I understand it completely now

why I hate mornings.

In a certain period, in my early youth,

I was want to wake up, with Hangovers, often in my Birthday suit

and Broke, No money for the day's Beer and Cigarettes ahead.



In old age now, I wake up,

not so much  Broke, but bent, the bones groan,

as if to say...." Don't stand up"..." Don't bend"...." Don't move",

"  Achtung,... Landmines ahead ..go slow".


If the Beer and cigarettes  today were free,

I'd have No use for those Imposters , you see.

I can remember a time, when I jumped out of bed.

I can remember a time, when I jumped into bed.


The bed is a two face Knave,

that lulls you into a false sense of security,

and kicks you in the head,

when you wake up in the morning, dead.


                   By Holly Barrett

I would give all my worldly goods,

Just to spend one day, on the banks of my youth.

Swimming across the river Blackwater, the deepest hole,

The Bullworks, the river, was my second home.


I'd dive from the board to reach rock bottom,

That first drink was years away,

My young blood was pure and flowed like red wine,

My mind was as clean as the water I swam in.


But life intervened , and changed all that,

I reached rock bottom, miles and years from the swimming hole.

I sunk to the bottom.

Crimson   blood , that once flowed like red wine,

Clogged up and tainted, often made  me act like a swine.


I'll never forget that old swimming hole,

when life was as simple , as a Pencil and ruler,

and a Jig-Saw puzzle, was an Apple computer.


By Holly Barrett

It's a funny thing,  I just don't understand  the meaning.

About 30 of Spain's finest ' brains, are in Jail.

Ex Ministers, highly educated, College , University.

They held the highest posts in the land of little rain.


Ex Treasurers, Bankers,  Ministers of transport and trains,

they were all caught 'red handed ' by  their sloppy paper trail.

One ex Treasurer  had 50 million Euro stored away,

and lived like Aristotle Onassis  without a care.


They are marked down , as the intelligentsia,  the bright lights,

But what puzzles me, is not their blatant greed,

  but how easy they were caught,

I constantly , ask myself, what is intelligence  and 'Brains '

I'm puzzled, maybe I don't have any,

I think I missed the train, when they were handing out ' Brains '


By Holly Barrett

To mount an Elephant,

it is best to climb a tree,

and wait for one of them to Pass by,

I've done that in Ireland,

It's just one of those things ,

besides patience.

Maybe i picked the wrong tree.

I'm stupid  really, it's ****** well obvious.

It's a case of the Elephant in the room.


By Holly Barrett

I  plough  a  lonely  furrow,

along  a  busy  city  street,

I  plant  no  seeds  of  corn,

T'would  be  swept  away  by  milling  feet.


Busy,  as  busy  Bees,

pushing,  jostling,  navigating,

in  waters  of  people,  deep.

Flowing  uphill  or  down  stream,


an  undercurrent  of  shuffling

a  swell  of  flowing  meat.

As  the  busy  bees  in  the  beehive,

the  antics  of Termites  on  the  anthill.


  
the  lonely   Ploughman's  drill,

all  of  life's  creatures,  in  a  Metropolis,

bind  the  individual,  by  one  solitary  thing,

The  ever  battle  to  survive,  work  the  Till.


        By  Holly  Barrett

I'm no George Clooney, don't  come close,

Even though , I own a pair of ears and a nose,

the likeness is a tad remote.

It's George's pile of washer's , that gives him the edge.


He's also photogenic, but that's all just in his head,

I have a ' snap ' from '67,

I look like Elvis ,  from the back inside  a bed.

If the sheets were pulled down, 'Ol George's face would be red.


I'm convinced , it's the money that makes all the difference,

You see, If I had  his  healthy bank balance,

I wouldn't be writing this awful crap,

I' be somewhere on a Yacht , out at sea,

the picture of me as Elvis,  on the dashboard.

and a girl sitting on my knee.


By Holly Barrett