The Parent smiled and nodded their head
All was well yea! All was good in the Garden.

                  The Tree of Good and Evil

But then there came a day when the daughter approached their parent saying
"My friends they all have phones so they can keep in touch with one another, and they can play their favourite songs, I feel a bit left out, I'd love to have a phone too"
Now the Parent could never refuse their lovely daughter anything
So a few days later they presented her with a brand new sparkling phone (just as she had wished)
She was thrilled, this lovely new shiny thing in her hands, this wonderful new toy... plaything
"Now I'll be able to keep in touch with my friends and play my favourite songs" she enthused
But then the Parent introduced a note of caution, they said "You must be careful, there are dangers...dangers out there
They told her of some websites they knew calling them"healthy wholesome sites"
They warned "Stay on these sites, their good safe sites,
Don't stray!... Don't stray onto the Internet!!"
The daughter was a little perplexed by this, she wondered what 'dangers' were
This was something new to her innocent mind.

                               The Fall

Now the Parent had to go away for a few days on a business trip
When they returned they hastily dropped their bags in the hallway
And rushed again to the window, rushed to see the one they valued most in this world
The One they loved above all... their most precious daughter
What they saw though sent a cold chill through their heart
For there was a difference now, a noticeable change in her
No longer was she fleet of foot, now they detected a hesitancy in some of her movements
And her laughter too, had changed, now it came only in short bursts
Not the lovely rippling giggly carefree laughter of old
There was also a pensive air about her, something which hadn't been there before,
And for someone who used to like their time spent alone
Now she seemed to cling onto her friends more
As if now she was afraid they might leave her
As if now she was afraid of being left alone with herself.

The Parent grew worried watching her, so they went out into the garden
"Daughter!", they said, "Is there something wrong ?" Are you not well?"
The daughter's eyes were downcast, it was like she was almost ashamed to look them in the eye
She nervously fingered her phone in her pocket
And then she said something... something strange, not like her at all
She said "The Planet... the Planet is dying"
"What!", said the Parent, "who told you the planet was dying, who told you this ?"
She went on "And there's Bad men with terrible weapons, there's wars! diseases!! famines!!! "
"Who told you all this ?" again asked the Parent, "who told you ?"
The daughter took out her phone and looked at it rather guiltily
She said "One of my friends showed it to me on the Internet"
The Parent said "We warned you Love, we told you to stay away from the Internet
The Parent then bent down and looking their little daughter in the eyes they said
"Sweet darling child , don't be afraid ! You were made pure...pure and strong, invincible in the face of this world
You mustn't fill your mind full of these dark things
These dark black clouds that will only block, clog up your beautiful skies
Dim the radiance of your magical radiant life"
But the daughter she replied almost resignedly "I know now that before when I was happy I was just living in ignorance
I know now this is how people are meant to be... and to feel. I feel I've grown up now".

As she turned and went back to her playmates the Parent thought sadly
"Now she'll have to decide, to look within, to find herself again...to regain her old self...her old smile
Or else, more dangerously... she'll have to wander...to seek outside".

One Friday evening working from home I was tired
I hadn't been sleeping too well of late
So I said I'm going to finish up now and go to bed for a few hours, get some rest
So, I get a few hours sleep and then I awake at about half eleven/ twelve a clock, around midnight
I get myself something to eat, then I start watching some movie
When the movie's over I say I better go off to bed again, maybe read for awhile
It's well after two  
So I unplug all the plugs, brush my teeth, turn off all the lights
Then I remember there's a small window, a high up window out front that needs to be closed, I always leave it open to air the room
So I go out to the front porch to close the window
Now there's a hotel across the road from me, it holds dances and weddings and other functions on Fridays and Saturdays
Sometimes late at night you can hear voices and laughter on the road
So when I go out to my porch to close the window I suddenly stop dead in my tracks
There's a shadowy figure walking around at the front of my house
A prowler
I can see him walking up to my garage door to see if it's open
Luckily I have it tied...it's closed
Then he walks over to the other side of the house, there's a side door there
He tries the side door but it too is locked, so he can't get around the back of the house
So he starts going back and forth across the front of the house, it's almost like as if he's trying to think of another way of breaking in
And I'm just...I'm just standing there watching him, in the dark, betwixt the shadows and the moonlight
Just a face in the dark...like a disembodied face staring back at him, watching him
Y'know there's nothing more creepy than watching someone trying to find a way to break into your own house
Now I'm a bit concerned 'cos my car is parked at the front of the house
I'd left it out 'cos I needed to go somewhere the next day
I'm afraid he might start interfering with my car
In which case I know I'll have to intervene, I'll have to confront him
Tell him to '**** off'
Suddenly as he's going back and forth, suddenly just then he stops and I'll never forget it
His head it just turns real real slow like, almost unnatural
And he looks in the window... looks in directly at me, it's like he's seen me for the first time
And it's like he can hardly believe it
He moves a step forward just to make sure
Then it's like...it's like he realises he's been caught
Whereas he thought he was looking into some dark dead looking house
Suddenly now there's...there's this face looking right back at him...watching him
As if its reading his thoughts...as if...as if it already knows his thoughts.

And I'm half afraid, 'cos it's like I've been discovered too

Thankfully...thankfully he takes off.

She wore a Golden Salamander (brooch)
That's quite a lizard you got there, I said
"Lizard!" she replied quite affronted, "that's no lizard, that's my Golden, my Golden Salamander",
So what does it stand for then this, this Golden Salamander, I asked
" What does it stand for, my Golden Salamander!!! ", she almost shrieked, " it stands for Strength, Courage and Fortitude, qualities you've probably never even heard of! "
O! I replied, I thought it might have meant you were just one slippery customer,
"Well, what creature would you have to encapsulate your qualities I wonder", she said, "I bet you have none".
O! But I do, I said surprising her, and then...then I whipped it out, hidden behind my shirt, a necklace, I showed it to her.
" It's...it's a Scorpion ", she said,
No! I corrected her, it's...it's a Black Scorpion
She gave a little gasp, and then she started to stammer
" You... you're... you're not Him, are you, you're not the... the real...the real Black Scorpion "
Guilty as charged I answered with a little bow, at your service Mom,
Well suddenly her glass, it fell to the floor as her hands they rushed to cradle her face
And then she let out this fearful roar
"It's!... It's the Black Scorpion!!!"
Suddenly the whole room it went quiet, all the music and chatter coming to an abrupt halt as every head turned in our direction
Then the next moment... Sheer Pandemonium had broken out
As glasses were tossed aside, tables and chairs overturned as a hundred frenzied guests scrambled toward the door to get out
But...but it was too late, Me! I'd already...farted
You see I wasn't really The Black Scorpion at all, I'd only been pretending, messing about
Secretly all the time, all along I'd really been just...yea!
I'd just been The Blue Skunk, The Blue Skunk in disguise.

Would you be the Lard then,
The Lard o' these lands ?

<The Lard !!!
I ain't the Lard of anything!
I'm the Laird of these lands, yes!
If that's what you mean.>

The Laird, eh!
So there's no Duck or Duchess over
    them then.

<Duck! You mean Duke, no Duke or
    Duchess !!!
Ain't no Dooks or Dutchesses around
   here Mon! >

Then what about the Goose,
The Goose of Gainly Hall.

<The Goose!!! What Goose ?
It's a ghost not a goose,
The Ghost of Gainly Hall !
Only goose I can see around here is
    you
Begone you unruly Mon, Begone!>

Unruly Mon is it ! Unruly Mon !!!
   (squaring up to the Laird)
...Heh! I'll nay fight ye, yer not worth it
The Big Lairdy Mon
I'll go off and alight some place else
Just like the Goose, the Goose of Gainly
    Hall !!!
............Hey Big Mon!!! The Goose! He's
    loose!! He's gone!!!

I seen that look - that look upon your
  face
I'd seen it before, had felt it myself
  long ago
It was like seeing an old ghost
A look of pure terror, it crossed your
  face
You had to get up and get out, get out
  quick
Or else you'd burst
The others sitting there, they didn't see
  it
But I did, and what's more, I knew
  what it meant.

You'd been to the hospital for another
  treatment
But this one hadn't been like the
  others
It hadn't gone well, you'd come close,
  hadn't you, very close
You'd put all your trust in them, the
  doctors
And now they'd let you down, they'd
  failed you
Now you thought you were too far out, too far out where no one could ever
  reach you
But you know, I could - I could reach
  you
You see I'd been there myself in that same dark place, many years before
Yea, I knew because I'd met him too...
  the Great Alone.

The others sitting there, it was like "we'll just have another cup of tea and everything will be alright, just like it'd
  always been"
But you knew different, you knew things would never be the same again
Even though they were sitting there right next to you, your nearest and
  dearest
You knew they'd may as well have
  been a million miles away
For all the good they were to you
And for all they knew what you were
  going through,
It was all a Big Lie, this "we're all in
  this together" crack
We're not! We weren't! truth is we're all in this alone, each and every one of
  us
You didn't fit into their cozy little world anymore, you didn't belong
  there
So you had to get up and get out, you
  had to be alone with yourself.

