Blog Post:Poem: Potential

It broke my heart a little bit, talking to this lovely boy,
He is pretending for his friends, who know anyway and don't care,
He is worried about his Da’, an ‘auld bully of a man
And is so scared of what everyone is going to say.

I told him, someday you’ll leave here,
and all the terrible hard things about being a teenager
will melt away to nothing again, and you’ll be happy
when everyone loves you for who you are.

He can’t see it yet, but he’s going to be magnificent,
I can tell by the spark in his eye, the brightness of him
and the fact that he shines already, still putting himself together
and working out how to become a grown up.

In a year or so he'll leave school behind, where they bully him,
He'll not be afraid to be himself anymore, free of them,
Away from small minds and mean names he will blossom.
When he finds his place in the world he is going to be amazing. 

Poem: What now?

I was supposed the be the one
Who did not know how to live in the world.
Years of abusing anything I could abuse,
And you worrying after me.

That time, you watching me
Come apart at the seams,
Too drunk to to make sense
And sobbing about something 
I could not explain.

Or the bleak dark days
When I was flying somewhere,
You putting me in the shower and feeding me
And waiting for me to come back again.

I should have been the one to leave,
Tried so hard to be lost,
Who would have guessed
I would get better at living
And you would be the one
That ended up being defeated.

What will happen to us now,
With no one left standing
To pick up the pieces
And keep our heats beating.

Poem: Dublin

How I loved you
and you tore the heart right out of me,
little things at first
just how we change over time,
but then that guy kicked black and bloody
down outside the George one Saturday,
and I thought to myself - is this my town,
and what happened to us
that we have these poor broken boys
wrapped in cardboard on the Ha'penny bridge?
And the man won't read the Gas meter because of the needles,
and the rest of last night
scattered across the streets in broken bottles
and puddles of vomit and piss.
So time to leave and my heart breaking,
wanting to bottle Temple Bar and take it with me,
just the craic, the shiney tourist bits
but not the desperation that ate away at us
after the tiger had fled
and Dublin was a broken thing,
a city like any other,
not my home at all anymore. 

Poem: Little Things

If I have the ability at all to create something beautiful, then I will.
It is far easier to condemn and be critical, the world leans that way
And sometimes we are drowning in stupidity. 

Then there is a moment, a little thing to appreciate, 
Take it, a cliche, a rainbow, a sunset,
These are few and far between, but oh, they are magnificent.

Stop and breath it in, do not be clever for a moment, embrace it,
Soon it will fade away, as these thing are wont to do, 
And there will be another reason to be angry, or disappointed,
Something else to tweet about, another tirade started.

But if you have it taken a little time to smell the roses, savor red wine,
To paint a picture or love a friend, read a good book start to end,
Then when the world bites and your heart is broken, 
And you can not take back words in anger spoken, 
You will not need Gods or Horoscopes, fairy rings, mediums or empty hope,
You will have these moments you captured in time, 
When it was you and the world, and the world was just fine.