Poem: Ireland

The world is a shit place, lets not play pretend.
Everything is a bloody mess.
I can write you a lyric poem, if you want me to,
I can talk about the sun reflecting on glass for forty lines,
And we can all sing about beauty and sigh,
And bury ourselves in the comforting lie.

These Dublin boys are bleeding out neglect in broken needles,
Pissing outside the Blooms hotel, long since lost.
Ah sure, God is watching over us, ah sure,
Some old Irish bucket of crap, we disappear
Into apathy, disappear and never come back.

We need something outside of that.

Poem: Inspiration

It moved from the sublime
breath of Mneme and her sisters
to be diluted. Trite and useless
corporate slogans to mimic
the Muses. Lost is it now
in contentiousness, a demand to be
aroused by this. Inadvertent imitation
of Pierus, or the foolish pride
of the Sirens. Wrathful must
lost Goddesses be, with inspiration
lost in phraseology.

Poem: Mistaken Identity

Yesterday I saw you in the street
And went up to you to say hello
Of course it was someone else
Because you are gone
Lost to the confusion of myth 
And the make believe of eternity.
I had forgotten already,
Just for a moment.