I waited a few moments before I
  followed you out
I found you outside, you were clipping
  the hedge
Probably trying to keep busy, keep
  your mind off things no doubt,
I wanted to talk to you and tell you I
  knew
That I'd been there myself the same as
  you
Once long ago lost in a World of Pain, I'd suffered a shock, like a huge blow
  to my chest
It laid me out flat on the floor
I thought I'd had a heart attack  (maybe I had)
I lay there motionless, the sweat
  pouring out of me,
I'd like to say I was brave, that I was
  cool, dignified
But no! none of that stuff, I was
  *******  petrified
I was afraid to take my next breath
  'cos I was sure it'd be my last
I thought the strain of drawing it would surely drive me over the edge
I was only young, my life had hardly
  begun
But now I was sure it was all over
My health was gone, my life was gone
  and there was no way back
I didn't call out, what was the use, I
  was all alone and I knew it
No one could help me now.
I never told anyone (it was something
  I always kept private)
Sure they'd only have made light of it, wouldn't have believed me anyway.
I survived, I don't know how
And I never forgot it
(It's amazing how the body can bounce back, its resilience
I'd be forever grateful for that).

I wanted to tell you but something
  made me hold back
It was like I was afraid, afraid you'd only belittle my experience compared
  to yours
That you'd make mine out to be some
  kind of joke
Whereas yours was the real deal 'cos
  of what the doctors had said
And I thought to myself, I thought "Who can ever really know another person, you can't, no! not really
You can only know your own
  experience
You can have fun with someone, be
  their companion
But in the end... in the end all roads lead back to the Alone... the Great
  Alone.

I told you it was important not to
  worry about things
And that there were ways you could do this, control your mind, positive
  thinking and the like
I said I knew a good book and that I'd
  get it for you
I told you it was important to eat well, no rubbishy stuff, food could be a
  medicine
And there were herbal teas as well,
  these could help
It was the best I could do,
You wondered how I knew these things, was I wise or something
Me wise you must be joking, I read it
  in books, loads of books.

I didn't see you for a while after that,
  my own work grew challenging
This and other things took my mind
  away from thoughts of you
You used to ring  regularly, you were always there at the end of the line
We'd talk of our lives and laugh at
  things
(I thought you'd be there forever)
But now, strangely... there was
  nothing... silence!
One evening I was thinking of you and
  wondering why you hadn't rang
So I decided to ring you
I was surprised when a neighbour
  answered the phone
When I asked to speak to you she sounded incredulous "Speak to her!!!
the priest and the doctor are down in the room with her now, she can't speak, she's dying, didn't you know",
A few hours later it was confirmed,
  you'd gone, passed away
Gone out into that Great Alone, all by
  yourself
Away from all of us, where none could
  follow
(Girl you shouldn't have died so
  young).

So when it's my time, my turn, just
  close the door and let me be
Leave me with the only friend you can
  ever really know
The One who stays with you all of
  your life
And who'll never leave you...the Great
  Alone
The Great Alone.

Working in an office with a lot of girls mainly
Suddenly it was that time of year again... Christmas
And the Office party it was looming
As I went toward the pub where we were having our gathering I was feeling nicely laid back and relaxed
Primarily because I'd just been to another pub beforehand and had a few quick scoops/ drinks
Now I was bolstered, all pumped up, I was like a Boxer ready to step into the Ring.

Our pub it was festooned with decorations, lovely colours and glittery things
They were hanging out of the ceiling and stuck on every wall
Above our table a big jovial Santa Claus
Looked down, beaming at us all
As I sat down one of the girls asked rather suspiciously "Where were you?"
Holding up my alibi, a little shopping bag with some items in it
I told her, lying beautifully of course,  that I had to go down the shop to get some things.
As I sat there I noticed the atmosphere was a bit subdued, people weren't talking much
I said to myself, this... this won't do
So I took it on myself to take the lead, I'd be the one to spread some Christmas cheer
So suddenly I blurted out "Wh..Wh..What does Santa say... after drinking a bottle of *** ?
"I don't know" they all said, "what does he say".
I paused a moment for dramatic effect...then I hit them with the punchline...he says "Yo ** **!"
They all looked at me blankly
You don't get it, Yo ** ** and a bottle of *** is the famous pirate song from Treasure Island
Santa's catchphrase is **!**!**!
He drinks the *** and suddenly it's Yo! **!**! (Jeez I thought, I got to explain my own jokes)
Still there not impressed, one shakes her head, another raises her eyes to the heavens, another comments "A silly joke"
But really I don't care, I say to them
I suppose you don't want to hear my Snowman joke then
"O Go on", they say, "get it over with"
It's a bit risque I warned them
What do you call a Snowman... standing outside the window of a Brothel ?
"A hot Frosty", someone said
No! ... The Abominable Snowman.

I say to myself, well at least I tried, I made an effort
I done my bit, now I can sit here quietly for the rest of the evening
Some of the girls have now started to talk amongst themselves
One girl sitting right next to me who I hadn't spoken to in awhile
She suddenly inquires after my wellbeing, she asks"How are you?"
I tell her O! You know me, I'm just... just hanging on in there, yea! just hanging on to the Ledge of Life by my fingertips trying not to look down at all the crocodiles circling below
"Things aren't that bad, are they?" she says a little concerned
I smile and say Well I might be exaggerating there... a little bit
She smiles and offers "You're a real Drama Queen".

Suddenly one of the girls announces that she's done an evening course during the Autumn, she's done Bellydancing of all things
I thought we'll have to get her to give us a demonstration later on (but not before dinner LoL)
This girl then starts asking everyone did they do any courses and what their hobbies were
Finally she comes to me and I say Well I've been making some music on this little keyboard I have, yea! I've been playing...I've been playing around with my *****
(this gets some laughs)
I go on, Actually I've been writing a song
"Writing a Song!" says one of the girls really impressed, "we know you write stories, now you're writing songs, my! you are talented.  What's it about, your song ?"
I tell her it's about a girlfriend whose... well she's a bit of a Goldigger,
Then I smile, I have a great title for it, I call it (I pause for a moment then I say proudly), I call it...Octopus of Love.
"Octopus of Love!!" says one of them dismissively, "what kind of name is that for a song.  There should be a Society for Prevention of Cruelty to songs"
I ignore her and then suddenly launch into a verse of the song

     She said she was a dove
     But she's my Octopus of Love
     A hundred hands in search of one thing
          only
     Yea! My wallet, my Pride and glory.

     When she whispers in my ear
     Her fingertips they tiptoe across my rear
           and into my back pocket  
      O! She's my Octopus of Love
      She"s not at all what I dreamed of.

     When I hold her in my arms
     She sets off all my alarms
     She tells these great big whopping lies
     Man! She's got a finger in all my pies.

    She said she loves me dearly
    Visiting the most expensive shops
    Buying the most expensive gear
    I say, could you not make it more cheaply instead,

  O! She's got me in her grasp
   Her tentacles they hold me fast
   Then she asks what's all the fuss
   And she's so innocent looking
   Man! She's a lovely Octopus.

"I wouldn't be giving up the day job just yet" says one of the girls,
"That's funny" says another
Then someone ups and says "Tell us another one of your little stories",
"A good one, this time!" adds another
"Yea! A good one! We need a good laugh" says another,
I feel a bit slighted by this for some reason, the way they say it, their attitude
It's like their making light of my Art, my labours, my great works
Like their just bits of fluff for their titillation
So suddenly my mood it darkens and my voice it takes on this ominous ring and then I say a little threateningly
"So you want to hear a good one, do you!"
With this I smile and then say menacingly"I'll give you a good one"
Then I look at them slowly one by one
And it's almost like I've gone into this trance state, switched into ghostly mode
A distant remote look comes into my eyes
It's like I'm looking through them into the far distance somewhere...  
And then suddenly I intone real solemn like and with great gravitas
"The Great American Novel!"

"What's that?", asks one of the girls
Now most of the girls are married Moms with kids
They wouldn't have gone to college, they would have gone straight into work after school
So they probably wouldn't have known about English literature and  the Classics and all that high brow kind of stuff
Their only exposure to literature would probably be the so called Chicklit books down their local supermarket,
So I say to them 'You never heard of the Great American Novel'
"No!" says one of the girls, "what is it?"
Well, I start to explain, it's like the Holy Grail for all writers, novel writers anyway
How can I explain...how can I put it... The Great American Novel...
It's like this amazing fantastic legendary mythical beast of such great beauty and magnificence
That roams free and unfettered on the literary plains of a writer's imagination,
Many an author on his death bed admits, "I seen it once, I had it in my sights...had it in my grasp but I let it get away". They then turn their heads away and cry bitter tears of regret...
Or...or it's like... it's like this Great Mountain
that's no one's ever been able to climb
It stands there defiantly, supreme in its isolation, it's peak glistening in the sunlight or shimmering in the moonlight
Unreachable, unattainable... unconquerable
(I'm really on a roll now, I'm waxing lyrical and there's no stopping me)
The Great American Novel...it's like... y'know it's like that old fairytale, what was it called
Was it Snow White. No! Snow White had the dwarves in it
What was the other one?
One of the girls whose always been a bit negative, she suddenly says rather unhelpfully
"It wasn't Pinocchio was it?"
Of course I get her reference, when Pinocchio would tell tall tales his nose would grow longer
Then I point to her and say rather surprisingly "That's it!! Sleeping Beauty!" Remember Sleeping Beauty
The King and Queen have a beautiful baby daughter
At the christening all the good fairies come and bestow Blessings on the child
She'll be the most beautiful
She'll be warm and kind and generous
She'll have a lovely heart
She'll be so wise and so artistic...
Then suddenly who should arrive but the Wicked Fairy
She wasn't even invited to the ceremony and she's really angry
She storms into the Palace right up to the child
Then she says "When this Beauty, this Child grows up she will have an accident"
It's like The Great American Novel is the Beauty, the Child
And it's like she's saying "This Beauty no one shall have, no one shall ever write The Great American Novel"
And of course, when the child grows up she's so wonderful and so amazing
But then she has this accident and falls into this strange deep deep sleep
And everyone in the castle too, they also fall asleep,
And suddenly this big thicket of dense thorns springs up around the castle so no one can enter it
Many a brave young man having heard of the Great Beauty behind the Wall of Thorns
They valiantly try to get to her but are invariably driven back by the thorns
Alas! They fail and gradually the story of the Great Beauty passes into legend.....
That is till one day, a Knight appears, a Knight so noble and pure of heart
The moment the blade of his sword touches the Wall of Thorns
A path opens up right through the thorns leading to the castle
He finds everybody there fast asleep
He climbs the Tower and finds in her chamber this incredible Beauty sleeping
He is so taken with her that he must kiss her on her lips
In that moment her eyes they open and she smiles a radiant smile. And the whole world awakens again, comes alive.

I look around at all the girls, their all a bit spellbound by my story (at least I like to think)
I go on 'It's like I was walking in my mind one evening, seeking some inspiration
And then I just turn a corner and there he is, in all his glorious splendour
Remember your Greek myths, the fabulous white winged horse... Pegasus... this beautiful mythical beast
Just there drinking at a pool right in front of me,
So quietly I sneak up on him and then suddenly I jump up onto his back
He rears up and then spreads his mighty wings
And starts to rise way above the earth
My eyes they are suddenly opened, and I see what I had not seen before....
I look at the girls but then just as before, a strange dark look comes over my face and I say
" I'm really afraid but I think, I think I've done it
I think I've nailed it
Yea! ... I think I've written The Great American Novel.

I go on 'Yknow  whenever a new book comes out the Critics, they all wonder
Will this be the One, will this at last be The Great American Novel
Of course, their always disappointed, the candidates they all fall short
It was a good try but...but not quite
A valiant effort, maybe next time
In the Critics Room one of them will be given my book to read
Slowly as he reads, his eyes will grow wider
And his jaw will start to drop in awe
When he finishes he'll sit there in his chair stunned, almost like he's been shellshocked
Then he'll rise unsteadily  with his finger pointing at the book
He'll be stuttering and stammering
"What's wrong!", people will inquire of him
He'll look at them in a mad crazy way
"My eyes... my eyes they've seen it" he'll say
"Seen what?" they'll ask
"It...it... it's The Great American Novel.
They'll all stand up and gather around the Book
Suddenly someone will grab a pair of binoculars and look up at The Great, the Holy Mountain
And there on the top, on the summit
There'll be a lone figure standing with his little Irish flag
"Truly he is the One", they'll say, "and a feckin' Irishman, wouldn't you know".

"So what's it about then", asks one of the girls interrupting my flow
What!', I say
"The Novel! What's it about"
I look at her and then I smile and say rather mysteriously 'Well, that's another story isn't it'.
"Wait a minute", says the girl whose usually very negative, "so the valiant Knight with the noble heart, that's supposed to be you is it ?
I raise my hands innocently as if to say what can I do
"O! I think I'm going to be sick", she says. Then she continues "Where did you get the time to write a Novel anyway. All the time we thought you were working you were probably just there daydreaming over in the corner".
"It's not very long", I say to her "my story".
"How long is it ?", she asks curiously
"Actually it's only about ten or eleven pages".
"What! Ten or eleven pages!!!", she says jumping on this with exaggerated disgust, "that's not a Novel, it might be a short story but it's certainly not a Novel. For it to be a Novel it has to be several hundred pages long ".
I tell her But 'I didn't need a few hundred pages just ten or eleven was enough, it's all there, the whole thing'.
"But it's not a Novel", she maintains
I answer, it's the spirit of the thing that matters, the Spirit!
She then gathers herself and I can feel an offensive coming
"I don't want to rain on your Parade", she begins, "but One you're not American, Two it's not even a Novel, and Third if it's anything like your song I for one won't be holding my breath".
I look at her a bit crestfallen and then I say
"You really like to burst my balloon don't you" , then I say, "I'm reminded of the classic lines of W.B.Yeats the great Irish poet
And then I declaim theatrically
"And Great Art... beaten down".

Anyway now the spotlight moves away from me, the girls start talking among themselves
"Let's leave him to his delusions", one says and now our meals are starting to arrive, I'm forgotten about for awhile.
For some reason the word "Parade' has stuck in my mind
And the pub has suddenly grown more boisterous, some people are singing and blowing whistles (those paper things that roll out and then roll back in again) their throwing streamers and confetti about
Suddenly I'm reminded of those old ticker tape parades they used to have over in New York when they'd be celebrating something or someone
All the faces looking out the windows of the skyscrapers and all the streamers cascading down, and the cheering crowds
And up on a big Podium there standing, the President himself.
I look up at the wall at Santa Claus smiling back at me
And I say to myself "Hello Mister President"
I can see him welcoming me up onto the podium, then with his hands he quietens the  crowds... and then...then he speaks
"Fellow Americans, we've waited a long time for this day
Many thought I'm sure that it would never come but some...some still dared to believe Yea! That one day a man would appear and that a Book would be born"
(holding up the Book) I give you the Book
It may be a slim volume
But don't let that fool you
Sometimes good things come in small packages...
Yes! I give you the Book,
The Great American Novel!!!
And I give you... the Man (motioning to me)
"He told it like no one else could, he said it like no one else could say it
Let the bells ring out across the land, in every city and town...in celebration"
So sitting there I raised my glass to Santa Claus smiling on the wall
And said quietly and secretly to myself
"Here's to you Mr. President, Merry Christmas!

You won't believe this But it's true
Life is sometimes stranger than fiction, at least in my world it is

Near my house across the road there's an American Style Diner
They do all kinds of lovely Hamburgers and fries, Chicken burgers, Pizzas and whatever
They also do a lovely full Irish breakfast Bacon, egg, sausages, black and white puddings, hash browns, fried tomato, beans, mushrooms big *** of hot steaming tea or coffee and all the toast you can eat
(I've been over there a few times)
It'd keep you going all day long, very nicely thank you.
There's also an Oil Depot office attached to the Diner with Oil trucks parked along the side

Now back in the Winter of 2021 with the Covid scare/epidemic at its height
My Oil for heating the house was starting to run low
So I rang Peter the Oilman across the road and asked him to deliver me some oil
The next day the truck comes over and fills up my Oil tank
The driver leaves the bill in my letterbox
I have the next day off work so I say to myself I'll go down the supermarket tomorrow
Get some money out of the ATM machine and pay the bill (as you do)
So the next day I get in my car, now there's a big hedge in front of my house, like for privacy
So I can't see what's going on along the road
Well I drive down to the front gate and suddenly my jaw, it drops I can't believe what I'm seeing
The Police (the Guards as we call them here the Garda in the Irish) they've cordoned off the road
And are directing the traffic
The American Style Diner has been taken over by a film crew... it's a film set
There's big lights and cameras, all kinds of electrical equipment and Vans parked
There's people going around with clipboards
And they've put up this huge giant Elvis cut out statue type thing in lights
Him in a white rhinestone suit with his guitar
And it's towering over the Diner
And I'm there looking at all this thinking "What the ****??? Is this reality or am I dreaming, somebody pinch me quick
This is... this is feckin' Alice in Wonderland
Between getting funny dreams and having funny things happen to me
I can't quite believe my eyes
It's like the circus has come to town
Or it's like... it's like remember when you were a little kid at school in the Winter and there's snow and you hate school
And suddenly the school boiler would break down and they'd have to send everybody home
It was like Great! Hurray! Chaos... Freedom had suddenly broken out
Here was just another ordinary humdrum day and now something extraordinary had happened.

I could see Peter over in his office, it looked like he'd been cordoned off too
So I decide to go down to the shop and get some money, do a little shopping and come back quick
When I come back the Guards have now left the scene
I count out the money to pay the bill
Then I walk across the road right through the film set
There doesn't seem to be any security men there to apprehend me
(maybe they know I'm just a local, no one says anything, I'm like a ghost )
I walk real slow, with my profile jutting out like a bust of Julius Caesar
I'm half hoping someone will shout "Hey you! Stop!!!
And it'll be this Director or Cinematographer with a lot of camera lenses around his neck
And he'd be looking at me through one of these camera lenses
And he'd be saying excitedly "That face! That face!! it's just what I've been looking for
It's exactly what I need
It's... Why...It's the Face of 2021"
Alas! It's not to be, no such luck
I wave in at Peter in his office
His door is open, I go in and say "What's going on ?"
He says "Their making a movie or a TV series I think it is, they needed an American Diner so they took over the Diner and done it up'"
Peter's there standing behind this persplex plastic type (see through) screen
And he has this strange black plastic type mask on his face
He looks like Hannibal Lecter out of Silence of the Lambs
There's a side window in his office and outside on a bench all the actors are sitting there waiting to be called for the next scene
I say to Peter "Is there anyone we know, like Brad Pitt or Johnny Depp, Angelina! Angelina!"
"No", he says,"their all young actors, I don't know any of them"
Looking at Peter I say Y'know they should be making a movie about you, you're a real live hero
Everyday over here, rain hail or shine, during an epidemic, keeping the country going, keeping the houses warm, the businesses running,
(I was reminded of that Greek god chap Atlas who used to hold up the heavens)
Then I say nodding my head as if I've just figured it all out
"Y'know what, their making the wrong feckin' movie
You're the Star here, they should be making a movie about you
I'm gonna have a word with the Director
Peter starts laughing
I have to resist the urge to tell him Y'know you'd make a great villain
I pay him and thank him, tell him he might be a movie star next time I see him
When I'm back outside again I start walking real slow again, it's like the film Sunset Boulevard this time
"I'm ready for my close up now Mr DeMille"
But alas! no one heeds me, it's like I'm the Invisible Man again
I think to myself "I'm getting worried, The Hand of Fame it's getting closer every day
I can feel it
One of these days it's just gonna come out of the heavens and scoop me up
And bring me off with it some place

But who'd want to be famous anyway, reporters nosing around asking you silly questions all day, trying to stir something up
People staring at you all the time and taking photos
Would be a pain in the ****,
Wouldn't mind making some money though
The old pension fund and all that...

The house was haunted
The family fled
They couldn't find the priest
So they got me instead.

I read aloud my poems
Full of sorrow and pain,
About dreary things
And nearly going insane.

"My Gawd", the ghosts cried
" This is fierce gloomy stuff,
I thought we were bad
But this, Enough! Enough! "

Well they wailed and they shrieked
And they wailed some more
Then holding their ears
They ran out the door.

Even ghosts they desert me I thought
After they'd gone
They'd never even heard of a sorrow
   so deep
Or a pain as sharp as mine.

I sat there all alone in the silent house
With not a whisper, no! not a mouse
When all of a sudden there came
   something strange
A little sound like that of slow trickling
   water.

"Have you something to say to me
   House", I asked
"Before I up and leave you forever",
The little sound, it stopped all at once
   and looked up
As if very surprised at having been
   discovered.

I rose to leave
But quickly turned back amazed
When from down & out of the
   chimney
Crept this little voice so slight & warm
   & tender.

" Forgive me Sir", it said,
"But I could contain myself no longer,
That little sound you hear, the tiny
   trickle
Is but the teardrops from my eyes
   dripping

Such a pain and sorrow as yours
I never heard before
Those anguish drenched words
They seeped through my walls right
   into my heart

They pierced me deeply,
Yea, they pretty near tore me apart,
I'll remember you Sir when you're
   gone
I don't think I could ever forget you".

I listened and was sorely moved
"Thank you House ", I said, "thank
    you, thank you kindly"
And turning again at the front door
"Goodbye House, look after those
   who'll live here, won't you".

Outside the birds, they were singing
And up in the sky, the sun
The sun, it was shining.

I knocked on the door of Fame,
She kindly opened up for me and
   spoke my name
And smiling, bid me enter
(I must have made the grade this time)
Inside lay a whole new world, a world
   of wonder
She looked at me as if to say "Where were you all this time, we've been waiting on you".

Well she fussed over me something
   terrible
Lavishing on me gifts and sweets
   aplenty
Showering me with praise and high
   accolades
She was great she was... O! She was
   lovely!
Bestowed on me great new names,
I was an intellectual now, a member of
   the intelligentsia
I was a 'great artiste', a Big Star
I was part of the Elite
I was one of them now, I was one of
   them.

I got to sit on my little seat at the Big
   Table
The others sitting there they all smiled
   down at me
" Look at me now ", I thought to myself, " look where I am and who I am, who would have believed it ".

Puffed me up no end she did, inflated
   my ego
I thought I might up and float away
And for awhile, a little while I was
   happy.

                            II

But the House of Fame had another
   face I found
Would invite young hopefuls in from
   outside, young aspiring artists
Allow them to come and read their
   works, exhibit their wares
While those sitting there around the
   table, they'd judge them
Like little Roman emperors we were, giving a thumbs up or thumbs down
Some of my fellows, they were quite
   brilliant at it
The way they could dissect a work, get
   right to the heart of it
And sum it all up,
And they could be so funny with it as
   well
They'd make you laugh with their
   witty remarks
But there were times though, when
  things they could get a bit ******
When they'd turn on someone, heap
   derision on their work.

There was this one young lad I
   remember
In his hands he clutched some papers,
He held his whole world, his whole
   life in those papers
You could see it in him, just how much
   it meant to him,
Sad to say though, he wasn't all that
   good
Well they just took him apart, they hit
   him like a hurricane
You could see his disappointment, see
  his face drop
His world start to crumble,
   his hopes and dreams start to die
Could see him almost shrivel up right
   before your eyes
He'd may as well have been in front of
   a firing squad,
"It had to be done", my fellows would say, " you had to be ******* them, they
   had to be told"
And they could be so witty, my fellows,
   so funny
They'd make you laugh, laugh at
   anything
They all laughed, I laughed too and then...and then, I thought of you, I thought of you.

                           III

Now some writers when their very
  young write great stuff even then
I'd be only too proud to have written it
   myself if I could
But when I think back to what I wrote
  early on
I close my eyes and wince as if in pain,
I shake my head and grimace, "awful,
   terrible stuff, what was I thinking"
Guileless, naive, infantile,
   incomprehensible even to myself a
     lot of it, without wit or cunning
If any of it ever came to light I'd be so
   embarrassed, I'd be mortified,
      scandalised
I feel I'd have to flee the country, go
   and live in some remote jungle some
      place
And never show my face again, I
   thought it that bad,
It was like some ***** guilty secret I
   had to hide.

And you know I couldn't help thinking
   what if it was you standing there
Before this - this Inquisition, reading
   your work
How they'd listen to you probably
   with mouths wide open almost in
      disbelief
Barely able to contain their laughter
And when you'd finished
How they'd wink and smile knowingly
   at one another and maybe say
       something like
"And what do we have here, what
   exotic creature
From under what gilded stone have
   you come out from under"
And then they'd lay into you... "this
  *******, this crap, this mindless
    drivel, I never laughed so much in
        my life! these inane ramblings,
This guy he must be the village idiot",
And what would I do, would I rush to
   your defence, would I lift a finger
     to help you... No! not a chance
I'd just sit their silent and not let on I
   knew you, just watch them take you
      apart
Like lions in the arena, tearing you
   asunder
I'd even join in, yea, I'd laugh too,
And what if your eyes met mine, well
   I'd quickly look away,
" I don't know you, you're not me,
    you're not mine,
And if you were  I'd disown you
I'd have you erased from my past,
You're an embarrassment to me
You're worlds away from who I am
   now".

And later in my room alone would I
   think of you
And what it was like for you back
   then,
And that world you came from
Would I remember a boy so utterly
   lost with no hope of ever getting
        back
All alone with no one to show him the
   way
With a mind like a war zone, broken
   and bloodied, pummeled from every
       side
Trying to make sense of a crazy world
Trying desperately to keep a grip on
   life
To cling onto something, anything
   that'd keep him afloat,
Trying to write because he thought it
   was the only thing left that he could
      do
(Someone who'd never even been a
   reader of books...
Do many writers write just to stay
   alive ?)
And the more I thought about it the
   more I began to admire you
How really it was quite amazing you
   were able to write anything at all...
And to think that I would just sit there
   and watch this, your... your
         crucifixion and do nothing,
That I could betray so brave and
   beautiful a boy,
Wasn't the shame not yours but all
   mine.

And maybe they'd bring you back a
   second night saying - laughing!
"This one was so good, we had to bring
    him back again to impart some
      more of his little gems",
And to see you there the tear stained
   face, the dead eyes with no light left
      in them
Devoid of all dignity now, begging
   them for some sign of approval,
    some gesture, anything at all !
Looking at them as if they were God
  Almighty
And you were nothing but a piece of
   **** on their shoe
Would I finally have the guts to stand
   up and call a halt, would I !
Jump over their Big Table, go and take
   you in my arms
And tell you" It was alright, that I was
  here now and was so sorry I hadn't
    been before ",
And then turning to them say -admit,
" This, this *******, this drivel, this
    village idiot
This was me when I was young,
It kept me alive, it gave me hope when
   there was no hope ",
And smiling at them I'd say, " and I'd choose him every time over any of you
   sitting there,
What do you know of me and my life,
  what I've been through, were you
      there ?
And turning to you again I'd say,
"Let's get out of this place, we don't
     belong here
This isn't us, this isn't who we are,
Let's go home the two of us, you and
   me together,
Let's go home.

Once above my face the Sun did
  weave a joyous spell
And rested calmly upon the backs of
  the great stone Giants
Whose stance used bring early night
  to bear on these tired eyes of mine.
And the dutiful Moon too, did smile
  down
Reassuring me with her presence
Patrolling the dark heavens till the
  Dawn would order her away.
Down the wild slopes rode my
  children, brimming with life
Their blood ensuring my Youth
  forever, or so I thought.
Watching over their shadowy green
lanes, noble cedars and majestic pines
Vigilant watchtowers upholding our
  green faith:
Caressed the Bloom's feet I did and
  raced the drinker's pace
Precious memories slowly eroded as
  now in lonely exile I dwell.

First warning I got, carnage floating
  downstream
Severed trunks of trees and their
  stricken branches
Finally laid to rest upon the worm
  eaten lock gate -
Saw a mass exodus taking place,
  whole tribes on the move
Telling of trouble coming and of a
  world soon to disappear;
Pagan storms they brewed ominously
  overhead, their seed
Did burn my skin and burnt through
  the silver scales
Crippling the little fishes who'd bury themselves prematurely in that cold
  graveyard depth;
Those blissful birds too, that used eat
  out of my hand,
As my countenance grew steadily
  more gaunt and pale
They too, did decide to leave, seek
  food elsewhere.

And the ailing flower wishing the old
  days would return
As my ears they began to pick up a  new sound growing louder all the time
Gnawing away like a worm in my
  brain, the razor-toothed saw
Singing in the woods his eerie Death
  song
Leaving in his wake a grisly trail of
  ****** and mayhem.
My own days numbered then; I saw
  the savage leaders come
With their strange ideals and talk, of
  quotas profits and costs:
Who beside me built a Fortress, a
  sinister smoking structure -
O! those Dark forces it sent forth to
  finish me off
Looting and burning, laying waste my
  beautiful Kingdom
My exiled Spirit indeed, all there is now to tell of that terrible cost.

(Scene: A funeral service, at the graveside. Two mourners talking to one another)

Duncan died then, so he finally gave up his goose.

< (disapprovingly) Gave up his ghost not his goose! >

Tis sad, very sad.

< Aye, maybe twas for the best, I heard he'd been sufferin'... He's gone to a better land now. >

(Looking at him amazed, having not heard properly) He what ! He's gone where!! He's gone to the Netherlands!!!

< He's gone to a better land!  a better land!! A better place!!! For fecks sake! >

(A lone Piper starts to play a lament by the graveside)

(after a few moments listening) I love the sound of the poops. A lone **** in the wind....He's a fine wee pooper that lad.

< He's a Piper not a Pooper!
(under his breath) Only Pooper around here is you. (smiles to himself thinking) A Super Pooper. (smiles even more) A Super Duper Pooper. >

Y'know he was quite a pooper himself in his day, was Duncan. I can still remember his pooping well. A Prize Pooper was Duncan, his pooping was often the talk of the town.

< (sadly & dreamily) Well, no more will his...his poops be heard around the Glens. Only silence now and the wind....o'er the heather, the fields and the crags. >

I'm not a bad pooper myself y'know.

< (smiles)  I bet ye are. >

< (thinks to himself) But the heather will bloom again, and the children, they'll play in the meadows.>

I dreamt that I'd awoken in my house
But all was not the same, was not as it should
  be
There was a strangeness to things, an
  unfamiliarity
Myself too, I felt different, felt very small like
  a little child (like I'd been shrunk somehow),
Felt very vulnerable and exposed, without
  support, all alone
As I stood there in the hall, the shadows
  falling about me
I could see that it was still dark outside
It was very quiet and there was this big full
  moon shining,
Down by the road, at my gate, I could see that
  there was a car or van parked
As I watched, suddenly I heard the sound of doors opening and then being slammed shut
Then I saw these two dark figures emerging, proceeding up the driveway toward my
  house
A terrible fear gripped me, I felt a great
  danger approaching
These two men, these shadowy figures
They meant no good, of that I was sure
They were unwanted, coming at this crazy
  hour,
Standing there in the shadows, all I knew
  was they mustn't see me
If they saw me I knew I was lost,
It was then that I noticed the inside door, it
  wasn't locked
So I got down and on all fours started to crawl across the floor (so I wouldn't be seen)
But it was hard, so hard, my limbs they were
  so slow, so heavy
They would hardly obey me... I could hardly
  drag
What was wrong... what was wrong with
  me!!! I thought,
Through sheer force of will I finally made it
And reaching my hand up I turned the ****
  that would lock the door
I heaved a sigh of relief and lay back against
  the now locked door
It was only then that I noticed another
  bedroom door was ajar
If they stood outside the bedroom window
  they'd be able to see a bit into the hall
But I realized, it was too late... too late now
They'd probably be at the window by now
And they'd be bound to see me trying to close
  the door
They'd be standing there right now with their
  cold sharp impassive faces
Dripping cruelty and menace
Staring in, souless like mannequins
Their icy looks that'd freeze your soul
Like a Medusa turn you to stone.
So I could only sit there listening...listening
  with my back to the inside door
Afraid almost to breathe
Just listening for the next sound
The next thing to happen.

Gloom! Gloom! Gloom!
I can't see the Room for the Gloom
Is there anything else in this Room...
   but Gloom ?
How can I bloom with all this Gloom
   in the Room ?
How can I find my Vroom Vroom ?
I start a poem "Too soon! Too soon!"
And then it stops
And then there's Gloom
Fetch me a Broom that I might sweep
   away all this Gloom
If only there was something else in the
   Room... if only.

Doom! Doom! Doom!
How did you get in the Room ?
Who let the Doom in ?
The Doom is in the Room... Again!!!
Doom! Leave the Gloom alone
Doom!! Put the Gloom down
Doom!!! I'm warning you now!

Shall I fume, shall I fume ?
Locked in here with the Gloom and
   Doom
No! I shan't fume
They'd only say he's too far goon
   (ouch!)
What I need is a boom, a big big
   Boom!
A Big Bang a boom boom Boom!
A Boom BOOM enough to fill the
   whole Room
With that kind of BOOM!
I could take off to the Moon
Then I'd sing a different tune
There'd be no more Gloom and Doom.

But then, where would they go, what
   would they do
Poor old Gloom and Little Doomy
They'd be out there in the cold with
   nowhere to go
Lost without any Roomy
They'd be looking in the window at me
   all sad and teary
My poor Old Gloom and my poor Little
   Doomy.

No! I love my Old Gloom and, I love
   my Little Doomy
I know what I'll do
I'll put the Boom in my Room with my
   Gloom and my Doom
And then we'll all have ourselves a
   HUGE party
A Big Blooming Booming Gloomy
    Doomy
A Big Bang a Bang a Boom Boom
   Boomy Doomy
We'll all have a Ball in no time at all
Down at the Old Gloom and Doomy.

You hear this all the time now, this Bucket List business
People in my own country suddenly have a Bucket List
Something you never heard tell of before
They talk about it like it was something that was always there
Even the feckin' cat's probably got a Bucket List,
Think it all started with that movie (of the same name) a few years ago
It was the first time I ever heard the expression.

I was thinkin'
The only bucket I ever knew was probably like the old song
It had a Big Hole in it
Life seemed to me to be a big rip off a lot of the time
Wasn't much beauty that I could see
Cold mornings, and even colder faces looking back at you
A bucket might have come in handy though... to get sick in
Or to *** in when you'd be drunk which was a lot of the time
Sometimes you'd get so drunk, I probably would have trod in my bucket and then gone clanking around
Heh! they'd probably yell, What's all that noise down there, we're trying to get some sleep up here
Don't worry I'd shout back, it's just me! Just Me and my ******' bucket
Some of the things I did and the places I ended up in
It'd be so embarrassing, you'd feel like maybe putting your bucket over your head.

No! There weren't too many bottles of champagne ever in my bucket
Only a few that I alone knew about, private little victories... private little parties I had
That I'd keep quiet, only between... just me... just me and myself.

And getting older then, the whole thing was... the whole thing was just trying to stay alive, trying to survive
Yea! Trying not to kick the ******' bucket altogether... to hang on in there somehow.

Bucket List indeed...
The only bucket I ever knew.

Finding little Beauty in his world he thought
Like Jason and the Argonauts

"I'll build myself a mighty Ship with words
And out of the best parts of myself select a Crew

Then we'll set sail on the Seas of Rhyme
To the Ends of the Earth if need be

We'll bring back Beauty's Crown
To heal ourselves... and the world too".

The town was quiet when the Poet rode in
Not a soul was to be seen
A dog barked somewhere and a door banged noisily in the wind,
He wore a long grey coat flecked with dirt and mud
Two buttons had been left undone and there through the opening could be seen, his gun!
His eyes they had a tired look as if looking out wearily on the world
As he moved up the street, curtains parted and nervous little eyes peeped out
Suddenly a door opened and a woman rushed out across the street
Behind a barrel outside the hardware store, a small boy... hiding!
She began to scold him. "Ah Ma! he protested, I just wanted to get a good look at him, see him up close"
"Quiet!" she commanded, then turning toward the Poet while shielding the boy
She said defiantly "Their bad! Their wicked evil men!
But the Poet just kept on going, riding on as if she wasn't there
His eyes fixed straight ahead,
Finally he stopped outside the saloon, dismounted, tied his horse to the hitching Post
Went inside, the spurs of his boots clanking on the floor as he walked
"What'll it be Stranger ?" offered the Bartender
"Gimme a whiskey", said the Poet,"an Irish whiskey"
At a table playing cards, some heads turned
Then there were some excited whispers
"Look! it's the Bardo Kid, the Bardo Kid!!!"
"What has you around these parts Stranger ?" asked the Barkeep inquisitively
"I'm looking for someone", answered the Poet, "goes by the name of... Zardo!"
Another man drinking at the bar suddenly began to splutter
As if his drink had gone down the wrong way
Bardo eyed him suspiciously
"Don't look at me Bardo, I'm not Zardo, Me! I'm Vargo"
"Well Vargo", said Bardo, "you seen Zardo around ?"
"I ain't seen Zardo Bardo" said Vargo
Then he quickly drained his glass and hurriedly left
Bardo watched him go.
"Whose looking for Zardo ?" came a voice suddenly from the stairs and the shadows
It was a woman's voice. It was Miss Lilly, the Saloon Madam, a mature lady, still pretty but who'd seen better days
She came down the stairs out of the shadows
Walked right up to the Poet
But then almost losing her breath in surprise
Almost as if she'd just seen a ghost
She said with a strange note of familiarity "Bardo!!!"
The Poet too, seemed taken aback
"Lilly!" he said a bit shyly and took off his hat,
They both stood there looking at each other for a moment
"You've gotten older Bardo... more worn, I'd hardly know you"
"Been a long time... I guess" replied the Poet awkwardly,
"Where... what...whatever happened to you... Bardo ?.... I often wondered".
It was a very disarming question, for a moment the Poet seemed lost for words
"I...I've been away... far faraway"
Then gathering himself he said with a tinge of bitterness
"What happened. Life happened I guess, dealt me a bad hand, I suppose I was never gonna measure up. It was inevitable wasn't it... me and this world
I could only have turned to a Life of...a Life of Rhyme"
Bardo looked at Lilly standing there in her tawdrily ostentatious red Saloon dress
Showing a bit of cleavage
Grown slightly plump now, with some grey strands through her hair
And crowsfeet starting to appear around her eyes, he asked sadly
"What happened to you... Lilly ?
For a moment she looked like she was going to cry.
"O! I do a bit of singin' ..dancin'... deal cards, serve drinks, and do a whole lot of listenin' to lonely men and their troubles, try to cheer them up and get them to buy some more drink, keep the party going.  That's the game anyway" she admitted almost ashamedly. Then she continued. "We seen some good times though, didn't we, you and I, once when we were younger, for awhile there we ran young and wild and free, didn't we ?"
"Yea, young and wild...and... and stupid" answered Bardo with regret.
"What's this... what's this about Zardo ? asked Lilly smiling, "remember you always used to like that name".
"He's been saying things about me, running me down... damaging my reputation
Says he's faster than I am, that he could take me anytime, says I'm nothing but trouble, that I'm a no good lowdown critter, said he's gonna bring me in one day soon.
I was curious about him, thought I'd maybe like to meet this person".
"But he's only young" replied Lilly defending him, " he was just shooting off at the mouth, you know young people, their full of arrogance and foolish pride. You know how Life twists people and makes them into something their not".
Bardo looked at her closely "Do you know him ?"
Lilly hesitated a moment, then said almost tearfully " He's my son Bardo".
"I never knew you had a kid" said Bardo very surprised.
Lilly looked Bardo right in the eyes and then confided "He's our kid Bardo... you remember that time, that Summer we had together, that brief moment in time when we found each other and we thought this world was ours" .
"Why didn't you tell me, why didn't you send word, you could have reached me, I would have come", said Bardo.
"O! You'd be so proud of him Bardo, he grew up to be strong and straight and true
He has a job here as a young Deputy now".
Suddenly they heard a commotion outside and then the batwing doors of the Saloon swung open
And in strode a lean figure wearing a Tin Star
It was...it was Zardo!!!
A big crowd had formed behind him, they were egging him on
"So!" he said looking straight at Bardo,"we meet at last, if it isn't the Great, The Bardo Kid
The Fastest Pen in the West
The Fastest Rhyming Couplets this side of the Pecos
I'm taking you in...Old-timer
Heh! You don't look so tough,
I bet I could take you easy".
Lilly tried to intervene "No son, you've got it all wrong !
"Stay out of this Mom !" he warned coldly, a bit embarrassed seeing her there
Then almost as if he'd just realized something very important he said angrily to Bardo
"What are you doing talking to my Mom ?
Why you ***** rotten varmint".
Lilly screamed "Nooo!!! "
Zardo drew first but Bardo was quicker
Before Zardo had got his gun out, Bardo's had already cleared his holster
Lilly cried "Please Bardo don't hurt my boy!!"
Bardo let off a whole barrage of shots
Zardo only got off one solitary shot
But strangely... strangely it was Bardo who dropped to the floor
Zardo stood there shaken and dazed
"How can I still be alive?" he said,"he was way faster than I was. And he fired so many shots, he couldn't have missed them all'.
Suddenly the Bartender let out a shout and pointed his finger
"Look!" he said in amazement, Look!  Look at the wall behind you"
They all turned and there on the wall behind Zardo, drawn in bullets... the outline of a little heart.

One day the Queen of Ireland was sitting on her throne
She had her very stylish professional business suit on
She had her hair neatly coiffured
On her lap she had a Chromebook computer
which she was avidly looking at
And strangely, she was crying, yea! she was sobbing to herself
Her Top Aide seen her and immediately rushed over  
"Your Majesty, what's the matter ?" he inquired
But she couldn't answer him such was her distress
"Is it the state of the world" he asked, "is it...is it the climate crisis or the... the Brexit (the UK leaving the EU European Union), what!!!"
The Queen looked at him almost pleadingly and then finally she blubbed
"No! It's.... it's Bardo, he's written another poem"
"Bardo! " replied the Aide a little exasperated, "Not him again. You can't be getting upset your Majesty every time he writes a poem"
The Queen went on dreamily "What a beautiful heart but what a tortured soul"
She then looked at her Aide in a strict kind of way and said "It's no good, I've got to meet him, I've got to know him"
Her Aide cautioned against it, he said "Your Majesty shouldn't lower herself to seeking out some obscure poet guy, sure poets are two a penny in this country"
This angered the Queen, she stamped her foot and then said forcefully
"I'm the Queen of this country and he is one of my subjects in My Kingdom
I have a right, I have the authority"
So, so she issued a proclamation/ decree
In every parish in Ireland posters were put up seeking the identity and whereabouts of the poet Bardo.

Suddenly a lot of Bardos started popping up all over the place
Yea, lots of people were coming forward claiming to be Bardo
It was said in one County a strange man wearing a mask and riding a horse, with a sword dangling by his side came forward
He said "Are you looking for Zardo ?"
'No!' he was told "we're looking for Bardo"
"Oh!" he said and went off disappointedly.

The Queen knew these people they couldn't all be Bardo
So she used set them a test
"If you're Bardo", she'd say, "then recite to me a new Bardo poem, yes! A brand new poem"
This invariably would throw them all off
Suddenly they'd start getting nervous and unsure of themselves
"So you... you want a new Bardo poem"
Yes! would reply the Queen, you must have some newer poems or bits of poems
So one of the Bardos would begin rather shakily "Mmmm... Aaah... then they'd start to recite
"The Sweetness that was, it is no more
It's... it's flown out the feckin' door "
The Queen could tell straightaway "You're not Bardo "
Another of the Bardos began "The sadness it never ceases, it's a ceaseless sadness/ It's not a gladness, it's.. it's more of a badness.... your Highness "
Again the Queen passed a speedy judgement "Neither are you Bardo",
The Queen began to despair a bit about the dishonesty of people
She began to feel very gloomy and disheartened
That was until... until one day out of the blue she received a strange letter which was unlike all the other letters
It was from a lady who was a former nurse
She said her and a friend of hers had been Carers for an elderly couple for many years
And they had a son who they still kept in touch with, they'd go out for the occasional meal
Often he'd drink too much and then he'd start talking and would tell them that as a hobby to take him away from the stress of his job
He used write things mostly poems and he'd post them online somewhere
He said he wrote under a pseudonym but he wouldn't tell them what it was
She said that when the Queen issued her decree she went and read some of Bardo's poems
And she thought she could recognise some of the stories her friend told in Bardo's poems.  She suspected he might be... yes! Bardo.

The Queen was intrigued by this letter
It gave her new heart...new hope
But how... how could she proceed
Finally she hatched a plan, she thought she'd just visit Bardo's house on the pretext
That they'd received a report that Bardo lived around that area somewhere
She'd just ask him straight out if he knew of him
And see what his reaction was.

So the next day she set off in her big chauffeur driven BMW car
They pulled up to the driveway of a house
The house locked a bit ramshackley, in poor condition
It could have done with a new coat of paint
The tarmac too was very worn
And there were weeds growing in the flowerbeds
Inside the porch sun room it looked a bit rough as well
There were tools strewn around it like someone was working there
She rang the front doorbell
After a few moments a figure in a beanie hat answered the door
The Queen introduced herself and then asked if he knew of a poet named Bardo living in the area, that they'd received a report
The figure looked a bit stunned at first, then he smiled and bowed a short bow as if acknowledging who she was
Then he said "Bardo.... it's not a very original name for a poet, is it, is he any good ? "
"He's a wonderful writer I think", the Queen replied, "his poems they really speak to me, I'm a big fan, I'd love to meet him"
The figure pondered a moment then shook his head in a kind of amateurish theatrical way and said "Mmmm No, I'm sorry I don't... I don't know this... this Bardo"
Then he smiled and said "If I was a poet, an Irish poet writing under a pseudonym
I'd call myself something like... like Spudy Potato"
"Do you write?" asked the Queen
Here the figure stumbled a bit in his answer
He said"No!" and then stammered "Not...not really"
The Queen got a funny feeling about him, his replies and demeanor didn't seem to ring true somehow
So she changed tack, she said they'd been driving all day long and wondered might she possibly have a cup of tea as she was parched, she even said she'd pay for it,
The figure declined her offer to pay, saying instead he'd be greatly honoured to have her as a guest
Although he said he'd have to apologise for the state of his house
"It's a real Man Cave" he said inviting her in, "not much feminine influence here unfortunately".
"You live here all on your own", the Queen asked
He nodded and said a bit wearily, "All on my lonesome" and then smiling added "I have no one to talk to now not since my cat passed away"
(The Queen remembered Bardo's cat poems Tommy Tigers and The Defector)
"You're a cat person", she said
He smiled nodding his head "Cats are funny".
"You don't get lonely living alone ?"
"Oh! " he shrugged, "sure we're all alone in the end anyway" he said enigimatically
(The Queen was reminded of a Bardo poem The Great Alone)
He added again smiling "Didn't Oscar Wilde once say 'Living with yourself is the beginning of a lifelong romance'
When he went off to make the tea the Queen watched after him, she could see an inner room where there was a computer set up like a workstation...
As she waited she took a look around the porch sunroom, she could see some dust upon a table and on the window sills
And she noticed there were holes in the carpet which seemed very old
And also there were some spindly spiders up on the ceiling
She was reminded of the Bardo poem "I'll do anything for you Baby but I won't clean my house".
When he came back with two big mugs of tea and a plate of biscuits
The figure apologized again for the state of the room
He explained he liked to keep it looking a bit rough
As he thought no thief or burglar would be interested in robbing such a poor looking house.
She asked did he work from home
He replied "Ever since the Covid yes! we've had to work from home"
The Queen was reminded of the poem "Working from home".
Suddenly the figure went to say something but seemed to have some difficulty getting the words out
He stammered "Wh..wh...wh" then he stopped and apologised, he said he had a bit of a stammer sometimes
The Queen remembered in the poem 'Working from Home' Bardo had a stammer
He went on "What I wanted to say was why do you like this poet so much ?"
She thought for a moment and then said almost dreamily "It's the things he writes about Loneliness, longing, being empty inside, about his youth and the hope he had when starting out... it's like he's trying to make sense of his life...and he's funny... quirky things like that"
"But why would you be interested in those things, sure you're a Queen, you must have everything, your life must be so full"
"Sometimes it gets so lonely", she replied sadly, "it's like you're living in a bubble, I often wonder what's it all about, I feel so lost and alone sometimes... and so empty inside"
Suddenly the Queen sat up in her chair as if regaining herself  
She said, she admitted "You know"I haven't been completely honest with you, calling on you today
It was no accident
We received a report that you wrote poetry and that you post it online in secret
We thought that you might be him... that you might be Bardo
The Queen noticed a marked reticence or reluctance in the Poet
"Oh!", he said
So to assuage the situation she asked "Would you recite to me one of your poems... I'd love to hear one... please"
"Oh!", the Poet replied shyly, "you don't want to hear any of my ramblings"
"Oh yes I would ", she replied enthusiastically, "would you not recite one... one for your Queen"
She fluttered her eyelids, "Please! Pretty please "
The Poet smiled at this and at her enthusiasm
"Well I have one that I never showed to anyone, it's a bitter type of poem, a bitter Blues type of poem, it has some coarse language now
It's about a poet who writes but never seems to get anywhere, he feels he's been left behind... forgotten
It's called... I know you're not supposed to use clichés but this saying sparked/ inspired the poem, it's called "I couldn't even get arrested "
"Read it to me please ", said the Queen expectantly, "I'd love to hear it"
So the Poet rose to his feet and cleared his throat and began...

"I couldn't even get arrested

My soul it sings like a sad violin
Busking on a street where few ever come
From another street I hear loud applause and cheers
They want the young not some old gun like me
I couldn't even get arrested.

They pass me by and they don't bat an eye
Like I'm someone not worth knowing, my story not worth telling
"You think you're something special", they seem to say
"Man you're just wasting your time, you ain't got that Do Re Mi" -
I tried, Lord I tried, ain't no one tried harder than me
But I couldn't even get arrested.

I feel like Vincent Van Gogh must have felt
Pouring my heart out for all to see
Naked I stood there
But no one wanted me
All that time I gave to rhyme and nothing to show for it
Was I just ******* my life away
I couldn't even get arrested.

Browsing down the bookstore
Seems these days everyone's got a book but me
Young girls and boys writing books like their toys
Just for fun so it seems
But me, I couldn't even get arrested.

Is it a Jinx or what
Has someone put a spell on me
Or is it you're just no feckin' good...
I couldn't even get arrested.

So I guess I'll just keep plugging away
Putting it out there and hoping some day
Knowing nothing will ever come of it
I'm battered and broken and too old to care
I couldn't even get arrested".

The Poet stopped and looked over at the Queen a little uncertainly as if seeking her approval
She looked speechless, spellbound even
She rose to her feet and then exclaimed excitedly "Bardo!! It is you!"
She went on "I think... I think I'm in love with you"
"Yea", the Poet said a little dismissively, and gesturing to his room "come and live in relative poverty and obscurity with me"
As she stood there looking at him she was reminded strangely of a story from out of the Bible
The story of the sick lady who was trying to get to Jesus
But was hampered by the crowd
And she thinks "If only I could touch the hem of his garment I know I'd be healed"
She thought as she looked at him "If only I could kiss him I know I'd be made whole"
She edged closer to Bardo
"You've got lovely dark blue eyes"
He replied  looking down at her "Y'know you've got the loveliest, the cutest little nose there Queenie"
The Queen was reminded of Bardo's poem 'Little Perky Nose'
Her face moved closer to his, then suddenly she made a sudden lunge forward
She placed her lips on his and kissed him
(She even slipped in a bit of tongue there)
Suddenly there was this blinding flash
Outside, the Queen's big car had turned into this big bank of leaves
Which then collapsed on the ground and blew away in the breeze
Her chauffeur too, he'd turned into this big... this big Badger, he went scurrying off into the undergrowth
The Queen herself too, why she'd been transformed
Now instead of a Business suit, now she wore this lovely dress with lovely flower designs and  bright colours on it
And her hair, now it fell naturally in lovely thick long tresses down her back
Her face too, had been transformed, was radiant, she had these lovely rosy cheeks and brilliant shining eyes
The Poet looking at her, strangely he could only speak to her in the Irish (as Gaelige... pronounced '*** gale-le-ga')
"Ta tu go h-alainn", he said (translated 'You are beautiful '... pronounced 'Thaw too gut hauling ')
"Ta tu cailin deas" (translated "You're a Lovely Girl"... pronounced 'Thaw too Colleen jass"....)

He took her hand in his, needless to say from that day forth they both lived  happily ever after.

Feelings are funny things
I used think feelings were the sweet feelings you felt when you were very young
When you were little
(Before the emptiness came)
These were what feelings were... to me.

So it used to baffle me when I got older
After I'd gone through some traumas of my own in life
And suddenly I found much to my dismay
That I no longer felt anything inside myself anymore
Only an emptiness, a numbness, a nothingness... a void
Those lovely early feelings had now all gone
I knew...I knew there was something wrong

But then I'd hear some people say
"Oh, I feel this way or I feel that way... I feel happy, I feel sad, I feel...
And I'd think to myself What! you still feel something inside yourself
Y'know Me! I don't feel anything anymore
All my old feelings that made me who I was they've  all gone
And I have no idea how to get them back again.

But then I'd think
Y'know when you say you feel...say you feel lonely or depressed or calm and confident
Overwhelmed or in control... whatever!
all these different emotions/ so called feelings
But these aren't.... these aren't the real feelings are they
Not like the feelings you had when you were a little child
Their just... aren't they just words describing mental states where/how you find yourself during the day
You feel sad probably because you're thinking sad thoughts
Or you feel happy because you're thinking happy thoughts
But sure I could do that
Yea! I could say well I feel... I feel hungry
Or I feel a bit apprehensive about something that's coming up
Or maybe I feel excited because I'm going out to a show somewhere
But these... these aren't the real feelings are they though
Not the lovely sweet feelings you had as a little child
No! Their not the same.

Y'know when a child comes into the world they start as a clean slate
They have no words at all to begin with
Yet even then they have these incredible sweet feelings inside that make them feel so happy and so special
It makes them feel like they own the whole world
Maybe... maybe their a symptom of the Divine. I...I don't know.

And I'd say this to someone sometimes and it's like they'd look at me kind of strangely
As if to say "What do you mean... when you say... the real feelings!

There was something wrong with the adults I always thought
When I was young... when I was little
The Grown Ups
There was something, well something missing in them
They seemed a bit preoccupied, a bit faraway by times,
Maybe it was the great responsibility they had, looking after us
Or running after us, we used run around a lot back then,
Out on the beach under the big blue sky
On our way out to meet the tide
The wonderful colourful houses of the village seen from afar,
With the big chapel on the hill
And the lovely blue mountains of the headland sloping down to the sea
We'd be lost in the joy and excitement of the moment, thinking
"Isn't this wonderful, isn't it amazing, this thing called Life, Wow!!!"
And Mom she'd be there with us, tagging along
And on her face this kind of... kind of lonesome smile
There seemed to be a great sadness in them somewhere
They didn't seem to have the same joy that we had
Etched on their faces was something else, something haunting
Days of struggle and hardship... and pain.

Their own parents had died when they were very young
They used tell me, tell me gravely
"One day, one day we won't be here son"
And you'd go off to school feeling very tearful inside
Hardly able to do your lessons, mulling over those terrible words,
And at night in bed, you'd listen for their voices downstairs
And if you couldn't hear them, you'd get up and sit on the landing listening intently for their spoken words
So as to be reassured, that they were still there,
That they hadn't gone away and left you.

                      II

The adults they loved  to sit and talk and drink tea
We didn't like talking much, that was boring stuff
(We liked the biscuits though)
We wanted to be outside playing, up and about
Yea! We wanted action and adventure instead
Playing games, kicking football up the garden
Running down the wing, shooting for goal, scoring!
O! the thrill of it all,
Or playing soldiers, cowboys and Indians
Or down the beach among the rocks exploring
Whereas we probably lived a lot still in our bodies
And in the thrill of the moment
(I remember I used talk to parts of my body when I was very little, when there was no one else around)
The adults they seemed to live in their heads most of the time
Locked away up there in their lonely towers
Adults I suppose had decisions to make.

Often Mom would find it hard to keep up with us
We could get away with a lot of things with Mom
But it was different though when Dad would come home
Then the atmosphere in the house would change
There'd be this strange tension
The Dads they were strange ones
They were like that Rodin sculpture "The Thinker" (a man bent over thinking)
You'd watch them warily, and move around them very carefully and quietly
You'd have to have your antenna switched on
You didn't know which mood would be on them
Whether they were going to be gentle or flare up like a firestorm.

The Dads they used to drink beer and black stuff, the Guinness
Sometimes they'd give us a sip
Ugh...the taste of it, it'd give you the creeps
You'd think " How do you drink that stuff and Why!!!
It wasn't sweet like orange or lemonade
It was another mystery, the strange world... the strange world of the adults.

(Once while walking along the beach we came across this well dressed young man fast asleep behind the sea wall
Lying on the cold ground, a few empty beer cans beside him
Of course we didn't know yet about people getting drunk
We were very puzzled at this scene, we looked at one another baffled
Why did he want to sleep there for ?
Did he not have a home to go to and a bed to sleep in ?
What we were looking at was the World... the strange world of the adults).

The Dads they were always watching the News and talking politics
Once when we were on holiday down the country at our Auntie's place
We were outside playing football
While my Dad and Uncle were inside drinking and talking politics
Arguing heatedly about who was right and who was wrong
Suddenly they both appeared in the doorway, all smiles and strangely jolly like
They said they wanted to join in, in our game
Something they'd very rarely do
I remember looking at them and thinking
These people...these people are in pain
I was so afraid they might fall and hurt themselves
I thought them that fragile
I was afraid to tackle them properly for the ball
I thought I should only pretend
Should let them win, let them score a goal
"Maybe then," I thought, "maybe then they'd be happy".

                          III

They seemed to be always trying their best
But being reined in by their limitations
One Christmas I remember, I wanted things, exciting things, toy soldiers, electric cars, a toy gun
They gave me this small model passenger plane, wasn't even a War plane (no fancy machine guns or rockets)
And this cheap little plastic antique globe of the world thing
I looked to see was there any treasure marked on it, but no!
I was so disappointed, these were ****** presents, not what I wanted at all
But when I looked in their faces, at the expectancy there
Them expecting me to be overjoyed and delighted with what I'd got
I felt this huge pity and sorrow for them,
So I smiled back at them and pretended their presents, they were the best presents of all.

                            IV

There was this tragic sadness about them, the adults
Almost like they weren't feeling the joy anymore, that for them the magic had gone out
Like the little child within them had all but died
You realized that what you were feeling was probably something they no longer felt
They were off lost in some other world
Overrun with cares and worries and fears  
Yea, there was something wrong with the adults I always thought
When I was young
When I was small.

One evening I sat down with my dinner to watch an episode of the original Star Trek series
With Captain Kirk, Spock and Bones, Dr.McCoy
But when I turned on the TV 'The Six Million Dollar Man came on
Obviously they'd shown all the episodes of Star Trek and were now starting to show The Six Million Dollar Man
Now we never watched The Six Million Dollar Man growing up, it was really for the younger generation, the younger kids
But I decided to watch it anyway as there was nothing else on
And it was OK, it was nicely done
I noticed the guest star in the episode was an actor named Gary Lockwood
Now I knew Gary Lockwood was famous for playing one of the astronauts in the movie '2001, A Space Odyssey '
He was also famous for appearing in the very second episode of the original Star Trek series (think it was the second)
It was a great episode, he gets zapped (electrocuted) by an alien entity
And then starts turning into this superhuman being with dangerous ESP powers
The Captain and his colleagues have to get rid of him before he grows too powerful
He's famously going to "squash them all like insects"
Now I also remembered seeing him in a movie once in the 70's
I had to look it up on his Wikipedia page
It was so long since I'd seen it
It was called "Model Shop"
It was a curious movie, kind of an art movie
It was like a postcard to Los Angeles and the late sixties
He was driving around Los Angeles in a small antique type motor car
He had quit his job and was about to be drafted into the army (to go and fight in Vietnam)
He was short of money, had girlfriend problems and had become fascinated by a mysterious French lady,
I looked up the movie on Wikipedia just out of curiosity, for nostalgia reasons I suppose
I noticed it was directed by a Frenchman named Jacques Demy
Now I never heard of Jacques Demy before
So I looked him up too just to see what kind of career he had and had he ever made any other movies
And yes, he was noted for several movies but especially for one in particular
One that was regarded as a classic
It was called "The Umbrellas of Cherbourg"
Some people have called it the greatest musical ever made
It was a movie where strangely the dialogue was all sung
It was also the movie that made the French actress Catherine Deneuve a star
And the strange thing was, I'd never even heard of it before.
My interest was piqued so I looked up the movie and was blown away
I thought the French language would be a clunky language if sung
But here it's wonderful, it flows so beautifully and naturally
You quickly get used to the dialogue being sung
And it seems to heighten the emotions of what's being said
The story I suppose is about innocence and young love and then the world intruding
and upsetting everything
The movie was made in 1964 when a lot of movies were still being made in Black and white
But it was made in glaring colour, it's so lovely to look at
Even the wallpaper has a staring role.  
For me it was a magical movie experience, a delightful discovery
I've watched it several times since
It proved a pleasant distraction during the cold Winter months.

Coming home in the car from the village shop down a narrow country road
I got stuck behind a school bus which had just pulled in before a bend (so I couldn't pass it)
It was letting off a passenger
It was a little wee girl all on her own
She got off and then started to walk down this little lane
On her back she had this big school bag
And the school bag was almost bigger than she was
I thought "All that world knowledge weighing down on her poor mind
Being told to learn and memorise it
And that her whole future depended on it
I wondered would she lose herself along the way
Them emphasising the importance of it
And the insignificance of her"...
I wondered "Would there be anything of her left after it ?".